Good Morning Family and Friends: Puddles? - 10/9

Good morning to all my family friends and strangers (lol)

Puddles?

As many of you know I have some time off from work. In my time off I picked up my pen again, which is something I haven't done in over a decade.  I have so much to say, I see so much that I would like to communicate: OR, find out if anyone else has the same thoughts and visions.  My eagerness to learn has never died: however, my motivation was at a low. 

With that said - there are several people who may or may not use Facebook, and they are entitled to all their opinions.  However, I will say that YOU and others have been a great support factor for me here @/on Facebook.  

Often I speak to people who tell me they do not have the time, or they cannot deal with the nonsense that,"Facebook creates," it is childish, and they have more reasons why they do not have an account, will not start one, or has canceled the page.

Yes, I have some negative friends and, I too can be negative sometimes.  Some friends ask me why I am friends with someone like that, or some friends make comments that clearly explain our differences.  

Often I hear how people have cut others off, and it is my feeling that 9 out of 10 of these people are killing themselves with their disgust and hate for others, specifically because they are not perfect themselves and usually display a smidgen of the elements they are disgusted with and hate. It definitely takes a negative toll on me. I usually sit and listen and offer alternatives, and likely solutions: but we are all stubborn as human beings.  

So, I try not to avoid or disconnect with people on the strength of our beliefs not being in line with each other.  If I were to do such a thing, I would have nobody, I would stand alone/be alone.

There is not a soul on earth that is in complete agreement with my soul, so why would I expect any one person to be.  That is setting my self up for a major let down, which I have learned through experience. You are not me, I am not you, and we should expect to be different.

Differences in people are  like puddles on the sidewalk.

If I were to "walk around that puddle" every time that I was face to face with it, it would dictate my path now and - in some respect - my future.  This is NOT ME!  

There are times when I need to face the puddle and walk through it.  A Puddle is a puddle and that does not change. How we perceive the puddle will dictate how we approach and deal with it. 

Now, remember when we were kids and we used to stomp in puddles, walk through them only to be amazed that we were standing in water, sometimes we kicked the puddles randomly, or would kick the water playfully to wet a friend.  The fact was, we knew what the puddle was, we knew what could happen if we played with the puddle, walked through the puddle, kicked the puddle: whatever it was we knew what the consequences were: and, they were NOT ALL BAD.

Facebook and peoples feelings are a puddle.  Both are puddles you can walk around, sit face to face with, or avoid: it is a person's choice.  I'd much rather enjoy the puddle than walk around it.  WE ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT A  TSUNAMI!  In that case Facebook would be considered deadly.  

I am talking about a puddle, a small little forgotten element that as a child many of us have enjoyed. Now, as adults WE DON'T EVEN HAVE TO LOOK DOWN TO AVOID THEM: we just do.

Now, in our adult lives the puddle does not exist.  We walk around the puddle without even cherishing or giving credit to it for the laughs and the fun it provided in the past, which is still capable of providing the same entertainment today: however, we perceive the puddle to be a small, muddied mess, which if we encounter and engage will, dirty our brand new sneakers, get on a friend's skinny pants, make others look at us as if we were a child, and sometimes laugh at us.

Well, I am going to pay attention to the puddles I face and be sure not to avoid those that are not harmful.  I will be mindful and fair as to determining which are healthy puddles for me to play in and which are not.  I will keep in mind that my judgement is screened by my own blindness, and that is safe to confide and to listen to others in regard to my biases and contradictions. 

There are big puddles and small ones.  Have you had to walk around or through any puddles lately?

Peace.

Choicemas-

Rt. #16 Bee-Line Bus Memoirs: The Elderly Woman and the Metal-Green Walker Pt. I

Rt. #16 Bee-Line Bus Memoirs: 

The Elderly Woman and the Metal-Green Walker Pt. I

  I exit the automatic doors at the Mall and head towards the passenger depot to wait for the #16 Bus to Peekskill.  It’s 9:45pm and the mall closed only 15 minutes before.  The last bus to Peekskill leaves at 9:50pm.  My feet could use a rest, so immediately I approach one of two benches because it appears there is a place to sit. As I walk over to the bench I notice an elderly woman that has been coming into the Gap to shop for many years now: however, we lost touch because I was promoted to a higher volume store.  She was one of my favorites.

