Observations on a florid Song

A collection of stories and aphorisms on enlightenment

By Joseph Shore

I.                 The Epic Truth

II.              Aphorisms and Poems

III.          Channeled Messages

IV.         The Stories

Observations on a florid Song

A collection of stories and aphorisms on enlightenment

By Joseph Shore

(copyright 2011)

I. The Epic Truth

The Song that seems to be forgotten is not.

Its melody stays there, firm, beautiful,

structured as it was.

What could you do to change it?

And so it haunts you, coming back in little wisps

of memory, phrase by phrase, asking for its whole.

And you would remember.

Remember, and let a little of the Song

come back to you and through you.

In eternity where all is One,

A song was singing,

Unaware of itself as a song,

 but aware of its content of love.

The song filled all that was or ever could be.

There was no place the song was not,

Nor was there any place which did not welcome it.

There was no place.

There was only the Song.

A note of the song heard itself

and thought of a descant to the melody

The descant became aware of itself

and wanted to listen to the Song.

The descant experienced the love in the Song it heard.

It filled itself with desire to hear.

More notes of the Song joined the descant as observers

And heard harmony to the Song.

Soon the Song was sung in harmony with many voices.

The descant said,

“Let us make form so that the Song can be remembered.”

Until this time there had been no difficulty in remembering the Song.

But other notes joined in the descant’s fear that the Song might be forgotten.

And fear began to remember the Song differently.

Soon the Song became embroidered with quick tempo changes, harmonic shifts,

Key changes, with such quantum rapidity that an ear was formed,

Then a brain, a mouth, a larynx, a body

And the Song forgot itself

But it could now hear.

It employed the body to search for the Song.

But no search satisfied it.

Soon the body forgot its purpose.

The Song which was fabric of its bones

Lay at rest in its tissues.

Having no purpose, the body began to think.

The Song which was only Love lay buried,

And the body thought of fear.

Fearful bodies created other fearful bodies

Each with a tiny memory of the Song

As a hologram within each cell.

There came a day when one body listened closely.

It heard first a tiny wisp of the Song,

Then a phrase, and then the whole Song.

It felt the Song in its bones and muscles,

Its brain and tissues,

And knew that it was the Song.

It told other bodies.

One by One they listened deep within and heard.

But the Song was complicated now,

Full of rapid key changes, tempo shifts, orchestral embroideries

The Song moved at quantum speed.

Bodies could not slow it down.

So they began to sing their own songs,

Some fearful but others prescient.

Great singers came into bodies and sang great songs.

Bodies began to remember more of the One Song.

It happened one day very quickly as a singer sang his song.

He listened deeply as he sang and observed his song closely.

He listened to his breath. He observed the tone until he saw his sound.

As his sound progressed he followed it,

First to his ear,

Then to his brain,

Then to his world.

He followed his sound to no place,

And there the One Song was singing,

Not complicated, not embroidered.

The slow, smooth melody began to unwind the fabric of his bones,

The sinews of his body,

For they were made of nothing but the melody made complicated.

As the body unwound there was no fear.

The slow, smooth Song spoke only of a Love that could not be different.

As complicated key and tempo changes resolved into the One Song,

Notes that had been trapped in the body rejoined the melody.

Note by note they flew from the body back into the Song.

As the last note approached the Song,

It tarried just a little as an observer.

Do I need to observe? It asked itself.

And as soon as it asked the question

It chose to rejoin the Song.

Singers, listen deep within,

And hear the Song that makes you sing.

Follow it and let it change you.

The Song that seems to be forgotten is not.

Its melody stays there, firm, beautiful,

structured as it was.

What could you do to change it?

And so it haunts you, coming back in little wisps

of memory, phrase by phrase, asking for its whole.

And you would remember.

Remember, and let the whole Song

Find itself in you.

In quiet eternity does the One Song sing,

Unaware of itself as a Song, singing only Love,

II. Aphorisms and Poems

Spring
Garden
Flower
Bee
Sky
Water
Still
Me
Emptiness

God created stillness and said to his creation: "Let this be our place. Our Light will shine in this stillness. Our Song is all that will be heard."

***************

My mind is still. The night sky shines, crickets chirp, the cat lays peacefully asleep, and my mind is still. There is now in this stillness, and Peace. No thought of evil or good comes to mind. I am awake.

***************

I find that I need do nothing within stillness. It requires nothing more. There is no need for TV or any "learning" for that matter. When I reach stillness, I watch the clouds, look at light, pet the cat. I hear my own ears, see my own eyes, and bite my own teeth. What would you have that stillness of mind cannot bring? In this stillness, there is a new-ness. There is space and sparkling potential which I have not actualized. In one moment of the eternal Now, the wave function within stillness presents itself to me, offering me the awareness of all that is or ever will be. It offers me the awareness of who I am. There is nothing to "learn." All is offered to me. And every 22 trillionths of a nano-second it is offered again! How patient and generous it is. If it is this patient with me, I must forgive myself for being so slow.

***************

The truth that is Peace fills my bones. Too long has it hidden there entrancing me to search for it. Now it wishes to speak and to be known as it is known. A welcomed guest it is, Prodigal to me. A happy home I will make for it and I will listen. For this one is bone of my bone and Self of myself

**************

What is the consciousness of the Tao? What is the consciousness of the One? The water flows. The pebbles whisper to it.

**************

The tiny drop that is "me" flows into the Pleroma. Fullness, fullness, fullness, joy and peace. I am still.

**************

Peace reigns as a slight mist comes off the water to meet the clouds. All is quiet except for the flow of the river over the rocks. My awareness sinks into my soul and I become at One with all things.

**************

When you get the message, you hang up the phone. When you really get that God is the only real part of you, then you connect with all those "I am" statements of Jesus. "Before Abraham was, I Am:" "The Father and I are One;" "I am the way, the truth and the life." If you say that in the West, you will be considered either a heretic or a lunatic. Such statements are the hallmark of insanity in the West. But if you say them in the East, people will say: "You just found out? Why did it take you so long?

**************

The immediate response my mind makes to touching Buddhism is "Such Peace. Such Peace." The immediate response my mind makes to touching Taoism is "Such Peace, Such Peace." The immediate response my mind makes to touching Zen is "Such Peace, Such Peace." Such peace I have found only in my awakening within the grandeur of nature. I feel the Tao flow. I am at peace. Thousands of years ago I found this peace. I have not left it.

***************

Here is an exercise that can be more helpful than trying to believe in something. Find an environment that your mind really likes. For me it is nature. Go to that place (with your body). For me, I would go to a water fowl sanctuary at Burnaby Lake. Allow your environment to slow down the incessant chatter in your brain. In my setting, I simply hear the birds, watch the clouds, and closely observe. I observe the bees, the earthworms, the garden of flowers. Tuned observation begins to slow my brain thought. What thoughts come, I watch them pass. As I tune my observation there is less distance from me and the flowers, bees, worms, ducks and all the ten thousand things of the Tao. Then there comes a moment and time stops. I am no longer an observer. I am a part of the garden. I have let go of the observer and my mind is still. Now the bees are a part of me and I do not care if they land on me. The flowers are my arms with blossoms. The ducks are me with feathers. In this stillness there is sparkling newness and a choice to see my real body as the world. As much as we wish to stay in this consciousness forever, we do not as yet. We come back to an ego and we eat our food and pass our water. But each experience of "true reality" brings with it rewards that bring us back to cosmic consciousness again and again, and we change. We grow our brains. When Richard Buck, Canadian Psychologist had his experience of cosmic consciousness in 1872, he described it as an experience one might have once in a lifetime. Look what has happened since then. Cosmic Consciousness is an experience that people now have many times in life. I expect to have it with just a little help from my friends in nature. Find the environment you mind needs and discover stillness.

