Known only by the One

The days fly by,
Merging,
As if one,
Distinctions fading.
Our thoughts and experiences mostly hidden,
Deeply buried in the seemingly bottomless ocean of the unconscious.
A jumble it seems at times;
Our loves,
Hates,
Worries sorrows and joys,
Seen often for what they are
A wave rising up and then once again sinking
As if it never was,
Yet it effects long lasting.
Roots hidden though sleeping still live.
Our dreams,
Hopes,
Obsessions,
Phobias,
Flow from this deep rich inner abyss,
Grace and the demonic
Warring for the right to rule.
One by love and healing leading to life,
The other by seeking to imprison
Those snared by false promises.
Leading only downward,
Drowning.
One or the other,
The Eternal the only judge,
Who has our true name known only by the One.

Before the storm

The evening cool,
Bracing breeze intermittent,
Strong with power one moment
Then silence deep,
Waiting for the storm.

Clouds low hanging from the now dark sky,
Ice crystals in the air,
Waiting,
For freezing rain to come,
To cover the limbs of trees with its beauty,
Crystal on display for a short time to see,
Often some destruction in its wake
But beauty deep none the less.

Homeward bound I drive
Loving this special moment,
The quiet,
Windows down, open to the damp cold,
Breathing in its cool wetness
Wishing it not to end.

Peaceful,
The flowing water soothes,
Gentle music played on the rounded rocks,
Lazily fish swim dining a la carte,
Resting and swimming at times fighting,
Mating,
The round eternal,
The balance kept by the quiet life and death struggle
Below the calm surface,
Hidden,
That will never cease.

The world

Pain is everywhere Lord,
All seem burdened with their past,
The wounds inflicted on them,
Children are the victims,
Ignored, beaten, abused in many ways,
The abusers once victims themselves,
Those that survive,
Becoming part of the growth,
That increases from generation to generation,
Predators, beaters, ignorers,
Those incapable of love walk our streets,
Seeking someone to share their pain,
Experienced as
Rage,
Lust,
Mixed with a deep unfeeling coldness,
The rights of others not considered,
As theirs were when small and vulnerable.

Others not predators
Become the walking wounded,
Afraid,
Fearful and alone,
Some seeking help,
Others not.
Sin is a deep affliction
Whose binding chains none are free from,
In need of healing and forgiveness.

Lord Jesus,
All this is before your eyes,
In your heart your experience with us our shame,
Degradation,
Understanding everything,
Loving those that no one else can,
Seeking to heal.

Your own earthly life snuffed out,
In the presence of those who saw and mocked;
You overcame,
Forgiving those who killed and betrayed you,

We do not know our right hand from our left.
In the midst of darkness and despair,
In the pit of pain overwhelming,
When it is the darkest,
There you are,
Loving, calling, healing,
In ways neither seen nor understood.
Oh Lord
Have mercy on all,
Heal us,
For only your infinite love can stop the cycle
Of pain and death.
Our hope is strong though understanding slight,
In the midst of doubt
Faith sees beyond what the mind can perceive,
Or understand,
The way is dark, lit with the light of faith

Well, I finally got the Power of Attorney paper work for Aldo finished, got the witnesses I needed, and a notary to put his seal on it.  Always good to have things like that in order, so that Aldo will get the kind of care he wants, in case he can't speak for himself.   The doctor and social at the hospital were so happy to know that he had an extended family of some kind, that they started to work with us even before the paper work was finished.  Besides they had Aldo's verbal ok.  Younger doctors seem to be better listeners than older ones, at least for the most part.  There are exceptions in both groups, but his doctor really listens and takes time to explain things to Aldo, though she is truthful, but with a soft lining so to speak.

Aldo did not seem to be getting better when I saw him yesterday.  His right hand was just about useless, and his left was weaker than it was a couple of days before, so I don't know what that really means.  The doctor told me that therapy may help him, that she has been surprised in the past, by the progress that some of her stroke patients have made, but she is not overly optimistic.