    Years ago – working at Gap in the mall, and an elderly woman slowly made her way into the store pushing her walker.  At first glance I was concerned for her because she was moving very carefully and slowly, and with so many bags.  It is not often that people her age are outside in public areas alone: I waited for minutes to see if someone would follow her or come looking for her in the store.  She had the kind of walker- it was like a three-in-one- metallic green walker, a shopping cart with basket, and a seat for a place to rest if she needed to.  She had miscellaneous bags, almost like a bag woman.  To me, it was obvious she was in her 80s if not early 90s.  Immediately I was attracted to her and the way she was looking around as if she were exploring the store for the first time: she seemed very aware of her surroundings.  In addition, I was attracted to her strength and courage: in fact, it was adorable.  So, I made my way over to her slowly as not to startle her, and she saw me coming.  She is basically hunched over because of the position she is in while pushing the walker, but even standing up she may be at most: four feet tall.

    She was wearing what many women at this age wear when they go walking or exercising: her, ‘active clothes’.  She donned a sweat suit, bottom and top matching, and best of all she sported a baseball cap.  She had small feet, and her shoes one could tell were special because they looked like shoes out of a cartoon- like two small balloons at the base of each leg.  As I approached her she looked directly into my eyes.  As I got closer I expected her to look away, or look around, but she did no such thing.  I continued to look back at her and smiled.  The less distance between us the more I liked about her, the more I could see what she was towing all by herself, and in close I could see all the places she had been in the day already because of the variety of different size shopping bags hanging from and rigged to her metal-green walker. 

    I said hello to her and told her that my name was Freddie: she smiled then, and gave rest to her serious face.  Her face did not appear angry, but it looked like she was focused, thinking, unapproachable for most people. It is a shame to say but I figured she would not get much attention form anyone so I chose to give her ALL of mine.

    Walking over to her, I said hello.  She did not smile, only looked back at me in silence. However, she smiled when I said, “My name is, “Freddie.” I immediately asked her if there was anything I could do for her, was there any way that I may help her, and she laughed a little laugh as if she was flattered by the attention or she was laughing at the over-the-top-vibrant style of customer service I provide: I believe at first, she took my hospitality for sarcasm, or not to be genuine.  So she was kind to bite her lip.

She responded with a smile and said, “Hello Freddie, I’m Holly.” 

Not being able to make out what she said I muttered, “Excuse me?”

    She said, “Your name Freddie?” as if she may have been annoyed by my lack of hearing- while I am nodding yes - she tells me again: “Well, my name ‘ Holly.”  She had a southern twist in her accent as if she moved to New York from down south or mid-west but never let go of the accent.  She reminded me of my gramma- my father’s mother.  My gramma is a beautiful African American woman who was raised in the Alabama-Tennessee area, and then moved north to New York with her uncle.

    I smiled and bowed my head gently, “Hello Ms. Holly, very nice to meet you.” She was impressed with my manners.  She asked me what sales were going on inside the store, which was a signal to me that she was very aware of what she was doing, able to communicate what she wants, and she is very capable.  After listing the sales going on within the store for her, she asks me where the sale section is.  She asks,

    “Where is the sale section young man?”  She adds, “Because sometime it’s over here and then sometimes it’s over there!” as she motions to different areas of the store.  I smiled in good measure and said to her, “C’mon Ms. Holly, it’s over here, and I’m a’ walk with you.”  Side by side we walked to the sale section and upon arrival she went straight to the racks.  I asked her if she needed help, and with her back to me shopping the rack, she told me she was fine.

    Watching her as she moved through the store I wondered who she was shopping for, was there anyone else with her at the mall, did she drive, how did she get here, I wondered why she was shopping at all, and where does she get the strength? Did she drive here?  Does she have family with her or around her?  Is she lonely?  I wondered about her life and experiences at first glance.  

