Afterward...

At every anniversary of nine-eleven New York City resonates with the memory of so many who passed. Its a beat of a collective heart. A soft, yet persistent empathetic pulse that says there is life, and pain here.

Ever since September 11th, 2001 the out-breath of our city has been a sigh. The sharp in-breaths acknowledge the continuing ache of emptiness and loss. What follows all loss, however, is an expectation of renewal, and the youth of hope, for life will go on.

Life abounds today in the faces and the actions of people as they move above and below the cobbled cracks of our streets and sidewalks and it dwells in the quarried homes and window stacks of human life and families.

For many people, even years after this tragedy, life is lived with whimpered smiles and the annealed skin of hard hurts. But below all of the pain, all of the loss, all of the tears, all of the memories, there is a definite rhythm to our city, you can feel it. It sings, and its heart says, “I am.”

Nature

Sunsets tell us many things besides ending our day with

the golden light of a day’s appreciation or the evening’s

anticipation. Even if we don’t think about it on a conscious

level, our spirit, our essence anticipates a time of rest.

It is also a time of connection to the dreams of

wonder and pieces of information sent encrypted in 

images to the theater of the mind. Messages of love and

counsel from loved ones, our guides or the Source

are displayed on the screen of thought only to be

unremembered in the morning light ─unremembered, 

but not unfelt.

Flowers are evidence of spiritual life. Their innate passion

for finding and following the light sets an example for us

conscious and aware beings. Even the poorest and dullest

looking flowers exude joy as they blossom into a brief but

beautiful existence.

Would that man could find similar joy in his brief existence.

What change this world would then see!

Another way: The Power of Thought

Why have I been silent for nearly six months? No posts despite dynamic events, both politically and socially.

The short answer is that I am concerned about the commonwealth of our nation. I am disturbed that many in Congress fail to see that partisanship leads to unfairness for the common man, common sense, and the common good.

Before my chrysalis of silence, all I wanted to do was to criticize the daily erosion of grace, courtesy, and compromise and warn against the surging extremes on all sides.

I stopped writing because contributing to a negative narrative was not a solution. I needed to think about a different way. What hasn’t been tried before and how it might work. I was even willing to consider that America changed so much that it might be impossible to get back to the core values of freedom and democracy, tolerance for all opinions, and intelligent debate with polite rhetoric.

What I concluded requires some explanation.

I believe thoughts have powerful energy. I think group thoughts are exponentially powerful. These pieces of energy can be positive or negative. If we bombard our leaders with negative energy, it affects them. This is not to mean we should tolerate lies, disparaging insults, and prejudicial elitism, but a thought of positive energy might help change things. If we send benevolent energy to our elected officials, it may help them see and be the light of positive change.

I will always call out inappropriate, illegal, and demeaning behavior from all leaders, but I will not make it my focus for it is counter-productive to the divine light that guides everything.

Sorrow in New Zealand

The Tears of Christchurch

©2019 Rolland g. /Smith

Please tell me when the tears will end;

If you know.

Hate must descend and love transcend

Someday.

The One God of all, loves us in sooth;

Unconditional.

There is no one path to this truth

All ways go there.

To find a way out of your fear.

Yes! Fear.

Let it go and love will appear.

Today.

Japan

I just spent seven days in Japan. Overall it was a great trip. Specifically, it was magnificent. I spent time in Kyoto, Hiroshima, and Tokyo. Some general observation on the culture.

In all my tourist walking in the cities of Kyoto and Tokyo, I never heard a car horn. There was heavy traffic, but it flowed. Nobody crosses the street when the light is red. Everyone waits until it green to pass. Japan is the cleanest country I've ever visited. No debris, no scraps of paper, no detritus of any kind, anywhere. Try to find those three things in New York City.

I'll share many observations about the ancient capital Kyoto in coming posts. Today I want to share some of my visit to Hiroshima. Profound is a word we often overuse. My day in Hiroshima was that. I stood at ground zero. A plack points to the sky; nearly two thousand feet above that point is where the "Little Boy" bomb detonated. Probably eighty thousand died instantly, and 140-thousand died by the end of 1945.

What happened then was right. It was war. It saved thousands of American lives. It was still tragic and should not ever happen again.

One of my conclusions was that every leader of every country that has the nuclear bomb in their country's arsenal should be made to visit the Hiroshima museum once every year.

Robert Frost

I thought of poet Robert Frost today as I watched a snow squall move through my wooded land. I too watched the woods fill up with snow as he did in a vision so many years ago and penned his famous poem.

 Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening - Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
He lives in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep.
And miles to go before I sleep.


If you live in the Northeast, you know that heavy snow fills the woods quickly. Its “sweep of easy wind and downy flake” not only coat the ground and branches in a pristine of en-whiten-meant, but its beauty fills the human soul with the light of spirit.

When Frost says “the woods are lovely, dark and deep,” I think he’s referring to the darkness of an unknowing soul who has a spiritual revelation in a heavy white snowstorm, and the experience becomes an epiphany of wonder.

“Miles to go before I sleep,” is I’ve got a lot to think about before I die. So Do we all.

