Sacred Heart

Sacred Heart: by Declan Mahony, 13yrs, or "Just a boy"

As I watched,
Tears in my eyes
I am on my knees
As my Saviour dies

 I know that,
As sad as it may seem
It is for the best
My soul He cleans

His Sacred Heart
Beats no more
As I think of Him
My own heart is sore

As they pierce
Him in the side
My soul is swept
Away in the tide

Of love and compassion
Of forgiveness and joy
I try to understand it all,
But I am just a boy

beautiful feet

They were ugly in fact!

Translucent white and flatfooted with middle age. They struck me immediately as he came round the corner. I was shocked. I rarely got to see those feet. I was more used to the leather shod feet of purpose, success, activity.  And they were out of place, with the rest of him clothed as though on the way out. That was the first thing I noticed, the feet, and they were bare and ugly.

The second thing I noticed was that he was weeping. Spontaneous tears, and suddenly embarrassed as he noticed me there. I was unexpected in this remote part of the house.

And the last thing I registered was what he was saying, over and over, visibly distressed; "he had no shoes, he had no shoes, he did not even have shoes, he.."

And then he saw me. Embarrassed,  he turned quickly to leave, suddenly conscious of me, the unexpected witness. His closing words as he left, perhaps the first thing that came to his mind, possibly to cover the embarrassment, I don't know, but these words have stayed with me nonetheless.

"We have so much. How can we keep it to ourselves?".

I know now by looking back that those feet shod many "shoes" to "share" what he had with those around him who were not as fortunate. And I know all too well; he had had "enough" but hardly "so much"! No billionaire philanthropy here!
But the little we do have... how can we keep it to ourselves?

I've got "shoes".
Plenty in fact. I've inherited the flat feet !?!
 We've all got "shoes" we can share with those that don't have any.

I often remember those feet as my paths take me past those with no shoes, education, housing, hope.
If I can walk half the paths those beautiful feet have walked I'll be content. 

Yup, beautiful feet indeed :-)

I doubt !

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Knock knock. Who's there? Humility. Go away!

[I should probably preface these posts with a "WARNING: Thinking" precursor. Ok. you've been warned :-) ]
Muhammed* is in for his 42nd surgical operation.

 It was just tying his shoe laces that did it this time. When he tried to stand, he couldn't. The pain was excruciating! His lower back disc had completely slipped, his legs gave in as the nerves deferred paralytic pain down both his legs and he succumbed to four weeks of hospitalization, numerous diagnostic scans and two surgical interventions. He is now in recovery in a local hospital.

A road less traveled.

But throughout it all, no real word of complaint. There is a humble resignation to his predicament, even gratitude (!?) that he is alive and in recovery. He has known it far worse!
Muhammed was a paramedic. In his own words, there was nothing more rewarding than arriving on scene to a near drowning and restoring a young girl back to her relieved mother; or weaving through unlit, unpaved roads in urban South Africa to stem a bleeding wound from a drunken knife or a random hit-and-run victim.
I can't relate!
Tragically, one fateful night six years ago, a drunken student crashed through to the opposing traffic lanes and slammed into Muhammed's motorcycle coming in the opposite direction. Muhammed was thrown clear, was paralyzed through most of his right side, injured his neck, gashed his skull and would have lost his left hand had his mother not begged the surgeons to try and save it. He has limited thumb and forefinger use of an almost useless limb. The general consensus is he should not have survived such an accident!

Today Muhammed still chases his passion and runs training for new recruit paramedics. The enthusiasm he still has, for what is for some a  thankless, graveyard and traumatic work, remains infectious.
But sharing a hospital ward with Muhammed I am struck with a enviable human attribute; Humility.

Its a kind of humility that navigates past the vanities that collective culture wishes to sell to us as so convincing, so necessary! And by so circumventing the superficial it can dive wholeheartedly into the meaningful and immediately live; Really live!
While the rest of us get swept up in the oxbow lakes of distraction, divorced from life, those who walk this road tend to swim its depths.
It's in these individuals we hear the whispers of something Other. Not the "other" of empty philosophies or abstractive denials of a disengaged self-preservation. Rather, its the connectedness to Beyond so as to be fully engaged in the Now.
Its as though life's flow remains the background rumble of the river just over the ledge. If we dare to climb past the surrounds we are suddenly confronted with the roar of the rapids and all consuming currents. If we dare put our toes in (heaven forbid!) we suddenly know no other reality and long to dive deeper. The forests and its distractions are distant memories. We are swept away. Alive!

