Raw

You just keep going, moving forward slowly, hopefully, perhaps, getting wiser and a little bit better everyday.  Even if it seems that all that is being done is the spinning of wheels.  Coffee, pastry, or cereal in the morning, work, chatting about nothing really with those who are around, keeping thoughts to oneself…..not quite pretending, but very difficult to be oneself.  Good manners are important, keeps the inner primitive in check, that narcissistic aspect, under close scrutiny.   There are some who simply live from that wild place and there are times when I envy them, their freedom to simply express whatever is going on, no matter with whom or where.  Yet the price can be steep indeed, if that route is taken and perhaps leading to a tighter corner than was supposed, when living out of the unrestrained position.

It is like good manners, they are really needed when around strangers, for it sets up boundaries, wherein it is shown that there is no threat.  I bump into a stranger at the airport and I say “excuse me”, that simple phrase means simply….”I mean you no harm, please don’t retaliate”.  If around people I know and am known, I might not need to say that, for instance I can say something….”hey look out where you are going”….and it is taken as a  joke, or even if angered by it, my statement, I will not be perceived as a threat.  However even then, there are limits.  For instance if someone I know overreacts in that kind of more relaxed environment, then I become more cautious and even apologize. So yes in public, lacking good manners could be a matter of life or death, or perhaps it could lead to serious injury, or a jostling match with someone, who perceived you as a threat if an ‘excuse me’ was not forthcoming.   In public for instance, I don’t look anyone in the eye, or if I do accidently, then I quickly advert my gaze and others have done it with me.  It can be disconcerting if a stranger is staring at me, for I wonder what he or she is up to.  How else could a large group of people, say in the Atlanta Airport, be able to be together if some form of social behavior that is codified is not in place.  Can you imagine someone walking through a crowd and bumping into people or pushing them out of the way without any kind of ‘excuse me’ being in place.  I would think at the very least he or she would be arrested, for such behavior points to some kind emotional instability that could be dangerous.  It could also cause a tit for tat response and end up as a tragic story in the newspapers.  For it is true, we never know what kind of state the person next to us in ( in fact much of the time I am not so sure I know my own) so it is best to keep the playing field clear and without incident. 

That goes for me as well.  There are days, when I am in a ‘mood’ when I have to be careful how I react when out in public.  It is just my being human; I don’t think I am any different than anyone else.  I have seen small women go ballistic in public, over some minor incident with a stranger  and believe me people gave her a wide berth.  I have a feeling a few hours later she probably wondered what came over her…..nothing really, just her inner state, temporary as it was, became manifested to the surrounding people and it scared some of them and perhaps amused others who knew actually what she was going through.  Perhaps those who smiled had more self awareness and self knowledge, so they could have some empathy. To find something humorous is not always condescending but an actual understanding of the human situation in all of its rawness.  Raw, well yes, I think that is a good word to describe what often has to be dealt with by most people on a daily basis. 

It is very difficult at times to simply be a decent human being, to not act out ones aggression, or to react to fear, or to give in to anxiety.  Perhaps we are all on a tight rope trying to simply get over to the other side, something which takes concentration and for me, lots of prayers for divine grace to simply help me get through the day at times.  The gist of it all, at least for me, my main problem is the relationship I have with myself, which can be called rocky at best, it has never been smooth.   In my inner world, I guess I am ok with myself, but when I go a little deeper, well demons do dwell there, my own little collection,  just waiting for some outer incident, be it from others, or from a book, or whatever, to become the key to allow them to speak their mind towards me.  They are like children, though there is nothing childlike about them.  They could perhaps be called childish and narcissistic, getting upset when the universe does not run the way they want it to.   Oh, did I say destructive, yes the old saying “to cut off ones nose to spite the face”, would describe them to a tee.  So I spend time trying to simply deal with them.

When younger I feared these inner voices, but now, while I am uncomfortable with them at times, I do not have any fear of them.  However I know that I need to stay in touch with them, for though repression can be a good thing at times, for me; at least in this regard I don’t think it would be good at all.  Better to keep them on the upper floors of my unconscious where they can come out from time to time and speak, or scream their self centered and yes even at times evil rants.  Perhaps they are not part of my unconscious any more, yet I feel they are fed by ever deeper streams of inner primordial energy that I can experience at times as rage.  No I actually fear losing touch with them.  I think if I did I would become depressed and lose all ability to feel anything, or perhaps to see any color in the world around me.  It would take a lot of energy to keep these inner aspects of myself quiet, so it would not be a good idea. 