Aldo wanted me to make sure his rent was paid in his apartment for the May, but I had to tell him that the Nursing home will need the check, to help pay for expenses for his care.  As we talked I had to be honest.  We talked about a time line, and I said that he will not be better within a month, that even if he could eventually move back in his place, it would be several months at least.  I of course did not tell him that I did not think this would happen, he is already depressed enough.   He has been on a plateau for so long that this sudden change is very difficult for him.  I know he is very anxious about losing his apartment, that this plunge into helplessness may be permanent.  

Pattie and I are trying to get him place in a facility near where we live, then he will get plenty of visitors, like I said his extended family is a good size.  He is such a gentle soul, and well loved, so having visitors on a regular basis will be a big help to him.

People complain about nursing homes, the care, etc.  There is truth to that of course. Many are understaffed, so the CNA's are often overworked, and of course underpaid.  You always have those near burnout, and some are just plain lazy, so having visitors on a regular basis, insures better care.   Though I think most workers in nursing homes are loving and caring people, with perhaps simply too much too do.  Well we will see how it goes after we get him settled in his new home.

So the argument goes

Answers are wanted at all cost,
Knowledge of what we are about sought with ardent desire,
Seeking to get to the bottom of life's mystery,
A journey long,
Impossible to complete,
Yet the path humans are all on.
Like a giant puzzle is our existence and each has a piece,
Mistaking that one part for the whole, a common mistake.
Causing strife were perhaps there is none.

Our senses the walls that keep us enclosed,
Allowing us to see only so far,
Perhaps in the end we will come to that enclosure
Keeping us from the infinite,
The knowing,
The ultimate understanding.

Perhaps we are already there we just don't perceive it.

God exist,
No God does not,
So the argument goes;
A compulsive round going nowhere.
The most strident alike on both sides,
Like two sides of a coin
Insistent on their understanding of reality.

The desire to just know is strong,
Something denied all,
For some more frustrating than others,
Some feel the need to see stronger,
Others less,
Yet all are part of the question
As well as the answer.

Perhaps we are all wrong,
The answer greater than we can even hope for,
Or mayhap only nothing awaits us,
Though this I doubt.
Infinite love,
If the revelation be true,
The desire of the heart if it is on course,
Hoping against hope,
Perhaps this is what should draw us together,
Grasping each others hands seeking the mystery,
The search for truth our common desire.
 

Bittersweet

Sometimes when I awake in the middle of night, and can't go back to sleep, memories often rise to the surface, that I usually don't revert to in my normal waking life.  I guess when just awakening, and lying there doing nothing, allows thoughts from the unconscious to present themselves to my waking mind, and perhaps are asking to be dealt with, or to just simply be remembered.  They are often very powerful, surprisingly so, since like I said I do not often revert to them.

I started to think about a friendship I developed when I was 16 with two young adults, who were I guess about 25 at the time.  The young man's name was Carlos, and the young lady's Elena, whom I first met on my delivery route in Gulick Heights, which was part of an army base in Panama, Canal Zone.  The year was either late 64 or early 65.  They were staying in the apartment of a Mr. Olson, who was an electrician working for the army.  He lived in one of the apartment buildings that were set aside for unmarried personnel.  The building had 4 units, each with one bedroom. 

I remember the first day I met them.  Of course to me they were adults, and ten years difference is a big gap for someone who is just 16, but I always like hanging with adults. They were so much more interesting at times, at least they were when listening to what some of them had to say.  For some reason Carlos and Elena took to me, and made it clear that I was welcome anytime to come and visit, and just talk.  Elena was very beautiful.  She was short with jet black hair, almond skin, and the most beautiful eyes, they were almost black, that you could get lost in.  Carlos was a lot like her, just not as pretty.  Funny, I never felt the need to ask what their relationship with Mr. Olson entailed, it just never came up.  I just felt so comfortable with them, that just being with them, and enjoying their company was more than enough.    They were both from the interior of Panama, so I thought they may have been his children from a past relationship, in any case they seemed to be very close to Mr. Olson, so that was enough for me.