But I have become convinced of the compete incapacity for the human condition to actively decide on the Humble road. We can't choose. Its a low road. It hurts. It can be lonely. Not many walk it. It reminds us of our transience. Its scary ;(
And yet… those that walk back from its lessons are stronger. Find a high road. Find healing. Find community. And carry whispers of Eternity, something Other, Transcendent. And Live.
These people carry a whisper of something Beyond. I find in them the credibility to believe in a Life-after that inspires life-now. A Hope. A Resurrection. That's *not* escapist. A thread that runs through the Here-and-Now but continues into the Then-and-Beyond. Is that so hard to conceive? When the noise of modern life seems all consuming I guess it does seem remote; This Humility.
The predicament is:- we can't choose it.
The good news though, is that It chooses us :-)
Life is flooded with opportunities to humble ourselves. A multitude of forks in our road to choose. An accident. A loss. A disappointment. Invitations to Transcendence. A quite. A poem. A song. A sunset. If we listen. If we follow … where would it lead?
I guess there is only one way to find out (sry). LoL!

Muhammed, thank you.
I'm working on it... !

[..I did warn you!...]

*not his real name

Living; a holy space

The eastern philosophies talk about the concept of Being, or Dao; the closest they will get to the western equivalent of 'God'. It is the sacred Life under pinning all life , flowing through it, the Supreme Essence , although that does not do it justice. All life is holy. In the west we are just too intoxicated with the normal sense to hear this other Breath. Unless we are forced to. (Movies like pray, eat, love just don't cut it either!. Will The Red Carpet show the path to Transcendence .lol :-) .

But when our shallow world fails us , when we hurt, fail or fall, our typical answers come up short. But , here, the Holiness finds up. We can live. God's gift can be sensed like the lapping seas on the shore of our consciousness . Deeper. Larger. More Present than anything we've ever known.
Living.
A new Space.
Life is not the same. It follows us, as we follow It.
And we fear to lose this. A sacred space from which to breath, serve, play,love, work, rest, believe.
To live.
A sacred space.

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Twit inside out or outside in ?

Social network can rob me of intrinsic motivations. I am in reaction mode again. To news. To comments. To my friends , rather distant (read 'irrelevant') acquaintance , photo comment ... what a 'noise'!

I can recapture my thoughts in silence. The network is largely about noise again. I can make noise, make no mistake! But I am not going to Twitter ripples when life is about tidal waves.

The social network is the closest virtual cocktail party most idle gossipers ever get to. And by definition a social EXtrinsic veneer to gloss over an otherwise unalarming life.
Take it away ... and I can hear my own breathing again. I get to be alone. With myself. It's not good enough. I need the noise ... click. To the next stimulant from the big plastic outside. I am moving again. In reaction mode. I need no inertia. I just go with the flow. The noise takes me. I have nothing else.

Or do I ?
Is there ?

What if I wait in the silence? Will It find me? And what, no who, will I find there? Who am there ? Am i?

Only the silence will know. GO there. And then ...

Tweet , LinkIn, comment... who cares. But this time its you. Not the Noise.
Your motivation is Intrinsic.

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I loved her NOW and then and NOW & ...

You described to me the imminent empty nest.
Staring at each other across the room after 32+ years of marriage, and now, that the kids are gone.. your scared you'll not now what to say.
Well, remember then?
That then that was then NOW? and how it filled all of tomorrow, leaving the NOW breathless and the tomorrow full of promise. And each NOW thereafter fulling that one beautiful moment after the next. That NOW was you, and her. And you are still "you" and "her". That NOW is still NOW. Sure, it sometimes takes a back seat in the midst of then, and the business of here and "now" but ... it does not take to long to stop. To remember. The NOW. It is still here.
But you ask "Will it be the same?". Would it revisit you? Can you bring it back?
Well, if that NOW were not indeed magic, perhaps not. But you remember. It was magic.
And you don't have to try too hard after all. Magic is a bit like that. It lives on its own. It just needs you to be, in the here and the NOW.
Can you ?

Just try.. it'll surprise you.
Breathless.
With tomorrow full of promise.