Blessings

I read a lot online. Mostly material curated by my friends and acquaintances. Sometimes I run into a thick vein of feel-good affirmations. About the nature of happiness and how to cultivate it in your life. All of this is good and wonderful and I value those friends that bring those things to light because they really do deserve saying and sharing.

One thing does get me though, and this came up with the notion that happiness is not bound by external situations. Are you sure? I think about all the people I read who are very loving, very expressive, and very positive people… how much of that output is supported by a comfortable life? What happens if you don’t have the blessings that come with a first world existence? What if the water that surrounds you is toxic and if you drank any of it would lead to a slow agonizing death? What if you were homeless? What if you were starving? What if life arranged to punish you at every turn and you could never catch a single break? How fluffy and positive would that poor person be?

Don’t get me wrong here, I think that these people are vital and what they share is wonderful and I’m glad they do so, but, all the advice in the world, all the love and fluffy feelings and rah-rah aphorisms, when they land on the ears of someone who is struggling for the most basic things in life – how is that person supposed to react? Do they react with anger? Upset that people who are blessed with comfort feel compelled to export super-fluff are somehow not getting the big picture?

I think quite often on the poor soul who can’t scrape together a meal today, who has no reliable potable water to rely upon for survival and has no idea if someone or something will end up trying to kill or nibble on them in the night. How would they react to being told that everyone is suffused with love and true happiness is all in your mind and how you perceive and approach the world? When I imagine myself in that condition the last thing I want to hear is someone expounding on the fluffy. I’d really like something to drink, something to eat, and maybe someone to watch over me as I collapse.

It isn’t until you get to writing how you feel that you find yourself tripping over the very core reason why your political views are formed the way they are. I think it’s this, this poor soul, a nameless faceless sufferer that compels me to be a liberal. To share what I have, (with hope that we share what we have) in order to ensure that this one poor soul never has to face such an empty existence. And I think it’s this poor person that I always think about when I walk into the voting booth, and when I look upon my paycheck and note how much FICA I’m paying, just to start. It’s something I cannot understand, and probably never ever will. Why people can be so cold and unfeeling, so unimaginative that they cannot comprehend someone to be in this suffering state. I think that’s one of the core reasons why I am filled with boiling waves of rage when I hear conservatives railing against social programs. How corrupt and alien would be our world if any one of us fell through the cracks and died while others did nothing. If you want to know evil, I think that’s the core of it. Not being violent or malicious, but being indifferent to suffering. By being indifferent, in some ways you are actively collaborating with suffering itself. It makes me feel wretched.

So, getting back to where we started, the central question remains. Is happiness bound by external things? I think it most certainly can be. People should not lose sight of that.

Twitter Happiness Scree

I wrote a series of tweets last night and apparently fell into a rut of profundity. I’ll string them together here for posterity and to share the entire run, since apparently when I get worked up it ends up going on Twitter and not WordPress, which actually I have to work on.

bluedepth
For having infinite faculties, humanity is so very quick to give up on itself and pray to God for intervention. Life is a DIY project!
3/31/11 1:43 AM
bluedepth
Quite tired of how easily people roll over. One peek of hardship and it’s always with the scampering to God, or Jesus. How about yourself?
3/31/11 1:45 AM
bluedepth
Here’s a novel idea: Pray to yourself to get yourself out of trouble. Because, in a way, aren’t you ALREADY DOING THAT? Skip the middlemen!
3/31/11 1:46 AM
bluedepth
Life is hard, Love sucks, People are ugly monsters, but when you find true happiness, THAT is what all this is for. And much like +
3/31/11 1:48 AM
bluedepth
+ everything else in life, a little bit of happiness goes a long way! Same with toothpaste and shampoo. If you can’t find happiness, +
3/31/11 1:49 AM
bluedepth
+ look closer, it’s all around you. You don’t need God, Jesus, or any of the saints to grab a hyacinth, close your eyes and be happy in +
3/31/11 1:50 AM
bluedepth
+ the right here and right now. It’s that sort of thing people have to look for and savor.
3/31/11 1:51 AM
bluedepth
It’s important to close your eyes and shut out the nasty just for a little bit. Do something for just yourself, something good, something+
3/31/11 1:53 AM
bluedepth
+private. No matter what happens, nothing can touch that moment.
3/31/11 1:53 AM