I guess you can say I loved both of them.  People can be loved in so many ways, but the best kind is that which has no urgent longings behind it, it is just there, a part of life, and it deepens the experience of the other, heightening the beauty of the ones loved.   They were so kind to me, and listened to what I talked about, and I listened to them in return.  We laughed a lot, played cards, and I drank a little with them, wine mostly.  One day when I came by for a visit, they were making a fruit punch with some of the local fruits; mangos, pineapple and I think papaya.  I remember thinking that it looked like blood in the bottles it was so red.  Then we went into the jungle behind the house, found a nice cool spot, and buried the two bottles, marked the spot and left.  They told me that in a couple of months they would dig it up, and that I would like it; which in fact turned out to be true, it produced a very sweet wine, and strong.  After one glass I was a little woozy, which was a source of great entertainment for both of them, if not for me.   Both Elena and Carlos laughed a lot, loved music, and sometimes we would dance to Panamanian melodies, which I liked, thought I did not listen to that kind of music often.

Sometimes we would talk about life in general, and they seemed interested in what I had to say on certain topics.  We talked about religion, philosophy, though at that time I did not know too much on the subject, and once we talked about Dante's poem "The divine Comedy" that I was reading.  Another thing I liked about them, they did not box me in, but simply let me be.  One of the things I hated about being in High School is all the categories, or slots, that we put each other in.  Since they were older they did not feel the need to do that with me, so there was a certain freedom present that I did not feel with others my own age. I could breathe with them, just be myself. 

Then one day while delivering papers, I came by the apartment. I suppose it was about 4 PM.  The door to the apartment was ajar, and the interior dark.  The silence coming from inside was deafening, it almost screamed out to me in its nothingness, its essential emptiness.    I called out Elena's name, but received no answer.  Usually, I would just go inside to see if either she, or Carlos, were home.  However, that day I felt a chill go through me, it was like something was in there, but like I said it was a  ‘lacking', like the feeling you get when looking down a very deep, dark, pitch black well.  I stood frozen before the door, not sure what to do, so I just left, not understanding what I was feeling.

The next day when I came by the house I learned that Elena was dead. The word suicide was thrown around, but I am not sure actually how she died, or perhaps I don't know how she killed herself.  From the time frame I received, she was dead in the apartment when I knocked on the door, and perhaps on some basic instinctive level I knew already that she was gone, and spared myself the horror of finding her body.  I never saw Carlos again, and was sorry that I could not have seen him at least one more time before he left.

For the next two years, whenever I passed by that house I would feel a chill come out of the lower apartment, and never went near it again.  I remember one night waking home by myself from the movies, and as I walked by the apartment, I stopped, and just stared at the cold dark interior shown me through the windows.  I felt rage, sorrow, loss, and mostly just confusion, over what had happened.   I was sorry that I did not pick up on Elena's pain, though I doubted there would have been anything I could have done to help her.  The inner world of a 16 year old, is not yet expansive enough to pick up on that kind of thing, at least it was that way for me.  I did not feel guilt about her death, but the hole now present, in the fabric of my life, which was once filled with her presence, was real, even if it was not a major tear.

 Elena was loved by me, but it was not the kind of love that ripped my life apart when she died.  It did cause pain, but it was a pain that I could keep to myself, and no one was burdened by it.  I never talked about it with my parents, friends, or with my brother's and sister's, simply never thought of it.  Also with Carlos, no goodbyes, he was just gone, so in a way he died also, two young adults who befriended me were simply gone without a trace.  I could not go to Elena's funeral, since even Mr. Olsen did not really know about our friendship.   

