The Caring Catalyst

Who Cares - What Matters

A Prayer’s PRAYER

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I’ve always been a Mary Oliver fan
but I’ll also admit that I’ve read much more of her
now that she’s dead
than when she was alive
I suppose which not only makes her
not only more Alive
than ALIVE
but still doing
what she did the best
(and still is)
S H A R E

As I page
through this Anthology
I often have the same feeling
that I have when I heard her voice
reading this poem
with a resounding
E C H O I N G
of when you need a prayer
notice that nothing all around you
is miraculously short of that
with the worldly unspoken invitation:
WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE A PRAYER
B E
O N E

(The only true prayer you’ll ever need
is the one you are)

An Original Caring Catalyst

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Look familiar. . .
Even remotely aware of him. . .
The following might not be much more of a clue
to the World
or even to a select few:
On July 1, 2021, Rev. Dr. Roger Raymond Fischer, of Washington, was taken by God’s twin Angels, Goodness and Mercy, who came to pick Roger up, and they did. So God wrapped his arms around Roger and said, “Well done Good and Faithful Servant.” His was a life well done. Born June 1, 1941, in Washington, he was the son of Raymond and Louise Gartley Fischer.

Roger was a 1959 graduate of Washington High School. While in college, Roger worked as an American Red Cross, YMCA life guard and saving and swimming instructor. Roger received a Bachelor of Arts in Mathematics and Physics from Washington and Jefferson College in 1963. He received a Master’s Degree with Honors from the Lutheran Seminary at Gettysburg in 1991. In 1998, he was granted a Doctor of Ministry Degree from the Pittsburgh Theological Seminary as the author of “Christian Advocacy and the Local Congregation.” Roger was ordained January 13, 1990, in First Lutheran Church, Washington. He served numerous churches in Southwestern Pennsylvania and West Virginia. The last congregations that he served were Calvary Lutheran in Scenery Hill, Buena Vista Presbyterian and Hyland Brotheran.

While working as a research engineer for Jones and Laughlin Steel, Roger was elected to the Pennsylvania House of Representatives from the 47th District, serving from 1966 to his retirement in 1988. At age 25 he was one of the youngest members to serve in the history of the Pennsylvania General Assembly, serving also as Chairman of the House Education Committee and on the State Board of Education. Roger served for nine terms as President of the Association of Retired Pennsylvania House of Representatives and Senate Members. He was elected to the Washington School Board in 1965 and inducted into the Pennsylvania Voter Hall of Fame for voting in every primary and general election since 1962.

Commissioned in 1966, Roger served as a Lieutenant Colonel U.S. Air Force Reserve. He was a member of the American Legion Post 175, 40 et 8, Sons of the American Revolution, and Sons of the American Revolution Chaplain. He was a Boy Scout merit badge counselor and a member of the Order of the Arrow. Roger was also a member of the Washington Lodge No, 164 Free & Accepted Masons, Washington Royal Arch Chapter No. 150, Jacques DeMolay Commandery No. 3 Knights Templar, and Noble of the Syria Shrine.

Roger enjoyed a lifetime of sports and fitness as demonstrated by becoming a two time finisher of the Ironman Triathlon in Hawaii. Additionally, he ran many other triathlons and marathons including Boston (four times), New York (four times), Pittsburgh, Honolulu and Philadelphia. At age 74, Roger completed the Disney World Marathon. He was a member of the Pennsylvania Council on Physical Fitness and was founder and race director of the “Washington Express” 10K run. In 2008, he bicycled across America in sections. Roger was inducted in Washington-Greene Chapter of the Pennsylvania Sports Hall of Fame and was unanimously elected to the Executive Committee. Roger was a life member of the Appalachian Trail Club, Keystone Trail Association, Warrior’s Trail Association and the Maine Appalachian Trail Club. Across 32 years, hiking in sections, Roger completed the entire 2,174.1 mile Appalachian Trail on September 17, 2004.

In 1998, Roger received an Honorary Doctor of Divinity from Washington and Jefferson College and delivered the Baccalaureate sermon for his son Steven’s commencement. In 1994, Roger delivered the main address for W&J’s Honors Convocation.

Roger treasured his time with his family. He enjoyed world traveling with his wife Kitty to places such as Europe, South Africa, Australia, Tahiti and China. He was very happy to have visited all the continents except Antarctica.