I think I am an average human being, so that is why I respect what goes on in others and am wary of strangers.  Not in a paranoia kind of way, but seeing other as just another self, like me, who deserve respect for the daily round of ‘shit’ that they, we, all have to go through.  Some have words to articulate this reality and for some I will sound mad, well perhaps I am, yet I am still on the tight rope just trying to get my self to the other side.

The hardest thing, in my opinion only……is to learn that love for self….. which Christ says is necessary, if I wish to love others.  I think I am closer to that than when I was younger and hopefully if I have another twenty or thirty years ahead of me I will continue to seek to fulfill the will of my Lord, though it is perhaps the most difficult thing that I am called to do.  Trusting is also a problem with me, but I trust anyway, I love myself anyway, even if my inner state says the contrary.  I see others and pray for them, and seek to deepen my compassion and empathy for my fellow men and women. Do I do this because I am good or together, no the opposite.    I don’t perceive myself as good, but as a very primitive type of person, just a little south of the border of being a cave man.  To this day if I pick up a club, I seem to want to use it, not in an angry way, but in a ‘just wanting to kick ass , and it would be good sport to do it’ kind of way.  Like I would want to go out and get a tattoo and buy me a Harley put on some heavy metal music and roar screaming down the road and having a good time doing it.  Here I am a ‘old man’ of 61, somewhat over weight, a nice guy for all appearances, yet still darkly primitive underneath, and would not want to be without it, yet it needs to be watched but perhaps impossible to tame.  Perhaps that is why many humans or so tired all the time.  For just wanting to stay ‘normal’ on the cultural level, which is very important, is in the end, hard work.

Perhaps there are many people out there who are not ‘inner primitives’, not conflicted and I am very happy for them.  For me, well I have to learn to be at peace with my inner cave man and yes my inner demons.  It is my path and I hope to see it to the end….though to tell the truth, and it is the truth, I do it poorly.  Yet I am called to love myself so that I can love others.  So compassion is part of the learning process, first for me and then for others…..my brothers and sisters my fellow travelers to who knows where?

Do it

I don't always know how free I am,
but I act as if I can be,
not sure why I do the things I do,
however I do them anyhow,
the why's will always be there,
aking,
demanding,
yet I have chosen to simply
get off my ass
and do it.

for every gift
freely acted out,
there is the unconscious opposite;

compulsions,

yet the inner tension painfully felt,
generates the energy sorely needed
that keeps us moving forward.

Agnes’s ashes

Well I got Agnes’s ashes today.  They arrived in a white cardboard box and inside was a plastic bag filled with about 10 pounds of what remained of her.  Just ash and some bone fragments.  I tried to think that this was her, but I could not get myself to make that jump, it was just carbon, remains after the body burned to powder.  Yet they are hers anyway and I will treat them with the respect that they deserve.

Agnes’s daughter will come down in May and then we will do with her ashes according to her wishes.  I don’t mind holding them till then, for it is important that the daughter be here for the spreading of the remains.  She wanted it done in the forest or perhaps an open field, she did not really mind were I put them as long as it was in nature.  She did not want to be put in some kind of grave, just the scattering.

Just a few weeks age we were talking, I was helping her with some paper work; chatting about her daughter and making up a collage of pictures, though there were not that many.  I was there when she decided that it was time to give up her cat, a very hard choice for her, for she loved the cat very much.  I went out and got her a hamburger and a cold coffee with some almond sweetener, three squirts, no more, no less.  She was nervous, scared of being alone at night in her apartment. That was when Steve got her into hospice, I just stayed with her until the nurse came and did an evaluation.  It was strange, this helping to close another’s life.  It would seem that we are the only animals that can do this, something frightful at times; at least it was for Agnes.  Yet she also showed courage in facing her death, even though she said to me a couple of time that she could not believe the end was coming.

