Visions: Prologue

In a study about the belief in "Luck" participants were asked whether they consider themselves to be either Lucky or Unlucky. In one part of the experiment they were asked to walk a course on the college campus.  Along the course was placed $20 bills where they would not blow away but could easily be seen. The participants that considered themselves to be Lucky almost always saw and picked up the bills. Those that considered themselves to be Unlucky did not. It is not that the Unluckyists keep their heads down in their maudlin stupor, their world does not include the possibility of random beneficial events, so no $20 to be seen. The Luckyists believe in fortune, in positive happenstance, and therefore $20 bills are manifested. Both present themselves with that in the world they are looking for: what they desire and what they need.
Vision is a complex process.
I have lived through my eyes. The visual experience is a personal artifact, one in which I have been willing to place a profound significance. Between the world and the seeing of it, vision and the experience of it, the experience and the meaning with which I endow it, my universe resides. When I see what I define for myself as an Omen; it is a gift from my own better angels. And when my mind is quiet, after focusing on an image,  visions come to me. They are the life I have been unable to express through my own living. They are my soul's familiar.
I want to offer those that will bear witness my testimony; some of what has passed before my mind's eyes. If after these three posts you consider me to be insane, assuming you do not already, that would be altogether appropriate in today's world. I find my life to be equal measure of absurdity and meaning. I fear neither and embrace both with fervor. In fact I find no reason to separate them and little enough reason to find their borders. If this defines madness, so be it.

Transcendent

We are greater than any one moment flowing past the here and now. We are infinite beasts that can only be grasped by the surface. All our yesterdays are here. Every sunrise to come is here. I am forever a child in my mother’s arms, my father’s heart. My hand grows still as I feel my passing from my daughter’s waking dream. I lay beside my lover, soul in soul, in excess of creation. All this is alive, nothing that can exist will ever fade.

Goals

I have three goals.
To raise a child that smiles easily.
To live a faithful life devoted to my family.
To create a home where god exists as a vessel with the potential to contain the ocean. The ocean filled with life. The ocean that we have not fathomed. The depth of wonder. A home where what can be known is numbered like the stars in the skies. The sky that wraps around all the mountains of the earth and the moon. I want to live in a home where the very timbers still carry spirits of the trees from which they were hewn. Where everything that has a voice is heard. Where respect and joy share the same source. The source from which all souls flow; from god's infinite vessel. To do this I must live a faithful life devoted to my family. And Ella will have reason to smile.

Family

I would hope that people would treat their American Brothers and Sisters the way they treat their Brothers and Sisters. Perhaps they do. I have known a Brother that killed his Brother.I have seen people trade their Family's best interest and their faith for a supply of cash that will last them half a year. I am sure it happens for less. I have seen people lavish their Families with insults and degradation. I have seen people turn their backs on those that love them most and forsake the love of generations.  I am watching this within my Nation today with no less horror.
My American Brothers and Sisters I offer you what I offer my own. When you suffer I will be with you. When you need I will provide for you. When you are in danger I will protect you. When you fail I will fail. We are here together and every tribulation we will face together.
When you strive we will grow together. When you learn we will become greater. When you achieve we will rejoice as one. You are my Family and everything I am is yours.

Silence

Rowena can hear the voices of the silent. And I listen to hers. A few months ago our one eyed black tomcat, Lewis, was little more than a ragged piece of fur placed loosely over bone. He had been wasting away for weeks; unable to digest his food. At one point he was unable to hold his head up. He leaned his head against the side of water dish to drink. I had come to terms and was ready to take him one last time to the vet. Rowena had spent many hours sitting beside him through his suffering, the way a Christian does, and although she had come to terms with his end as well she said that he was asking her not to give up. He wanted to live. He was trying. Since then Lewis has put on a full cat's weight. He has bad days when the suffering continues. But like all of us he is still trying to live.

One difficulty we had in during his recovery was a sudden desire, on his part, to go outside. After we first took him in, rescuing him from a grizzly death, he shunned the outer world. He run away from an open door to hide in small spaces in his new home. But now he tried to escape every time we let the dogs out. We were afraid he wanted to find a place to be alone to die and we would not let him go. But our faith in his actions has renewed along with his health. This morning he and I went outside together.

We have fenced our entire yard so he is safe. His big tomcat head is too big to fit through the fence and it is too tall for him to jump over at this stage in his return. He walked around the perimeter by the street and our neighbors driveway while I sat on the porch with my coffee, but when he headed for the back yard I decided to go with him just in case there was a place in the sub fence that divides front from back that he could squeeze through. We moved very slowly together past the Hydrangeas and Day Lilies then the Dogwood until we came to the Crepe Myrtle that blossoms over the fence, softening what had once been a sharp edge. Under the Myrtle he sat, crossed his legs neatly under himself in warm dirt of the constant shade.

I swear in the wind I heard "this is the spot" It was not a spot I would have chosen. No place for me to sit. But Lewis has his own point of view about perfection, so I sat my cup down on the fence post and took a good lean against the gate to take in the welcome mutual silence that can only be appreciated with a good friend.

 Four young squirrels played in the Pignut Hickories; eight of them tower above the quarter acre expanse within the 6 foot red cedar privacy enclosure behind the house. Each has nurtured and sheltered dozens of generations of grey squirrels. After all their leaves fall their nests can be seen in the highest limbs forty feet above the ground. But on this early September morning the long limbs are a playground and the young are chasing each other with sheer abandon jumping from branch to branch in a race that would claim a mile if on the ground. After sampling each tree's playful possibilities the game moves on to our neighbor's yard and then the next until the hummingbird's drone drowned out the sound of their antics. We have a feeder on the deck and the little birds dive from the shelter of the Huckleberry tree to sip. It seems like there are a dozen of them but perhaps only two busily taking turns. Only after they have their fill do I notice the huge brown spider spinning it's web. It's a Garden Orb Weaver and in the 20 minutes I watched it create a masterpiece 5 feet in diameter. When I was younger, but not much, I held a great antipathy towards spiders and I would have quickly dispatched both web and weaver. But Rowena and Buddhist Monks have convinced me that I can live in peace with them - so I take and the last sip of coffee and consider that one day a spider may have something to tell me; if I can share its silence.

