Mindless Chatter

My Own Random Thoughts

The Textile House

I was talking to Gawd the other day...

At least, I think it was Gawd. Either that or perhaps one of the other 'guests' here in the sanitarium. My grip on reality is pretty shaky, so who knows?

In any case, I asked him about one of my favorite subjects; love (it is, after all, the root cause of many a madness). He brought me to a room whose expanse was far greater than any eye could perceive. Within this room were a countless number of tapestries, hanging on walls, from the ceiling, and draped over easels. Almost all were incomplete works, though a scant few were complete. I was struck by the variety, some very plain and somber, while others were vibrant and exquisite. I also came upon a few that were in tatters, barely started, and so poorly woven I wondered why the so-called artist even bothered trying.

As I looked closer, I noticed every one had been damaged in some way. Some were very difficult to discern, nonetheless it had been damaged and then re-woven. Some appeared to have been patched quickly, without much effort, and I wondered if such a repair would hold. Others were unraveled seemingly almost beyond any hope of repair.

My head spun, trying to take in so much at once, and comprehend it all. I turned to Gawd and asked "I don't understand, what is all of this?" He looked at me with a soft, paternal expression of amusement and understanding. He spoke "My dear child, every person who joins in spirit with another person has begun their work here. Each holds an end of a single thread, and weaves it through and through during their time together. As it's woven, it thins and thickens, it changes hue, all to reflect the different feelings each artist has. As you see, no two relationships are ever the same, and each are as plain or fanciful as the artist desires."

Then I asked Him "And what of the damage? Who is it, who seems to want such beautiful works to unravel?"

His face became dark with a deep sadness. He turned, and drew a tapestry from the shadows. It was a very pretty clothe, though simple in design. In many spots a thread had broken and begun to unravel. While perhaps not beyond repair, it would certainly require some great skill to mend. Gawd spoke, as he touched each of the damaged areas "A disagreement here, a promise broken here, a disappointment there, and such are all the others. 'Tis the artists themselves who rend their own works, through reckless abandon and thoughtless actions. Some are quick to catch such things, and mend their cloths quickly, while others unravel until naught is left but loose threads. To those who are quick and skilled, the damage is unmistakably there, but who is to know. Even to the artists themselves it is as if the damage was never there. To those who are slow and careless, what can I say? They reap what they don't sew, eh?"

I was struck by a great sadness at this revelation. To now look upon the vast display of such beautiful works, knowing some would simply be allowed to fall away. I asked Gawd "What can I do?" He looked at me with dark concern in his eyes. "This," he said holding up the clothe, "is one of yours. What indeed can you do?"

Abandoned

Dismal days and darker nights -- colors clash in endless fights
blue to red, then red to gray -- colors flare, then fade away

Upon the canvas the colors run -- the many shades become as one
no artist left to re-create -- colors refuse to assimilate

So many words a painting calls -- now silence fills the empty halls
once so brilliantly displayed -- now a single spotlight begins to fade

Dismal days and darker nights -- abandoned rooms, no sounds, no lights
a single canvas as bare as bone -- no purpose left, remains alone

Wolf Dream

It was very late one night, perhaps in a dream. The sun was setting behind distant trees that surrounded the plain where I stood. As darkness settled, surrounding me like a black velvet cloak, I began my journey through the field.

After a time, I came upon a pack of wolves playing in the moonlight. Transfixed, I remained unnoticed, as games of tag, follow-the-leader, and king-of-the-mountain played their course before me. The enjoyment and happiness that I observed was all too familiar to me, and so very reminiscent of my childhood days. A sigh escaped my lips as I thought aloud "Are we really so different from each other?"

Suddenly, the wolves stopped, all eyes turning discernibly toward me. A wave of sadness seemed to pass over them as their heads lowered, some slowly shaking in disappointment. Then, from deep within the darkness behind the pack, the largest wolf I have ever seen began walking toward me. His coat was white as the winter snow. His eyes glowed, like fiery molten gold. His face wore an expression of great wisdom and age. I stood in awe as he approached and finally sat before me, every inch as tall as me.

