9. Dancing Lady

Green tea hard tack morning
Grey metal bands tighten across the sky
This mind, those clouds,
Are one.

You wore a blue jacket and skirt
And sat with your true love.
The air was an evergreen hue,
And the storm was gathering.

The clouds are tightening.
Electric flares strike across the dome.
I'll sleep beneath Patagonian icebergs
With a Bengal tiger at my feet.

8. Milk Maid

The crack in the cream's not so bad
Miss Muffett has curdled her whey
Sister Magdalene is quietly sad
And Boy Blue is lost by the kay
Simple Simon walked to edge of day
Under a storm-soaked sky
Gingham Cat asleep by the bay
Haloed moons dance in your eye
Tsunami winds brushing by
Tom Joad walks in rail-road beds
Miss Bo Peep is feeling shy
And the cheese is on the shed

Friday's Cat

Julian, on New Year's Eve
Originally uploaded by jacsongs.

Here's our favorite feline, resting up in preparation for the evening's festivities. You see her curled in one of her favorite warm places.

7. Swan

Seven seas to whisper your name.
Seven dreams to bless you.

The southwest wind curls by your door,
having walked this warm winter desert
after its journey from Mistletoe Mountain.
I'm like that wind, only
I ride the asphalt plain;
and when I settle beside you,
then by your side I'll remain.

Seven swans swim on the lake
as the solstice moon wanes
into the halo of your eyes.

6. Goose

Awoke at 1:30 a.m.
with tiny paws on my neck
and a mighty kitten purr
in my right ear.
Perhaps it was
the rich chocolate
savored so late in the evening.
Perhaps it was random dreams
dancing at pre-dawn New Year.
Still, your faithful friend
draws out the ledger
to share this sketch with you.

5. Gold Ring

Your golden hair
calls my name;
your soft silver voice
follows after.
Then there is your heart.

Ah! I wish I had the art
to paint this matter,
but that tender soul is no toy
caught by a rhymer's frame.
It's a dove of the air.

O bless that heart as it soars,
and the hearth wherein it dwells, forevermore.

4. Calling Bird

You saw me first,
a strong voice
from the east.

Then I noticed you,
Venus rising
from the basement.

At old year's sunset,
we drove south
and shared a walk,

as we shared our tales.
Then we marvelled at the reflection
of the cross in the lake.

3. French Hen

While walking the middle path
between sky and land,
I met a lady who
would become a special friend.

Her cheeks are velvet,
her hands as warm as silk.
Her hair is bright & cloudy,
her voice is a watery brook.

Perhaps you think I lie or flatter,
but I would not stretch the truth.
She is all this and more —
mature, yet full of youth.

2. Turtledove

Two arms to hold you.
Two hands to caress you
and stroke your hair at night.
Two years to learn you.
Two years to sing by your side.
Two years, be twelve, then more.

Two standing stones, at earth's center;
they define its magnetic resonance lines.
Love flows from east to west, south to north,
circles the quarters, then rounds back.
Let us walk between those stones
that two hearts may be doubly blessed.

1. Partridge

One smile. One heart.
One tender kiss.
One step closer
to one warm embrace.

One Hope, One Faith, One New Life.
One everlasting Spirit.
One sky enwrapping us.
One voice in the wilderness crying.

Let us not forget the wealth of pears,
that soft fruit of love.
No, let us not forget
ere my true love comes to me.

Rosary Post-Mortem

I had a lovely chat with Pam late yesterday afternoon. I told her I had just posted the final entry in the "Rosary" series. She mentioned that she had been tempted to post a comment on the penultimate entry (4th Glorious Mystery): "Whew."

Honestly, that somewhat sums up how I feel, as well. Posting something everyday, five days a week, is quite an undertaking. In looking over it all, I can tell the results are uneven. No doubt, if I had spent the time honing and editing that Real Live Preacher (RLP) does on his entries, my series could have been a lot better. Thing is, even RLP doesn't challenge himself to write something EVERY SINGLE Day.

The whole thing began with an idea I had for a class I’ll offer at St. Paul’s in January. The idea is to pray the rosary, and invite people to relate the scenes in Jesus’ life to times in their own story. Well, I couldn’t very well ask people to do this without having tried it myself. Thus, this discipline of posting some kind of response to each of 20 events in the life of Jesus.