    Long while entering the store, she finally made it to the cash wrap.  She puts three hats on the table that were price killed to $3, maybe even lower.  She explains to me that her grandson likes baseball caps, and that she likes the deals Gap stores have, and so she comes in to the Gap time to time to look at the sale rack. She made it clear to me that she only shops sale.

“That’s all I buy,” she tells me.  “Sale, that’s all I buy.”

    Ms. Holly frequented the store and we always greeted each other, and we talked to each other for minutes.  She wouldn’t say much but she would ALWAYS say hello.  She began to make her way to me when she entered the store and I did not see her.  She would always ask me how I was doing and I would tell her that I was okay.  There were times when she could read my face and my body language.  She would stop in her tracks pick her head up to look me directly in my face and Ms. Holly would ask me, “Are you alright?”  No matter what was going on I would always tell her yes, but all the times here senses were correct.

    Ms. Holly and I built a fine relationship as she continued to come into the Gap time to time.  There would be periods of time when I did not see her, and I would worry about her as she crossed my mind.  Most of all, I always worried whether or not she had someone or people that were around her, be there to help and assist her, family, or friends.  As she slowly pushed through into the store it would bring a smile to my face every time, and I began to tell my co-workers that she was my friend and who she was: a quiet celebrity. 

    One day Ms. Holly enters the store with a man who is almost a good 6 feet 8 inches tall to her 4 ft and few inches.  He trailed behind her closely and she did not look back as she walked in front of him.  Wherever she walked in the store, he followed.  As usual I walked directly to Ms. Holly to greet her and be sure she knew I was in the store: if she were to need anything.  As I approach I am sizing up the man and could see he was a young man or an extremely big boy.  I could see that his attention is all over the place, and it seemed as if he couldn’t stop moving: almost like an anxious child.  As I got closer Ms. Holly did not see me coming but he did.  He was two times my size in height and weight, and gave me a look that was so empty and curious that I was a bit intimidated, but of course kept my smile.  He watched me approach Ms. Holly as his attention shifted to her.  She turned and saw me coming and greeted me with her normal smile and hello.  After saying hello to her I said hello to the boy. He looked directly at me, his face did not budge, and he said nothing.  His face was stoic, as if life had left him, and he was about to take mine: the boy was huge.

    There was an awkward pause before Ms. Holly slipped in and explained to me that he was her grandson.  She told me don’t pay him much mind cause he don’t talk.  She didn’t mean for me to pay him no mind as a person, she meant for me not to be offended by his silence.  She explained to me that he was autistic, and it was her and her grandson’s day together, and that she gets one day a week with her grandson, and sometimes she likes to take him outside, “You know, outta da’ house!” she says to me.  Smiling back I tell her, “I understand, Ms. Holly.”  After shopping the two are leaving the store, and I was in awe.  It was pressing, this little elderly woman who I see taking care of herself, doing an amazing job of taking care of her grandson who is 4 times the size of her, and she was in total control with little worries.  My mind with the questions: How much more family does Ms. Holly have?  What else does she devote herself to?  What else does she endure? 

Things happen, and I am promoted out of the store and into a larger location downstate, about 2 ½ hours on the bus.  Ms. Holly and I had lost touch, I never knew if I would see her again, I didn’t know if she was still able to walk around and travel the way she did.  How long would her strength allow her to be her?  Low and behold one day I am walking through my new store and past the sales rack and who do I see Ms. Holly.  Immediately I say hello and she can see how excited I was and I was happy to see that she was also excited to see me.  It was a comforting feeling to know we were friends.  So, I asked her, “Watcha doin’ all the way down here Ms. Holly?”  Then I added, “You far away from home, aren’t you.”  She responded and told me that she needed to get away sometimes so she takes the bus all the way down state to escape, and that she sometimes has doctors appointments in the area.  We hugged, and I told her never to come in the store without asking for me so that I am sure she gets the treatment she deserves.  She assured me that she wouldn’t and she shopped that day, bought nothing, she left, and I never knew if I would see her again.