********************

Believe no spiritual system. Be innocent of belief. Belief is the booby prize. Belief is always in another. It lacks the validity of personal experience. When you have experienced something, you know it. It has it own validity. You don't need to believe in it. The danger inherent in all spiritual systems is that they use words, diagrams, pictures, which the teacher believes have inherent value in teaching you the system of thought. Subconsciously that encourages "belief" in the system. The poor learner thinks the words and pictures ARE the truth, and when the words run out, they are bereft, asking the teacher for more words and diagrams. In such a manner is confusion given to yearning hearts and peace does not appear on their brows.

********************

Our quest for wisdom is a circle, not a straight line. We remember what we knew, and forget again so we can search for it. I was re-reading Ram Dass' book BE HERE NOW which awakened everybody a little bit back in 1971. Amazed to recall such good times, I remembered what I knew. :)

********************

That song I heard in my heart keeps asking me to follow it. I can hear the melody now. I think I will follow it.

********************

When you believe something there are always words. When you know something the words disappear. Tomorrow I will spend much of the day in the beautiful rain at Burnaby Lake, and I will believe nothing.

********************

The body is a symbol of the music it is trying to recall.

***************

T’is the last rose of twilight
And my heart thinks of Thee.
Stillness comes in the twilight,
A mind stilled, but not by me.
T’is the magic that comes in the last rose,
And a mind that knows only of Thee

********************

All despots are my brother.
Terrible things have they done in the world
And terrible eyes have looked upon them.
Must I see them as masters of sin made real?
Must I condemn?

For what they have done in the world my eye must see.
But the eye with which I see the other
is the eye with which God sees me.
Lost in his illusions first the son of God I see,
Then brother is he to me.
For whatever my brother does,
there is no home in me to hate.

********************

Blessed Jesus
Deliverer from all guilt and fear
Because you cancel out both,
Not by a bloody sacrifice
But because you believe in neither
And gently offer us your vision of the Love we have never left.

**********************

What would it be like if we did not resist evil, as if we turned the other cheek? It would mean that we stopped projecting fear. Nothing real can be threatened. It would mean that we have vision and know that regardless of what my brother does to me, I will not hate him for it!!!!!

*********************

Love is our natural inheritance. Fear is something we created by splitting everything into opposites. Fear is the fuel of the world. Religions and governments are based on it and promote it. Fear is insanity and my insane thoughts show me a meaningless world. Above all else I am determined to see clearly. I could see peace instead of a world of fear. God is in everything I see because God is in my mind.

*********************

Our urge is to split apart into good and bad, to fight the bad and urge others to be good. It doesn't work. It is insanity. You cannot extinguish darkness by fighting it. It is not an entity. It is just lack of light. Light one little candle and the darkness goes.

*********************

I must go to Burnaby Lake, to the water fowl sanctuary, and walk in the rain. Wood Ducks are there, prettier than any painting, Mallards, Coots, Marsh Wrens, and the hope of seeing a Blue Heron. The beauty of these creatures and their oneness stills my mind and brings me to peace. Often I stay there as long as possible and wonder why I must go back to the apartment? Why can I not just stay there, in nature, live in the bushes and the trees? My real feeling of home is there...then I remember New York bagels with cream cheese and I become insane again.

******************

One day I was thinking how much I missed seeing hummingbirds. It was just a thought. That same day I went down to my little creek to play with the trout. Out from the bushes flew a lovely hummingbird. He hovered in front of me for a minute or two just to let me see him, then flew back to the bushes.

******************

Maybe people would be kinder to animals if they recognized that their dog was God's dog. Their cat was God's cat. Their bird was God's bird. Their fish was God's fish. God's cat lives with me. I call her "Blanche" but I know that God has his own name for her. I have asked her to tell me but she says, "Blanche will do for you."

******************

Let Love replace terror in our hearts. Let us return in the mind to that time we chose fear and victimization, and let us choose again for the Love that we are.

**************

I sat in a summer garden not long ago. A myriad of flowers filled it. Bees landed and meandered. Earthworms trundled through the soil. Light bounced off of the foliage. Not another person was there. Birds sang, and clouds floated overhead. I was brought to stillness. Thought stopped. Time stopped. In this still attention duality stopped. The garden was not opposite to me. I was not observing the garden. In this holy stillness, I was part of the garden. Each flower expressed complete Wholiness. Each Bee, each worm was divine. And I was not a body. This divine experience lasted an eternity because time had been stopped by attention. I am still part of that garden. I will never leave.

***************

When friends and loved ones pass over, the grief is present. It cannot be denied. But it can be healed by remembering the loving things that person did. The love is the ony thing that was real anyway. The love is what continues

***************.

Peace reigns as a slight mist comes off the water to meet the clouds. All is quiet except for the flow of the river over the rocks. My awareness sinks into my soul and I become at One with all things.

***************

What would I have to do to know, truly know God? The most direct approach would be to know myself, truly know myself. Then I would know God. But God's purpose is shared by all things. If I could truly know my cat, I would know God. Only God is and we are the strokes of His paint brush.

*****************

Tara Singh was a wondrous teacher of A Course in Miracles. He has left his body now but his presence remains. Taraji taught A Course in Miracles in an Eastern way. He did not teach it as a thought system. He did not draw diagrams and charts and give them an intellectual system which they were told to "learn." Instead he taught by unteaching. He was a luminous presence. His students did not learn what he taught. They learned who He is, just as parents do not really teach their children lessons. Children learn who their parents are! Taraji was awake! He did not want to add one more belief into the world.

*****************

I once knew a girl who dripped of moon light. Her smile entranced the sun, and the rain ran through her hair to the world's deepest valleys. She stood above the earth as a luminous presence and blessed it with a Song. In her presence I believed nothing, but knew all things, touched all things afresh as fresh as a dew drop that poised itself in eternity just so that we might join in its experience together. Of newness her brow was formed; of peace, her face, of sensuousness her long legs; and wisdom followed her footsteps as she sang her Song. I know her. I will not tell you her name. She has never left my mind for we are One.

******************

A cabin sits on the shores of a small lake, surrounded by evergreen trees. There is a fire in the fireplace. A thunderstorm is brewing. Rain comes through the trees refreshing the forest, pelting the lake with its droplets. Yet stillness reigns in me as I share such heaven with a friend I love. This friend is a girl I once knew who dripped of moonlight. Her smile entranced the sun, and the rain ran through her hair to the world's deepest valleys. She stood above the earth as a luminous presence and blessed it with a Song. In her presence I believed nothing, but knew all things, touched all things afresh, as fresh as a dew drop that poised itself in eternity just so that we might join in its experience together. Of newness her brow was formed; of peace, her face, of sensuousness her long legs; and wisdom followed her footsteps as she sang her Song. I know her. I will not tell you her name. She has never left my mind for we are One. We watch the rain together as it showers the pond. In the distance, Coyotes sing their songs and Owls make comment. In this flow are all things perfect and meaning is unfettered by form. Love has remembered itself and taken up residence in our midst. The rain dies down. The pond becomes peaceful again. Not a ripple is left. We watch the glowing embers die in the fireplace. Peace, Peace, Peace and Love is Present. Love has found one home in two hearts and the two hearts have become one.

The Cabin still sits there on the shores of that small lake waiting for our return and Love is still Present.