Roger is survived by Catherine “Kitty” Trettel Fischer, his wife of 48 years; two sons, Roger Raymond II (Marcia) and Steven Gregory (Heather); and a daughter, Catherine “Katy” (John) Herold; and five grandchildren, Abigail, John “Jack” and Maxwell Fischer, and Elijah and Ezekiel Herold; and a brother, Terry.

Obituaries are almost the Charlie Brown teacher of the newspaper or what’s left of them. They are the Wawa Wawa Wawa summations of Someone’s life. At best, they provide a summary of how a person was; what they leave behind, and specifically who is most affected because of their death. But make no mistake, there’s much,  very much that they leave out. 

Roger’s obituary gave no smidgen of a hint of all of the lives he Touched, specifically mine. I’ve heard it said that when we are born each of us are given a fingerprint which is distinctive to ourselves; it’s a fingerprint that no one else has or can ever have so that we can make an imprint on other lives that no one else can or ever will. Roger more than did that for, TO ME!

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know Roger; but specifically he was a Sunday school teacher of mine in seventh and eighth grade and also taught our Catechism class at First Lutheran Church in Washington, Pennsylvania. It was there that I remember one Saturday morning when I was not allowed to go to basketball practice because I had to go to Catechism class at 9 o’clock in the morning and I literally erupted in the class, complaining about how stupid this was and how much I did not want to be there and how I really HATED the Church; ANY CHURCH! Even though there was about 14 or 15 in the class, Roger treating me like I was the only one that was there that day, at that moment and he didn’t react; he responded. The fact he congratulated me and told me how brave it was for me to speak my truth was huge and affirming. And then, with one simple question, he convicted, changed my life path:

“WHY DON’T YOU DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT?”

Which made me irrupt even further as if you could reload a fire crackers it was already burning hot. 

“DO SOMETHING,!” I yelled. “I’M JUST 13 YEARS OLD!  WHAT CAN I DO?”

And again, in pure Roger fashion, he replied back as if I was the only person there, the only person in the World that had his ear, his attention:

“ANOTHER GOOD POINT, CHARLIE, (something I hated anyone to call me) BUT IT HAS BEEN MY EXPERIENCE IF YOU WANT TO CHANGE SOMETHING, YOU DON’T COMPLAIN ABOUT IT FROM THE OUTSIDE, YOU GO INSIDE AND DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!”

B U S T E D
and even more
C O N V I C T E D

Up until that point when people would ask me, “what are you gonna do when you grow up?” I would, without hesitation answer, I was going to be a professional basketball player and I was going to be a teacher and a coach but never, no way ever, EVER a minister.

Now countless times over the past nearly 50 years when people ask me why did you become a minister, they kind of wait for me to give him this great spiritual, unbelievable mountaintop experience testimony, and instead I tell them it’s because I hate the church and then I tell them the story about Roger and me one Saturday morning at a Catechism class that I didn’t want to be at, but now ever so grateful that I attended that day. 

We kept in touch throughout the years and he knew the personal impact of that story because I made sure that I told him and with every chance that I got and profusely thanked him and the times I blamed him for what he did to me by making me go into the ministry. He told me never to expect an apology and I told him I wasn’t asking for one. 

So after all the Wawa Wawa Wawa Wawa–ing of a Charlie Brown teacher during this blog, you may still not know personally Roger Raymond Fisher, or even care that much, but mine is a shore his Tsunami has radically wrecked that made it impossible to rebuild in a way my imagination could ever conjure up; it’s caused severely significant after shocks that have created tidal waves in me that have touched countless other shores, Roger had no understanding or fathoming; still are. Little did I know that Roger was A Caring Catalyst long before I knew what one was, let alone striving to be a better one each day. There’s only five true words that are left to be said by me. But oh my, are they most sincere:

THANK YOU;
SEE YOU LATER

WAWAWA THAT, Charlie

A Dad’s DAD

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Dick Hoyt died on March 17 and yet he’s never been more alive. . .
WHO???
Who exactly. . .
I never met Mr Hoyt
but I read/heard about him years ago
when I was still running marathons
at a pretty good clip
and an even better speed
but nothing like
Dick Hoyt
did. . .