I hope most of my responses were personal. Sharing information about Padre, was very personal, and perhaps a bit risky, but it seemed "right". How could I ask others to share their personal stories if I am not willing to share stories both pleasant and unpleasant?

I know I occasionally went with an intellectual response; as I have mentioned, that’s a safe response for me.

By the third week, I realized I was trying to write these response in less than two hours each. Well, that’s only partly true. What I mean to say is that I would think about them, meditate on them, for the better part of a morning or a day. But the actual typing and construction of the thing would be fit into time available during the work day. Thirty minutes here, and hour or so there.

And when I thought of it that way, it seemed very much like writing a response for an essay test. Once I noticed that, I realized that the process was also helping me pin down what I believe right now.

I just took a few minutes to copy the text I've written over the past four weeks into a Word document. Trivia: It's 10,541 words, and 24 pages, long. As Pam said, "Whew!"

Who said something like "I won’t know what I believe until I write it"? That has certainly proved to be true for me.

Thanks to those who have hung in with me through these overtly religious entries. I want to especially thank Pam and Mother Susan, who were enthusiastic readers and offered encouragement as I engaged in this wrestling match.

Coming up – twelve days of poetry. You’ll catch on to the gag pretty quick, but it will be a fun challenge to see if I can come close to what I currently envision.

Think of it as my Christmas present to you.

Friday's Cat (belated)

Here's DJ, on her favorite perch. It's about 3:00 Christmas Eve afternoon. I've opened the blinds, so we could see the lady in natural light.

Incidentally, the pillow behind her (with the famous monkeys three) actually belongs to Elsie.

5th Glorious Mystery: Mary Received in Heaven

The main things I remember about Elaine are anger and insecurity.

Elaine and Padre married soon after they graduated from high school. When I asked him about it years later, Padre said they married because "That's what you do."

In other words, like many in the Bible belt (even today), they got married so they could have sex.

Padre made a reasonable living as a watch repairman, and it was enough for two to start a life on the edge of the Oklahoma City suburbs. But soon they had a child, and his salary wasn't enough. Elaine had to work.

This was the early 50s. Elaine was among the first working mothers. There was little support for it then. About the only "daycare" she had was her own mother.

That's one way to tell the story: what happens when a strong, intelligent woman gives up her indepence and becomes a mother. She could feel frustrated and helpless. And these feelings might be taken out on her first-born son.

Another way of telling the story is to quote the proverb "The parents eat sour grapes, the children grit their teeth." For I was once told that Elaine's mother did not show her the attention and affection later given to Elaine's children.

Either way you tell the story, it might help you understand, but it's no excuse. There is no excuse for a mother to hit her children.

Brother Dave has his stories, which are his stories alone to tell. His stories of abuse end when he was about nine, and old enough to defend himself.

Here's my story. I was still an infant, maybe 9 months old, and was fussy at breakfast. Elaine yelled, and hit me hard enough to give me a black eye.

Oddly, years later, she told me I was a sweet baby who never cried. And I think she honestly believed it.

My parents divorced when I was 6. My father was granted custody at a time that just wasn't done (~1962). Elaine was grnated visitation rights, and I saw her every other week until my early teens.

I remember little of those visits. I don't remember that she lost her temper. Probably was easier to put up with a kid from Friday evening through Sunday afternoon than it was 7/24. Sometimes, her apartments were rather squalid. But this is understandable, given that women were earning much less than men. I also remember a series of poorly chosen boyfriends, three of whom she married.

Her third husband was an alcoholic. I remember watching The Avengers in an ante-room during his AA meetings. Was that an appropriate place for a pre-teen to be?

This is where my concept of her insecurity comes up. It seems to me she sought validation through these men. Like many - including myself, on my worst days - she sought validation from outside herself.

The time would come when she would seek validation through her youngest son. Brother Dave had kept a healthy distance from her; I think he saw her less than three times from the time of our parents' divorce to her death. But, I wanted to be good. Society told me that a good son loves his mother. The church told me to honor my parents. So, I tried to connect with her.

But the time finally came when being a good son meant that I had to deny what I knew to be true. I had to act as if Elaine had been a good mother. But she had not been present physically. More importantly, she was so needy within herself, she had little to give her son. She had not been present emotionally - not when I was a child, not when I was visiting her. This was not the foundation of a healthy mother-son relationship.

