Weblog 109

March 9, 2008~ 12:15am
I think I'll start this cold, March week off with a poem and some images.



The Man And The Moon

In the moonshade
on Barlow's Knoll
with one
lone
tree
upthrust-
bone
radial
tapered
to fingers, phalangeal
petition to Sky
Clutch
Time Clasped Picture of Perfect
Peace

and underneath

the one who
never
speaks

caught daring
the sun to shine
which will
never be for him

this
one is mine

for I have seen him
in a hundred ways

although the tree
is gone

the one fraught
with the
moonbeams
yet remains and sways within
the silence. Leans

against a dream of his shot dead time
and
waits

for
reenforcements

as I will one
day wait for mine though they
will not
come: a hung dog
sadness that never quits

and the constancy of moon
and hill
and man

while the tree

is mist.


This makes me think of all the things that change- for instance, the wonderful, spreading tree on Barlow's Knoll in Gettysburg that is no more. Ligtning claimed it several years ago. But I have pictures of that tree in all its magnificence- on a moonlit night back in 2002, full silver orb peeking right through the branches....



and another of the silhouetted bugler who still stands there.....the man on the hill.



I often talk about layers when I mention time. That's what it is, the overlapping of the new upon the old, so that- if sped up, as in time-lapse photography, we'd see the changes happening, color over sepia. Spring colors over the sere, stark look of late fall.



I'd love to see my own life time-lapsed from the beginning up till now-- that chubby baby with the dark, dark eyes- then pigtailed girl, the slender youth- then the graying, dyed, and finally white-haired, full-figured woman I've become all interlocked and overlapping, with only a few things remaining constant. My love of words, my joy in images and art- my readiness to laugh, to be surprised- the way my eyes light up in affection when I see the ones who are closest to my heart.

Some things-- things like these never change, thank God. That why I think there are ghosts- some call them memories, but they're ghosts just the same, of strongly-felt emotion and the residue of hefty events......that just won't leave, and we walk right through them all the time. A Smithsonian of the heart.




March 11, 2008~ 5:15pm
I've found a new favorite website and I've just dipped my toes, and can't wait to go back and dive right in. Today- and once again because of an interview I heard on NPR's Fresh Air- I discovered something I'd never known before. Thomas Jefferson, multiply talented- genius with language, a solid statesman and one of what we refer to as 'the founding fathers', had a very individual view of Christianity- and in the first efforts of actually cutting and pasting before there were computers- took to his Bible, and rewrote the gospel of Jesus the way he thought it should be told. LOL!! Good old TJ....


If you click on the peeking out Jefferson above, you will be taken to what I've just described as my new favorite site: BeliefNet. In fact, you will be taken to the page that tells of how Jefferson sat with scissors and paste and redid the telling of the Gospel. As a matter of fact, his version ends with the stone still at the tomb- no farther- and Jefferson didn't think it hurt the story one bit.

He characterizes his assessment of what he found inside the 'good book' as "diamonds and dung"- (the diamonds of course, are what he has chosen to keep.) He blames St. Paul most of all, and was sincerely convinced that the words of Christ had been bastardized, taken out of context- muddied over, bandied about- and was determined to mine his way back to the real truth hidden in the story of the Nazarene.

This host site has a multitude of human spiritual beliefs to read up on and discuss, and it's marvelous!

Since my own faith has never cottoned to "too tight shoes"- (TJ and I have that in common)- I now know what to call myself: a Jeffersonian Christian Buddhist Quaker! Yah! That would sum it up quite nicely.




March 13, 2008~ 9:30pm
Maybe because I've just come home from seeing my granddaughter and grandson, ages 2 3/4 and nearly 5 years old, but an email sent to me today (one of those forwarded things that make the rounds) was unusally touching, being that little Kay and Bill just got a dog- a chocolate brown, standard poodle they name JOHN BANANAS- but this one really touched me, and made me tear up.

I'm not usually a sentimental sap- but there was such a sweetness in this, I thought I'd share it with you so you could feel the glow that comes from this kind of uncommon thoughtfulness.

(And the magic of a child's belief- and yes, and yes- oh my...... and love.)




A Beautiful Soul At The US Postal Service

This is one of the kindest things I've ever experienced. I have no way to know who sent it, but there is a beautiful soul working in the dead letter office of the US postal service.

Our 14 year old dog, Abbey, died last month. The day after she died, my 4 year old daughter Meredith was crying and talking about how much she missed Abbey. She asked if we could write a letter to God so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would recognize her. I told her that I thought we could so she dictated these words:


Dear God,

Will you please take care of my dog? She died yesterday and is with you in heaven. I miss her very much. I am happy that you let me have her as my dog even though she got sick.

I hope you will play with her. She likes to play with balls and to swim. I am sending a picture of her so when you see her. You will know that she is my dog. I really miss her.

Love, Meredith.


We put the letter in an envelope with a picture of Abbey and Meredith and addressed it to God/Heaven. We put our return address on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front of the envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the letter all the way to heaven. That afternoon she dropped it into the letter box at the post office. A few days later, she asked if God had gotten the letter yet. I told her that I thought He had.

Yesterday, there was a package wrapped in gold paper on our front porch addressed, 'To Meredith , 'in an unfamiliar hand. Meredith opened it. Inside was a book by Mr. Rogers called, 'When a Pet Dies.' Taped to the inside front cover was the letter we had written to God in its opened envelope. On the opposite page was the picture of Abbey & Meredith and this note:


Dear Meredith,

Abbey arrived safely in heaven. Having the picture was a big help. I recognized Abbey right away. Abbey isn't sick anymore. Her spirit is here with me just like it stays in your heart. Abbey loved being your dog. Since we don't need our bodies in heaven, I don't have any pockets to keep your picture in, so I am sending it back to you in this little book for you to keep and have something to remember Abbey by. Thank you for the beautiful letter and thank your mother for helping you write it and sending it to me. What a wonderful mother you have. I picked her especially for you.
I send my blessings every day and remember that I love you very much.

By the way, I'm easy to find, I am wherever there is love.

Love,
God

(That called to mind a short story by Leo Tolstoy we read in high school called, "Where Love Is, There Is God Also"- written in 1885. Some things not only do not age... some things... are for the Ages.





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