STRONGEST DAD IN THE WORLD

RICK REILLY is a great writer and a very frequent contributor to SPORTS ILLUSTRATED and I not only bow to his craft but instead of even trying to rephrase or even poorly plagiarize him, I thought I’d share what he had to say but I deeply felt:

I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots.

But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck.

Eighty-five times he’s pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he’s not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars–all in the same day.

Dick’s also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much–except save his life.

This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.

“He’ll be a vegetable the rest of his life,” Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. “Put him in an institution.”

But the Hoyts weren’t buying it. They noticed the way Rick’s eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. “No way,” Dick says he was told. “There’s nothing going on in his brain.“

“Tell him a joke,” Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain.

Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? “Go Bruins!” And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, “Dad, I want to do that.”

Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described “porker” who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried. “Then it was me who was handicapped,” Dick says. “I was sore for two weeks.”

That day changed Rick’s life. “Dad,” he typed, “when we were running, it felt like I wasn’t disabled anymore!”

And that sentence changed Dick’s life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.

“No way,” Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren’t quite a single runner, and they weren’t quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year.

Then somebody said, “Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?”

How’s a guy who never learned to swim and hadn’t ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried.

Now they’ve done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don’t you think?

Hey, Dick, why not see how you’d do on your own? “No way,” he says. Dick does it purely for “the awesome feeling” he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.

This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992–only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don’t keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.

“No question about it,” Rick types. “My dad is the Father of the Century.”

And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries was 95% clogged. “If you hadn’t been in such great shape,” one doctor told him, “you probably would’ve died 15 years ago.”

So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other’s life.

Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father’s Day

That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy.

“The thing I’d most like,” Rick types, “is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once.”

To see a photo gallery of Dick and Rick Hoyt, go to SI.com/teamhoyt. If you have a comment for Rick Reilly, send it to reilly@siletters.com.

“Dad, when we were running, it felt like I wasn’t disabled anymore!”

Dick Hoyt gives his son that feeling as often as he can.

Kind of gives
FATHER’S DAY
a whole new meaning, huh. . .
M A Y B E
m a y b e
all those years
all those races
all those marathons
all those Ironmen Triathlons
he wasn’t pushing his son, Rick so much
as he was pushing me
and anyone else who took notice
TO BE A NO LIMIT
d a d
TO BE A NO LIMIT
p e r s o n
TO BE
what it took
when it took
how it took
TO BE
what was truly needed
instead of merely
wanted. . .

KAZE NO DENWA (Phone of the Wind)

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“Hello. If you’re out there, please listen to me.” On a hill overlooking the ocean in Otsuchi Town in northeastern Japan is a phone booth known as the “Telephone of the Wind.” It is connected to nowhere, but people come to “call” family members lost during the tsunami of the 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake. Many visit the phone booth including a mother and 3 children who have lost their father. This documentary looks at the unique role that this phone is playing in helping the grieving process of many.

KIND OF CHILLING, huh. . . ?
QUESTION:
WHO WOULD YOU CALL
on the Wind Phone

Kaze no denwa (phone of the wind)

curling whispers from the depths of the earth
carried by the wind
through every crack and crevice
finally reaching my ear

i’ve missed your smile
your warm glow
gentle touches
please come back to me

i want to hear your voice again.

in a little town
on the coastline of Japan
stands a white phone booth 
in a small backyard

in the booth is a telephone
rotary, the clicking numbers
line going nowhere 

but the wind carries words
of the lost loved to us
so we can speak to them again

“grandpa, are you well?”
“i won a prize in school today!”
“is it cold over there?”

maybe i can’t hear your voice
for real again
but
if for one instant
i could say “i love you”
i’d be happy.

In Otsuchi, Japan, there is a telephone booth with a rotary phone with an unconnected phone line. It was built by Itaru Sasaki after his cousin died in 2010 as a way to talk to him and have closure. Many from Otsuchi use the phone to talk to loved ones lost in the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami. Some come for one long talk to say things they could not, and some regularly visit to talk to the deceased about everyday things. It’s become a way to connect to the past and the one’s they’ve lost, since many Japanese do not usually tell people that they love them often to their face. It’s a way to lay regrets to rest. Sasaki said that he wanted the line to not connect to anything, so that his words would be carried on the wind to his cousin. And so, the wind phone remains. 