**************

Of didactic ways I would repent.

My school years have passed.

The time for learning is over.

In this space I would put away all time and learning.

I would come afresh to stillness.

In that stillness there sparkles all the truth my learning could not attain.

In that stillness I find you,

perfect with the innocence of creation.

You have not changed.

As wisdom-bearer in Brahman’s House, who could change you?

As natural as the flow of the Tao, who could change you?

As the silence on the Buddha’s lips, who could change you?

In this space I have come to stillness

And in this stillness I have found you as perfect.

In perfection does my mind hold the moment and share it with you.

In this space where stillness shines there is relief from time

and freedom to remember the vast ages of our knowing.

Lifetimes upon lifetimes present themselves in parade of gallant splendor

for at last we remember.

Millions of years come to us in memory of who we are and the Love that grew within us.

We have not changed.

My alchemy shows its art.

Two Singers Walked Through a Yellow Wood

**

Two singers walked through a yellow wood,

Singing as they went.

Blessed by the songs were the creatures of nature.

The singers were bound together by a love which encompassed both themselves and their song.

The woods made a beautiful path for the singers

And the love in their song went ahead of them.

Being both expressions of the same Love the singers knew one another as the lips know a smile.

As the sun went down, a full moon lit the way, and the singers were bathed in moon light.

They sang into the night, joined by a symphony of nature.

Soon Coyotes and owls, wolves and crickets joined in the song.

The singers knew not that they loved each other.

They knew only the love of the song which they shared.

It happened the next morning: a fork in the path offered two directions through the forest.

The singers knew not what to do.

They had no destination.

They had only their song and a little whim to walk in the woods.

They thought about this until finally one said.

“I’ll take this path and you take the other one.

“We will meet when the paths come together.”

Somehow it did not feel right to split up the song but they did.

One went one direction and the other went the other.

At first they tried to call out to one another but soon the Forest heard only one voice.

The paths which at first looked smooth and easy soon grew very hard.

The forest which first looked so beautiful soon became gnarled with thickets and thorns.

The song which had been so strong seemed almost lost.

Both singers found encampments of people who had settled down in the Forest.

“Come stay with us,” they urged.

The Forest is all we need.”

But each singer remembered the other, and the Love they shared.

Little wisps of melody of the Song came back to them and they remembered.

Deep in the Forest they began to sing, much to the protests of the Forest dwellers.

“Why are you making that noise? Stop it or you will have to leave.”

And they left.

Both singers, miles apart, left their encampments and took up the journey again.

They began to sing parts of the song they remembered.

Soon the animals of the woods took up the song and it echoed throughout the Forest.

As the song echoed the singers began to recognize each other’s voices.

They followed them and there in a clearing they met face to face.

They were so happy they embraced one another for the first time.

They had never been separated before and thought of themselves as One.

In the clearing, the full moon shone brightly, bathing the two in moon light.

They sang their song together in that moonlit clearing.

They sang like they had never sung before.

As they sang moon beams illumined a trail that seemed familiar.

They followed the trail, half knowing where it went, to a beautiful lake.

On the shore of the lake they saw a beautiful cabin.

Suddenly they remembered that this was their old home they had left long ago.

They opened the door and went inside where they saw their home, perfectly preserved.

The table was beautifully set.

The napkins were laid out.

The stove was warm and fresh baked bread lay on it.

They remembered this beautiful home by the lake.

How could they ever have forgotten about it?

They remembered the Love they shared and the song that sprang from it.

They remembered themselves as One, sharing the same Love that filled them.

There they rested in an ancient peace and Love that satisfied and the two were One Love.

No more desire to leave entered their hearts.

They had found rest in the Love that they were.

And the Song rested in their bones.

III. CHANNELED MESSAGES

In truth all of the aphorisms and most of the stories in this book were channeled but these messages came first. The Voice comes from the Truth which is hiding in me. I call that Voice Jesus. This Truth is hiding in every form.

“It is easy to get lost in dreams. They furnish the evidence that you seek in proclaiming your separateness. You live but in dreams while the love that you are goes unnoticed or only vaguely remembered. Do not wonder how easily you forget heaven. Wonder instead why you choose dreams in place of reality. Is it not because you fear reality? If Love is all-encompassing, have you not projected the opposite? Fear must be illusion, and you become lost in it. This is the answer to your question why do you so easily forget me.  Be still and know that I am God. You wish to remember me and yet there are blockages to your recollection. Know them well you should, for you have made them and given them a place in your heart where I wish to dwell. If I take my place in your heart there is nothing but the song you cannot forget. The Song that seems to be forgotten is not. Its melody stays there, firm, beautiful, structured as it was. What could you do to change it? And so it haunts you, coming back in little wisps of memory, phrase by phrase, asking for its whole. And you would remember. Remember, and let a little of the Song come back to you and through you.”

*************************

“I know you love me Joe. I know everything about you. I knew you before you were born. I know you when you sit down and when you rise up. You have never disappointed me. To me you are the perfect brother because you are just as God made you. Who could change you or what terrible thing could you do that would hurt God’s finest creation? All of His creations are His finest because we are all One in that Light which creates us. I thank you Joe for giving me your love and respect. I will never fail to guide you because I know no blemish, no shadow. My Father and I are One and you with us. Let this settle your mind. In perfect Oneness are we. In perfect heaven is our home. In perfect brotherhood is God’s love made manifest. Remember this heaven and forget your world. Nothing has happened to change God’s perfection and in that perfection we are One. Thank you Joe. “

********************************

“In perfect wholeness do you exist and yet your mind is fragmented, or so you think, for this is not really happening. Your body is not sick because it is not real. God did not make your sickness and therefore it does not exist. The ego created your body as a false temple for itself and it demands that you take its point of view seriously. It screams at you to believe in sin, guilt and death. The sickness of the body is its last gasp effort to make you believe in the body. You have done well to disbelieve. You asked us why you were permitted to live after the event you call your ‘last heart surgery.’ You were permitted to live because you have not quite learned your lessons yet. You are on the verge of being a happy learner but this has not come easy for you. You still believe you are a body or you would not be here now. And in truth you are not here now for this is your dream. How easily you could have awakened. The ego was terrified that you would. You remember the terror you felt going into the operating room. It amazed you. You didn’t know such terror lived in you. That was the terror of the ego which indeed fears death as its own extinction. You believed its terror and you awoke from surgery a sick man with a body demanding attention, shouting to the world its reality. Since then you have learned many lessons. You believe less in the body while tolerating the symptoms it constantly gives you. You have experienced yourself in the Mind of God. Choose my brother, the ego or God, for you know that you cannot have both.”

“The night air cools and your voice becomes still. In these moments you can hear my voice. I am always with you but you cannot always attend to me. Blessings abound but your mind is a junkyard. In perfect heaven you do sit while dreaming of earth and exile. My voice has but one purpose; to awaken you. Forget the nightmares you project and remember heaven. You have not in truth left it, nor are you in any danger. Safe within creation’s Love do you sit. Nothing serious has been done to you. Awakening is not possible as long as you believe in sin, guilt and fear.  But see past them you can and the world you created from them will drop before your eyes as the shining presence of God replaces it.

Be still and know that I am God. The night shimmers with my love for you. In the dark, night clouds fly over you, unnoticed, just as my love covers you always but goes often unnoticed. Be still and know that I am God. The song you sing comes from my heart which is yours also. Do not let the body quiet your song. Let the song remake the body.”

************************

This one alone is a prayer and the voice is mine.