To be continued…

Rt. #16 Bee-Line Bus Memoirs: The Assistant Chef Pt. II

Be sure to read Rt. #16 Bee-Line Bus Memoirs: The Assistant Chef Pt. I posted on Oct. 7th. (Scroll Down)


Rt. #16 Bee-Line Bus Memoirs: The Assistant Chef Pt. II

So... I asked him with a smile to show him no harm, "Where did you go? What happened to you ____(his name)? You were always full of cheer and bounce. You always wore a smile, an intense and welcoming energy, and was always so cheery and excited about life- I mean what happened to the ____ (his name) I remember?"

He responded again- twisting his face with expression he lip synced again, "Tired." He repeated himself silently again, "I'm tired", while pointing his finger at himself. 

So, I reached for more, I asked him if he still worked in the mall, and I asked him what he was doing with himself these days, how was his family- his wife and kids.

He responded with words for the first time. First he eased my concern and assured me that it was alright to ask him questions (with my face looking so confused). He spoke- in short fragmented explanations he told me...

HIM: "I became a Chef."
ME: "Pardon me?" 

Because I was unsure of what he said.

HIM: "I became an assistant chef at a restaurant." 

He closes his eyes and shakes his head negatively to stress to me his grief.

Still looking very confused as to where his passion had gone: I waited for more from him.

He stared back at me waiting for me to tag him again. It was a if he wanted the exchange but did not want to say it aloud again for himself to hear. He shakes his head some more.

So, I jump in for comfort- I explain to him that I have 2 friends that are chefs in NYC. One works for Tribecca Grille and another for NoBu 57. I explained to him that both of my friends have expressed the difficulty of being a chef. To the point of panic attacks and stress breakdowns. One of my friends had to leave the job for a month only to come back and be overworked and stressed again. 

I added that it must be rough to have a job, work so hard, and...

He interrupted as if he were waiting for just the right spot to cut in...

HIM: "I never see my family."
Shaking his head and making faces in disgust. 

He put the tips of his thumb and pointer finger close together as if 

he were crushing a grape between them. With his fingers close to his face...

HIM: "This close! I am this close"

ME: "Close to what?"

HIM: "To having the mental breakdown." 

He motions again as if he could not speak the words again or as if he would break in the moment if he were to repeat them.

ME: "So you've change jobs and became a chef, and now you never see your wife and kids? That's a killer I am sure. Is the pay good? I ask because I know you are a hustling-hard-working-man, and bright- so I can only wonder why you would deal with such stress."

HIM: "The pay is good, I cannot complain about that, but I never am able to see my family. I open the place and close it. If you want a life, don't become a chef. Become a chef, have no life!"

He raises his hands, shrugs his shoulders, and looking defeated he sits back in his seat. 

ME: "Well brother, I hope things get better for you and that life brings you closer to time spent with your family. You were always a positive and energetic person who had a way of brightening my day. Peace to you man, and I hope the best for you."

I began to put my earphones on- hinting to him that I was going to leave him to himself and would no longer pry. I shot a smile to him and bowed my head softly to suggest my concern.

HIM: "Thank you, Freddie."

He sincerely attempted a smile, but immediately looked away and out of the bus window into the passing trees...

We got off the bus at the same stop and went our separate ways.

Choicemas-

Bee Line Rt.16 Memoirs: The Assistant Chef Pt. 1

 Bee Line Rt.16 Memoirs: The Assistant Chef Pt. 1

About 7 yrs ago there was a young man who was a very bright, cheery, and giddy spirited. I mean - this guy was pleasant, and he had a smile and something borderline-corny-to-say to every person he came across in a day's time.

If you looked down he would immediately and directly let you know, and he would go into the reasons of life and why he is so happy.

It was as if he we hustling happiness. Imagine that a drug dealer dealing a drug called -'happiness'. And even more I listened when he spoke, he always left me in wonder, in thought about many different things.

Well, a few weeks ago...

Low and behold he boards the bus. I immediately braced myself for his energy which was much higher than mine (it seemed). As I braced myself I saw the look on his face as he boarded the bus, his shoulders low, face rested. He quietly boarded the bus and with seats to sit, he stood alone. He seem to be very different. So I said hello to him expecting him to remember our conversations and discussions, expecting him to wake out of his stupor and greet me with his huge smile and wiggly humor. But instead he only nodded his head, smiled slightly, and lip synced a hello.