. . .R E M A I N S
to let us know that
L O V E
is the one thing
IN AND OUT OF THIS WORLD
that CONNECTS US
and with or without a phone
it’s the clearest connection
you’ll ever experience. . .
Now,
about THAT Call. . .
get to dialing

A HALLELUJAH MEMORIAL DAY

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https://youtu.be/sv9To_Ohz9I

Happy Memorial Day.

How can you assure it?

One simple word:

R E-M E M B E R I N G

–literally, by putting together the Pieces of your Life that have meaning and significance to you the Ones who make those Memories worth
RE-Membering–Putting back together.     .     .

The World will debate and argue, but the greatest forces in and out of this World
are our Memories and the Love that makes those memories
significant,
meaningful
and always worth
observing and celebrating.        .        .

It’s easy to  
J U S T 
Limit these Memories to our Veterans
or for those who have recently died,
but any day we truly
RE-Member,

that we actually put together those snipets of

Once  Upon  a Times

and ‘Remember When’s’

that put all those glorious colors to the
Tapestry of our Lives,

becomes a true Memorial Day.

Like any Holiday,
it really is celebrated most,
not so much on it’s Noted,
Dated Day,
but when fully Recognized,
Realized,
Revitalized
again and again and again with,
yes, that one single,
beautiful thing called

M   e   m   o   r   y

So, on this Memorial Day,
R      E   –   M     E     M     B     E     R  :
It’s not enough for us to just merely
Remember,
but for us to just simply Re-Member one thought,
one memory
past Eternity.
T r u l y:

Give   thanks   not   so   much   for   those   who   have   died;                                                                      

but    for   those   who   still   fully   live   within   us   all.      .      . 

F i v e    W o r d s:

H   a   p   p   y       M   e   m   o   r   i   a   l       D   a   y.       .       .

T        H        A        N        K          
Y        O        U

The Seeds We DON’T SOW

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Sometimes the most important
S E E D S
there are
ARE THE ONES WE DON’T SOW. . .
It’s one of my favorite parables by
Megan McKenna
and by
SOWING
ITS
SEED
hopefully it’ll take root in you, too. . .

“There was a woman who wanted peace in the world and peace in her heart and all sorts of good things, but she was very frustrated. The world seemed to be falling apart. She would read the newspapers and get depressed. One day she decided to go shopping, and she went into a mall and picked a store at random. She walked in and was surprised to see Jesus behind the counter. She knew it was Jesus because he looked just like the pictures she’d seen on holy cards and devotional pictures. She looked again and again at him, and finally she got up enough nerve and asked, ‘Excuse me, are you Jesus?’ ‘I am.’ ‘Do you work here?’ ‘No,’ Jesus said, ‘I own the store.’ ‘Oh, what do you sell in here?’ ‘Oh, just about anything!’ ‘Anything?’ ‘Yeah, anything you want. What do you want?’ She said, ‘I don’t know.’ Well,’ Jesus said, ‘feel free, walk up and down the aisles, make a list, see what it is that you want, and then come back and we’ll see what we can do for you.’

“She did just that, walked up and down the aisles. There was peace on earth, no more war, no hunger or poverty, peace in families, no more drugs, harmony, clean air, careful use of resources. She wrote furiously. By the time she got back to the counter, she had a long list. Jesus took the list, skimmed through it, looked up and smiled, ‘No problem.’ And then he bent down behind the counter and picked out all sorts of things, stood up, and laid out the packets. She asked, ‘What are these?’ Jesus replied, ‘Seed packets. This is a catalog store.’ She said, ‘You mean I don’t get the finished product?’ ‘No, this is a place of dreams. You come and see what it looks like, and I give you the seeds. You plant the seeds. You go home and nurture them and help them to grow and someone else reaps the benefits.’ ‘Oh,’ she said. And she left the store without buying anything.”

Maybe we all need a trip to the
SEED STORE
where DREAMS COME TRUE
with the biggest question not being
WHAT SEEDS ARE YOU SOWING
or
WHERE ARE YOU SOWING YOUR SEEDS
so much as
WHICH SEEDS ARE YOU REFUSING TO
SOW
WATER
FERTILIZE
NOURISH
but expect just the same to
R E A P
It’s kind of like
making applesauce
with bananas
or a pineapple
and expecting it to taste like
Brownies. . .