“Precious silence reigns while outside the snowflakes fall, adorning tall pines, rooftops and children’s heads. How I love Thee Father of Lights. The world which we made to condemn, I can hardly see. It is you that I see in the beauty. Your Light shines around every branch and glistens from every snowflake. You are in everything that I see because you are in me. Today this silence will enter me and I will allow it to change me. Father my brothers and sisters have climbed so long on Jacob’s ladder. So long have we slept, but now are dreaming the happy dream of awakening and returning into you.  Bless this silence Father and send it to my brothers.”

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“Waiting for Spirit is like the best part of summer. The wait is satisfying and gentle like a cool breeze on a summer’s night. Waiting has never come easy for you Joe. Over the years you have learned enough to come to this place. It is as easy as sitting on the river bank with Grandpa Ritchie, with a quiet mind as the water flowed by, the tall grass and the cool shade of the tree, with just a nibble on your line and a sunfish on the other end. Those days brought you here to us and to the calling you have known for so long yet just recently recognized. What a good boy you were, not wanting to hurt the feelings of your religious family. They could not understand Joe-Boy, could they? They could not understand how you knew things and saw visions and yet you learned from the best in them and the worst in them. The worst has left some scars but they make no difference. The wisdom stays as pretty as your grandmother’s flowers. The world of Spirit loves you Joe. We are all here for you. We watch you daily as you struggle to learn as quietude comes over you and settles upon you. You often thought of living in a monastery but the world is the only place for you. You were my student Joe. You have always been my student. And didn’t I tell you to go into all the world and say good news? You were with me then. I know you remember. Lives have come and gone. Many guises have you worn in the world but you have always been my student. It is my love for my students which you now extend to yours, and so your memory of me deepens and comes closer to fullness. I love you Joe. I have always loved you.

Settle into the quiet. Spirit will flow. Messages will come. Lives will be healed and the land made fresh again. The songs you sing are all of me. I am the song that will not leave your heart.  Love is Present Joe and we are One. “

AMEN

IV.THE STORIES

Tails of the Christ

My children were leaving. I had lost custody of them in a bloody three year court battle, and now they were going. They did not want to go. Thomas was 9 years old and Katie was 15. They were at my house one last time before their mother pulled up in her old car laden with baggage and told them they were leaving for Florida. She had tricked Thomas by telling him that I was coming too. As it became clear to him that I was not going he had to be dragged to the car as he cried, “But I don’t want to leave my daddy.” I waited until they pulled out and then I cried too. How I cried.  I didn’t know how to stop. Thomas had given me a charge as he visited me that day. “Here daddy,” he said. “Here is this baby catfish I caught. Will you take care of him for me?” He had caught a little 2 inch catfish fry from a pond where he was playing. “Of course I’ll take care of him,” I answered. I took the little fry and put him in my 50 gallon aquarium tank. Since the little fish was the last thing Thomas gave to me I wanted to love that little fish as though he were my son. I knew I would seldom get to see my children again. They were going to be 2800 miles away from me and accessible only by a plane ride that I would not be able to afford unless my fortunes changed.

I took all the other fish out of the aquarium and gave the little catfish fry all the room he wanted. At first I fed him fish food, then little pellets as he grew. He got to know me and let me feed him by my hand. By the time he was 4 inches he would let me pet him as I fed him. I loved that little fish because he was my son’s last charge to me. He was happy in my tank and grew so well. Soon he was 6 inches long, then 8. I could look into his eyes and watch him look back at me. But I knew the time was coming for me to release him into some nearby lake where he could have a life of his own. I am going to say this just once: Every sentient being is Divine. There is no such thing as just an animal or just a fish!

A Course in Miracles teaches us that the Son of God is not one person. The Son of God is the Sonship and contains within it all of God’s creations, everything that has come from His extension of Love. Students of the Course understand that the Sonship contains within it all of our brothers, but do you understand that some of our brothers have fins and fur! All Sentient beings are a part of the Sonship.The Course teaches further that we are connected with everything. "How holy is the smallest grain of sand, when it is recognized as being part of the completed picture of God's Son!" (T-28.IV.9:4). And again, "The forms the broken pieces seem to take mean nothing. For the whole is in each one. And every aspect of the Son of God is just the same as every other part" (T-28.IV.9:5-7). If God is in you, look at the world and you will see God. God is in everything I see because God is in me. The Christ is in everything!

In the Gospel of Thomas, Jesus said, "I am the light that is over all things. I am all: all came forth from me, and all attained to me. Split a piece of wood, and I am there. Pick up a stone, and you will find me there."

Should it be strange then that I could look into the eyes of a little bullhead catfish and see the Christ? How I loved that little fish! I loved him because Thomas gave him to me and asked me to care for him.

The day came for his big release. I took him from the big aquarium and put him into a small portable one and carried him to my sports car. It was just a five minute drive to the lake. I drove with one hand and steadied the portable little aquarium with the other. I drove slowly so as not to slosh the water. I told him where we were going and that he would like it when we got there. I had picked a time when the lake should be devoid of people. We arrived and I gently carried the portable aquarium to the edge of the water. I told him that this was his time for freedom. I opened the lid and gently slid him into the shallow water of the lake. He looked around and at first did not understand this big “aquarium” he had been released into. Then there came a moment and he “got it.” It dawned on him that he was free. He started to swim out into the deeper water, but then he stopped, turned around and looked at me with eyes which by now I knew, and said, “Thank you.” And then he swam out into that lake. Know God and you must love your brother. Love connects us all in the Divine Mind. And some of the tales of the Christ are tails of the Christ.

I sat in a summer garden not long ago

I sat in a summer garden not long ago. A myriad of flowers filled it. Bees landed and meandered. Earthworms trundled through the soil. Light bounced off of the foliage. Not another person was there. Birds sang, clouds floated overhead. I was brought to stillness. Thought stopped. Time stopped. In this still attention duality stopped. The garden was not opposite to me. I was not observing the garden. In this holy stillness, I was part of the garden. Each flower expressed complete Wholiness. Each Bee, each worm was divine. And I was not a body. This divine experience lasted an eternity because time had been stopped by attention. I am still part of that garden. I will never leave.

What is there to remember in 9/11?

If we truly know Love as our identity we could never hate a brother regardless of what he did to us. We would be projecting the opposite and making it real. Forgiveness is simply letting go, letting it pass by because in truth it isn't real. Consider it a... tiny mad idea that can be let go. You see now who the real perpetrator of 9/ll was. FEAR and instead of responding to the illusion of fear with Love, we have spread fear throughout an entire world. Only the Ego would want this, not Love. And so we see who controls the world. The Ego does and loves the story of fear. Our response to those who suffered on 9/11 is clear. Compassion must be expressed to all beings in pain. As we go through life seeking enlightenment, compassion is our walk. As compassion brings love to wounded hearts, then is it time to remember that we are not bodies. Our bodies may be injured or killed, but our true Self cannot be hurt, injured or put to death. We connect with that true Self even as we express compassion for those in pain.