People speak bravely about death and I respect that, but in the end, none of us knows how we will react at the time of our demise, or when it is close.  For to imagine it is just that, something in the imagination and we always like to make ourselves look good in our inner wanderings.  A heroic death, one with meaning, leaving an impression on those around them thinking it will make a difference.  It is of course all nonsense.  For death is experienced not witnessed, if it is thought about, it is just an inner movie being watched and commented on, even if only to oneself.  We die, forgotten, well at least after a time, the world moves on until it is as if we never existed at all.  So perhaps our deaths, while leaving sorrow in those left behind, are really of no importance at all in the schemes of things.  I say this as a believer not as one who thinks life is annihilated at death.  Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. 

I am reading a book by Julian Barnes titled “Nothing to be frightened of”, an honest book about death.  He talks about his mother a fearless atheist and his father a more timorous agnostic.  The mother did not fear death, the father did.  Julian says he is more like his father, while his brother, a philosopher, actually looks forward to not existing, to extinction.  So two men who believe in nothing after death, yet each approaching it differently, both being aware of the closeness of their death and each processing it in their own unique way. Both in their sixties, Julian’s older brother approaching 70, yet one seems calm, the other frightened.  I think the same thing can be seen among believers.  Some calm, others very frightened over the prospect of loosing full control of their lives. That final letting go perhaps after a long line of little deaths leading up to the big exit or is it an entrance?

We are all philosophers, though not all have the language to speak it, yet there are writers that speak for us, perhaps that is one reason many people like to read; seeking for someone to speak for them.  We are like children whistling in the dark, pretending all is well, when at least in the long term, that is not true.  Our love ones die, our children often die before us, our parents and school mates, the famous and the infamous, the good and the bad, have the same appointment and nothing can be done to stop it.   Then one day, just like Agnes, out of the blue the sentence comes; “you have this many months to live; get you affairs in order”.  When that day comes all pretense is taken away, all intellectual mutterings are stripped of their power to console, and faith, well it can seem empty and a lie, at least on the emotional level.  For when the floor is peeled back, all we see is the void that has been there all along.  Perhaps then the meaning of the word ‘ pilgrim ’ is finally seen for what it is, a sign pointing to our utter temporality. 

Some people see this more clearly than others.  Some go through life being happy and never speak or think of death; others can’t shake the inner emptiness of existence.  I am of the latter group.  Which is better; I have no idea.  I don’t know how I will stand when my time comes.  Will I cower, fight, or be peaceful and go gently into the night.  Perhaps both ways are equal in merit, each a different path; perhaps both paths have the same share of those who are happy and those who are not.  For awareness of our temporal nature can lead to a deeper life, leading one to have values that make the greatest number of people happy.  For those who do not think about it, perhaps they can also do their part in their happy open attitude to all that life offers without worrying about endings.  I wish I could say I know, but I don’t.  Even with my faith, deeply rooted in Christ, there is more I don’t know, than I can honestly say I do.  Life for me is a deep mystery, yet that makes me think that things are a lot more open ended than I can ever imagine or hope for.  Others will come to the opposite conclusion.  Who is right?  Well I don’t know, perhaps it is good that way, perhaps having love and compassion for others is more important than having the ‘answer’.  Which as history shows has caused no amount of suffering and trouble.

Unknowing

I suppose certainty about the meaning of life is something that I seek, though I have never found it.  When young, at the beginning of my journey, I think I had all that I needed; my faith had all the answers, well faith according to my understanding at the ripe old age of 18 and in the Navy.  I remember having some conversations with a man a few years older than me, perhaps 25, which then for me was old.  I think I drove him crazy, for he was a free thinker (at least that is what he called himself) and would become very angry with me because I was so sure of my beliefs and also very arrogant in my assertion that he was wrong.  We were both young, I wonder what would happen if we meet today, me being 60 and he 67?  Being a free thinker, just like being a believer does not always mean that an expansion in the understanding of the mystery of life will happen.  Some people seem to stop growing, both the free thinker and the believer, and become rigid in their beliefs as the years pass.  Not necessarily bad, for we are all different and I tend to be the type that has to keep digging, which can be interrupted in different ways.  For instance a hole can be dug so deep that one gets stuck, which I feel at times does happen.  However often some kind of inner tunnel appears and I find my way deeper in further along the way though uncertainty also grows.  Not in the way of narrowing my understanding but things get more open ended for me, which paradoxically actually deepens my faith in God.  I suppose the apophatic path makes more sense to me, at least when it comes to the question of God.  Which is part of my Christian tradition; the seeking to understand God by the path of saying what God is not, instead of what God is.

