Waves To Call Me Out

©  Layne Kennedy/www.laynekennedy.com

May nature renew me

And waves crash to me;

So there is only sea and salt

Or waves--to call me out;

And antlers in holy arc

Nearly home before the dark;

Where evergreens creek

and sway;

or whisper low in their

sounds of broom 'n rush:

Nature sweeping while we rest;

Where memories, no, feats of the soul

Push me,

Push me,

Push me,

So I am whole,

Further--in my growth...

Yet quite near

The Highest Plane

Which whispers,

Whispers,
Whispers,

My given name.

By Connie Nelson Ahlberg

October 12, 2014

Making Pearls

For those who have struggled with physical pain, emotional pain, or both.

I sought from life to cast

Or far away to hurl;

All the pain in my days;

But then, through Grace,

I just Made Pearls.

By Connie Nelson Ahlberg

All Rights Reserved.

Light, Shadow, and LIGHT, Again

Crepuscular rays at sunset near Waterberg Plateau, 

Wabi Game Ranch, Namibia

Going to where the news is--is going where the suffering is. cjna

"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, upon them a light has shined." Isaiah 9:2

"James Foley was the kind of person who could talk to you for a minute and call you brother." Nadezhda Kevovorka


Going to where the news is--is going to where the suffering is.
Just as journalists and aid workers go to the suffering like our Saints, some of us traveled there in our minds, lamenting the death toll and suffering in Lybia, Gaza, and Syria.

On the mainland and Europe we debated within ourselves, we should do something. And governments debated: we should do something.

But the news reporters, journalists, aids workers and volunteers: humanitarians all, were already there. They were there documenting human rights abuses, starvation, death by mortar fire, and death by gas.

But we can't let the darkness imposed upon the American and British journalists, news reporter and aid workers *cloud the very lives of these visionaries who lived in purpose and courage.

With rousing applause to @allinwithchris on his Friday, October 3 broadcast, Chris refused to cover the death of aid worker Alan Henning as those in the media had treated the deaths of those before him. He deliberately chose to show no visual of the images that ISIS prefers: their own with the threatened victims.

Because James Foley *ascended on August 14, 2014, there has been time for his family to establish a foundation in his name to both honor James and his life.  This news reporter who paid $30. for a hotel in Benghazi somehow gave an ambulance to a hospital in Aleppo. What a beautiful gift. All altruism.

One of his last Tweets was about Palestine according to Nadezhda Kevovorka in James Foley: A Lot of Questions and No Answers.

If we wish to futher the dreams of his lifetime goals we can donate to The James W. Foley Legacy Fund. We need truly ponder here, but not in the way the Dark Side wants.

*I used the word ascended above because my readings on grief, loss, and healing informed me of something I want thousands of loved ones to know. In the event of a violent death, or sudden accident resulting in death, spirit leaves the body ahead of time--because it can.

Instead of allowing ISIS to dictate what we in shock draw from recent events, we need, as many journalists and soul leaders have done--make sure we take time to study the young lives we've lost.

We can add to the caring on the planet and the mission they began which illuminated their lives to the end and beyond. Sadly Free James Foley became The James W. Foley Legacy Fund.

Like visionary souls--they went where most of us did not want to go. They went to report on the truth of what they saw; they went to lend a hand; they went to buy an ambulance and aid the suffering.

In the old canonizing days of the Catholic Church...Saints were sometimes canonized for similar selfless acts.

I have been both lifted and stunned by the humanity and beauty of what these young men were doing with their lives. No hesitation. Commitment.

On the soul level we chose our parents and life mission. I feel each of those we've lost in recent months may have known on the soul level how their life may end, their mission, & the impact of their life work on the world.

James' foundation and, for example, Doctors Without Borders, can enable us to lift their lives by not shrinking back in the horror of how each died.

James Foley, everyone loved him, it's said.

While I intended to honor each journalist, reporter, and aid worker in one post, I will write on each life separately.  I offer sympathy, peace and prayers for Steven Sotloff, David Haines, Alan Henning and their families. We are diminished by their passing. Prayers for all held by ISIS.