By Junior High, I saw how other mothers were with their children. I could tell the difference. I could feel the sincere love they had for their children. Somehow, even then, I knew that wasn't present with my mother and I.

I did have some models of good mothers - Elaine's mother, Kathleen, was able to show Dave and I affection she had reportedly not been able to show her daughter. Padre's mother, Gran, also showered us with love. Later, various teachers would also show me the encouragement and faith in my talents that Elaine had not shown.

So, as I think of the Blessed Mother, I think of these women. I project their best qualities on the Heavenly Lady. She is the one who heals the wounds Elaine created. She is the one who comforts me when I feel low. She is the one who praises and directs and encourages. She is the one who sometimes challenges.

It is she who sits, Dante tells us, at the center of the Celestial Rose.

It is she who is my True Mother.

4th Glorious Mystery: Death of the Blessed Mother

Luke 1:46-55, Rev. 12:1

Source: prayer card issued by the Franciscan University Press, © 1988.

Coincidentally, the reading from Luke is assigned for Thursday in the fourth week of Advent (IOW, today) in the Daily Lectionary. Most of the readings I have put at the head of most of these meditations come from a pamphlet, The Healing Rosary of our Mother of Perpetual Help Prayer Companion, edited by Fr. Michael Barrett, C.Ss.R (© 1977 Angelus Media Publications). Another resource has been Scriptural Rosary (© 1961, Chrisitianica Center).

I must note that I consider these last two Glorious Mystery with alternate names. This Mystery is more commonly called the Assumption of Mary. As I understand it, the tradition is that Mary was bodily assumed into Heaven just as Jesus, and Ezekiel before him, were. To me, this suggests two things.

First, all this emphasis on the physical body being assumed into heaven (which we see elsewhere in Revelation) indicates that Christianity respects the human body. Although one could cite Paul to the contrary, all this bodily assumption clearly shows that heaven regards the human body as worthy.

Secondly, I get the sense of how important Mary must have been to the early church. They would have given her the same respect we give Coretta King today, at the very least. What little we know of Mary, mostly from Luke, leads me to believe she was forceful and spiritual.

So – beyond being the Theotokos (Mother of God) – it’s easy to understand how attributes of various "pagan" goddesses were projected onto Mary as time went on. The early church also saw hints of her nature in the Song of Songs; for them, she was the Rose of Sharon. It is for this reason that roses were associated with her, and this connection explains the derivation of the name "rosary" for this series of prayers.

As I meditate on this, the penultimate scene in this cycle, I picture an Orthodox icon. At the center, on a raised bier, is Mary’s corpse. She is mostly wrapped, as in swaddling cloths, but one can still see her aged face. The disciples are gathered around behind her, in a semi-circle. At the center of this circle is the risen Christ. He is holding out his hands, as if accepting an offering. And offering over his hands is Mary’s soul, represented as a baby in a halo.

I have spoken of how the early church saw Mary, but how do I see her? Ultimately, I project onto Mary my notion of the perfect mother. I hope to explore this in more detail in the final installment in this series, tomorrow.

Idée d’jour

In war, there are no unwounded soldiers.
— Jose Narosky, writer

3rd Glorious Mystery: Gift of the Holy Spirit

There are two accounts of the early church receiving the Holy Spirit: the earliest recorded is likely to be Luke's (Acts 2:1-7) which describes the event as occuring at the Jewish festival of Pentecost, and having affected a large group of people, from all nations. John 20:21-22 describes the event as being more intimate, with the post-Resurrection Christ breathing on the Apostles.

When I pray the rosary, I tend to think of the Lucan account most often. In particular, I remember an icon which depicts the crowd with tongues of fire on their heads. I then extrapolate this image to include people in my faith community. I picture the Holy Tongue on the heads of those I like and those I don't like so well.

Then I think of the "Gifts of the Spirit" St. Paul speaks of; a precursory search found two:

1. Here's the list from Romans 12:6-8 (NIV): Prophecy, Serving, Teaching, Encouraging, Contributing to others, Leadership, and Showing Mercy.
2. And here's the list from 1 Corinthians 12:1, 4-11: Wisdom, Knowledge, Faith, Healing, Miraculous Powers, Prophecy, Discernment of Gifts, Speaking in tongues, and Interpretation of tongues

Finally, I consider my own gifts: singing; speaking; compassion; and mercy. Perhaps even writing (he said with a wry self-defacing grin). Seems the life-long task is to be mindful of oneself. That is, to consider my giftedness honestly and humbly. To be sensitive to the possibility of gifts being newly discovered. To the nurturing of gifts new and newly discovered. To honestly consider whether I have applied my gifts properly and appropriately.