My faith is the same, but like everything in the world it changes, grows and expands.  I am not sure I even want certainty anymore, for the actual unknowing, the seeking and yet keeping my faith seems to be the way that I need to go.  I think a tree is judged by it’s fruit, so if my path does not lead me to greater compassion and empathy for my fellow man then I need to look at my ‘faith’ and perhaps seek something else.  Unflinching certainty when it is taught by any group, usually leads to violence if it is taken far enough.  A simple reading of history, both ancient and modern will bring to the fore the horrors we as a species can rain down on each other.

For me, the best way to keep an open society that embraces diversity, needs to be secular one that is not aligned with any one belief system.  For when the secular joins forces with an ideology, or a religion, then oppression is what is experienced by those who do not follow either the party or religious line.  People need to be free to seek their own path. True believers of whatever sort, be they atheist, or theist, only cause trouble with their simplistic and childish views about what is best for the world, which in the end, what they mean is what is best for them.  I shudder to think what the USA would be like if a Christian, or Muslim, or Atheist, who is of a fundamentalist bent ever got into power, for they believing they have the truth would feel compelled to force it on others. 

I believe in evolution, not only on the physical level but also on the spiritual. The inner evolution is the most difficult to accomplish since we as a species are still at a primitive level of development and can easily fall into violent forms of tribalism.  I suppose a good dose of humility, which simply means an openness to reality and truth is in order, for if it is missing then our inner demons will rise and more suffering will happen…..well it is happening and perhaps will way into the foreseeable future, but that is not a cause for despair, for in fact we are moving forward, though at a snails pace. 

It is the openness to mystery and the understanding of how little we actually know or understand that will allow communication to happen between diverse groups.  As long as this is missing there will always be the struggle for each group to override and defeat all others, either by violence or debate.   This take conscious effort and readiness to admit when certain boundaries have been crossed, for I feel we have a long hard road ahead of us and it will not get any easier until we perhaps learn some very hard lessons, perhaps the hardest is to simply listen; well it is for me.

The inner most part


I guess restlessness is a real problem with me much of the time.  The feeling that there is something ‘out there’ that needs to be done, the desire to move at any cost and at bottom, a fear of coming face to face with myself and my own basic inwardness.  A whole universe resides within, made up of good and evil, images powerful and at times terrifying, emotions strong and primeval, longings sharp as any sword cutting the soul in half, or so it seems.  Also dwelling in the depths is great beauty, love and a deep longing for union with something more that lies beyond the shattered sense of self, which can arise from this experience of the apparently bottomless depths of our inward selves. It can at times seem like an unruly jungle filled with both treasure and danger, which can be repressed for a time, but in the end, sooner or later, has to be faced.  Life is not about escape, though there are many ways to seek to do so, that however in the end fail. 

People can at times underestimate the power of their inward selves. Well they do until they are perhaps swallowed up and their lives can unravel because of it. Or cause other lives to go through great suffering and pain, when they become victims of the demons that arise during stressful and chaotic times.   It is easy to scapegoat others and punish them, when some kind of personal responsibility is not taken for what lies within.  If not, then this becoming a victim, this feeling of helplessness, will eventually lead to seeking out others on which to take out this sense of injustice and the overall unfairness of life.  A victim looking for someone to single out for punishment, becoming a victimizer in the process, which I guess is a continuing cycle that can be passed on from one generation to the next.  It is possible to carry the burdens of our ancestors, reliving old patterns that can stop only with the mold is shattered.

Complexity does not even begin to describe the inner web that we as a species have to deal with on a daily basis, even if it is not adverted to.  In fact the less it is understood the more power it has over our conscious life, though in an unconscious manner.  “Mirror, mirror on the wall” as the poem starts off, but I will add my own ditty, “I hate my reflection over all reflected in those I meet”.  The inner life will control those who are unaware of what is driving them.  Many possibly see this process in others but it is very hard to see it in oneself.  Perhaps that is why we need ‘wise ones’ to help us on our journey.  In the Christian tradition they are called “Spiritual Directors”. 

