The prohibition against judging others is something that I at times spend a great deal of energy thinking about. I suppose it goes hand in hand with in injunction to treat others as or even to love others, as one loves themselves. Why? One thing I do know, I hate it when someone thinks that they can read me like a book. I remember an incident many years ago when a friend of mine told me that. Well it changed our relationship, I felt like he put me in a tight fighting box, so the trust facto
We sat and talked over coffee and dessert,
Glen a very good friend,
A loving and caring man,
To a fault,
As many caregivers are.
The gift and the compulsion that comes with it,
An uneasy dance,
In constant play,
Working for and against him
In his desire to care for others.
He is from New Orleans,
So he often talks about Katrina,
His experience in the hospital there
Trapped with many others,
Generators no longer working,
The days fly by,
As if one,
Our thoughts and experiences mostly hidden,
Deeply buried in the seemingly bottomless ocean of the unconscious.
A jumble it seems at times;
Worries sorrows and joys,
Seen often for what they are
A wave rising up and then once again sinking
As if it never was,
Yet it effects long lasting.
Roots hidden though sleeping still live.
Flow from this
The flowing water soothes,
Gentle music played on the rounded rocks,
Lazily fish swim dining a la carte,
Resting and swimming at times fighting,
The round eternal,
The balance kept by the quiet life and death struggle
Below the calm surface,
That will never cease.
Well, I finally got the Power of Attorney paper work for Aldo finished, got the witnesses I needed, and a notary to put his seal on it. Always good to have things like that in order, so that Aldo will get the kind of care he wants, in case he can't speak for himself. The doctor and social at the hospital were so happy to know that he had an extended family of some kind, that they started to work with us even before the paper work was finished. Besides they had Aldo's verbal ok. Younger doctors s
When the heart swells when music’s caress arouses,
When the sight of beauty makes one catch their breath,
When the vision of a child opens up ones heart to be loved,
When compassion arises to help a stranger,
When friends truly laugh,
When lovers truly love,
When oneness is experienced with the world,
Even if only for an instant,
We are made for such things,
For it is worship that we experience,
Living water found in the depths of a dry desert.
Beauty grabs us in guises oft
Quite a few years ago, I can remember reading an article, which cost about 1.5 million dollars for the study, stating that adolescents was the most difficult time of life. I laughed when reading this and thought, what is new about that, what a waste of money. I think most people when looking back on their teen age years would agree, though, those years have many happy events also. Children, becoming adults, sometimes both present at the same time, hence the extremes that many pre-twenties are
I was working on the computer, when Pattie came up to me and ask me if I heard about Aldo. I said no, what happened. It seems that Aldo was having trouble getting out of bed, he could not walk. So Pattie and Michael called the front office where he lived. They checked in on him, and called 911. They took him to Crawford Long Hospital. A hospital affiliated with Emory, a very good place to go if you are sick. Pattie went on to say that Aldo told her that I was his Power of Attorney for medical ca
Answers are wanted at all cost,
Knowledge of what we are about sought with ardent desire,
Seeking to get to the bottom of life’s mystery,
A journey long,
Impossible to complete,
Yet the path humans are all on.
Like a giant puzzle is our existence and each has a piece,
Mistaking that one part for the whole, a common mistake.
Causing strife were perhaps there is none.
Our senses the walls that keep us enclosed,
Allowing us to see only so far,
Perhaps in the end we will come t
I wonder what life would be like, if that fact that death, which could and does happen at any time, be taken out of the picture. If human life was not short, if we had an unlimited amount of years to live out our hopes and dreams; what if that were true? To me the question is like thinking about winning the lottery. I for one would not want to. To suddenly have all the money I need, or could ever spend, does not sound very promising. With all that money I could never ever look forward to an
The path we are on must be trod,
Glass strewn along the way stepped upon,
The thorns that hem us in,
Their prick must be felt,
Wounds that bleed dealt with.
Fountains of living water we must bathe in,
When the Sun of love comes our way it should be absorbed,
Suffering, joy, pain, pleasure,
All a part of our long difficult journey,
Our pilgrimage towards we know not what.
Hope must be cultivated,
It roots allowed to take hold,
Encouraging us along when things are dark,
They sat and simply stared like they did in the past,
The day they first met so many years ago,
So much promise and joy seemed to be there,
The seeds planted waiting to sprout,
Flooding the world with the light of their love.
So many years later, here they are,
Staring, just that,
Both wondering what happened,
When did this cold silence start,
Becoming a chasm of separation,
Loneliness again making itself felt;
Hungry for food once there but now gone.
