Transplantation

Is it possible that reincarnation holds a different purpose than supposed?

Perhaps it’s not the worst souls that are re-sent to repair, but instead the best transplanted in overlay for those who need a second chance.

Perhaps this is why I questioningly cock my head when hearing something that has never come forth from someone I believed I knew so well.

When offering to pull someone out, there is always a chance that they don’t want to move. There’s disbelief in the removal of danger; believing it safer to remain with a known pain than to travel toward pains unknown.

There may not be the awareness; professing desire for assistance, but living resistance. Anchors can the cruelest double-edged swords.

We tie down to remain placid, stay our ground; float safely where we think we want to be. The mistake is found in not cutting free in the limited moments between a rational storm and a fury that will not abate.

I’m afraid most of us are no longer looking for a way to change the world; we’re trying to survive it.

It’s an unhappy circumstance we’re not truly surviving anything. We’re not waltzing either. There is a difference between trudging and dancing, between walking and dancing, between running and dancing.

Metaphorically, of course. If the body will not dance, let the mind do it for you. Stare a while at a gyrating screen saver; you’ll feel real movement, although inanimate.

The thing is this isn’t an unusual day trip. This is imagined immunity through imagined thick skin where perpetual schooling remains a need, and where sometimes adults are the slowest learners.

Based on the jadedness of our lives – love lingers where it shouldn’t, tied down and anchored, waiting for the next wave, declaring just-one-more-time.

Because we’re stubborn or desperate or afraid that if we don’t hold on through the storm, we won’t know where we are when it’s all over.

Finally, a recommendation, self and otherwise: Embrace the movement.

Allow transplantation. Dance with a new soul.

 

 

Quote for the Week:

  Embrace the movement 10 07 2014

Enjoy this Week’s Discovery Links:

Anchors, Go Away: http://www.theminimalists.com/saved/

Science of Reincarnation, NPR: http://www.npr.org/2014/01/05/259886077/searching-for-science-behind-reincarnation

Immunity to Change, Robert Kegan: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFYnVmGu9ZI

Evolution, Part 5: Wind + Down

I wouldn’t say I was feeling down. I couldn’t call it disappointment, either.

It was a very good day. It just wasn’t the day I had imagined.

I was pleased to have kept my commitment; pleased to have made a small difference.

The spiritual service moved me to tears. I managed to hold back most of the lonely decompression that follows the end of a mission.

Community disengagement is a let-down; leaving, returning to steady, known apathy.

The short-set mingling morphed into tired walking; across the street to cars, and rest rooms and t-shirt purchases.

 

I cannot tell you it was a well-thought out thought; it wasn’t.

I cannot tell you why I said what I said, feeling the way I did.

I cannot tell you I knew the person just a step behind me.

I cannot tell you I recognized them; not from work, not from lunch, not from praise.

I just skipped a step, falling back a foot, turned and said, “This may have been one of my best birthdays, ever.”

I didn’t realize we’d stopped walking; we were talking.

Quickly: about birthdays and kites, tulips and art, a fight two sisters had in their mother’s hospital room.

The leaving chill evaporated; son-powered enthusiasm soaked in.

Suddenly we were last in line, thanking GOD and Jesus for a beautiful day.

Followed by a question with the only possible answer: Yes.

 

We sat down there, in a day-safe neighborhood, in the dwindling late afternoon, deep in portfolio.

A simple medium; graphite and recycled paper = pencils and abandoned pages.

I’ve never mastered the achievement of negative space in any medium.

Pencil, pen, crayon, watercolor – all take foresight. A clear tear is not easily added to a pencil portrait.

Devils that didn’t look like devils, doorways to the wrong place, wallpaper with eyes, a gang logo, a sister, a mourner, a life; questionable looks from passersby.

 

I stopped when I saw her, speaking to me of loss and prayer and grief and release; echoing loneliness caught by loneliness.

I didn’t ask who she was; simply served a compliment.

A few pages later, the counterbalance caught me. Separated, two portraits sharing one instance, one hand on each shoulder.

I knew they belonged together. When offered, I cried.

I knew they belonged together. Speechless to the insistence, I cried a little harder.

 

“If it’s going to make you sad, make you cry, I won’t ask you to take it. If it will bring you joy, please…”

 

I looked up from the shadows, buildings by setting sun; patience was waiting, not signaling time to go.

But we knew it was, so carefully, the gift was rolled; secured, presented.

We hugged and hugged again, and when my breath came, I grasped for more –

With nothing to offer, except for this; “I hope to see you again, someday.”

To which was replied; “It’s all up to Him. GOD’s will be done.”

 

So, I fought the breeze, and crossed the street, and wiped the wind tears away;

I could not, then, and still cannot answer; “Whom was ministering to whom?”

 

Quote for the week:

Sometimes we must plan in advance barry curry art oct 1 2014

Enjoy This Week’s Discovery Links:

Beginning Charcoal:  http://www.artinstructionblog.com/charcoal-drawing-basics-techniques-for-beginners

Detailed: Interpretation of Art; http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/36433/art-philosophy-of/36256/The-interpretation-of-art

Art as Therapy: http://medicalarttherapy.com/using-art-as-an-outlet/

Airlift, Hats

It’s easy to be disappointed.

The hard part is to muddle through to see what might be celebratory.

Knowing the other side of disappointment is rarely ever legitimately celebratory, doesn’t deter me.

With childish pluck, I still believe happily in inflated potential.  I still stretch on for the possibilities; grasping for the secretive brilliance of wisdom hidden in only semi-illusive balloons.

I can’t always catch those fully fulfilled higher floaters. So, I settle for a one-handed sweep through the semi-depleted lower ones; methodically elevating each ground- dragging line of hope to my wrist. They can’t help ballast behind me in an oddly staggered parade.

Despite the spectacle, I walk on prepared to face the awkwardness of progressively jerking my arm up and higher up, willing each tethered struggler the gumption to fly.

That doesn’t always work. It rarely does.  In all honesty, the only way to pull off airlift would be with the help of a stronger wind.

There’s no hopelessness or helplessness in that.

It might even be the prize to recognize all fragile questions are easily transformable into launchable helium prayers.

Commit to the search. Believe, chase, capture, discover, absorb, re-secure, and re-release.

Change the world.

It only takes one great inner-to-outer revelation, and a very generous willingness to sport a celebration hat.

Quote for the Week:

Our disappointments, our defeats, our times of disillusionment, do not separate us from God Almighty. They actually draw us closer to God. Try and hold on tight to your faith. Kemmy Nola

Enjoy this week’s discovery links:

Dream Dictionary – Balloon: http://www.dream-symbols.com/b/balloon.html

History of Balloons: http://inventors.about.com/gi/dynamic/offsite.htm?site=http://www.balloonhq.com/faq/history.html

A Little Something for Everyone: http://tinybuddha.com/

sport a celebration hat 07 08 2014