Of course the image projected could also be something luminous which can host its own set of problems.  It is just as hard to ask someone to carry ones darkness as well as ones light, for in the end those who carry our projections will have to pay a heavy price for it,
(for we seem to not be able to stay on a pedestal very long). If again, responsibility is not taken for what ones sees or projects onto the other.  We can only see, or name, or experience in others what also resides in us in a greater or lesser degree even if not adverted to or accepted. 

Below this inner web there exist utter simplicity and silence, but the only way there is through the experience of the unconscious, which is in fact, even in its darker aspects, is pure gold only waiting to be mined.  Empathy and compassion can only arise from self knowledge, for if it is lacking, only harsh judgments can be made for those who do not live up to what is in fact impossible expectations. 

Our inner demons and angels are in reality teachers propelling us forward if listened to, or if not making our lives a cauldron of inner suffering until some form of communication is forged.  This process works in ways that I don’t often understand, or perhaps I really never will.  Each person is so unique that the experience of the inner world is fitted for their own needs.  I am not in any position to judge anyone, at least on the level of their true worth and depth, for in my own life I am only just at the beginning of any kind of understanding.  Even when I get a small glimpse, it is often lost by my inconstancy and lack of discipline.

In the end there will always be more questions than answers, for that is what mystery is, something that can be studied and learned from for eternity. For a mystery has no bottom, just an endless learning and a diving in deeper.  In fact I know that the above for many, what I have written, may be nonsense for them, for I am after all only speaking from my own limited experience.  Where is God in all of this?  Well that is for each to decide.

Purgatorial grace

What is it that you envelop Lord,
how do you experience your creatures?

I foolishly think I know myself,
shallow understandings of my depths,
dark interiors the dwelling place,
or perhaps a place of hiding
where hidden demons dwell
waiting to be awakened. 

Yet you love what you see;
what would crush me
you embrace with infinite love
and yes with compassion.

How can this be?

“Love your neighbor as yourself”.

Such a strange thing to tell a species,
filled with self destructive impulses
projected outwards to be expressed,
exquisite pain bestowed on others
and yes received from others selves
in equal measure.

One day these inner sanctums,
hiding places of frightened angry things,
will all come to the surface,
brought to the light,
all masks torn away,
scapegoats seen for what they are,
a waiting game keeping truth at bay;
purgatorial grace.

Virtues’ exposed for what they are,
a thin layer over the irrational depths,
what has been rejected
seeking resolution,
a moment of truth none can escape. 

Lord of our flesh,
you carried our weight,
a burden you bear still,
for it is loves joy
to seek out the beloved
and not rest until consummation.

I am often tempted to doubt,
to despair,
yet I am upheld
grace unasked for
yet freely given,
no rest until I return.

How can I judge others?
Look down upon them,
knowing what lays hidden below,
for at times I see their faces,
these little satans,
teeth gleaming,
rage deep and primordial
that only your love can heal,.

Agnes R.I.P.

The call came on Saturday morning at 6: AM. I knew what it was about before I even got to my cell phone and answered.  Hospice was calling, letting me know that Agnes died a few minutes before; peacefully I was told.  I was hoping to be able to be there with her when she died and I did tell her I would try, even though at the time I knew that the chances were slim that would happen.  I guess it was good news that they did not call me, for that meant that she simply slipped away without any kind of struggle or distress.  They have medicines now that help keep the bodies distress down, which also helps with the breathing, so there is often very little struggle at the time of death.  She really needed only slight sedation, for thankfully her brain cancer did not give her painful headaches.

I saw Agnes for the last time the Wednesday before her death.  She mostly slept but would open her eyes every once in a while and look at me.  She gave me very little response when I spoke to her but she seemed to know it was me, for she gave me a little smile.  She was so still, something she was not good at while healthy.  She had a beautiful laugh that would carry, well, just about everywhere.  She was a tall woman, very beautiful in her youth but as the years flew by she gained quite a bit of weight, but her vibrant personality was always intact.  So now all of that was missing; death takes away everything.