When I turn to look at my feline friend, he winks (could be a blink but since he only has one eye it can be taken either way) as if to acknowledge what we just shared. It's about time for my family to be waking up so I sweep Lewis into my arms. He purrs in heavy draughts as we walk to the front door and the sleepy Sunday morning waiting for us to share with our family.

 The world has never asked me to be silent, but it rewards me when I am.

Listen

"Listening, not imitation, may be the sincerest form of flattery. "

Dr. Joyce Brothers

Everyone thinks they listen. We rarely do. We hear. We pose while our mind wanders. We make a decision three words into a sentence where that person is going and plan our reply. Listening is an act of commitment; an act of faith.

To get get a feel for listening try overt action in a low pressure, temporary relationship. For example. The next time you go shopping in a store that employs service people and the employee comes to ask you if they can be of assistance turn to face them, look them in the eye as they speak. Wait for them to finish and let the sound of their words resonate in the air. Be honest with them. Let them do what they are paid to do. Ask them a question about why they chose a particular item over another. Keep eye contact with them. Do not rush and do not interrupt. If they do not have what you need or like ; thank them for their time and leave. You have risked nothing and you will learn much about your ability to be patient and accept the thoughts of others if for no other reason than the idea that those thoughts exist.Eventually this will seep into the relationships that matter to you.

Rowena talked for years against the public school system and for home schooling but I did not really listen. I heard only enough to make a decision about why this was important too her. I was wrong. Wrong to discount huge blocks of her arguments. Wrong about what was important to her. She had made clear, thoughtful, well researched, conclusions and I had been unwilling to step outside my preconceptions. The act of listening and accepting her thoughts, her good will, and her wisdom has rewarded me with a peaceful home filled with beauty and potential. Ella loves to learn and Rowena is a Teacher in the most wonderful ways. My life is better. Better because of simple acts of Commitment and Faith.

Service

Standing beside the helicopter is my Father, James Edwin Aldridge. He served in two branches of the military. The Navy, which he joined when he was underage, and the Army from which he retired as a Warrant Officer. His service spanned three decades and as many wars. 

During WWII he took advantage of the boredom of duty on Saipan to get the education he was denied as the oldest son of a subsistence farmer and coal miner in Kentucky. He always praised the military for this. The Armed Forces gave him freedom from poverty and ignorance; as it has for countless young men and women.

Korea seemed to define his military career for him. He was in a Ranger unit, from the 505th Airborne, when the Chinese joined the conflict. He always said that his greatest accomplishment in the military was never losing a man while he was on the line with his unit. He cursed the time he was in a field hospital, he never watched MASH, I think more for the fact that some of his men died without him as much as the pain of recovering from a grenade blast. He carried shrapnel from that attack until his death, along with the pain and guilt over his fallen friends.

He never talked much about his time in Indochina from 66-67. He said it was the only time he had ever been truly afraid. I never pressed after he said that, if it was worse than Korea I didn't want to know.

 My Father never claimed that he joined the military out of love of country; he joined as a matter of survival. But the act of serving, his duty, changed him. In the early sixties we were stationed in Washington, DC. One of his duties there was to evacuate the constitution in case of Soviet attack. Although he never had to fulfill this plan, he got to see the document. It became personal to him. He could read it to me from memory. He carried a copy of it everywhere in the years just prior to his death. It was like a shield. It was like a picture of his family. 

It wasn't until Ella came into my life that I began to understand. I loved my wife, and I would have given my life for her without hesitation. But, I would kill for my family, with or without remorse, whether the act saves my life or costs my mortal soul. 

On Memorial Day we should remember the other great sacrifice our soldiers offer; separation from the people they love, often years at a time. This is the great tangible loss suffered by nearly everyone that puts on the uniform. We should honor the living for what they give a chance to sleep in safety, in our own beds. I have never been one to pray, but I am when I am away from my family. I pray for one thing - another day with Ella and Rowena. It is the only thing I want and so far the answer has always been yes. And perhaps if my Father's vision of heaven is real he and I will spend another day together, in a large vegetable garden. We will hoe. We will sweat. We will eat the sweet corn right off the stalk in neat, well tended rows of paradise.

Marriage

Rowena and I were married in the same Church by the same Priest that baptized Ella. For one religious rite the government claims dominion. For one of these religious rites the government claims it proper place. There are places in the world where my daughter's baptism in the Catholic Church would be her key to a better life. There are places in this world where it would be her death warrant. When governments get involved in the Sanctity business injustice and evil follow.

Except for branding experiences promulgated by major political parties our government is not interested in matters of holiness. Our government is occupied almost entirely in matters of property rights. And that is it's role in civil law pertaining to marriage. Who gets what. Who inherits what. And what is Uncle Sam's cut. 

In America when it comes to money we have established one egalitarian rule. Everyone gets a shot a the gold ring without discrimination towards the shape, color, or extracurricular activities you have for your plumbing. So here in the land of the depleted 401K the question is not who gets to play. The question is do we heterosexuals want to keep the ALL the benefits that go with Marriage? Including the conceit that when two people stand before god and proclaim their love and devotion, we stand behind them.

Searching

I am still searching for 

my relationship to 

the images I create. 

Dance

Exult in the Joy of Being Alive and You Will Feel the Earth Dancing Around You