In compassion we need carry on.

http://jamesfoleyfund.org/

www.doctorswithoutborders.org/



* by the Total Darkness of the Underworld, aka, ISIS/ISIL

Let Me Call You Sweetheart

Friday night getting ready for Saturday inspection

Camp Claiborn, LA

Walt, Corporal Nelson, Jackson 7/01/1940

I am fortunate, profoundly blessed. One of my greatest gifts is that my father is still living. In a few weeks, he will reach 100 years of age.

Some time ago my father, a champion newspaper reader (Duluth Harold, Star Tribune, and St. Paul Pioneer Press), told me: I only want good news.

Hmmm. I thought. Okay. (Though he did say, when asked, that he wanted to be kept abreast of news in the family.)

Last night I called him, reminding him of his comment: I only want good news. He laughed. I told him I had good news for him.
First I had good medical test results, which prompted my call.

Secondly, I told him that he is well received on Twitter, that some Followers are happy to see a man just days from turning 100, out on a walk with his walking stick, determined to get there.

He couldn't get over it. Really, he said?

I said Really.

Then I told him that someone has already booked a flight from Japan to be there on his birthday, Nov 11.

Erik? He asked mentioning my son.

I said, Yes.

Well, you tell him I'm as anxious to see him.

I will.

Then we talked about my mother who flew up (as I say) nearly 15 years ago next February 19. From time to time I tell the true story which happened to me five years after my mother died.

It was the wee hours of the morn. I was between sleep and wakefulness. Then I heard it: my mother's voice. An electric current went through my body, my reaction to this joy. She only said my nickname, but a name she used endearingly for me. Yet it was as if she read War and Peace to me, so resoundingly was it my mother's voice.

As I always say to my father. This was my mother's way of saying - I'm just somewhere else. And why am I so sure? It was my mother's birthday, May 10th.

For someone not too far from the thought of heaven's gate, it is a caressing story--which, of course, is why I keep telling it to him. I am lifted everytime I do.

Then we sign off with the promise of forehead kisses and hugs.

Have a good sleep I say, which is a direct quote of my mother's.

Each phone call is a treasured moment reminding me of what a lucky girl I am.

Syria and the Dalai Lama

At the Unsung Heroes of Compassion Event

in San Francisco 

When I come back, I will come back as bee.

One of the highlights of my life was seeing the 14th Dalai Lama at the Nobel Peace Forum in Minneapolis this year. I was so excited. I even took a taxi, so I'd simplify my arrival and departure. 

With but a few first words from his lips, he became, he was, a merry presence, wise and dear. The audience fell in love, or renewed a love they carried with them. Light, whimsical, amused with his life and a love of honey,...he said...when I come back, I come back--as BEE. 

I've read some of the writings of this wise and meditative man. His thoughts have stayed with me.

Three years ago, I grew increasing alarmed over all the deaths and suffering in Syria. I felt we had to do something, but I knew not what. The toll grew and my anguish grew with it. Why wasn't the world, why weren't we, the United States, somehow saving these citizens of Syria, under the leadership of the unmerciful Bashad al-Assad?

But I have read the words of the Dalai Lama on revenge and counter-attacks. After 9/11, for example, he reflected that one can attack and return blow for blow. But it will produce consequences unforeseen. Events will play out quite differently than one envisions no matter how noble the motives.

With thoughtful reflection which is the soul of his being he says, yes, one can fight back. When we have suffered the loss of life we want to strike back. As one listens you hear: in his softness is his strength.

Can we say the goals of Iraq served us well or served anyone well: the loss of American lives, civilian lives, or the immorality of lies and half-truths? How perfect it was promised to be: Hailed as liberators.

The philosophy of Buddhists and the Dalai Lama is in this moment...like the parable of The Three Questions told by Tolstoy. The questions being:

What is the most important time?
Who is the most important person?
What is the most important thing?

The most important time is now; the most important person is the one we're with; and the most important thing is the good we can do.

