Here are a few pages. This was a NANO PRO Blomo project in 2005. Time get back to it. The story itself is finished.
The quest of this
Woman is to goad others on.
Remember our maker in the days of our youth, before the point in time when immorality comes and the occasion draws near when you will say, “ I have no satisfaction in my days”; before the sun, the light, the moon, and the stars are darkened, and clouds return after the rain; in the day that the watchman of the house tremble, and mighty men bend forward, the refineries stand inoperative because they are hardly any, and those who look through windows grow sightless; and the doors on the street are shut as the sound of the refineries are low , and one will arise at the sound of the bird and all the daughters of song will sing softly.
What's more, men are afraid of regions and of have terrors of traveling on the road; social structure drags its self along, and the medications are ineffective. For man goes to his eternal home while mourners go about on the freeways.
Remember Him Before the silver cord is broken and the golden bowl is crushed, the delicate clay pitcher by the water supply is shattered and the controls at the reservoir are crushed; then the corps will break down and will return to the earth as it was and the spirit will return to God who gave it. Futility of self-importance all is narcissism!
In addition to being a wise woman the Elder also taught the people knowledge; and she contemplated, investigate out and endorsed many a truism.
The elders sought to find delightful words and to write words of truth correctly. The words of wise men and women are like prods and masters of these collections are like well driven nails; they are given by one Leader but beyond this dear ones be warned the writing of many books is endless and excessive devotion to books is wearing to the body. The conclusion, when all has been heard, is: fear God and keep His instruction, because this applies to every person. For God will bring every act to its conclusion, everything that is concealed, whether it is excellence or if it is treacherous.
When I was a child I made a creed for myself that went like this. If I can make those who I come in contact with in my lifetime smile at least once in their lifetime I will have amounted to something. I was a cute little girl so I found it easy to wedge my way under into the heart of many a hardened soul that would peek out and smile. As I grew older that was not the case. It became harder and harder to find a glimpse of individual true identity. It has always been my heart to understand the reasons that people walk around devoid of the fulfillment that life has to offer. I see some who are as vibrant as the titanium white I mix with other pigments when I paint. They have something special they have a self they are like honey drawing others around them. Some are true and clear yet others give this showing as pretense and as a method for some ill-gotten gain. There are those who have discovered this art and use it to gain an advantage. I see people drifting each day void of character and dull of luster. They are itinerants just making it by. It is in my heart that I long to highlight the influence of true brilliance. I desire to help the population see it. I want to open their eyes to a life of nonconformity. I like it when citizens give an offering of a true self to the human race.
Masks are worn tightly cinched. The ones who remove them must have great courage and understanding about the ecstasy life has to offer. This source of pleasure has a great price. If we do away with our masks with the wisdom of carefully selected risks we can then be emancipated. If we are to careless at this we can leave ourselves vulnerable to those of lesser integrity. Many a dear soul has done just that. There is a price and profit both to being masked and unmasked. I long so desperately to see people liberated. To see them free from all that has take away from who they truly are. The one who is in their core? The masks that we all find safe to hide behind are the graven images of the identities that we assume. It is Gods desire for each one of us to be true to our own image. That was His intention for us. Whether a painter a writer a dancer or an engineer we must become true to our self. We must find that inner voice. Have you become too comfortable too harmless? When we are true faced the power of it is a force to be reckoned with. Amazing accomplishments are achieved. Wonders are performed. Masterpieces are created and people will wonder and long for the power that they see displayed. Do you live under all the self-imposed carvings? Can you let go of the facade that you put up with? These pretenses become costumes to be dressed in. They are not authentic. We are not reliable in then. We cannot trust our selves because the lie is so heavily borne.
As a child I wanted so badly to de-mask those who I saw. Even now when I meat a stranger I want so desperately to see beyond all the outer shells. I want to touch his or her heart and to witness the authentic in each person. The people are walking dead. Walking wounded bleeding for so long. Can we be a part of the healing by living true faced? I believe that this was the intention for this earth. If those who are true faced can took into a mirror the hearts would be exposed for both good and the bad. The intimacy would force a
sright standing. Our choices would be a true reflection of both good and bad character. Perhaps the ugly truths in each one of us could be challenged. If we were discussed enough we might do something positive about it. Then our hands would be clean and our eyes could sparkle and we might even become able to love ourselves as we are.
THE PROHIBITION AGAINST LIKENESSES
Exodus 20: 4 the commandment against idols (“graven images,” KJV) and likenesses (forms) seems to been made against the possible incursions of Canaanite religion. This has a spiritual importance, namely that no material representation can be made of a spiritual God, which is covered by the prohibition against idols. The warning against forms (“LIKENESS”KJV) however is something different. The likeness was a mask worn over the face and used in Canaanite religious ritual. Archeologists have discovered examples of likenesses at Hazor near the Sea of Galilee.