Shaking his head, he sighed a mournful sigh. Then, with a voice like distant thunder he said "You do not remember," and as his eyes met mine he asked "Do you?" My shock was such, I was unable to reply with anything but the most puzzled of expressions. "Then I will remind you," he began "since you seem to have touched on something that human-kind has not remembered for a very, very long time."

"You see, there once was a time when you and I were not so very different. We hunted together in the same woods, we played together in the same fields, and slept together in the same homes. You cared for us and our young as you would your own, and we helped protect you and your young as we would our own. We were brothers, you and I, our lives as intertwined as the vines upon the trees. Then one day, the path we traveled became divided. We chose to remain on the path of the foot, as we were happy and content, and saw no need to change our path. You, however, chose the path of the head saying 'such great things we will find, so many new things will we learn, and so much greater will we become.' And so, we parted"

"As time went on, our paths occasionally crossed. Each time we met you were more frustrated with the 'new' things in your life, more jealous of the happiness we still had. Eventually, jealousy turned to anger. Anger turned to hatred. And hatred turned to fear. Your fear was such that you retreated as far as you could from us. Your hatred was such that you began killing us whenever we were near. The killing has continued for so long, you no longer remember why. All you remember is the fear. The fear and the hatred."

"So we now go to great lengths to ensure that we are never too close to you or your kind. And we mourn, never forgetting he who was once our brother. Surely you must know we mourn, for we do not communicate in barks and yips like our cousin, the dog. We howl. We howl to remind ourselves that we mourn. We howl to remind ourselves WHY we mourn. And we howl in hopes that one day, our brothers realize that we still mourn for them. Indeed yes! We hope that one day our brothers will return to us. This is why that to this day, despite all the pain and suffering brought upon us, no healthy wolf has ever, or would ever, hurt you or your kind. But until you are able to return to us fully, the distance between us must continue. For our good as well as yours."

As he finished speaking, he stood and slowly walked away, disappearing into a gathering mist. As the mist grew and swept through, each of the wolves disappeared in turn. Finally, I stood alone, the words of the great wolf still ringing in my ears.

Not since I was a child have I wept so bitterly.

A Small, Humble Tribute to Princess Di

I am struck by a wave of sadness that sweeps the world today.
And I have my share of tears to lend, though I really don't know why.

Whether I mourn for what the world has lost, or if I cry for joy, what Heaven has gained.
She gave hope to every life she touched, and yet now can reach so many more.

The loss of one so noble is tragedy, indeed. Our lives won't be the same without her.
But more tragic still, would be to deny Heaven of such a loving and talented angel.

There but for the grace of Gawd

It was unbelievable. I had died, and much to my surprise and embarrassment, here I sit before the proverbial throne of judgement as my entire life is put under the harshest scrutiny. Each and every decision, choice, and action I have taken since I was a child is being played out before me, as the powers that be consider whether it should bring me closer to paradise or perdition.

As the last few scenes of my life play out, it suddenly grows very dark. Fear drives through me like fangs of ice at the thought of what this must mean. A voice resonates around me, as if coming from all directions at once. "You have come very close. So very close indeed" it echoes, "so I have allowed three to come forth and speak on your behalf. Three whose lives you have touched ever so slightly, but not without significant effect."

No sooner than the echoes faded into some unseen abyss, a deep, gruff voice began to speak out of the darkness.

Yeah, I remember one day in da park, kinda crouched down behind a statue, all inconspicuous like, tryin' ta catch some sleep. I didn't have no home, no work, nuthin' much ta speak of at all. He sits right down on a bench practically next ta me, shows me a big, fat ham and cheese sandwich he just bought, an' asks me “Are ya hungry?” Well of course I really was pretty hungry, an' not in any shape ta be passin' up free food. So he shares his lunch wit' me, an' we went for a walk for awhile, him talkin' away about how tragic my life must be. Now my life ain't no great show, but I don't think of myself bein' some kinda tragedy. Anyhows, he brings me ta 'dis place, some kinda homeless shelter or somethin', an' he leaves me there. I guess I musta been tired of da streets, or mebbe just tired of bein' a wanderer, 'cause I worked wit' da people dere, an' eventually found myself wit' a new home wit' some friends I now considers my family, an' I got some work ta keeps me busy. Now, since ya see me here now, ya must know I died, but I tell ya, at least the last couple years of my life were real happy ones. For 'dat, I's always gonna be grateful.