Mindlessness

I was re-reading Alan Watts the other day and remembering all of the wonderful awakenings his books brought to me in the 60's and 70's. I had to ask myself, "Why does no one read Alan Watts any more?" As soon as I asked the question the answer came to me. Nobody has the attention or the interest to read books like these anymore. We are so mindless that we cannot be attentive. It is not just the kids that have ADHD. The whole Western world has it. We are so mindless we know nothing but boredom. We content our mindless minds with cable television which has 200 channels of nothing but mindlessness. We bargain with ourselves which mindless channel we will settle on. The same is true of music. Pop culture has taken over the whole world, and the first commandment of pop culture is "Thou shalt not look past the surface." We used to say, "Don't judge a book by its cover," but now the cover is all we look at. Is it any wonder that the high art forms are dying for lack of interest! Who wants to go to the opera when they can see Lady Gaga! We are mindless creatures who have totally forgotten that we are minds! Somebody has to wake up! The Buddha said, "I am awake." Today, if someone said that, no one would notice or care! Something must awaken us from our mindlessness! We can take some comfort in the fact that this is not the first time the manifest world has fallen apart. The ancient Hindus were wise enough to see that the world passed through phases called Kalpas. The good news is that after things fall apart we will awaken again. The bad news is that a kalpa lasts four million three hundred and twenty thousand years! The Hindus looked at the big picture! They also wrote the wisest and oldest wisdom books in human history. Don't expect anyone today to be interested in reading the Vedas! We can't even read Alan Watts! If all this sounds so blue, the answer is the same as it was four million three hundred twenty thousand years ago: "Eat your food and pass your water. But also, be still. Meditate. Use whatever tool you need to bring your mindless mind to stillness, whether it is an electric cattle prod or A Course in Miracles. Find yourself for God sakes! The kalpa of mindlessness is over!

Star Wars

Our Modern Myth,

The mythic description of good and evil for our time is found in Star Wars. George Lukas captured the attention of an era not simply by the cinematography and special effects but because his story is a “re-mythologization” of the most ancient of conflicts, good verses evil. It is the central story of every time, and our time, like others past, sees it played out in daily life with cops and robbers, good guys and bad guys, republicans and democrats, within our midst. Look carefully at the myth however. More it has to tell you than which side of the “force” is stronger or better. In fact, if an unprejudiced eye from some galaxy “far, far away” should look at these two sides, good and evil, as we see them in the Jedi and the Sith, little difference might he see. Both sides seek to control their agendas by mastering control of a mystical, psychic force in the universe. Point of view is the main difference between them. We might say that evil has a very wrinkled skin, very bad teeth—evil Mr. Tooth Decay is—and talks in a low crackly voice, while good is small and green with funny ears. Their operations seem to be the same. “Kill the Sith we must,” says Yoda. But who could dislike a cute, cuddly Muppet like Master Yoda. Watching this cute little Muppet jump incredible heights using the "force" while battling the evil Sith Lord with a light saber, who could avoid cheering for the sweet little guy. Even if we side with the point of view of good, we notice that good is never strong enough to overcome evil. A “strong, masterful” good can only hope to perpetuate the battle. Some difference in syntax might there be. If at the end of our sentences our verbs we put, more like good will we be. Could this a “real” difference be?  Our unprejudiced observer might also notice that there are no “holy wars.” Each side believes it is “right.” The Sith feel empowered by the hypocrisy of the Jedi while the noble Jedi are convinced they are the guardians of the universe. But like the Knights Templar before them, they too take up their swords ignorant of the knowledge that he who lives by the sword—light saber or otherwise—dies by the sword. There are no Quakers among the Jedi. They are the psychic policemen of their galaxy, the kung fu masters of a force greater than Chi.

The Sith are convinced in the individual’s “right” to experience his own passions. The “life coaches” of their galaxy were they; the "pop psychologists" of their time. Watch them on Opra we could.

The Jedi are convinced that their good is ultimately altruistic and will prevail in the end. But there is no Absolute reference. There is no God for either the Jedi or the Sith.

Does this story sound modern? Modern it is, and ancient too. Both the Jedi and the Sith use power to control. Neither has read The Lord of the Rings nor seen Gotterdammerung! 

We get so caught up in cheering for one side (and who will be honest and say he hasn’t thought of cheering for the Sith) that we do not see that this is a false dualism. Think for a moment, if remember ALL of Star Wars you can. What is the only truly powerful force in this mythic saga? It is love. Love is all that is powerful. It is Luke’s love for his father that makes him reach out to Darth Vader. It is Vader’s memory of his love for his son that brings about his redemption.

Good is not stronger than evil, but love is. Never a doubt there is that love will defeat it.

With all the selling of light sabers and memorabilia might easily we forget the lesson here to be learned. The lesson is not that we should learn more martial arts, master our psychic powers better, or go on holy wars, but that we should become aware of love’s presence. Only a moment of love’s presence will be changing. Today the world is polarized and war is imminent or in progress. We choose sides and dehumanize the other side as "evil" while they do the same thing to us. There is a war on "Terror" and the enemy is us.  A Course in Miracles says "You have but two emotions,(love and fear) and one you made(fear) and one was GIVEN you (love). Each is a WAY OF SEEING, and different worlds arise from their different visions. See through the vision that is GIVEN you, for through Christ's vision, He beholds Himself. And seeing what HE is, He knows His Father. Beyond your darkest dreams, He sees God's guiltless Son within you, shining in perfect radiance, which is undimmed by your dreams. And this YOU will see as you look with Him, for His vision is His gift of love to you, given Him of the Father FOR you."  The Course also says, "Seek not to change the world. Seek instead to change your mind about the world." The world we see arises from our minds. It is our minds that need to be changed. What would happen to the world if you would but look on your brother who you consider evil and chose not to react to him as such, but instead saw him as the son of God lost in his illusions? That would mean you have stopped projecting the opposite. That would mean the war on terror has vanished. In the illusory world of us against them, good verses evil there is no victor. You can't kill them all!!!

And if all this seems too cosmic for you, then start with love’s presence wherever you can become aware of it, in the love of a dog, the smile of a child, or the presence of a friend. In that experience you do not project the opposite. That little “start” is like awakening.

The Lure of Darkness

There seems to be a lure towards darkness. As the Phantom of the opera tells us, the darkness is seductive. It is amazing that this character who is a serial killer gets portrayed with such sympathy. But he does. People love the Phantom.

Children are afraid of the dark for the monsters they fear hide in it. But they grow up to be adults who are just as often drawn to it, lured to it for its purported appeal of power. The darkness has a slick which lures us, ever so gently.

Many, many years ago I dated a woman who claimed that her family was a part of the Gambino Crime Family. She described the anxiety her family felt when big Paul Castellano  (“Big Paulie”) got whacked by John Gotti. They didn’t know what to expect.  She described how the FBI came to all the family gatherings. Her Aunt Jenny had also married a man in the Gambino family. She calmly related how her Aunt Jenny would have to kiss the ring of “Cousin Joey” when she and her husband went to family gatherings. Her uncle, she claimed, was a Capo in the family. He was a butcher in ordinary life. I shook his hand once and. I thought he was going to break it.  There was an icy coldness about him.  I dated this woman and went with her to family occasions. Once at the dinner table I made the mistake of mentioning an opera company which I described as Mafioso. People’s heads shot up and their eyes almost popped out. I always had a knack for faut pas! 

When I first moved to New York for my operatic career I had to supplement my opera income with other gigs and often sang in Italian restaurants. The Godfather had just come out and everybody was talking about it. Real “Wise Guys” would come into the restaurants and talk about how they were famous now! Even they were taken by the glamorous mob figures the movie presented.  Soon the whole country was obsessed with the characters. But the real Wise Guys were not at all glamorous. They were cold as ice and dead serious. They believed, as surely as Iago, in the darkness they lived in.