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bedrock of Angels

Helping the Havens family say goodbye and bury a pillar of their family has been a daunting, difficult, yet absolutely the only thing I could do for the past two weeks. In my small way, to help where I can, to be a comfort, to get things done. There was no question that I would be gladly driving all over creation (2400 miles), doing whatever was necessary, and being there for Scott and his family when droop turned to drop.

To me, it was to be something they could rely on, an emergency block of bedrock to absorb tears, to relieve pressure, to help where I can without getting in the way. “Bedrock” is vital for these past two weeks, as a metaphor, for all of us. Scott was there for his mother, I was there for Scott, and Angels were there – in the flesh – in so many ways. I feel it vital to name my Angels and to thank them publicly for their as-yet-unsung service.

I would like to thank these Angels:

  • To the lady at ISJ Hospital who played the Harp. You said you weren’t an Angel, but someone who plays the harp, unbidden, when it’s the perfect thing at the perfect moment, you had wings.
  • To the last Hospice nurse at ISJ, you did more for Dan than anyone in the hospital. I noticed your wings. Thank you.
  • To Chaplain Jacek Soroka at ISJ, your presence, your words, the comfort you brought and the raw serendipity of your service when we celebrated the life of Scott’s father, with the story of Lazarus was ineffable. We all noticed your wings. Bless you Chaplain, you helped restore even a ember of my faith, watching you help Scott’s family cope.
  • To Miah and Justin, you were my private Angels. You helped care for our family when we needed to help care for Scott’s family. You both have wings, whether you know it or not. What you did helped us do what we had to, to help Sandy and both the Havens and Lazarus families cope. There are not enough thanks, kisses, or hugs to match what you have done for us. I am proud to consider you family.
  • To Janet Ryan, you too are an Angel. I saw your wings when we learned of Danny’s last best practical joke. Your entire family, and you are an absolute godsend to Sandy, and both Scott and I know it, and we feel so deeply honored to have you in our family.
  • To Wendy at Regan Funeral Home in Queensbury, how you herded us cats and helped Sandy cope with Dan’s last final practical joke is way beyond the call of duty for anyone. For all that you did, and for Saturday morning in the parking lot, I see those wings.

There were many others as well, I’m sure, behind the scenes who did things unwitnessed. Whether or not people truly were Angels or had Angels hugging their backs, please know that our happy feelings extend to you as well, despite nobody seeing your good works.

Little Lights

When the worst things imaginable happen, the most unlikely people sprout wings and feathers. When Scott’s father began his downward spiral the hidden angels who were always quietly standing there stood up, came forward, gently shrugged and unfurled their wings and surrounded us with understanding, solace, and light.

Losing someone like this is a box of broken glass. Each movement, each discovery, the memories and reminders are fresh and sharp and each one is a shooting agony. There are blessings that surround us. I am most thankful that I was able to deliver Scott in time for him to take advantage of what remaining lucidity remained at his fathers command and that we were all able to say goodbye.

The emotional hurricane peaked at 11:45 when Scott’s Father passed on. The storm built, it came, and it passed leaving the survivors stunned and numb. Saying goodbye, especially in this situation is one of life’s most unpleasant knots. Nobody wanted to let go and nobody wanted to let the suffering rage on. It’s an unloving chain, sickness, debilitation, and suffering. All rushing headlong into something everyone knows is coming, nobody wants to face, and once it arrives, nobody truly can cope with adequately. Losing someone this central, this important can only be assuaged by the flow of time.

