Called By Name

Only a few days ago I made a new friend named Abbey. Her age is seven years. I remember Abbey when she was a baby but she cannot remember me from that earlier time. It so happened that she said to me on seeing me, “As soon as I heard your name I thought you were famous.” “Really?” I replied. Feeling a bit shaken by her proclamation of my fame I failed to ask her what she was told was my name. Next day, we were out for a walk to a store together and she brought up the subject again and again. I wondered what she meant. Then she said so brightly, “Johnny Whooperswan, I was sure you were very famous when I first heard your name.” She repeated my name several times in a hurry and each time it rang with joy from her young, little heart. I cannot say how marvelous it made me feel. Then she told me, “I am going to tell all my friends I met Johnny Whooperswan and he is very famous”, and laughed out loud.

Now she calls Johnny Whooperswan whenever she decides to call me. And the manner in which it flows from that child is music. And the best part, the reason I want to tell this story, is that I understand from the sounds in my ear when she does that Abbey does not mean by “famous” what definition is locked in my head of words. The very name to her has a real magic quality I feel when she says it. It is definitely related to music. And it makes me feel so very special. And it brings up in me a memory of a time when I myself was most strongly drawn to a sound that I could rely on to open up a door to a special place where something good lives. Somehow that search is innate to humans.

Then I heard, via Netflix, Joseph Campbell, an expert in myths from all around the Earth introduce one from India that ends up by telling that all people are in some way titled as special and we are countless in number and we arise from the belly of Vishnu with a bag of thunderbolts to serve awhile but whenever we get to feeling arrogant about it we become as one more tiny ant. In the midst of the wonder of my name spoken by Abbey with such definite purpose I like the myth very much indeed and accept its challenge for me. I been noticed. But I understand I am just an ordinary man living an ordinary life which happens to be miraculous!

LENS TO LIFE

#1

a simple look into

elements of freedom

nameless newborns when you meet 'em

infatuated

in perfect readiness

direction anybody's guess

express yourself

exhaust expression

life fulfilled

move on

#2

document, weigh-in, age 'em

bound up

in conflict once you cage 'em

house broken

domesticated.

substitute local elements of conformity

switch off self-navigation sensibility

nothing here is rash

unexpressed

left-over hash

two meet

one has little or no preparation for it

the other has been preparing for a long time

would it surprise us to learn it is the unprepared who will last as an eternal flame in the hearts of others; the other quickly fade to dullness. Mixed-up. Flimsy. A rock sack of techniques?

The unprepared born to perfect readiness simply loves itself to death.

How I Retired at 45 With No Capital

It was simple. I was considering my situation carefully. I had tried several careers with no feeling I was even close to enjoying my work. Once again I was penniless and out of work. I wondered whether I was just so out of whack that there was no hope for my success as a person. Mostly, I thought of that, success, as being a respected member of some group that had it together enough to feel proud of themselves for what they did that brought sufficient wealth for an enjoyable way of life, materially speaking. Honestly, I did not wish for a lot of wealth, just enough. And it was definitely more important to me to like myself when I looked in the mirror than what car was parked in my drive. Still, I was not drawn to a life of doing without expensive things. That's about as clear as I was thinking at 44. And narrow was my focus. Now, looking back, I admit it, I was stupid. And for sure my vision for some glorious victory was chained down and heavily guarded by what I thought other people thought of me. You can probably feel how little respect I had for my existence as only me without some tribe to give me the formula. Yet, when that did come, as I will reveal, it was irony, complete irony and I laughed out loud, then gave a holler for joy! The tribe was a bunch of total losers, like me, with the wisdom to understand my needs, and the formula, if you call it that, was, hey, be true to you. There were no dues or fees.

My trusted advisers implored me to run a private, very personal experiment and if I did not find what I was looking for they would refund my misery and I could go on my way. What did I have to lose? What, indeed!

Am I religious?

Life is my God.

Love is my God.

Life's love comes on a breath of wind several times every minute of my existence.

I appreciate that when I am aware. Life is in the wind I draw inside of me. To appreciate a breath is the truest, most intimate, sacred expression of the love of one's God. I appreciate my children, I do, and yet when I remember that there is something that allows me to appreciate anything at all I cannot go wrong. To remember my Lord in all things bolsters me up to bear beams of love from that Giver.