A Dirty Hand
is no proof of a
SEED
SEWN
and most certainly
of one
grown or harvested. . .
Q U E S T I O N
How’s your Garden
(g r o w i n g)

Psssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst:
See you at the
SEED STORE
. . .I hear there’s a
S A L E
(if you’re interested)

A HAPPINESS DISPENSER

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The problem with
H A P P I N E S S
isn’t that we don’t have it to give
so much as that we just often
D O N ‘ T
. . .after nearly fifteen months of
social distancing
we almost shrug with an overdramatic sigh
WHAT’S THE USE. . .
WELL

If You Want to Be Happy,
Psssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst:
Dare Making Someone Else Happy

A new study shows that doing kind things for others is an important path to happiness. 

JILL SUTTIE, a journalist for Greater Good Magazine did a little more than pulling back the Happiness Curtain to show us what’s not so much hidden but in plain sight for us to SEE. BE. FREE in ourselves and others.

When Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence, he assured Americans of their right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. This idea seems to lead many Americans to chase after new gadgets and hedonistic pleasures. But what if that approach is wrong? What if happiness comes from aiming to make others happy, instead of doing nice things for yourself? 

That is exactly what a recent study found.

In the experiment, college students reported on their happiness and on their sense of autonomy, competence, and connection to others—all what researchers consider “basic psychological needs” for well-being. Then they were randomly tasked to do something to either make themselves happier, make another person happier, or socialize. (Assigning one group to socialize helped determine if seeking happiness for another had an effect above and beyond simply being in someone’s presence.)

Later that day, after doing their tasks, participants reported what they did, and then filled out their happiness and needs questionnaires again. Those who’d done something to make another person feel better were much happier themselves than participants in the other groups, and their greater happiness was tied to a stronger feeling of connection to that person.

This finding was not too surprising to lead researcher Milla Titova, who says that it fits in with prior research on happiness that found giving to others makes you happier than giving to yourself—and that pursuing happiness directly for yourself sometimes backfires.

“Making others happy is more meaningful for people than just socializing with them or doing something to improve our own happiness,” she says. “When we aim to make others happier, we feel connected to them—our relatedness needs are better met—which is important for us.”

In another part of the study, she and her colleague tried to rule out the possibility that making someone else happier makes you happier because of how emotions spread between people, which is known as the contagion effect. To do this, they repeated their experiment, but this time asked participants to identify the recipient of their kindness and to say how much happier that person appeared to be. Then, they contacted the recipient and measured their actual happiness levels.

The researchers found that a recipient’s happiness level did not seem to be related to the increased happiness of the person trying to make them happy, which suggests something beyond emotion contagion is going on. However, if the participant perceived that their efforts made a difference in another’s happiness, that made them happier.

“If we think another person is feeling pretty good, that’s enough for us to feel pretty good ourselves,” says Titova. “We’re just not always accurate about assessing other people’s feelings.” 

She and her colleague also looked at how this effect might play out between strangers. People parked on a city street were approached by researchers and given two quarters for filling out surveys about their well-being. In some cases, they were simply given the quarters to keep or were given the quarters to feed their own meter before filling out the surveys. In other cases, they were told to feed another person’s meter, with some being asked to leave a note on the dashboard of the stranger’s car explaining what they’d done.

Afterward, the researchers compared the four groups’ happiness and how much their needs felt fulfilled. Those who’d put money in someone else’s meter were significantly happier than those who’d put money in their own meter or just kept the quarters. Leaving a note increased a person’s happiness even more. 

Titova thinks this makes sense, given that making someone else happier makes us happier through increasing our relatedness to them. But it could also be that people like getting credit for a good deed, too—or that the note is actually another act of kindness, augmenting connection further.

Whatever the case, it appears that doing something kind for anyone is better for our happiness than getting something for ourselves.

“It doesn’t require you know the person you’re trying to make happy, nor does it require an actual physical interaction with that person,” she says. “It still works—even with a stranger.”

This is a preliminary study, mostly done with a limited population, and Titova cautions against applying the finding to other cultural contexts. This is wise, as studies have found not all happiness practices translate to other cultures.

Still, they do suggest that focusing on making others happy may be a key to happiness worth considering. 

“It’s counterintuitive for some people, but if you’re not having the best day, you should think about doing something nice for your significant other or your roommates instead of concentrating on yourself,” she says. “That may not be what comes to mind naturally, but it’s probably more effective.”