It is hard to have closure for losses that are important but not major, say like the death of a parent, or a brother or sister, spouse etc.  From my own experience, these lesser losses just linger, perhaps become old friends, who sit quietly, causing no fuss, but waiting for the chance to simply come to the surface and be remembered.  So yes I still mourn Elena, and Carlos, in bits and pieces, because the relationship ended without closure of any sort.  I can't wail, or scream, or carry on in ways that would be understandable, since their leaving me was not that deep, or extreme.  It is like I am in an in-between place, and perhaps it is in the in-between that we get lost.  There are no markers along the way, no rituals that really deal with this.  Or perhaps life just gets too busy, and they can't be dealt with; no time.

When I remember them, which is not really that often. I sometimes go, when I pray, to the time of Elena's death, and asked that the Lord be with her as she leaves this life, and even try to be present in spirit to be of help to her; for I did love her in my own way.  I hope she is at peace.   One of the great things about being catholic is that we do pray for the dead, that God's grace continues to heal after we pass over, and that they being part of the body of Christ, and since there is only one body, our prayers can help them. 

Bitter sweet is what comes to mind.  I suppose that everyone has memories like the one I just shared, or perhaps many of them.  Like joy, these events, that become our memories, are important.  Perhaps they make us more compassionate towards others, deepen our empathy for the sufferings of those we come in contact with. Even if they seem from the outside, not to be that serious, or deep, we learn to look deeper.  Small wounds, large ones, it does not matter, they are all wounds. Some heal faster than others; some don't heal at all since closure is not possible.  One day I hope to be able to embrace Elena, and tell her that I did love her and Carlos as well.  I am not afraid of this kind of pain, it makes me human, and perhaps more alive and vibrant in my everyday life.  To simply love another is a precious gift, and those loved should be treasured, since we do live in a world of beginnings, and endings.

I would do it all over again if the choice was given to me.  My live was enriched by two adults who accepted me, and allowed me to be a part of their lives, no matter how small.  Bittersweet, you can't have one without the other. 

So yes I travel to Elena's side, and pray for her, in her death.  Perhaps that is what Christians are called to.  Perhaps each of us, as we pray, bring mankind with us before the Father, united to the Son, and filled with the light of the Holy Spirit.  All not some, I don't think any should be outside the scope of our prayers or love.

Prayer for the dying:

Lord of life beyond space and time,
Be with those who are dying in your eternal moment,
Let all be embraced by your infinite love,
All wounds healed,
Sins forgiven,
Lifted up into the light of your majesty,
For we are one in your eyes,
One body united in your Son,
Who carried the wounds of mankind on his body.
For each is of eternal worth,
Loved from eternity,
Called into existence because of love,
To the eternal relationship
Of oneness without end,
Amen.  

The calling

When the heart swells when music's caress arouses,
When the sight of beauty makes one catch their breath,
When the vision of a child opens up ones heart to be loved,
When compassion arises to help a stranger,
When friends truly laugh,
When lovers truly love,
When oneness is experienced with the world,
Even if only for an instant,
We are made for such things,
For it is worship that we experience,
Living water found in the depths of a dry desert.
Beauty grabs us in guises often unexpected,
Calling our hearts to expand,
Yes it is the joy of worship,
That which is eternal, that encompasses all beauty and love,
All else transformed by its gently accepting power.
Boundaries healed,
The truth revealed about who we are,
How we are loved,
Our response is the utter joy of abandonment,
Worship.

This is a ramble

Quite a few years ago, I can remember reading an article, which cost about 1.5 million dollars for the study, stating that adolescents was the most difficult time of life. I laughed when reading this and thought, what is new about that, what a waste of money. I think most people when looking back on their teen age years would agree, though, those years have many happy events also. Children, becoming adults, sometimes both present at the same time, hence the extremes that many pre-twenties are prone too. I can only say that my life got better after I grew up, and I personally was glad that my childhood and adolescents was over. Not that I had a bad childhood, I suppose it was better than most, it was just, well, being that young that I did not like.