How am I doing so far?

---

Along similar lines, I recommend Reverend Mother's reflection on her gift of singing.

2nd Glorious Mystery: The Ascension

Acts 1:3-11

When the day is short and the night is long,
the vault of heaven shall kiss the bosom of earth,
the valleys shall kiss the tender clouds,
and the stars will caress the mountains.
Each root and branch will be called blessed,
every creature that crawls the earth or walks the sea,
shall know your Name.
Each beast from the mighty horse to the fearsome scorpion
will dance to the Name of the Lord.
Even this body, O Lord, you will cradle;
even the body you have broken you will not despise.
This piercéd heart you will renew,
these parched lips you will cleanse,
and they will sing your praise again.

Why do the people stand in wonder, O Lord?
Why do their mouths hang agape as they are crowned with holy fire?

O friends and dear companions,
why do you stand with mouth agape at the sky,
why do you stand like turkeys counting raindrops?
Don’t stand like rural posts,
you know the work to be done:
Proclaim this the acceptable day.
Heal the sick. Feed the hungry.
Console the destitute.
Proclaim this acceptable day
that heaven and earth are wed,
that all are living in the Lord’s house.
Proclaim that all are children of the most high
from each quarter and counter-quarter,
from every point of the Compass Rose.

Wake up, dear friends,
be amazed no more.
Rise up and do the work you are called to.
Rise up and walk the Way of Beauty and Holiness.
Selah.

Idée d’jour

Sometimes I wonder whether the world is being run by smart people who are putting us on or by imbeciles who really mean it.
— Mark Twain, author and humorist (1835-1910)

You know, Mark, I often wonder the same thing. What really scares me is the belief that, right now, it's most likely the latter.

1st Glorious Mystery: The Resurrection

Luke 24: 1-5

I dreamt Padre in eternity,
Walking as strong as he used to be.
The night before, I'd seen his face
On the cross in Jesus' place.

---

This is true: one season, I prayed the rosary and pictured the faces of family and friends in the roles of people in the various tableaux. For some reason, I felt moved to picture Padre's face as Jesus' on the cross. Having seen him in this role, it seemed appropriate to picture him as the Resurrected Jesus as well. And thus, I was able to see Padre as having ultimately overcome all the tragedy and heartache that had undone him.

Traditional catholic theology teaches that the ultimate sin is despair. If one has despaired of God's grace, how can it find them? How will they recognize it? This is one reason suicide is seen as a sin: it rejects God's gift of life, and despairs of God's saving grace. You can understand how troubling this might be for me, as I refer to the last ~20
years of Padre's life as "slow-motion suicide." Even if that phrase is inaccurate, it would be fair to say that Padre's melancholy was overcome by despair.

So, this vision of Padre rising from the dead was, for me, a healing vision. If it comforts me that Padre accepted heaven’s joy at the end, it harms no one.

---

We have less historical evidence for the Resurrection than the Crucifixion. The uncharitable would call the Gospel accounts propaganda, rather than history. The earliest surviving account of Jesus’ life, in Mark, makes no mention of a resurrection.

I am certain of one thing: something incredible happened. People allowed themselves to be martyred for a significant time following Jesus’ death. That is, immediately following his death (accepting the story of Stephen’s death as accurate), to the time of Constantine. People don’t martyr themselves for nothing.

The world has seen many good people cut down early in life since then. Many men and women have spoken truth to power since then, and have been killed as a result. No one has claimed that Martin Luther King, Jr. rose from the dead. So far as I know, no one has started an alternate religion based on the teachings of Ghandi.

So, in this way (at least) the story of Jesus is unique. People saw something unique in him, and tried to live as he taught. They were willing to die rather than reject his teaching. These are no small matters.

Idée d’jour

The best things in life are nearest: Breath in your nostrils, light in your eyes, flowers at your feet, duties at your hand, the path of right just before you.
— Robert Louis Stevenson, novelist, essayist, and poet (1850-1894)

This reminds me of the Thich Nhat Hanh quote I posted below.