Wherever the Dalai Lama goes, I believe he is asked the same questions I heard at the Peace Forum in Minneapolis. What can we do to prevent the violence, death, and destruction in the world?

"Begin with yourself," he answers.
We must model what we wish for--in Syria, in Iraq, the Ukraine, and Ferguson, Missouri.

James Foley, the first American in recent days to be killed so horrifically in front of a
stunned world, had been making a difference in Syria. He purchased an ambulance for one of Aleppo's hospitals to assist the wounded. He answered all of Tolstoy's questions with a vehicle for saving lives.

It seems we turn to war when we have yet to exhaust the tools for peace.

Now we are catapulted forward by the deaths of our journalists, but not in a way many journalists would want. Foreign correspondent Richard Engel spoke on MSNBC that he wouldn't want his death to impact American foreign policy.

And now here we are. We are going to do something in Syria. But is it the right something?

Have we exhausted peace in our rush for war?

I should be happy; we are going to act. But I am uneasy.
Congress wants assurances or a bigger war effort. But I don't think I want war at all.

The Dalai Lama used the word "bully" in his talk on the world & violence.
And Pema Chodron has written Don't Bite the Hook.
Somehow I feel we have already swallowed it.

Let's pray in all the world's religions, yet also--work for peace. We have it in us.

Selfishness and Suicide Updated - A discussion touched off on Facebook. And Continued--Here.

"If you judge people, you have no time to love them." 
Mother Teresa

Robin Williams 1951-2014

The best I can say to those who feel suicide sufferers are selfish is that those raising the point perhaps have never known clinical depression themselves. They are fortunately blessed.

Most people fight cancer valiantly so intent to beat this disease. Others can be just as valiant fighting depression, but at times the carrier can't carry the disease any longer, as it is profoundly dark and relentless.

Robin Williams was bipolar: it was inter-woven into his genius and that tell-tale-rapid-fire speech few could keep up with.

The flip side of mania in the disease model is depression. Clinical

depression is chemical. It's like going to the bank for a withdrawal but the money, the serotonin isn't there. Usually medication helps, but not always. Williams was being treated for depression when he died.

Robin Williams wasn't selfish--he was sick. And it is beyond the darkest night you can imagine (if you've never know the disease). In it you lose your mental strength and sometimes the will to fight.

Robin owed his fans nothing--he gave at the office all the brilliance he possessed. He was fighting for his life, his wellness, when he lost it, having recently been in rehab in Minnesota and under the care of mental health professionals. And now through his wife we learn he was in the early stages of Parkinson's disease.

Today all one hears are the millions he raised for the homeless, and how he pulled fellow actor, Christopher Reeves, up from his own darkness. Also today, from across the board, words that Robin Williams was the kindest of men.

My family is nearly one with the illness of despair. But the stigma still remains. 

Yet all that should be left is compassion for this brilliant life, struck down by a disease and for the disease itself.

Often depressives are the least selfish in the room as they have known suffering.

May God teach the love and understanding this, as well as other diseases, require of the compassionate heart.

Robin Williams wasn't selfish...he must have been overwhelmed on two fronts: the loss of health of his body while the additional burden of depression from his Parkinson's diagnosis--challenged his mental health even more.

In my most recent issue of Shambhala Sun magazine there are these words: Don't Figure Others Out. Or, as I've generally heard it: 
Don't ponder others. 

At times we aren't even sure of our own motives, myriad thoughts, perceptions and beliefs. We owe ourselves and others God's Peace.

Thank you, Robin, for your amazing gifts. In heaven rest--Be Well.
Grace, grace to your divine being.

For the Loving Household (to God or To Another) - A Prayer--When I Mess Up

Flock of Sheep - Wikipedia

  

Hold me, hold me,

Resist the need to scold me;

For even I can see 

The mess of things

You gave me--so

Hold me, hold me,

It's YOUR WHISPERS

That own me...

Let me draw on dawn

And breathe You, 

Ever the New Day.

©1998 Connie Nelson Ahlberg

All Rights Reserved.