I have a theory, based on some evidence; at least it is for me since I was the one that experienced it. The theory is that children are more than meets the eye. Of course when looking back, I can use the language of an adult to describe what it was like, or what I went through, let's say, before I was seven years of age. I don't think this is too crazy, but I have always felt old in my soul. It was like a part of me observed what was going on, peaceful, on some level knowing, though I can't even to this day articulate just what it was that I knew. I just observed and then the other part that experienced feared, laughed and cried, you know the things that little ones do. I doubt that this experience is unusual, perhaps it is because I seem to have a very long memory that I even know that this happened.

The knowledge was not verbal, perhaps it was more on an intuitive level; you know sort of a seeing of the whole picture, without being able to express it in a rational manner. Children often show a level of compassion that most adults cannot muster, why is that? Perhaps it is because the necessary boundaries, that are built up as maturity slowly arrives, are simply not there yet. Boundaries are needed, if we did not have them I think we would all drown in the pain and chaos that often surrounds us. There are times when we need to be numb, so as to be able to deal with what needs to be done in our own lives.

Gifted people, who never lose this, are for the most part handicapped in some way; people with Down's syndrome come to mind. They are often very open, loving, compassionate, and I find that they are healers in their own way, perhaps necessary, but the world would not run if everyone was like that. No we need boundaries, we need to protect ourselves, and then as we age to slowly learn to let them down, to again grow in compassion, empathy and love, to become childlike. A strong ego is needed to do this, also the ability to think clearly and to act on what is perceived as needed to be done. I think the first time a very young child gets hurt, or betrayed by another, is probably one of the greatest events in life, for it is then that the truth is learned that others can turn. This does lead to trust, becoming something that has to be earned, it is not a gift. Again this is a necessary event, we all get bumped around, some worse than others. Perhaps those who really get knocked around are in reality the strong ones. I don't think life is a crap shoot, I think there is meaning to what we go through, even if for the life of me I don't always see it. Perhaps in the end we are all children, some just further along than others. I often wonder if this life is just another womb that we must outgrow, and then move on to something larger, bigger, better, and yes perhaps with greater challenges. If we continue after death, I think our joy is the continuing journey, not some eternal rest for eternity.

I suppose, slowly moving into old age is sort of the reverse of adolescents. From becoming a strong, independent, intelligent adult, to moving into a area that slowly leads one to becoming dependent, weak, and for many less intelligent; must be crucifying to say the least. Aldo is there now. I am going to see him today, and hopefully be able to talk him into going into a nursing home for a period of time, so that he can get physical therapy. He wants to go back to his apartment, he has lived there for many years, and though his world is small, it is his world. It is a paradox I guess. If he refuses to go to a nursing home for a short time, and wants to stay independent and go home to his apartment, this could lead, because of his present situation to an accident that could put him in a nursing home for good. So I will try to bring that to his attention. He has also been diagnosed with diabetes and has been put on insulin, which also complicates things.

So I will talk, hopefully convince him, and if not, well I will have to let it go. Not something easy to do since I do care for him, but he has not yet reached that point where someone will have to move in and make choices for him. Battles have to be chosen wisely, and this is one battle that I am not willing to fight since nothing good will come out of it.

Aldo is only 13 years older than me. I know that when I am 71 I will probably still be healthy, at least from my family history it seems that might be the case, yet who knows. Aldo has had serous health problems for years, so he is really older than his actual age, yet being with him makes me wonder how I will handle my own last years, when the time comes for me.

There are so many in my generation, that at least for now (who knows what I will think when the actual time comes), have decided that after 70 I will not take any kind of extraordinary care if I should down with a terminal illness. When I go to the VA, I see how the system is over loaded, and it will only get worse as the years go by, and the baby boomers become the aged ones. Don't get me wrong, I would not mind living to 90, which is only 33 years away; life is good, sweet, filled with good things. Even on the worst of days I can always find something to find joy in. I don't see why that would change as I get far into old age. I just don't think that I want lot of money spent on me that could be put to better use elsewhere.