It’s a shame
isn’t it that
once again the
EMPHASIS
has to be on an
I F
but you being
A Caring Catalyst
HAPPINESS DISPENSER
just may depend on that
IF
u n l e s s. . .

TOUCHING ART

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https://youtu.be/D6WYes7Or-E
Please Touch the Art
 
This compelling video tells the story of an artist, Andrew Myers, who is so moved by a blind man’s joy at “feeling” three dimensional art that he is inspired to create three dimensional portraits to be experienced by people who are blind or visually impaired. Why is touching artwork so taboo? According to the producers of the film, “Prior to the mid-1800s, tactile interaction was commonplace for visitors experiencing collections of art, but as museums of art evolved, rules forbidding touch became the norm.” In this film, Myers surprises George Wurtzel, a blind artisan working in wood, with a portrait. Wurtzel delights in sharing his portrait with his visually impaired students at Enchanted Hills Camp as he teaches them by example how to work as a blind artisan. Wurtzel’s philosophy that “your life is what you decide it will be” permeates the film.

It is such a simple simple question with such a profound and almost on answerable reply:  
WHAT MAKES YOUR LIFE MEANINGFUL?

Is your life ultimately what you decide you want to make it to be or what OTHERS decide they’d like to make you be?

We are all severely handicapped 

We are blind
We are deaf
We are mute
And because of THAT
Know a darkness;
Know a stillness;
Know an utterlessness
that can’t be described only experienced
And sadly, often is
And even more sadly,
Often
NEVER HAS TO BE

And The cure is when we remedy that
first of all and ourselves
we also heal it for others. . .

Test THAT

GO AHEAD

TOUCH
TASTE
SEE
HEAR
SMELL
S E N S E
beyond what
Fingers
Eyes
Noses
Mouths
Ears
can ever achieve and the
Go full on artist
Be artisan enough
To share THAT with OTHERS
So that you become the
a r t
And not just simply the artist….

YOU, The Village

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OVER ONE YEAR LATER
. . .We are literally living in some severely surreal times. . .
STILL
well past 365 days later
The World just doesn’t merely seem to be rocked on it’s axis
or upside down
But actually less Round than we previously thought. . .
and whatever it was we thought we knew
almost seems
myth-like
to what we’re feeling. . .
L I K E :
IT
TAKES
A VILLAGE
and not that it’s just a nice cliche
IT HAS NEW MEANING

We have all heard it said it takes a village to raise a child. . .
but what about an ADULT?
What’s it take to not so much raise but
CARE FOR
AN ADULT. . . ?
Because of our continuing
MASKING
PHYSICAL DISTANCING
HAND SCRUBBING
VACINNATING
We’ve never been less of a Village
than right now,
AND THEN AGAIN. . .
never more than
A Village
OF ONE
than NOW. . .
Who could have ever imagined,
even with all of our safety measures
that one person could be a Village. . .
that YOU are a Village?  
It is true isn’t it. . .
Y O U
 The Village
. . .How is that even possible?  
Because now more than ever you are re-defining
overcoming the myth
you have lived with all of your life
The fib that’s been told to us
ever since we were very
very small
the lie that might’ve been the first lie
we ever heard:
That you have a purpose
That you have a reason
That you have a destiny
That you have a meaning. . .
T O D A Y
especially today
with what’s going on all around us
all that’s grumbling loudly within us
where our World feels like it has been
rolled down a steep hill
heading quickly for a cliff
of a dark unknown return
stumbling and rumbling out of place;
B U T
now more than
our ever
we are eerily discovering
that we were born for
THIS TIME
in THIS PLACE
for THIS MOMENT
THIS NOW. . .
And it’s not to be
For a Purpose
For a Meaning
For a Reason
For a Destiny. . .
It’s truly to be
A Village
YOU,
The Village
. . .because now more than ever
we have never been more
P L U R A L
than Who we are in right now.  . .

Now more than ever
Y O U
are not just a Person
A Woman
A Mom
A Man
A Dad
A Partner
A Significant Other
A Uncle
A Aunt
A Grandfather
A Grandmother

You’re not just what your vocation says you are
you are all of those roles
all of those characters
wrapped up in one. . .
You are a walking
You are a talking
You are a living
You are a giving
V I L L A G E
YOU,
The Village

Now the most ultimate question of all
. . .especially for this new
N O W
is just what kind of a
Village are you. . . ?