Just askin"

Isn’t it time we repudiate those who have not been elected nationally but yield immense power that deludes the common man-woman, dilutes common sense, and dismisses compromise for the greater good?

Names you all know:

Mitch McConnel
Sean Hannity
Rush Limbaugh
Laura Ingraham

These are people in state elected political power as in the case of Mitch McConnel and non-elected people functioning as media priests who encourage, incite and influence policy by the force of their paid position on a media outlet.

In my career experience, America has gone from a balanced informational system of news delivery to one of contrarian diatribes and factless opinion.

I love debates. I like compelling arguments, dissent and eloquent conclusions where both sides present to a discerning public. The one-sided views of so few, that influence so many; does not serve the grace of democracy.

Language disappearing

Several years ago the Associated Press reported that out of 6-thousand world languages, 2-thousand 500 languages are in danger of extinction. The report added that 200 languages have become extinct in the last three generations, and another 199 languages have fewer than ten speakers left.

That fact saddens me. To understand our collective cultural future, we must know our linguistic past. When a language becomes extinct so does the history and endemic knowledge of that culture.

I am also saddened that the English language we use today in everyday communication has become so perverted that at times I cannot understand what someone is saying.

Ask nearly any student, high school or college, to diagram the parts of speech or describe a simple declarative sentence, and you will get a blank look.

What happened?

We have dumbed down the elegance of speech into prattle, syllable elimination and a rhythmic beat seemingly conveying a quasi-poetic ablution of how one feels.

Language is the grace of society. It is the elegance of sophisticated communication and clear conversation. It is the archive of great literature. It is the essence of understanding and subsequently the path to peace, creativity, and harmony.

We need precise language. We need people who love it, embrace it, share it with eloquence and who will not abandon it too colloquial poppycock.

Arctic Cold

THE COLD

It’s morning. Temperature is 2 degrees below zero. I have a fire going and feeling safe.

A few years ago I posted the following after a fridged few days. It seems more appropriate even now. To wit:

The warmth of a long-ago sun spreads into my room as a log fire dissolves its way to ash giving back the heat and light of many seasons' growth. Fluid flames dance in a flickering grace of form and orange light. Heat is the result. Light a soft byproduct.

A few feet away is the cold. It is a stinging cold with only a window glass to hold it back. It’s double glass, a bulwark of silica that another temperature and time turned into a transparent glazing of clarity and protection.

I grew up in old houses with single panes of flawed glass. Frost would decorate the panes into a translucent crystal of art, but not now. Modern homes are too tight for nature’s cryogenic beauty to seep in and paint the panes with a cameo of cold. Too bad! How many kids today miss the vision of feathered frost on the inside of a windowpane where they can scratch their design into the thin sheet of ice crystals.

Just beyond my outer pane is an astringent cold that if you stepped outside without protection, it would burn with negative degrees, blister the skin, blink the eyes to tears and tighten the inner nose when a breath is necessary. It’s an arctic tight; the tightness of breath.

The cold on the other side of the glass sets a tension between inside and outside. It cannot penetrate the timid barrier of wood and double panes, but it tries to. It is the knowing fierceness of potential danger and a fire keeps me in the fort of comfort.

Damn, it's cold!

Wilber Ross

I am morally disturbed at the insensitivity of Commerce Secretary Wilber Ross. He is a self-made millionaire with the alleged wisdom to oversee the mercantile agenda of our nation.

It seems to me that would include the welfare of federal employees.

If you have not seen his remarks by now, you should because his ethic is endemic of the ignorance of the haves to the have-nots. He tried to walk it back to the press after somebody got to him, but it didn’t work.

It’s a “let them eat cake” instead of a bread scenario from Marie Antionette.

The charade going on in Washington is ludicrous. The elite has no idea what it is to live from paycheck to paycheck. If they did, the shut-down farce would not exist. This is why we need citizen legislators rather than career politicians in Washington.

The responsibility of abundance

I had a simple fish chowder last night, and it was filling and fine.

I thought of those throughout the world who have little or nothing to eat and where starvation is a constant worry. Too many count the grains of rice for the pot to feed a family and deal with the ache of hunger as the body eats itself in a wrenching dichotomy to stay alive.

My simple meal was to millions of souls around the world, a feast.

I went to the doctor the other day for a routine check-up. There too I thought of the ease with which I got an appointment and the pharmacy choices I could go to fill a prescription. There are so many millions in the world who have no access to even simple medical treatments let alone to modern medicines to cure or ease a pain.

To get the same medical expertise, most of the world would have to walk for days or suffer in place.

I have a nice home — good neighbors. I have heat, electricity, and freedom from fear. I know millions love their families as I do mine, but who have no permanent home without the hostile and real intrusion of terror and war.

With all these realizations, there comes a moment when I must ask the question, “Why me?” “Why do I have so much and so many have so little?”

I don’t know the full answer, and I suspect I never will until I get to the other side. I do know there are responsibilities that go with abundance.

Giving from substance.

Compassion and aid to those who suffer.

Tolerance of other’s beliefs.

Awareness of need.

