Honey is Getting Old

I watch Honey now, she's changing... She's been changing all along. Life is just a long series of changes, and possibly transformations. Honey's days of running, and skipping across the desert, almost like a bird touching the ground, have passed. She will never experience that again. Now she walks slowly and prefers to stay in my footsteps.

If she explores ahead, she may go down one path and I'll choose another. Then Honey will have to backtrack to catch up with me. In her genes she knows that she can no longer expend that extra energy. So she follows dutifully and quietly at my heels.
Watching Honey age is a painful but enlightening experience, Because in her, in my dear Honey, I see myself. I feel things now in a rather alarming fashion - in pains that I have never experienced before. Once I had a body like the young Honey. It was the body of the young John. I also ran across the desert and my feet barely touched the ground. My body never said no, never said tired, never said pain; that is over for me as it is over for Honey.

But unlike Honey I choose not to go down the path of limitation, of progressive decline of changing behaviors, the new behaviors becoming ever limited in scope. If I listen to the messages of pain and begin to restrict my movements and activities in response to my body saying "No don't go there, No I'm tired, No don't do that" I’ll do what Honey is doing. Honey without thought follows the path of limitation. Her body says "be careful take it easy" and she obeys. The human mind, my mind, is different in one sense, I can tell my body what to do; I can override its genetic program, the one that slowly shuts down activity and spirals ever more rapidly toward death.

It is not because I fear death that I choose not to allow my body dictate to me. It is because I know that the natural progression can be changed through the simple act of will. "Yes I WILL take that step, I WILL except my pain as a messenger, as a gentle friend, as a new level of consciousness". I find these changes to be an interesting new sensation of awareness and fullness in my body. Because the pain shows me so many new places that I never knew existed. It helps in the visualization of my skeletal and muscular structure; like a light being shown into a dark corner. These new sensations light up areas of my body awareness which until this point had been totally unconscious.

The Sun is about to rise over the rocks. It's journey South into Winter progressing day by day. Will Honey and I be here to witness the winter solstice? Will we be here to watch the Sun reverse its course and begin to climb again towards the North and arch higher and higher across the sky? Will we see its rays becoming ever more intense and vivifying until they begin to bake the desert?

Now a cooler wind is blowing down from the mountains. October, more clouds in the air. Not a single bird singing this morning,. The mating season, that great pull of life to reproduce and expand itself is over. The Earth is going back to rest, the plants going back to rest, the birds moving further South to more abundant climes, to warmer winds.

The Blue Jays remain but they are silent now. Their last feeding frenzy of the Fall when the pinion pines opened their cones and exposed the tender seeds within is over. And now a Jay comes by to take a look at my strange presence in the middle of his world. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't cry in alarm. He just looks. We share this fall/ winter approaching landscape in silence.

Ahhhh the sun, peaking its burning corner above the rocks.

Trust, Love, Respect and the Fabric of Creation

How do we take that most important of all steps? The step out side our selves. How can we, how can the world, find peace when it’s all about me, myself and I? I no longer envision this step as some sudden transformation. But, instead it is taking the form of many, small but important, changes in behavior. Remember the bumper sticker – “Practice Random Acts of Kindness”. How much difference could one small act of kindness make? We can never know until we do it. When it’s about me, we don’t do it. Hey isn’t it about making things easier for me. What do I get out of giving to the other guy?

Lack of trust in others. Lack of respect for others. Lack of Love for one of these the least of my children. When we do, if we do, it differently – without thought of reward – we make another step towards bringing the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth. If I don’t who will? I may not always experience positive results. But, I have been given direction by every saint and prophet and savior who has spoken out as the mouth of God that the result will not be lost. Our effort will never be in vain.

Why do we hesitate to believe and act on the clear directions that we have been given? Are we afraid that it won’t work – that we will be taken advantage of? Sure, that was OK for Jesus – I mean he was Jesus – but not for me. I’m just an ordinary person. But didn’t he say ‘what I do you can and must do also’.

So I extend my hand. And if it’s bitten, I will extend it again. That’s the hard part - I was nice to this guy and he hurt me, I won’t be fool enough to do that again. But, I must. I must offer trust again and again. In spite of knowing that sometimes my trust will be betrayed. How can I turn back now that I have put my shoulder to the plow?

I may not see the Kingdom in this lifetime. But I know it is coming. And I know that when I respect, love and trust you that the Kingdom draws nearer to us both and to all our brothers and sisters who labor in the fields of the Lord.