Can you even be found on a map
Seen from a Satellite from way above;
Are you inclusive
Are you exclusive
Do you draw circles and include everybody
or are you a line drawer in the sand
that points as it emphasizes
you
You
and YOU
are IN
and
You
You
and most especially
Y O U
are out?

YOU,
The Village
are living in an age where the temporary feels like the permanent
but it most assuredly isn’t. . .
The new
NEW
is born in you
not just once
or once in a while
or even once a day
but every single moment. . .
And now
N O W
proves to us that it always has been this way
but never as magnified
as it is at this very
I N S T A N T

We have long heard the question
that determines whether or not we are
Optimists or Pessimists :
Is the glass half full or half empty?
N O W
Maybe another way to ask this question
Is this
NOW
Happening to us
or
HAPPENING
For Us.  . .
It’s no longer
WHAT FILLS YOUR GLASS
b u t
WHAT EMPTY’S IT
(or WHO). . . ?

It’s not really a question to answer with your mouth
but your Actions;
so how live you. . .
not what say YOU
 HOW LIVE YOU

YOU ARE A VILLAGE

To know it is one thing.
To be it is another.  
But this
N O W
means to share it
is
the ultimate thing


. . .and then never let the
l o v i n g
stop from overflowing
from one
to another
until this
S E T T L E M E N T
becomes
YOU-NIVERASL


Two Drops of Oil

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brown glass bottle with liquid and pipette
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

The story is an old one
and I forget where I heard it
. . .or maybe I read it. . .
It’s often been attributed to Paulo Coelho,
author of THE ALCHEMIST
here now for your pondering:

A merchant sent his son to learn the Secret of Happiness from the wisest of men. The young man wandered through the desert for forty days until he reached a beautiful castle at the top of a mountain. There lived the sage that the young man was looking for.

However, instead of finding a holy man, our hero entered a room and saw a great deal of activity; merchants coming and going, people chatting in the corners, a small orchestra playing sweet melodies, and there was a table laden with the most delectable dishes of that part of the world.

The wise man talked to everybody, and the young man had to wait for two hours until it was time for his audience.

The Sage listened attentively to the reason for the boy’s visit, but told him that at that moment he did not have the time to explain to him the Secret of Happiness.

He suggested that the young man take a stroll around his palace and come back in two hours’ time.

“However, I want to ask you a favor,”he added, handling the boy a teaspoon, in which he poured two drops of oil. “While you walk, carry this spoon and don’t let the oil spill.”

The young man began to climb up and down the palace staircases, always keeping his eyes fixed on the spoon. At the end of two hours he returned to the presence of the wise man.

“So,” asked the sage, “did you see the Persian tapestries hanging in my dining room? Did you see the garden that the Master of Gardeners took ten years to create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library?”

Embarrassed, the young man confessed that he had seen nothing. His only concern was not to spill the drops of oil that the wise man had entrusted to him.

“So, go back and see the wonders of my world,” said the wise man. “You can’t trust a man if you don’t know his house.”

Now more at ease, the young man took the spoon and strolled again through the palace, this time paying attention to all the works of art that hung from the ceiling and walls.

He saw the gardens, the mountains all around the palace, the delicacy of the flowers, the taste with which each work of art was placed in its niche. Returning to the sage, he reported in detail all that he had seen.

“But where are the two drops of oil that I entrusted to you?” asked the sage.

Looking down at the spoon, the young man realized that he had spilled the oil.

“Well, that is the only advice I have to give you,” said the sage of sages.
“The Secret of Happiness lies in looking at all the wonders of the world and never forgetting the two drops of oil in the spoon.”

How’s THAT
S P O O N
of yours. . .
Are the drops of oil long gone
splashed haphazardly all over the ground
or are they still securely floating there in the
silver hollow
because you’re paralyzed
won’t take a step
breathe in too deeply
for fear of losing the
precious drops. . .

THREE BIG QUESTIONS:

What do the ‘two drops of oil in the spoon’ mean to you?

Can you share a personal story of a time you were able to enjoy the world around without forgetting your essence?

What helps you appreciate the world without forgetting your sacred self?

Professional Speaker, Author, Assurance Man