I sit somewhat bewildered, not recognizing the voice, nor remembering when such a thing occurred. It certainly sounded like something I might have done, but I simply couldn't place this person at all. Before I could ponder this much more, a soft, delicate voice then began to speak.

It was such a long, long time ago, when I was really quite young. Somehow I had become lost, and was fortunate enough to come across this man. He realized my dilemma right away. After giving me a drink of milk, and reassuring me in a calm, soothing voice, he brought me around the neighborhood until he was able to reunite me with my family. I was too young at that time to realize the severity of my situation, it is a very dangerous world after all, and I consider myself more than fortunate to have had such a person come to my aid.

More confused than ever, I struggle to recall when I had returned this lost child to her family. Again, having no doubts of my own ability or willingness to have done such a thing, I simply cannot recall it actually happening. My mind is as blank as the swirling darkness before me. Finally, the third voice began to speak.

Awright, I don't claim to be no saint, and I know some might even consider me a thief. Oh sure, that's me, a real bandit, right? Fact is, I never took nothing unless it looked like it was abandoned or thrown away. And that's about what I was doing when this guy musta seen me, rummaging around his back yard, pretty late one night. I caught sight of him watchin' me and I think “Oh, great, I'm caught.” Sure enough, I no sooner turn to run and some official looking guy catches me and locks me up in his car. I gotta admit, in hindsight, things could have gone a lot worse. I coulda gotten shot, beaten, or who knows what else. In any case, I figured I was headed for a lock-up, right? Nope. I found myself brought to a pretty decent place out in the country, and set up some living quarters with a bunch of other miscreants much like myself. Now I tell ya, I don't know what this guy said to the officer to cut me such a break, but I won't ever forget how someone who owed me absolutely nuthin' actually cared enough to look out for me in some respect.

If I was confused before, I now sat completely dumbfounded. Once again, I had no recall whatsoever of even meeting this man. I was convinced they must have been talking about someone else.

And then, as a booming voice echoed, “Welcome!” the darkness around me was pushed away by a bright, warm, and soothing light. What now stood before me shook me to my very core. I now saw why I was confused before, and quickly realized that everything that was said was true. It was all true. In my entire life I was never so thoroughly overwhelmed, never so wildly amazed, and never so completely humbled. More unbelievable than the sight of paradise itself, even more incredible than the presence of saints and angels, I could now clearly see the three who testified on my behalf, my three greatest benefactors. My life, my eternal life, my very soul was just saved by a stray dog, a lost kitten, and a wild raccoon.

Heavy Subject

I was talking to Gawd one day, and I asked him, "So what about that theory, that you can't create a rock too heavy to lift?" He thought for a moment, snapped his fingers, and there appeared a large boulder. By large, I mean it was about as big as me, around 6 feet in diameter. I asked, "That's it?" and he replied, "Could be." I begged further, "So you really can't lift this?" Again, he replied, "Could be." Well, I looked at this rock for about a minute or two, and finally asked, "So now what?" Gawd reached over to the rock and lightly flicked it with his index finger. Instantly, the rock exploded into a million flower petals, effectively burying me up to my neck. I looked at Gawd in mock disgust, and there he stood, arms akimbo, grinning from ear to ear.

So I can't tell you for sure about the rock thing, but I can certainly tell you he has a really interesting sense of humor.

Things I've Heard

Gone From My Sight

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!"

"Gone where?"

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!" there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: "Here she comes!"

And that is dying.

 -- Henry Van Dyke

I shall pass this way but once; any good, therefore, that I can do or any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now.  Let me not defer nor neglect it for I shall not pass this way again.

-- William Penn

 -- Author unknown

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