Several times I sang in an Italian restaurant run by a guy who had been a book keeper for the mob. His tough wife ran the place. One evening the great baritone from the Metropolitan Opera, Mario Sereni, walked in. I sang Nemico della Patria for him and he motioned for me to come to his table. He was very complimentary about my singing and every bit a Divo. We talked shop a bit and then in walked a dozen Wise Guys. The air froze and everybody stopped talking. They went downstairs to have a meeting. Gradually people resumed their conversations. Sereni had sung a lot of operatic roles that I aspired to sing and so I picked his brain for a while. Finally natured called and I excused myself to go to the wash room which in this restaurant was down stairs. Sereni grabbed my arm and asked, “Where are you going?” I told him, “I need to go to the John.” He shook his head and said, “Better you piss yourself than to go down there. When they are down there, you stay up here.” I got it.

When I wasn’t performing opera, I was often bartending at the Asti Restaurant in Greenwich Village. One of my friends had introduced me to this opera restaurant shortly after I moved to New York and I loved it. It was owned by Adolfo Mariani who had been a pretty good baritone himself. He studied with Madame Schuman-Heink but discovered he just wasn’t quite good enough to make a career out of singing so he opened a restaurant. There were lots of Italian restaurants, so to make his distinct, he began singing behind the bar, using the bell of the cash register for some accompaniment. Soon the waiters were singing. Then he hired some singers to perform arias and ensembles. After a while The Asti became the place where opera singers would go after a performance. Adolfo covered the walls with the pictures of all the great singers who came and sang there. After many years the quality of the singers hired for the restaurant became less distinguished and the show became more of a comedy or parody on opera, but people still loved to go there and great singers would still come and sing. My friend took me there and I loved the place. A Neapolitan baritone was singing La Donna e Mobile and I could hear that it was a step down in key. I wondered what he was going to do at the end. He started to go down and so from the table I sang the high note to end the aria, a high A in his key. People applauded and cheered. Adolfo came to the table and introduced himself. He was such a gentleman and a great raconteur. “You’ve got quite a voice,” he said. “Sing something for us.”  I got up and sang the prologue to I Pagliacci and the whole place went nuts. Adolfo and I became friends and The Asti became almost a home away from home.

I sang at the Asti so many times and finally got on A&E while singing there. One evening I sang an aria that really brought the house down and a couple of well dressed gentlemen called me over to their table  They said they were “investment bankers” from Denver and liked my singing so much they wanted to talk to me about my career.  They proposed that they would become “limited partners” in my career in exchange for an equity interest in it. In my beginning lean years they would advance me a guaranteed salary of $50,000 a year and make certain contacts that would enable my career to grow. For a young singer just starting his career this sounded like a heavenly gift. They suggested that I contact them through a lawyer and draw up the deal. I utilized one of my contacts in the opera world who was a stock broker on Wall Street and asked if he would make the deal. Soon drafts were flying back and forth. But one day I caught the whiff of something Faustian in the air. They wanted the contract to be “for life.”  We got them to change the wording to “for the life of my voice.” That seemed better but by this time I was getting a very uneasy feeling.  I wanted to know who they really represented. I had a friend in New Jersey who had mob contacts so I asked her to check them out. Sure enough, they worked for the mob in Denver. No sooner did she check them out than they found out she checked them out! As soon as they discovered that I knew who they were they backed out of the deal!!  All during this process when drafts were flying and it looked like the deal was a done job, I had feelings of titillation and power. I was going on up to the East Side…finally got a piece of the pie! The lure of darkness is to believe in it. Wise Guys are the high priests of a dualistic world that believes it is separate from God. They share that role with priests, ministers, rabbis and gurus. You say. “Teach something abstract man. I know there is evil. Just read the newspaper.” How much we have invested in the belief in evil! If evil is real, God is not. You can’t have it both ways.  If you can justify hating your brother, God will remain unknown to you.  Dualistic systems complain that Monism does not do “justice” to the problem of evil and suffering in the world.  But no justice is done in affirming the reality of something that must be illusory. The lure of darkness is to believe in it. The belief that darkness is real and that it can fight the light is as illusory as a nightmare.  To believe in darkness is to give it power it can never have in truth. In Verdi’s Otello Iago said:

“I believe in a cruel god who has created me in his image, and whom in hate, I call upon. From some vile germ or base atom was I born. I am evil because I am a man; and I feel the primordial slime in me. Yes! This is my creed. I believe with a firm heart, just as does the young widow in church, that the evil I think and which from me proceeds was decreed for me by fate. I believe that the honest man is a mocking buffoon and both in face and heart, everything in him is a lie; tears, kisses, glances, sacrifices and honor. And I believe man to be the plaything of a wicked fate, from the germ of the cradle to the worm of the grave. And after this derision comes death. And then. And then. Death is nothingness. Heaven is an old wives’ tale.”From this thought system came all the illusions which followed in the play with its tragic end.

A Course in Miracles gives us a non-dualistic system. It says, “The opposite of love is fear, but what is all encompassing can have no opposite. This Course can therefore be summed up very simply in this way: Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists. Herein lies the peace of God.” 

The world we see of opposites, of good and bad, inhabited by separated creatures, is not real. It has no more reality than a child’s nightmare. It is a mistake in thought. It stems from a tiny mad idea that we could be different from God, even hurt him, offend him, or receive punishment from him. It is the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden. It is an illusion. The world of duality which we see was not made by God. We made it, and we continue to make it every day by projecting the opposite. There is in truth nothing opposite to God’s Love. It is all encompassing. But by a mistake in thought we have created fear and projected it. This nightmare world is no more real than Iago’s creed, but we believe in it. We give in to the lure of darkness in our tiny made idea that we could be different from God, offend him, hurt him, be punished by him.  And then, like the Phantom, we strive to convince others that this darkness is not only real but better than the light.

Night-time sharpens,

heightens each sensation

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination

Silently the senses abandon their defences ...

Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendour

Grasp it, sense it - tremulous and tender

Turn your face away

from the garish light of day,

turn your thoughts away

from cold, unfeeling light -

and listen to the music of the night ...

Close your eyes and surrender to your

darkest dreams!

Purge your thoughts of the life

you knew before!

Close your eyes,

let your spirit start to soar!

And you'll live

as you've never lived before ...

Softly, deftly,

music shall surround you ...

Feel it, hear it,

closing in around you ...

Open up your mind,

let your fantasies unwind,

in this darkness which

you know you cannot fight -

the darkness of the music of the night ...

Let your mind start a journey

through a strange new world!

Leave all thoughts

of the world you knew before!

Let your soul take you where you

long to be !

Only then can you belong to me ...

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication!

Touch me, trust me savour each sensation!

Let the dream begin,

let your darker side give in

to the power of the music that I write -

the power of the music of the night ...

You alone can make my song take flight -

help me make the music of the night . . .

As odd as it may sound, all dualistic systems sing this song. They need to make the darkness real. They need to have a vengeful god who punishes the wicked. They need to have a Satan and a hell where he can be tortured forever along with the wicked.  

The truth is: Only God and His extensions of Love are real. Whatever is not of love is not real. God is spirit. Whatever is not of spirit is not real.  Nothing real can be threatened. It is not at risk. It cannot be harmed. It cannot be offended. Nothing unreal exists. The world of form we see is made up from a tiny error in thought.  And from this error comes the nightmarish belief that we have offended God and have fallen from his favor.