Being a catholic has it pluses, many of them actually. I think one is the number of devotional practices that are out there for people to partake in. Usually one or two is picked and the devotional life starts. One of the good things about these practices is that it allows one to pray and mediate on a regular basis, which soon becomes a habit that over flows into every day life. Many use scriptures every day for their devotions, others us practices that are based on scripture, but primarily
My ideas about myself change as I get older. I am not sure they get deeper, but I do know that has I age, some false and perhaps some inflated ideas that I have about myself are changed, or perhaps busted is a better word. The old saying that the truth sets you free, is true; no doubt about that, but it has to be experienced to be believed. Less territory to defend that way, which can get old and tiring pretty quickly, really a waste of time and energy, life is simply too short. A fragile ego
The man walked into the room,
The tension could be felt heavy on the air,
No one talking, each looking down,
Drowning in shame, or so it seemed.
His breathing shallow and sharp,
Looked around and then with cautioned entered,
Not understanding why they were all waiting,
Looking guilty or perhaps just nervous.
One stranger sitting in the middle of the group,
The rest fanned out on either side,
Some held papers,
Others just had their hands clasped,
The name unusual not often seen,
I see it at least three or four days a week,
Near Heritage High School, here in Conyers Ga.
Her name on a good sized sign, resting there,
Also there are assorted items,
One being a stuffed bear with bright colors.
She was a High School student I guess,
Never read about who she is,
Or how she died,
Does not matter really,
She is not just a story anyway,
Seeing the spot always makes me pause,
About her family,
You see the shrines everywhere if time is taken to look,
Sometimes they stay for years,
At others, months, or just weeks.
Memorials of those taken suddenly without warning,
One moment riding, or driving,
Singing or listening to the radio,
Or maybe less innocent pastimes,
Or just arguing,
What people do in cars.
Then in a second
An ending horrible,
Sometimes with fire finishing what was started.
Some shrines have crosses,
In coldness deep,
Where light has never been,
Nor is it welcome.
In the bottomless abyss
The domain of death
Both the seeding place of sin,
One with its fruit,
Complacent it held man captive,
In a moment,
It happened in an instant,
Death shaken from its slumber,
The realization its time is over,
For in its deepest center
The bottomless abyss shuddered,
Light illuminating it
The skepticism and suspicion of the past four decades is giving way to an acceptance that Christ's resurrection is the only explanation that makes sense.
BY TIM DRAKE
REGISTER SENIOR WRITER
April 8-14, 2007 Issue | Posted 4/3/07 at 8:00 AM
SAN DIEGO — If the so-called “Jesus Family Tomb” proves anything, it’s that efforts to discount the resurrection continue. It’s a mystery that remains a stumbling block for many.
Last month, the Discovery Channel aired James Cameron’s documentary on
Within the tomb is only darkness complete,
Its entrance sealed with a large stone,
Only cold the companion of what was once a man,
Now just icy meat,
Bloodless from its tortuous death
Its body scarred from scourges,
Skin ripped deep from the 40 minus 1, lashes.
Surrounded by absolute nothingness,
Part of the abyss of death,
Hungry for all life,
Desires and dreams.
The fate of all, the outward reality of what is within,
Death in seed for
Time seems to be speeding up for me; faster and faster, each year. I know this is a common perception; still at times it is disconcerting. True some days can seem to drag, yet when the month is done, it all seems a blur to me. Sort of like a NASCAR race, the cars going round and round, the miles piling up, racing towards the finish line.
My dad’s generation is dying off fast, only three left from his family; three out of eight brothers and sisters remain. One died just last week, he was 84
When I look into my own heart, I often see that the source of much of my suffering is my desire to find some way to control the world around me. People, things, events, it does not matter, for after all does not reality revolve around me? Well I guess in some way that is true. The only problem being is that the same is true for everyone else. Each a god of sorts in universes small, but nonetheless real, with its own history, wounds, angers, loves, and the bottom line, unique interpretations
It is the shattered soul that Christ draws near,
The deeper the abuse, or neglect ,suffered at the hands of others,
Those also consumed with self-hatred;
These share in the true sorrow and horror of the cross.
It is the souls of the rejected the downtrodden
Show to us the suffering Christ.
Nothing in life can keep God’s love from flowing out
Into the bleeding lacerated hearts of those crushed by life.
Those who do evil are also close to God’s heart
Who else can see the depth of
It started out as a quiet day here; I was in the back office working on the computer, when suddenly I heard my named called “Mark come here!” So I rushed out to see what was going on. In my line of work it could be anything. When I got to the main sitting area I saw that Leo, one of my charges seemed to be having a seizure; his body was very stiff, his head turned to his left, looking up with a fixed hard stare, that was not focused. Now Leo has advance Alzheimer’s, a disease that he contracted
The cosmic war is fought within the human heart,
Good and evil,
Love and hate,
Greed and generosity,
The list perhaps endless,
Live as neighbors often isolated one from the other,
Either one or the other in ascendance;
When in fact both need to be in balance,
For chaos to be held in check.
Dark and light when separate become grey,
When together the bright green of growth and hope arise,
Inner conflict leading to resolution
If allowed to run it proper course.