I am here to support Scott in his time of need. His and his families loss has left a Daniel-shaped hole behind and I’ve witnessed their coping. Through their loss and the emotional turmoil I find myself preoccupied with helping them cope and through that, naturally extending this fragile emotion through time and looking what is to come.

It isn’t until you lose a father-figure that you realize you had one all along. I have two more. Love, as I described it while consoling earlier today, is both the most compelling blessing and the worlds most horrendous curse. Expressing this emotion is something we all really should do as often as we can, to bask in the blessing before the curse of loss sets in. There are more fathers to lose, and I found myself dreading what is to come.

For Norm, I didn’t grow up with him as a father but he truly is a father to me. I will share his loss with his natural children and I’ll be on treaded ground. The real emotional pain comes when you have deferred telling your loved ones that you love them because they aren’t going anywhere, what’s the rush? Until they are gone and the words ring out in hollow space and the only comfort is the wellspring of your faith. Telling them that you love them, especially between sons and fathers is something that everyone wishes they could do much more of, but end up with the knowledge of the love and watching a mussy emotion transfigured into respect.

For Joseph, that’s a wholly different matter. I am my fathers only son. I was a spectator for Daniel, I am a player for Norm, but for Joseph I am more. In many respects I’m going to be very alone with my father when he passes on. The thing that hurts the most is that the love I have for him is the most understood and the most rendered-respect. There won’t be any regret for any of my fathers, but I do know that this was the easiest for me, and if this was hell, the others I can only imagine.

It boils down to Love. Do you love them enough to honor and cherish them when they are alive? If so, then that Love carries on through death and enables you to let them go. Loving someone enough to want to keep them countered with loving them enough to beg mercy on their behalf and celebrating their lives and the blazing glory of their passing. Love is both a blessing and a curse, and I wouldn’t be shocked in the least to discover that the entire Universes purpose is to explore Love. Love makes the world go round.

On Death and Dying

My experience with Death is limited to the loss of both my paternal and maternal grandmothers. I have stood witness to their passing as well as the ramifications that sprang from those events.

Both of their passing, and my curious individualistic faith has formed the basis for my perceptions and thoughts about death and dying. I lost my Christian faith many years ago. I was raised as a Christian protestant, in the Presbyterian tradition, but I have developed my own unique viewpoints as I have lived my life and experienced it.

There is no real death in this world. The death that we know is one integral step we must take on our path. Each life is filled with steps, and they all lead somewhere, we are born, we grow up, we lead our lives, and eventually we die. I approach death both with metaphors and metaphysics. My metaphorical approach to death is the bowling analogy. Life is like a game of bowling: the shoes to rent, the ball to fondle, the lane to look down and goals to reach. Our lives are lead as the bowl hurdles down the alley, precariously streaking along a certain path, never one we think we selected but the path that was meant for us, one that could reach the pins or reach the gutter. When the ball strikes the pins, we die. While the pins knock over, they do not stop existing, they are gathered up, reassembled, and the ball is returned for another game. We are the pins, we are the ball, our death is when the ball strikes the pins and the gathering up and reassembly is the job of God.

When our lives end, when the ball strikes the pins, we do not simply cease to exist. There is a part of us, the part of us that is aware of awareness. It’s more than simply our consciousness, as consciousness fits within the crib of our sentience, it is the part of us that is just as permanent as the rest of the surrounding Universe. This part is our soul. When we die, the soul is released from the body but it does not just evaporate into nothingness. The soul is purpose. The soul is both the selector of the path and the path itself.  In each of our lives our souls are driven to experience a certain path, and we take that path whether we are conscious of it or not. For most people, they remain asleep to their souls and consider the events of their lives to be chaotic and random. Other people who are on the path of awakening to enlightenment understand how their live is structured and respect and have faith in the path.