I was sort of dumbfounded, and there was a sense of worry in me- for him. What happened? Where did all the things he cared about go? Where did his passion retreat to? Where was his 'happiness'?

2 nights ago he boarded the bus and it was only the two of us except for another female elder sitting in the front of the bus. So I said hello to him again, stressing his name in hopes that he wold reason with a show of effort. Instead he only nodded his head, slightly smiled, an lip synced a 'hello'.

So I couldn't help myself I reached out to him and asked him by name raising my hands with my palms up- expressing confusion, What happened to you brother, where did you go?

To be continued...

What Is Noble Silence?

Noble Silence-

Listening takes place not just through the ears, but with all the senses. Sometimes the best way to prepare ourselves to hear in a new and better way is to be still and silent. When we quiet our motor minds — and our motor mouths — we find that we are better able to open our hearts. The ancient practice of Noble Silence helps us begin the process of hearing in a new way; this is a timeless and wise practice that helps us be more sensitive and perceptive.

Noble Silence traditionally begins with a vow to keep silent for a specific period of time. It can be an hour, a day, a week, or a month. There are practitioners who have kept Noble Silence for years. There is even a practice of lifetime silence in India called 'maun.' The famous master Meher Baba was a mauni baba, a silent holy man. He used a small blackboard to spell out his succinct messages, like 'Don't worry, be happy,' long before the reggae song was written.

If you want to try a period of Noble Silence, remember that it is a rest for all of the senses. Turn off the radio, the phone, the television. Enjoy a fast from the news. Turn off the thoughts in your head. Stay quiet. Take refuge in the inner calm and peace of the quiet mind. Don't write, don't read, don't surf the Net. Keep still. Listen to the sounds around you. What do you hear? What do you see? Open your eyes, open your ears, open your heart. Be still. Listen to the inner voice, and know your Higher Power. This is how we learn to cultivate higher levels of hearing, perception, and vision.

For someone deeply trapped in a prison of thought, how good it can feel to meet a mind that hears, a heart that reassures. It's as if a listening mind is, in and of itself, an invitation to another mind to listen too. How much it can mean when we accept the invitation and hear the world anew.

Peace.

Nobel Silence is rewarding.

Choicemas-

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Thanking everyone for the support, it is a huge gesture to me.

Peace.

Choicemas-

Covering The Prophet: On Love

On Love

Then said Almitra, "Speak to us of Love."

And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them.

And with a great voice he said:

When love beckons to you follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,

Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,

Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;

For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, I am in the heart of God."

And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips. 

Kahlil Gibran: The Prophet

Good Morning 10/4

Good Morning family and friends, I hope the morning is treating everyone well.

I've been out of work since July 28th, The time off is beginning to weigh on me. For a while now I've had very little money and wasn't able to do much because of my injury - I wasn't even able to exercise!!!

Thanks to my writing, I've been able to use it as an outlet.

Today I'll Start my exercise routine again every morning as I was doing before the accident. Exercise does wonders for me!!!

In turn, it will improve my appetite, and as a result my eating will get better.

I need to grab a book too because I'm in the mood for a powerful, thrilling, and life-changing novel to read. The life of Pi was my last read ad it was excellent!!

Well, things to do - now I need to motivate myself to make them happen, thoughts into action.

Have a great day people.

Peace.

Choicemas-

I'll change that today!

'Take it On The Chin' Pt. 3 The Final Blow

'Take it On The Chin' 

Pt. 3 The Final Blow

End of Pt. 2

Well, let me just say that my younger brother did not put down his sword.  He continued to look me in my eye and fight my arrogance with all that he had.  He tried his best to hit my arrogance as hard as he could but without grunting at me.  He was trying his best to be careful, wise, and impacting when he spoke because he is all to familiar with the arrogance that traps me in on all sides. My brother is just taking the blows as I am throwing them.  He's getting cut off in mid-sentence, he's getting yelled at, he getting head nods and head shakes before and after every suggestion he offers-the boy is trying to talk to me and I JUST COULD NOT HEAR HIM. 