I wish our culture would stop glorifying being young, and embrace the journey that we are all on. Difficult, well yes it is. However I really would not want to do it all over again, once is enough. Being a baby, young child, adolescent, middle age, and finally one day being old is enough, just once. We are pilgrims; nothing can stop that, no matter what your faith or lack of. Life is hard and then you die, sounds harsh, but is it?

I was working on the computer, when Pattie came up to me and ask me if I heard about Aldo.  I said no, what happened.  It seems that Aldo was having trouble getting out of bed, he could not walk.  So Pattie and Michael called the front office where he lived.  They checked in on him, and called 911.  They took him to Crawford Long Hospital.  A hospital affiliated with Emory, a very good place to go if you are sick.  Pattie went on to say that Aldo told her that I was his Power of Attorney for medical care, something that was new to me. 

I first met Also in the early 70's, when he was in his middle 30's, he is now 71.  He has no family, so a few people around here, sort of adopted him into their circle. So he does have an extended family of sorts, who help to take care of some of his needs.  I suppose one of the things that have always stood out for me about Aldo, is his work ethic.  He always worked if he could, and if he couldn't, he still tried.  He as far as I can see, never took advantage of others, and was always very thankful when help was offered to him.  Michael, Pattie, Elizabeth and Judy, and Ann,  are some of the people, who always showed love, concern and patience toward him, and helped him whenever they could.

Pattie gave me the number of the hospital and I was lucky enough to get hold of Aldo's doctor there.  She was happy to get someone on the line that knew Aldo and was open with me about his condition.  I told her about my being his possible POA, but was not sure, since Aldo is not always clear about things.   I told her that I was going to drive in that afternoon after I finished some errands that needed to be done.  She said that when I arrived to let the nurse know, since she may want to talk to me. 

I arrived at the hospital at about 2 PM, and was soon in his room.  He was not there, so I figured that he was out for some test.  The nurse on duty said that he was getting an MRI and did not know how long it would take.  So I hunkered down and waited.  After about an hour they wheeled him in, and after they got him in bed, we talked.  Just as I thought he really did not have any paper work, living will, who was his POA etc.  So I communicated to him how important it was for him to have that done.  It did not matter who his POA was, he just needed one in case something happened where he could not speak for himself.  After calling Pattie and Michael, they stated that either one of them would be his POA if he wanted them to. 

Aldo, as stated earlier could not walk, and then after further discussion he notified me that he was having trouble feeding himself.  When pressed if he told the Nurse on duty, he said no.   He said that he could not quite reach his mouth, so it took a great deal of effort to eat, and that it was getting worse.  I asked him to do something for me.  Could he touch his mouth with his hand?  He tried, but seemed to stop short just before his chin.  We then tried to see if he could touch his nose, and then his forehead, he could not.  He knew their position but could not get his hands to find them.  I notified the Tech on duty and she assured me that they would feed him.

We then talked about what he wanted done if he should have a situation that was life threatening; a stroke or heart attack, if he wanted to be revived if he should find himself in that position.   We talked about that, and in the middle of this conversation his eyes welled up, he cried a bit, and said in a whisper "I am so tired".   I went over and took his hand, and said that he was not alone, that he had friends, who would do whatever it took so that his wishes would be carried out.  As we continued, I wanted to know if he desired to be DNR, and he said yes.  Before I left I wanted that to be taken care of, but the doctor never came by, it was late, and I needed to get back home.  I called Pattie and Michael and they both stated that they were coming in on Saturday to see Aldo.  So they are going too asked for the Chaplain, who could help with the living will and power of attorney formalities. 

Aldo has had a very hard life.  I won't go into it, but as far as I am concerned he is a quality human being, who deserved a lot better than what life shelled out to him.  Because of his goodness, generosity,  and also because he himself is capable of true friendship, he has always for as long as I have known him, been surrounded by people who care and look out for him, as much as they can.  It did not take away from his loneliness much of the time, but I personally consider it an honor to know him; he is a courageous soul.  People like Aldo can be overlooked, but when with him I sense a great deal of goodness, love, and a man of deep and abiding faith, who has walked the road, fought the fight, and perhaps now is ready to go home, if God sees fit to call him. 