In the famous words of Jonathan Edwards’ sermon, “Sinners in the hands of an angry God:”

“The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some detestable insect, over the fire, detests you, and is dreadfully provoked: His wrath towards you burns like fire; He looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be thrown into the fire; He eyes are too pure than to bear to have you in His sight; you are ten thousand times more abominable in His eyes, than the most hateful venomous snake is in ours. You have offended Him infinitely more than ever a stubborn rebel did his prince: and yet, it is nothing but His hand that holds you from falling into the fire every moment. It is to be ascribed to nothing else, that you did not go to hell last night; that you were allowed to awake up again in this world, after you closed your eyes to sleep. And there is no other reason to be given, why you have not dropped into hell since you arose this morning, but that God's hand has held you up. There is no other reason to be given why you have not gone to hell, since you have sat here in this church, provoking His pure eyes by your sinful wicked manner of attending His solemn worship. Yes, there is nothing else that is to be given as a reason why you do not this very moment drop down into hell.”

This is the insane thought that comes from our tiny mad idea just as the whole drama of Othello proceeded from Iago’s insane creed.  We are given in every moment the light of the Holy Spirit to keep us from the lure of darkness. We are given God’s love in place of our fear. We are given his whole so that we will not have to project the opposite. We must forget the world that we have made and remember Heaven which is our home, and where we remain still. The first step is to forgive our brother for what he has never in truth done to us. As we forgive we remember more of our true identity as God’s Son. We travel but in dreams while safely at Home.  The lure of darkness is not real.

Trout Stories

Love and your cat

Cats are masters of their environment. They have total knowledge and command of their world at a level we can only begin to understand. If the great movement today in human consciousness is to experience "connectivity," then cats are far ahead of us. I had an outdoor cat who was eaten by a Coyote. The day before that happened he was aware of his coming death and went to each of us to give us a loving goodbye. It was remarkable. He bore the Coyote no ill thoughts, nor did he try to avoid it. He was at peace with the timing for his departure and thought only of us. Cats are at one with their environment. In addition to their highly advanced sensory organs, they have an additional organ in the back of their mouths called Jacobson's organ which allows them to smell and sense tiny particles in the air beyond the nose's capability. The next time you see your cat with its mouth open, almost panting with a funny look on her face, she is using Jacobson's organ to define some tiny particles in her environment. Cats, perhaps because of their connectivity, are bringers of unconditional love. To know your cat is to know that only Love is real. There is no opposite. The only apparent opposite is fear, which is an illusion, not a real opposite. You learn God's Love through your cat...and if you could TRULY know your cat, you would know God. Of course, if you could TRULY know yourself you would know God. Cats as avatars of Love stand in the gap for us and lead us to that self-knowledge. Love your cat. Your cat loves you. Love yourself. This love you are. And you and your cat are one.

Cosmic Consciousness and singing

There are moments when I am filled with love for all things. At such times as these I know I am not a body. I am a spirit and I am free for I am just as God created me. I sense connection to all things. I sense Love’s Presence in the very air that I breathe and I know that I am part of God, as surely as I know that we are all part of Him. I feel imbued with a spirit which has always been my guide though I ignored it at times. I feel the flow of music through me as surely as divine electricity and I know the music sings in praise of our oneness and God’s essence. These beloved moments of cosmic consciousness come and go with me as beloved visitors from a Holy Place in thanks and in praise of art. I sit in a garden and I know that I am one with the flowers, the bees and the earth. I see the fish in the water and know they are part of me. The beavers and the eagles, the ducks, the humming birds, the river and life, we are all together as one spirit. I am caught up and sense connection to the great chain of Being extending from God to us. And out of it all flows song. SING fellow singers. Touch the hearts of angels and of God. Touch the hearts of people and awaken in your spirit to the wonder and Love that you are!! Nothing else is worth your time to contemplate. No past troubles. No wounds. SING and break down the barriers erected to keep out the awareness of Love’s Presence.

The Preacher

Once there was a preacher, full of learning and convinced of his mission to change others. He preached long and hard to his church. Little by little the people left. Finally there were no people left to preach to. Undeterred, the preacher went outside to preach to the animals. They also left. He preached to the rocks and they came up out of the ground and rolled away. He preached to the earth and soon the earth left. The preacher found himself alone in outer darkness. Undeterred he continued to preach. After many millennia passed, a tiny angel the size of a moth came into the preacher's darkness. "we have let you preach hoping you would learn, but you haven't," said the angel. "We sent you to the earth, not to change it, but to bear witness to its beauty and yours as well."

"What should I have done," asked the Preacher.

The angel smiled and lit the darkness, "You should have eaten your food, passed your water and bore witness to the wonder of the world. Nothing more was required of you."

"Will you give me another chance," asked the Preacher." The angel smiled.

"Can you learn silence? Can you learn simplicity? Can you refrain from trying to change others? Can you be less impressed with your own thoughts."

"I can try," said the preacher. The angel began to erase the darkness in which the preacher had been imprisoned. The darkness had been created by the Preachers thoughts, words, and pride of learning. Instead of the darkness the world appeared again, and instead of the Preacher, there fluttered only a moth.

What grandeur lies in human hearts connected

What grandeur lies in human hearts connected, a student and a teacher, a child and an old woman? Memory of who we are almost reveals itself as we look in gratitude to those who shared love’s presence with us along life’s way, and in so doing, changed us. The faces and the deeds of their kindnesses flood our mind. We re-live them. We see them in our mind and each time, the love is as present as the first, the gratitude as deep. Their love is passed on to us. This is the way we grow and raise consciousness. Only the reverberations of love’s presence change the mind and raise consciousness. But raise up just a bit, love just a bit; be grateful just a bit and the Ego will become terrified. It may even make the body sick, demanding you consider it real and occupy your mind with so much unreality that you forget the gratitude and the crystal clear presence of love’s holy presence. It is so easy to get lost when there is no food, the bills aren’t paid, and the wolf knocks at the door. What if the wolf is a war?

Do me a favor. Take a moment and remember some wonderful teacher, a brother or sister on life’s path who really blessed your life and changed you. If they are alive, call or email them to say thanks. If they have already passed over, reach out in Spirit, address them by name; ask the angels to carry your gratitude to them with a real big THANK YOU. I called my first voice teacher today, living in a nursing home. I just wanted to love on him and say, “Thank You. You changed my life. I will always love you.” I have made a lot of these calls in the past few years.“Stay in the circle of gratitude and extend love.”

Love is the music in which you live.

Love is the music in which you live. This music continues with you when you leave the body. The Mind of God, in which you travel, is filled with music. The angels sing the songs that have been given to them. In the celestial spheres the grass and flowers sing. The fish in the River of Life sing. Is it any wonder that you sing? Is it any wonder that music fills the world? Is it any wonder that your song can touch hearts deeply and bring back to them a hint of melody from the One Song that praises our Oneness? Sing! Let the music flow out of you like living water out of God’s fountain. Let the music change you as you feel it leave your heart and go to others. The music will help you to lay down the ego and know yourself for who you really are, Child of God, One with his Father, seated in heaven safely still while dreaming of Earth. The music comes from the love of which we are natural inheritors. And in the music there is a stillness in which you can choose again how you will see, with eyes made of Love or fear.