Then suddenly he said to me, "Bump, I feel like I am failing you!"  Everything in me including the blood in my veins came to a screeching stop like a car skidding for some feet with the brakes totally engaged. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee>>>>>>>>...

Pt. 3 The Final Blow

...Immediately, touched, broken, breeched, and dizzied by the one blow that he had thrown was ironically the one blow he never threw.  

My arrogance put up such a wall on all sides, it did such a great job of pushing him off the line and keeping him at a distance as much as possible, my arrogance left him looking for ways to approach his own brother, until he felt lost himself, and began to retract.  He felt as if he was about to do the same thing he was asking me not too, as if his hope for me was disappearing: and to him/for him, it would have been a reflection of him giving up on me, failing me.  

Tears grew faster than I could speak; like a flagman with two flags waving my hands in front of me I motioned him to stop speaking and say nothing; I had to sway my upper body in a circular motion as if it were creating a cycle of breath or building enough power to create the strength to speak through the pain, while it was only a reaction of anxiety and tension; I tried to look at him, but instead had to look away immediately, as not to fall into tears in my younger brother's face.  Finally, I collected myself enough to recognize in a split second-my arrogance, and in that split second I chose quickly to CHOOSE the arrogance out of my life immediately.  There was no way that I would allow my arrogance to hurt my brother, and in such a painful way as it already has.

Looking my brother directly in the eyes I say to him, "You can never fail me, man!"  

Now my brother noticing the effect his statement had on me, he almost falls emotional but unselfishly holds his composure to listen to what I am saying to him.  Telling him he can never fail me, and to please not for one-second believe that it would be the case because I look UP to him and CONFIDE in him even as my younger brother.  Continuing on, I told him that I am learning from him and that from this point on I am going to look to his lead, and I quickly looked away when I was finished. 

All I could think is-"How could I allow myself to press upon my brother the feeling that he failed me?"

As time passes and we spend the next few days together I do more than just listen, I listen closely absorbing his words.  One thing my brother insisted I do is, "Take it on the chin!"  He repeatedly told me over the course of four days to, "Take it on the chin, Bump!"  Every time I would look at him and want to say something - whether it be offensive or defensive — he would stop me and say, "Take it on the chin, Bump!"  He would smile too, and I would listen to him, listen closely, and say nothing, and later evaluate it all. Ian reminded me to be like the stone is the reflection of a man, a steady man, a man that will handle his dealings appropriately and in a calm manner, as a man in God's image should do.  

Did our prophets take it on the chin?  

So why should I not do the same if I believe I am in made in God's image?

In addition, my brother reminded me that I was giving up, even when I thought I wasn't.  Repeatedly claiming, "I can't take it anymore," or "What else am I supposed to do" — are all signs that I am giving up, even if I am just making these claims and don't necessarily believe them: nothing good is manifested from such practices.  

Oddly, when I was making all these claims, my brother was looking at me like I was crazy and I couldn't figure out why or what his look was actually saying to me.  Ws he laughing at me inside, was he looking at me like I had two heads, was he looking at me like I had no idea what I was talking about, or was he looking at me because he could not believe how ignorant his older brother could be?  He's squinting at me and his forehead is all wrinkled with questions.  

After landing in New York it hit me:  Ian was looking at me with such a puzzled look because he could not understand or fathom the idea of me not being able to DO something, not being able to BE something, not being able to go any further.  My brother could not understand it because he believed in me, he believed I was stronger than I thought myself to be.  Ian is aware of my strength, as I should be but sometimes lose sight of the power invested in me.  This is something God does for me as well — has faith in me when I do not have faith in myself.

(applicable to most physical, mental, and social relationships)

'The Coming of The Ship'

The Coming Of The Ship

Almustafa, the chosen and the beloved, who was a dawn onto his own day, had waited twelve years in the city of Orphalese for his ship that was to return and bear him back to the isle of his birth.

And in the twelfth year, on the seventh day of Ielool, the month of reaping, he climbed the hill without the city walls and looked seaward; and he beheld the ship coming with the mist.

Then the gates of his heart were flung open, and his joy flew far over the sea. And he closed his eyes and prayed in the silences of his soul.