Sunday Morning Service

I wake up at 3 PM. I’m fresh because I took a nap on Saturday to store up some extra energy. I know the moon will be setting soon. I would prefer to walk in the moonlight. Even if the moon is low in the sky near the horizon it reflects a lot of light. But I know that by the time I am prepared and into the desert the moon will have set below the horizon. The waiting dawn will not yet be visible. The land will be very dark. I know that darkness and don’t exactly relish it.

My pack is ready. I have water, and extra layer if it gets chilly, my Love flute. I fix a quick snack and get out of the four walls. I feed the horses as I pass by – half a ration. They will get the rest when I get back. I enter the darkness like going into a dense fog bank. Suddenly I can’t see my feet and barely see my hands. The world is a phantasmagoria of subtle lights. Every shape is vague and distant. Blue-gray is the dominant color.

The dark takes away the known with all it’s built in securities. Now I can barely perceive where I am in space. Chasms can open up under me upon a misstep. Walking becomes an absolute focus of attention. Feeling with my toes and the balls of my feet before committing my full weight to the step. My insecurities surface and must be neutralized or I will fall. I know from past experience that my body can do this if I can agree to let it.

It means doing strange things like walking on all fours. Using my body like my brothers the chimps and apes. Three secure places to balance on before committing to the next move. It’s slow – especially if I allow the mind to want to get somewhere. Then it becomes tedious. I must abandon myself to the now – no future, no past, just here. What comes may.

There are many mountains to climb. Places to go and people to meet and Native American style flutes to play. Will any of that happen? When I left my room I put thing in order knowing that I might never come back. Not that it would make any difference. Or would it? It feels right to me so that is the way I do it. What is the best way I can leave a room? Or leave a life?

The Birds Fly South

The birds have stopped singing and the hot dry has gripped the desert. Now the days are getting shorter. The cool days of Fall are a longed for respite. Even knowing that the cutting winds of Winter are not far behind. The birds have already started to move higher into the mountains in search of food and more hospitable temperatures. Soon some will start the long journey South for the winter. Many of the smart desert plants are dropping their leaves so as to conserve precious water. They will lie dormant until awakened for Spring by the Winter rains – if there are any.

The Desert ecosystem is a master of the art of conservation of energy. As I get older and the vigor of my youth wanes I understand better the necessity of energy efficiency. The impulse to measure my every movement for waste brings with it a certain respect for the limitations that come with physical life. It is a reminder that nothing can exist outside of the Circle of Life and its delicate balance of creation and dissolution, birth, life and death.

How have we managed to lose contact with Mother Nature? We are bleeding her to death to fuel a joy ride that cannot be sustained. Where is the respect for the land that generations before ours took so seriously?

Now I devote myself to making happiness available to a world hungry for a feeling of peace and togetherness. Happiness in the form of a simple musical instrument called the Native American flute. It’s not a grand project, I know. It won’t attract any government funding or a spot on Ophra. But, it’s enough for me to know that every Love flute is making a difference is someone’s life. Somewhere there is a song where before there was none. Someone is playing a tune and others are listening. The world turns another time. The birds start South. Tomorrow I will return to my shop and make a few more flutes.

Drops of Summer Rain

The big dry is tightening its grip on the desert. The bees are frantically working the last of the nectar from the fading acacias. The jujube fruit is ripening. Even as this is happening the sun is moving again towards the South. Summer monsoon rain clouds gathered this morning as the sun rose. I even felt a few invisible drops on my exposed arms. Just those miniscule scattered droplets brought hidden aromas into the air. The clouds provide a welcome respite from the terrible power of the Summer sun.

My children are growing up. Never again will I feel them cuddling in my arms as I sit in my chair. Now they are slowly detaching from my protective embrace. Ready to try the world on their own. Young birds scurry about after their parents. Learning the ways of their new world. Now mother and father begin to drive the off. Time to become independent. Some will make it. Others, not so strong, clever or just plain lucky fall by the wayside.

Soon I will no longer be able to provide protection and guidance for those I love so dearly. I will leave this place of joys and sorrows to go on to the next stage of my journey. Will I look back and remember? The lessons learned, the struggles won and lost?

In a similar fashion civilizations are born and fade again into the sands of time. O when will we find release from this epoch of violence and anger? So many lives sacrificed on the altar of ignorance and superstition. The treasure of an entire planet, nurtured and preserved for billion of years, squandered in a few generations of mindless consumption. The wealth of the ages used to maim, kill and destroy. The genius of mankind turned upon itself.

We have lost our way and wander in ignorance. One brother takes up arms against another to kill him. When will a true Messiah return to save us from ourselves? Father in heaven we cry out to you. Send us help. Teach us anew how to live in your ways. We who are in such need beseech you. Put your healing hand on our bleeding wounds and deliver us from the evil that has gripped the land.