Am I religious?

I hope I have not frightened you away with language that might imply I am in some organized religious group. I am not. Am I Religious?

If it is a simple matter of appreciation for unconditional love meant for me alone which love nobody can find to destroy or steal I am.

Since my decision at 45 to run that experiment I have always had work that is gratifying.

Enough and more has been mine by simply getting serious long enough to discover my nature, what makes me tick, and live it. To live, I discovered, absolutely requires a person to be present for life. Now. Keenly aware. And there is no better feeling.

I shall stop here. I want to give enough without meddling in your affairs. It is your life you are living, not mine. Do not believe what I have written above. Find out for yourself or else there is nothing at all to be gained from my small effort.

The reason anyone would offer to help you copy a formula they are in possession of for how to make a million is because that person wants two million. Think about it.

Apply this metaphor to anything at all anyone offers to help you find. If you are serious about it, you are liable to find out what a fool resembles. What did your parents promise you conditionally? What did your wife or husband promise when encouraging you to marry them? What did your religious leader promise when encouraging you to join that group and become one of them? What did your boss promise? What did your coach promise? What did your doctor promise? Your lawyer? Your elected officials? Was it not bottomed in self-centered desires? You or I will treat others we are responsible for only as well as we have been treated which will have determined how well we treat ourselves. How long before we learn? Someone who cares about you will be ever so unwilling to advertise services to be rendered on your behalf. You will have to lower your ego enough to ask and receive, if you are granted that chance, with no charge or recompense of any kind expected. For that person, the joy of serving you will be payment in full. But do not imagine you are entitled to it. Not for a moment. That will not be permitted.

If a child, any child, gets the things it needs it will flourish. But how much do we know about what any human being needs? What if all that is needed is to be left to the guidance of some force that is the source of its existence absent meddling and enough room to wander about freely and the privilege to be poor of everything else if that is what it turns out the child wants? Do you get my drift? Really? I am pointing to a realm nobody in this world but that child can know about or reach into and spoil or steal from it. So, it's an important thing indeed. Most no longer have a clue what is being pointed out. And that is sad.

Maybe long ago some people went astray and what they thought continues to this day. Hunters were out doing the hunt. They found nothing to kill that they were willing to eat and feed to their families. It was to them a bad day. They went out again. No luck again. For many days they went on the hunt and returned empty handed. People in the village were starving. Someone died. A child. Then another. This time was very sad and difficult for these people and the survivors later spoke of it as “The Terrible Hunger”.

They made stories to tell each other to remind themselves of how terrible it can get. One slip up caused them to change into a warring tribe that was always afraid of not having enough to feed everyone. It never occurred to them to take a careful look inside, at themselves, and see their role in the what came to be known popularly as the period of starvation. What they did was draw a conclusion on the wall so it would be kept uppermost in the minds of all for the rest of their existence as a tribe.

A series of events enough like this one occurred where tribes of humans lived all around the Earth who had never met, but would eventually meet, that this world, Earth, became a place where people expected to go to war and so kept large armies on the ready and fed through stories the fires of hatred toward others they would expect to war with over enough. Children were taught war games. There resulted groups around the Earth who have actually hated each other for thousands of years. They blame each other for the pain of war as matter of fact. It is not a fact and never will it be. Seems every tribe now has a current Big Hatred brewing in the background for instant use when thought necessary by its leaders.

I can imagine a scene for us all. When we die and meet God, as individuals, and are asked, "Well, how was it? Tell me the truth.” each of us will stammer and then realize we have to speak truly and we will say,

“I always wondered, Lord, why you planted a tree of good and evil if you knew in advance we would eat from it? It was trouble, Lord. It all began when we went out for food one day and found nothing.

It was a terrible day.”

And God, speaking on behalf of it all, will answer simply, “Beams of love. Beams of love.”

Upon finding a relic of beauty from the ancient past

that captivated his heart,one of the explorers wondered 

aloud, 

“Who was the one who came here so long ago who took 

the trouble to make this lovely object and leave it 

to be found by one such as me?”

Another replied, “You did, silly.”