The New Congress

Vision is the process by which we construct the future. It is the substance of creation and the positive possibilities of what we can be. From the daily diatribes out of Washington, I do not hear the visionary words that engender the structure of common hope on the foundation of realistic wonder.

From the new Congress, I want to hear reinforcements of American ideals and the legislative action to sustain them. I want all branches of our government to paint me a picture of a sustainable future and color it with ideas and the fragrance of action. I want the genesis of solutions on immigration, health care, ongoing wars, affordable housing, and the litany of other issues entrained in our common society.

Mostly what I glean from ongoing debate is the darkness of past thought, the detritus of false words and the uselessness of egoic pride.

When Alexander the Great became ruler of the world, he came upon a philosopher who was lying upon his back in a meadow and mediating. Having become powerful and wealthy, Alexander became a patron of the arts and intellectuals. He stood before the philosopher and said,  "I am a patron of culture and will gladly underwrite any project you may select; name your wish."

The Philosopher thought for a moment and said: "You may do one thing for me, your Highness. Please step aside; you are standing between me and the sun".

Our Congress and our President must step aside from blocking the lights of compromise, compassion and courtesy and lead us to our grandest vision of ourselves.

A Thought...

Have you checked what’s essential to you lately? To go right to the immediate national issue: When you think about it, do we need a multi-billion dollar wall along our southern border?

In practicality, we need our infrastructure replaced, repaired, and renovated — our bridges, tunnels, railroads, and airports are in terrible shape. Compared to other countries with a far less gross national product we are far behind. I can understand protecting our borders from real and the figmentation of attack, but that can be done, as best as any border can be secured, at a far less cost.

Society functions and grows on the success of the mercantile system. Fear inhibits the creative gestalt and thus progress. All of us are more creative, happier, comfortable and content when a peaceful environment sustains our daily living.

Since the election of Donald Trump, we have been a contentious society. Yes, the market soared and rallied. Yes, joblessness is is at a longtime low, those are fleeting successes.

Long-term prosperity is only measured by our children’s potential to reject a climate of fear and live in an atmosphere of competitive growth.

Politics used to be the energy for the common good. Today it is the constipation of compromise. It is time it stopped. The political obstructionists are not the ones in pain.

Things Change...

Tomorrow would have been my 55th wedding anniversary had my Annie not moved to the other side. Her spirit still thrives. Only her body died.   She passed over three years ago from Cancer. I miss her but know she is onto new awarenesses in the benevolent comfort of unconditional love.

Thinking about our many years together and the institution of marriage I've concluded that marriage is an ever-changing contract. It’s never the same for it changes every moment you commit to the well-being of your partner.

Love, as it is perceived through the union of marriage, is ever expanding provided it is nurtured with courtesy, communication, and kindness. How many of us, whether we are one day married or 50 years married, remember to say thank you for even the very simple courtesies of life. Cooking dinner, looking nice, taking out the garbage, struggling to make it better.

 Marriage can be, should be, the constant exponential appreciation of the other, if we see our partner through the eyes of wonder.

 And wonder becomes radiant and lasting when we give rather than demand and when we appreciate rather than expect.

Reminders

Every so often we each need to be reminded of something greater than ourselves. The benevolence of All That Is constantly nudges us to see and then be the grace of the subtleties that come our way each day.

We, however, have to choose to be sensitive enough to notice.

It’s always in the little things that the reminders come to us. A song on the radio that conjures a memory. A fledging birds first encounter with flight. A baby’s infectious laugh. A pet’s greeting when you finally get home, the blast of a fragrant aroma when you first open the door to a flower shop, the lingering descent of snow on a windless winter day, the first taste of a fine wine and the harmonic drift of choir practice as you walk by a church.

It’s the little things that slam into our hearts.

Appreciation is the only response.

2019

We did it! We said goodbye to the old year and welcomed in the new. We've been celebrating endings and beginnings since ancient times.

The tradition of New Years Eve celebrations also stems from old beliefs and superstitions. Noise making goes back to the ancient custom of using loud noises to drive evil spirits from a house during the times of festive celebration.

Many nationalities and cultures still use noise to celebrate. America has her ratchet rattles and noisemakers and fireworks.

Denmark smashes in the New year. People go to friends' houses and throw bits of broken pottery that they have collected throughout the year at the homes. They also bang on the doors to make noise.

The Dutch love to celebrate New Years. It was one of their favorite holidays when they settled New Amsterdam in the mid-17th century. When the English took over the city in 1674 and called it New York, the authorities were going to keep to the British custom at the time which called for celebrating the New Year on the Vernal Equinox, March 25th. The Dutch populace so loved the holiday on January 1st. They convinced the British to move their New Year celebration.

Traditions have to start somewhere. The ball dropping tradition at New York's Times Square began in 1904 when the Times tower was constructed. At the time it was New York City's 2nd tallest building, rising to a height of 375 feet.

Adolph Ochs, the then young publisher of the New York Times, moved his paper into the new building on New Year's weekend and decided to celebrate the event with a New Year's eve rooftop fireworks display.

It was spectacular, but it was dangerous. The following year the fireworks were replaced by the descending brightly-lit ball.

A tradition begun.