This touches upon Good and Evil. The path selected is a means unto itself. People attribute valuations of “Good” and “Evil” to explain events that defy logical or rational description. It is because the consciousness cannot apprehend true reality that we are lead to make this fundamental attribution error. We don’t know, and without any further proof to the contrary we affix a label to events, calling them “Good” or “Evil”. Then we rail at a God who allows “Evil” into our world. In each situation the “Evil” serves a purpose that we cannot apprehend with consciousness. There is no real “Good” or “Evil”. There are only souls being and making paths for our bodies to follow from lifetime to lifetime. Death is not “Evil”. Death is merely a part of the path, one step that leads to another. It is pointless to upset oneself over “Good” versus “Evil” as any upset to a souls path never is permanent, the soul will select a path to follow that it must, irrespective of free will to the contrary.

The matter of enlightenment still remains. When consciousness awakens and expands it can break free from Maya, the illusion of reality, and catch glimpses of the reality the soul exists in. The rewards of awakening are immediate: you can catch a sense to your path, you are filled with the serenity of knowing you are where you are supposed to be and that you are doing what you are meant to be doing. That you are on the path, your path. I can only imagine that when a person achieves true enlightenment, true awakening, their consciousness has a full view of their souls, an incredible thing to contemplate.

I also approach death analytically. I see the body as a very fragile yet exceptionally complicated tuner. When we are born, we don’t have the biological complexity required to fully ‘tune in on’ our souls, so from birth to about 3 years old we are wholly indistinguishable from our nearest evolutionary progenitors, the chimpanzees. After our 3rd year, our bodies show enough raw complexity that tuning the souls attached to our bodies can begin. This tuning goes on throughout life, constantly getting more and more refined. The soul uses the body at that point, it’s a type of symbiosis. As we age the soul begins to dominate the relationship. Our bodies aren’t immortal, they were never meant to be. They have accidents, become damaged, and erode. When the body is damaged or begins to die, the soul begins to depart the body. Death is not a pinnacle moment, it is a process – we call it dying and when people are dying, their souls gently slide out of tune with their bodies. Considering everything, this is quite possibly the most merciful part of life, especially when the body is trapped in extreme suffering. When I saw my loved ones progressing along the route of the dying I have seen this ‘tuning out’ for myself. The soul moves on, it cannot die because it is not physical – it is energetic. I have seen my loved ones alive and animate, and I have seen their bodies dead and inanimate. The dead bodies closely resemble my loved ones, but they appear different, without the spark of the soul, the body is just a shell. The connection of the soul to the body actually looks like something, when the soul is gone, you know it, when the soul is departing, you can see it go.

Death is not the end. Death is a step, a transformation, the soul released so it can discover a new body. It has been my experience that souls do not flit about like fireflies, but rather tend to ‘flock’ together with other souls. From lifetime to lifetime through reincarnation each of our souls touch each other over and over. The roles, the genders, the relationships, they are always in flux, but the souls always find ways to be reborn together, to ‘flock’ together, if not by selecting bodies that are near each other, they arrange the path to bring the bodies together over and over. Our human drama plays out over and over, we dance with the same people we’ve always danced with, from lifetime to lifetime.

So then what is the purpose of it all? Christians believe that death is the route to the afterlife. A place of perfection and perfect happiness. My experiences, even my past-life memories which I do have possession of, indicate to me that the afterlife is not the destination. It may be ‘a’ destination for some, but at least not for me and the souls that I recognize in this lifetime. I think instead that the purpose of life is experience. That souls enjoy Maya, they enjoy the challenge, the struggle and in some ways they enjoy the suffering. I believe it to be more a matter of a fascination with experience, the new situations and the learning that drives life.

If death isn’t the end of existence and souls are born together over and over again, then there is absolutely nothing to fear and death should be regarded as just another adventure in living. It is a natural and unavoidable destination for the body and a chance for your soul to continue on to find new ways and new experiences. It shouldn’t be full of sorrow, it should be a celebration of a life lived well. Paths selected, existence experienced, love enjoyed.