Just so much time

I wonder what life would be like, if that fact that death, which could and does happen at any time, be taken out of the picture. If human life was not short, if we had an unlimited amount of years to live out our hopes and dreams; what if that were true? To me the question is like thinking about winning the lottery. I for one would not want to. To suddenly have all the money I need, or could ever spend, does not sound very promising. With all that money I could never ever look forward to anything, since on a whim I could do whatever I wanted, go where I wanted......buy a jet plane and fly to Hawaii, stay at the best places, etc. Money I did not earn, in unlimited supply, does not sound live giving at all.

Death defines us. We have just so much time, and then it is over, no second chances, one life, and one exit. This adds urgency to life, perhaps not always felt, but on some level it is there. Screaming at some, whispering to others, some barely hear it. Yet it is there. When looking into a mirror it is shown to us every day. The soul seems to stay young, yet the jarring image in the mirror does not correspond. Tick tock, tick tock, so the clock goes, seconds go by and soon become years, decades, until it happens. For some, quick, unexpected, something I personally do not want. Other die more slowly, knowing what is coming, this is what I want. Unlimited time would most likely flatten everything, since the future would stretch out into the far, far, future. Urgency would be gone, it would be like having too much money, nothing to strive for, work for, and anticipate.

I have been with many people who have died. In my line of work it is always the old, the tired, those who perhaps are prepared, waiting for the call. When with them, in their final days and hours, I sense a time of just hanging over, or simply being suspended in a very large void, waiting, being changed, the waiting painful, sort of like waiting for a plane that is slow in coming, the waiting has it own kind of suffering. I sit with them; ponder how they view their lives. Did it seem like a dream, or was it something long and drawn out. In any case most deaths that I have witnessed are peaceful, there are only a very few exceptions, and even those the struggle did not last long.

So life is beautiful, important, filled with color. Vibrant, because of the knowledge, hidden or not, that we have a very short time in which to do what we need to do, before the final curtain call and we step through the dark door. Death is terrible, horrible; it takes away our loved ones. In the end it will take me away also, for the dead also lose out on those that they love. It is a two edged sword; so life should be embraced, lived, with the knowledge that we are truly like the flowers of the field. Young for a short time, we age, grow hopefully, become loving human beings, and when death comes we leave something behind that is beautiful.

What happens after death? Well I have my faith, yet it is still a mystery. I can't believe that we live for just a few years and simply cease. Our lives or a miracle, so an afterlife is not so hard to accept, or at least hope for, and as a Christian I put my hope in Christ; which does not take away from the search, it just gives me a direction to move toward.

So the argument goes

Answers are wanted at all cost,
Knowledge of what we are about sought with ardent desire,
Seeking to get to the bottom of life's mystery,
A journey long,
Impossible to complete,
Yet the path humans are all on.
Like a giant puzzle is our existence and each has a piece,
Mistaking that one part for the whole, a common mistake.
Causing strife were perhaps there is none.

Our senses the walls that keep us enclosed,
Allowing us to see only so far,
Perhaps in the end we will come to that enclosure
Keeping us from the infinite,
The knowing,
The ultimate understanding.
Perhaps we are already there we just don't perceive it.

God exist,
No God does not,
So the argument goes;
A compulsive round going nowhere.
The most strident alike on both sides,
Like two sides of a coin
Insistent on their understanding of reality.

The desire to just know is strong,
Something denied all,
For some more frustrating than others,
Some feel the need to see stronger,
Others less,
Yet all are part of the question
As well as the answer.

Perhaps we are all wrong,
The answer greater than we can even hope for,
Or mayhap only nothing awaits us,
Though this I doubt.
Infinite love,
If the revelation be true,
The desire of the heart if it is on course,
Hoping against hope,
Perhaps this is what should draw us together,
Grasping each others hands seeking the mystery,
The search for truth our common desire.
 

Leaving on a jet plane