An Answer or a Question

How did I happen to arrive here, in a human body, on planet earth? Leaving open the question of where and what I was before I arrived here – I now find myself in a place called space and time. I don’t know about you but for me the trip hasn’t been easy.

Sometimes I intimate that I had some precognition that coming here would not be a picnic. But for some reason that I can’t remember I signed on anyway. Any prior knowledge of what I was in for got wiped clean by the shock and awe of the entry process and its immediate aftermath. I mean wow! To be dropped into a social phenomena in full on freak out mode. Here I am, weighing eight pounds, totally helpless, unable to do anything for myself. I’m dependent for survival on a couple of messed up, barely functional characters that can hardly take care of themselves much less a newborn baby. They call themselves Mom and Dad. And they managed somehow, screwed up as they were, to keep me alive. Physically alive – but the psychological trauma was overwhelming. I’m still dealing with the residual defensive programs I created to protect my mind from the onslaught of their terrifying behavior.

I know something similar must have happened to you too. I haven’t met anyone here who, if they are being open and honest, doesn’t cop to having found themselves in a similar situation. Of course most people I meet are in total denial/defensive mode. So they are not and cannot be open and honest. They are functional – if you can call it that. But their network of unconscious defensive behaviors doesn’t allow for open meaningful communication. Either they have found refuge in some God the big, perfect father religion. Or they are lost in a state of perpetual frenetic activity based on acquiring things and having pleasurable experiences.

This begs the question – what is the purpose of my being here? So far no clear answer has come to me. My best intuition is that I am involved in some sort of learning process. I am discovering that this space/time dimension must be some sort of classroom. Is it a classroom where I am being exposed to experiences that can provide information about the nature of my self?

Buddha said that the origin of suffering was desire. Desire for what? I have this feeling that there is something just out of reach and that if I only possessed it everything would be OK. The nagging uncertainty would be erased and I would be at peace. Jesus, in a more Zen like mode, says get over it - the Kingdom is at hand – it is within you. What impulse, what motivation, gave Jesus, Buddha and all the myriads of saints and prophets the energy to reach out to those around them? What did they expect to accomplish? Buddha’s followers have written thousands upon thousands of words trying to convey the essence of something beyond words. Jesus left behind a few confused people who saw their dream of the Kingdom on earth evaporate like a fog in the heat of the day.

What is that something that is so hard to communicate? Is it impossible to communicate? Is that something waiting patiently. It has always been there and always will be there – hidden in plain sight. Waiting for someone to recognize it. Talk, scream, jump up and down – no one will listen. Oh go on, the Kingdom of God is within me? I don’t think so. And I have so much to do. Do you have a sermon? A tape I can listen to? I like what you are saying, you should write a book. Then I can read about this Kingdom you’re talking about. I’ll find time; I’ll get around to it. And I’ll think about it too. Honestly I will.

I have my flute. It channels the music that flows without hesitation, without pause. The music that has always been there in the wind blowing though the trees and the birds announcing a new dawn. Is it just beyond reach or already here? Does the music have the answer? Or does it simply pose a question? Are the questions a progressively expanding state of awe that in itself contains the only answer? Have a nice day and fulfill the promise.

Just the Other Side of Who We Are

We have our life. But no matter how much stuff we acquire it feels like there is something missing. A hidden something that if it were just to be revealed everything that was not right would be right. There would no longer be a longing because the picture would be complete. We’re sitting in front of a fire surrounded by everyone we love and we all know that it couldn’t be any different. It couldn’t be any better. We know that wherever we go we are always in the right place and that everything we need is always with us.

What is that place? Is it already here? Is it always here and we’re too busy being busy to notice it. Why does it take some tragedy, like the death of a loved one to make us realize that we didn’t give enough. That we didn’t take enough. That we were too busy to listen and now the missed opportunities haunt us like a mother with open arms that will never be filled.

When we play, when we forget the worries and pressures of ourselves we touch something precious. That something is an intimation of the space that is filled with love. The love that is asking only to be recognized in order to become present.
We intuit with a poignant regret that we’re missing something. The most important thing. The one thing that will bring healing and peace. We’re missing the connection to that place just beyond who I am.

Remember, you have touched that place. You know where it is. The music coming from your Indian flute calls you over to that side where the sun shines on a meadow filled with Spring wildflowers. In that meadow is the answer and the love that we know we have somehow lost sight of. When the music ends and you put down your Native American flute don’t forget that meadow. Keep it in your heart throughout the day. Don’t forget to tell people that you love them. It feels strange at first, I know. But it gets easier. You can give the very best of yourself. The sunshine of that perfect place gives you strength. You are a spring of living water and that water is love.