But he descended the hill, a sadness came upon him, and he thought in his heart: How shall I go in peace and without sorrow? Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city.

Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?

Too many fragments of the spirit have I scatterd in these streets, and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among these hills, and I cannot withdraw from them without a bruden and an ache.

It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands.

Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and with thirst.

Yet I cannot tarry longer.

The sea that calls all things unto her calls me, and I must embark.

For to stay, though the hours burn in the night, is to freeze and crystallize and be bound in a mould.

Fain would I take with me all that is here. But how shall I?

A voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that give it wings. Alone must it seek the ether.

And alone and without his nest shall the eagle fly across the sun.

Now when he reached the foot of the hill, he turned again towards the sea, and he saw his ship approaching the harbour, and upon her prow the mariners, the men of his own land.

And his soul cried out to them, and he said:

Sons of my ancient mother, you riders of the tides, How often have you sailed in my dreams. And now you come in my awakening, which is my deeper dream.

Ready am I to go, and my eagerness with sails full set awaits the wind.

Only another breath will I breathe in this still air, only another loving look cast backward,

Then I shall stand among you, a seafarer among seafarers.
And you, vast sea, sleepless mother,

Who alone are peace and freedom to the river and the stream,

Only another winding will this stream make, only another murmur in this glade,

And then shall I come to you, a boundless drop to a boundless ocean.

And as he walked he saw from afar men and women leaving their fields and their vineyards and hastening towards the city gates.

And he heard their voices calling his name, and shouting from the field to field telling one another of the coming of the ship.

And he said to himself:

Shall the day of parting be the day of gathering?

And shall it be said that my eve was in truth my dawn?

And what shall I give unto him who has left his plough in midfurrow, or to him who has stopped the wheel of his winepress?

Shall my heart become a tree heavy-laden with fruit that I may gather and give unto them?

And shall my desires flow like a fountain that I may fill their cups?

Am I a harp that the hand of the mighty may touch me, or a flute that his breath may pass through me?

A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure have I found in silences that I may dispense with confidence?

If this is my day of harvest, in what fields have I sowed the seed, and in what unrembered seasons?

If this indeed be the our in which I lift up my lantern, it is not my flame that shall burn therein.

Empty and dark shall I raise my lantern,

And the guardian of the night shall fill it with oil and he shall light it also.

These things he said in words. But much in his heart remained unsaid. For he himself could not speak his deeper secret.

And when he entered into the city all the people came to meet him, and they were crying out to him as with one voice.

And the elders of the city stood forth and said:

Go not yet away from us.

A noontide have you been in our twilight, and your youth has given us dreams to dream.

No stranger are you among us, nor a guest, but our son and our dearly beloved.

Suffer not yet our eyes to hunger for your face.

And the priests and the priestesses said unto him:

Let not the waves of the sea separate us now, and the years you have spent in our midst become a memory.

You have walked among us a spirit, and your shadow has been a light upon our faces.

Much have we loved you. But speechless was our love, and with veils has it been veiled.

Yet now it cries aloud unto you, and would stand revealed before you.

And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

And others came also and entreated him.

But he answered them not. He only bent his head; and those who stood near saw his tears falling upon his breast.

And he and the people proceeded towards the great square before the temple.

And there came out of the sanctuary a woman whose name was Almitra. And she was a seeress.

And he looked upon her with exceeding tenderness, for it was she who had first sought and believed in him when he had been but a day in their city.

And she hailed him, saying:

Prophet of God, in quest for the uttermost, long have you searched the distances for your ship.

And now your ship has come, and you must needs go.

Deep is your longing for the land of your memories and the dwelling place of your greater desires; and our love would not bind you nor our needs hold you.

Yet this we ask ere you leave us, that you speak to us and give us of your truth.

And we will give it unto our children, and they unto their children, and it shall not perish.

In your aloneness you have watched with our days, and in your wakefulness you have listened to the weeping and the laughter of our sleep.

Now therefore disclose us to ourselves, and tell us all that has been shown you of that which is between birth and death.

And he answered,

People of Orphalese, of what can I speak save of that which is even now moving your souls? 

Located in:

The Prophet By Kahlil Gibran