She was not perfect and had her share of inner conflicts and wounds that she struggled with all of her life I guess.  At least she did for the 20 or so years that I knew her.  She had a tendency to push people away whom she did not think were supportive of her, often forgetting that perhaps her friends might need her to just listen to them once in awhile.  She was not malicious in this; it was just a part of her personality that she struggled with all of her life.  To her credit she always fought it, though she did not always have much success.  She did stick it out with her father (who from her account, gave her very little attention or care) and did what she could for him until his death; which cost her, but in the end thankful that she did not push him out of her life. 

About 9 months ago she called me saying that she did not want to talk to me anymore because I was not supportive of her.  I was not surprised for I knew it would happen sooner or later, for I could not always support her in ways that she wanted to be.  What brought it on was something I said to her twice.  She had a friend who was robbed and shot in the face.  So he was having a great deal of trouble adjusting back to a normal life, which should not surprise anyone.  So I recommended that when calling her friend that perhaps it might be best to just listen to him, support him and not talk about her troubles, which by the way were many.  She did not understand and felt I was not listening to her, so I was another one placed outside of her life.  I had mixed feelings, though there was some relief, for she did make a lot of calls to me which I had to listen to.  There was also sadness, since I knew that slowly she was isolating herself, but I let it go, there was nothing to do.  For I knew that in the end it was fear that drove her, something I have some knowledge of.  For anger, one of my greatest struggles is rooted in fear.

She called me back three months ago and filled me in on her cancer and how long she had to live.  So we reconnected and I was glad that we did.  As we talked I asked her to please not push me away again, but if I should say anything that she felt was off putting, to just bring it out in the open so we could talk about it.  She had only a few weeks to live and during that time, perhaps it would be good to try to not to isolate herself again.

I wanted to go back and see her the Friday before her death, but I had some kind of cold with a fever and did not want to endanger anyone living at hospice. As a result I planned on going in on Saturday, since by Friday evening I was feeling better.  So that never happened and I am a little sad about that.  On my last visit I only stayed for half an hour, was restless actually and found it hard to sit in a dark room with someone who was dying.  So I left early.  I don’t like to come face to face with my limitations for they are many and this is a time when I saw that I in fact have little to give.  I guess all I can do is to continue trying.

I felt honored that Agnes called me backed and welcomed me to walk with her on her last mile.  She was very fearful at first and could not believe that her end was so close.  Then some peace came and finally she told me that she was at peace and she could feel God was near.  She got to be reconciled with her daughter, whom I met, and she is a lovely woman.  I am so thankful that I did not have to call her after her mother’s death, for now that I have met her, I know that she would have been devastated by that.  She loves her mother warts and all and we had a couple of good talks a bout her.

How do you sum up a life?  You can’t, at least I don’t have that ability.  It is hard to think of her not being here.  I feel that old familiar inner void that comes with a death and I think quite possibly I am mourning more than I know. For I am not really in touch with some of my feelings, they stay hidden only poking out once in a while.  I hope before I die to be able to have access to them more readily.  I suppose it is fear that keeps them at bay.  I sometimes think there is an ocean of unfinished mourning inside of me, not bottomless but deep none the less and as I age and lose more friends and yes family, for I have many brothers and sisters (unless I go first), I often think that inner ocean will only deepen.  I think something many can relate to.

Bye Agnes, where are you now?  My faith says one thing, and I believe that.  My doubts say another thing and I am not sure I believe that at all……strange, so many different things can go on in the human soul, seeming to be at odds, yet perhaps not.  I like the unknowing it keeps things open ended.  For me, doubt points to something more, not to some form of reductionism that seems so popular today.  You were a mystery to me Agnes and mysteries unlike my inner ocean, are bottomless.  Perhaps in that way we are made in God’s image, nameless, without form, beyond space and time, eternal.  No label can contain you Agnes for you are 63 years of a mystery, a deep awareness, who suffered, loved, laughed, cried, fell and got up over and over again. Yes a work of art whose name only God knows.  I hope that you are rejoicing in that name my dear and well loved friend and that your beautiful laugh fills the hallways of heaven.