We are all One Entity-Quantum Re-think

A grove of trees function as one entity. Their root systems intertwine and they share information and nourishment. They only LOOK like separate trees from the surface. There are experiments now which indicate that trees and flowers are not just sensitive but sentient. When Mozart is played in an orchard or a vineyard, the fruit grow towards the speakers, and the fruit is tastier. Plants, flowers grow better when Mozart is played to them AND when you pet them gently and speak to them. The petted flowers grew much bigger and prettier. It is a Quantum world. Re-think. Like the grove of trees, WE (all sentient beings) look separate on the surface, but below the surface we are linked together in Quantum connectivity. Like the grove of trees, we are one organism

Take a kid fishing but be kind to the fish

I never met a better human being than my grandfather, George Ritchie. For most of his life grandpa had been a tenant farmer, plowing land near the Spring River, river-bottom area. Rivers and gardens were the models for his life. When grandpa retired from farming he purchased the land and house of my childhood and planted his garden. In the night he worked part time at Hercules Powder Plant, gun powder, that is, not facial! In the day time he worked in his garden. Usually he had two tag-a-long companions; an old mutt dog named Ginger for his color, and me, Joe-Boy. When we weren't in the garden we were usually fishin'. Grandpa may have claimed to fish to put dinner on the table, but that was just the ruse. He fished to be near the river. We seldom caught very many fish on our river expeditions. Everyone we caught was "a nice one." We never caught a "bad" fish. I liked that. For me, much of the excitement came from our journeys through the tall river-grass and grandpa's stories about copperhead snakes. Grandpa had discovered the "Ozark kung fu" of killing copperheads. He had learned it, like his other skills, out of necessity. After World War II, Hercules Powder Plant refused to allow their night watchmen to carry guns, fearing the risk of explosion was greater than the risk of burglary. So grandpa was allowed to carry only a three foot long "Billy club." Since his nightly patrols took him through heavy cover, he frequently encountered copperheads which he would rhythmically dispatch with a stroke of his club. You could call it "Ozark kung fu." He had plenty of opportunity to hone his skills on our farm as well. Grandmother was a strict believer in the literal interpretation of Genesis and was sure that every snake ought to be ritually killed for righteousness sake. More than a few times, a cry could be heard in the neighborhood, “George, there's a snake. Kill it!" It was grandmother's one weakness. Grandpa could not refuse her. He became a master of snakes.

Once we safely negotiated the tall river grass, we baited our hooks with a variety of arcane, home-made mixtures, cast our lines, sat, became quiet, and grandpa and I flowed with the river. Usually we would catch a few perch, a mud-cat or a carp, and head back home to the garden.

When I was about seven years old, grandmother and grandpa introduced me to the wonders of Grand Lake O’ the Cherokees in nearby Oklahoma. For years they had been going there to the promised land of fishing, bringing back huge catches of crappie, blue-gill, catfish, and white bass, all for table fare. Having survived the great depression, they were determined never to go hungry again. A huge freezer chest of frozen fish from Grand Lake made it seem unlikely. And yet, like the river adventures, the important thing was really to go to the lake and be there. At Grand Lake, no convenience was denied a fisherman. Large in-door, heated fishing docks, with theatre seats for comfort, were situated over key areas for crappie and other pan fish. Cedar trees were suspended from the docks to entice the cover-minded crappies to huddle there in schools, unaware of the fate which awaited them. It was a grand invention for a Grand Lake. Grandmother and grandpa introduced me to these holy haunts with a fervor reserved otherwise only for the garden. I soon learned to jig, as well as fish with live bait. The crappie never had a chance.

We traversed the entire 1200 miles of shore line of Grand Lake in our crusades for crappie. Holy memories are indelibly imprinted in my mind of our favorite docks. Grandpa liked Ice Box Bluff, but it was a little Spartan for grandmother. The theatre seats were not as plush and "comfy" as some other docks. But it was at Ice Box that grandpa fought the leviathan carp! Grandpa and I loved to fish for carp. They grew big and they gave a great fight. They also required imagination to catch because they had only a small, soft, sucker mouth, and were picky eaters. They had no real teeth but they had a sweet tooth, preferring baits made with lots of syrup, honey, coca cola, and Wheeties. I fixed a homemade carp bait that was a lot like banana bread so that if the carp didn't bite we could eat the bait! Carp fishin' was fun. Ever concerned about practicality, grandmother had even figured out a way to make them edible. Most people used to say, "Clean a carp on a pine board. Throw the carp away and eat the board!" But grandmother had found that if she cooked them for days in a pressure cooker she could make fish cakes out of them that tasted remarkably like salmon cakes. The grandmother of invention had given us a new reason to stalk the wily carp.

Grandpa took no prisoners. He used a forty-five pound test cotton line that looked sort of like a clothes line. In addition to the small treble hook which was concealed within the dough ball of homemade sweets, he suspended a large grappling hook to snag the carp under the chin in case the small hook missed. It was serious business! We usually caught carp weighing between four and seven pounds. But one day at Ice Box Bluff, grandpa set the hook into a big one. You can tell when the hook is first set how big the fish is. This one didn't give. "For heavenly days," grandpa exclaimed. It was the closest he got to swearing. "What have I got here?" The carp fought long and valiantly but eventually could not contend with the clothes line rope, and grandpa pulled in his biggest Carp, weighing 13 pounds. It looked like it weighed 100 pounds and grandpa was just as proud of it as if it had. We ate it, of course. It provided fish cakes for a month!

The Valhalla of fishing docks was Teague's Dock, surnamed "Old Lady Teague's" by grandpa because it had been purchased from our friend, Leonard Pane, the area auctioneer, by a woman named "Teague" who possessed a redoubtable appearance, complete with multiple pounds of pancake makeup. With this curious visage she greeted the fishermen that came to her dock. Nobody liked her, including grandpa. But the dock had its own drawing power. It was plush to the hilt. Padded, comfortable theatre seats encircled the extremely large fishing well in the middle of a well heated dock. Snack bars and a bait shop were handy within the dock, and it was situated over one of the best locations in Grand Lake for crappie, catfish, bass, and of course, carp. I once saw a man catch and land a forty pound carp on an eight pound test line! I was awed as if watching the real life filming of one of those National Geographic presentations where monsters of the deep are shown to an audience all agape! But the sneakiest fishin' took place when the crappies were nesting. The mother crappie sat on the nest guarding her eggs, while the daddy crappie patrolled the perimeter, striking at any object which came into his territory. We soon discovered that if we threw in a jig near the nest that we could catch the daddies like nobody's business! Needless to say, I felt very guilty about this and have sought to atone for it ever since. The day's limit by Oklahoma law was 37 crappie per day, per fisherman! Most of the other fish had no limits! We often caught our limit, returning home as proud as if we had found the Holy Grail. Now I wish we had let most of them go. I haven't kept a fish I caught since then. Like the flowers that belonged alive in the garden, the fish belonged alive in the lake.

It is no small thing that Genesis talks about the "Garden of Eden." That ancient writer knew perfectly well what an apt image the garden sets up in our minds, ancient, connecting, and wonderful. Grandpa loved to stroll through the garden to "visit" with all the wonderful things growing there. Ginger and I took in all of his love for the earth and the Creator of all life. But Ginger had an easier time of it in one important way. He didn't have to be distracted by the competitive world-view being peddled on Sundays by the variety of Baptist preachers that sought to "instruct" us in the ways of their strange universe. Many of them did not act like Jesus in the Bible. They seemed to be so mad at everybody and everything. Finally I made a personal discovery that I should believe in the God that Jesus showed me. One of my helpers in this discovery was Rev. Ray Stone, pastor of the First Baptist Church when I was a small boy. Brother Ray stood out from the rest of the preachers of my childhood. He was full of Love and Light. He was a "gardener!"

"Just be so in love with Jesus," he would say, time and time again, in trying to warn of the pitfalls to come in life. You know, I was and still am!

God created a Garden and I knew what a garden was like! He created a river, and I knew what a river was like. God wanted us with Him. God was like Jesus and grandmother Ritchie!  I'll take that God. He can stroll with us through the garden as we visit the plants. He can go to the river with us, and we will flow together!

And so we say “Amen” But just for now.