God made us in his own image we were once so beautiful. But we become afraid through our guilt and shame. Man once hid himself with fig leaves and now we use the pretense of social masks. We all have an innate need to be noticed that is left unmet. Look into the eyes of those you love what do you see? Make it safe for them to be real. Look deeply and perhaps you might even be seen. What kind of mask are you wearing? Does your social mask really profit you in the things that are lasting or is it just a money-oriented value you gain. Most of our masking is for acceptance from others. Is that really worth it? Who are they accepting, not you. Even unmasked you may not be accepted and that has to be expected and o.k.
In some circles the punishment of rejection awaits those who impose reality on others. They often become outcast. Rebuffed and rejected, discarded and unwanted. They become useless to those who cannot find gain from taking advantage over them.
A determination has to be established that you will be true to your gift at any price. You will express the uniqueness that is within you and some people will like it and some wont. Be prepared for that it will occur.
This is where many artists fall. One of the only respectable forms of removal of the pretense is often found in expressive art. It is given permission then. Is it any wonder the high selling price that art can command? Each mask does turn a profit; it yields an advantage and offers a benefit. But how much is it really costing you.
Have you like most sold out to a life of hiding? Are we all missing out on the treasure you truly are? Is this world at a loss of the gifts that might have been known had you lived honestly. Where are you? Can you be found or have you vanished behind some image that pretends to be you. Can you be found? Are you there, real and aware? If not, won’t you come home we are missing out on knowing you and receiving all the gifts that you have to offer us. Don’t let the fear of rejection stop you. If we don’t like you it is our problem not yours.
CHAPTER ONE… Forest repose
CHAPTER TWO… The hidden heart revealed.
CHAPTER THREE… I want to live a life uncommon.
CHAPTER FOUR…. Fight your battles wisely. Page 67
CHAPTER FIVE… Declare a stand and prevail.
It is so quiet. I’m here! Oh the forest. How soft this sheet is against my cheek. Toes are smoothly rubbing over the warm fabric. What the heck! oh man the comer of the sheet came off the mattress. Oh my back is rested that’s so nice to awake to. After that long drive laying here it is amazing that there are no muscle spasms. Light is dancing on my eyelids. That’s strange! What am I seeing? It’s that window… oh, the leaves, oh that is so beautiful. That is so beautiful. Those leaves, maybe they are silver dollar eucalyptus. I have so longed for this time in the woods.
Wonder if they miss me. Theola I love you, I love being who I am. How hard it is for me to hold on to that. How does one love their own heart, when faced with constant conflict within me and around me? But that is why I came up here, to have a rest for my exhausted soul. It is so secluded here. Father God you are here with me. Good morning my God. I love you. So refreshing is your breadth on me. Do you see me walking in my purpose? Are you please with my requests? Hear me. Why do I feel so deserted? There are those who are for me and for the job you have set before me. There are all those who should know you and understand. How painful that they are my greatest nemesis. Why can’t they see this path you set before me to that I must walk. Why is it they set so many obstacles in my way. How could they be so hurtful as to give such an ultimatum? I am so grateful to you for I know there must be some great end to all of this agony. Can I make it to that end successfully? Oh my heart does pain me so very badly. All of this is for the children. All of this, the pain the rejection the threat of dismissal it is all for your children.
There are so many experiences that I have known. This is my existence amidst the relationships that cause so many trying events. Somehow all of this has evaded the understanding of so many. Have I lived to just fill the air? It seems that few if any have recollected the moments of past exchanges and how people were bent toward personal destinies after our interactions. It is to be kept our sacred secret Father. A silent knowledge all of my own like the beauty of this moment. Continuance and the permanence of my place in these times prove so complex. I am in two worlds at once. As a member of one, and I am an outsider in the other. There are so few who even have ears to hear me. This silent scream of mine has caused my thought to wax sour. Yet this rest afforded me will refresh me. It must refresh me for I have but a few short days before I return to the other world where I will walk again as an outsider. This however is my charge sent to live here on this terrestrial Earth. One who has a gift to offer to the “others”? Like each one of “His” I too have an adventure all my own. Only perhaps it appears I may see it clearer than some. This One who is guided by ‘He’ who is the Divine, I choose to hear.
My great desire is to see and to understand all that is to be mine. Mine alone to pass through. This is this charge that is to be carried out in my times to come. This journey will not be exclusively my own. It has been my given quest to offer the view I have been shown to those whose eyes and ears the Creator will open. They may only be open for a brief moment in time. I must keep abreast of the silent one. It is he who speaks softly. The visions are only given for a time and times.
What am I to think in this there must be others? Surely I am not alone in this. So I will search them out. I must use caution here. I think there may well be tricksters in the mist, those who pretend to be able to see and hear. Why do they pretend? Why would anyone settle for a counterfeit when they could have the real thing? How could the depth of such a journey be conveyed through the articulation of the written word? Even the spoken word is unheard.
How can I posses the courage that will secure the honor and the right of passage I so long to gain? I long for that moment when I can hear the approval of the one who sent me. I want to hear this more clearly than the criticism, the correction of those who are seemingly so short sighted.
I wish Yvette could understand the impact of her words. She is so full of venom and discouragement. Death that seems to hang over her head is a murdering vacuum that follows her in her wake. She causes such difficulty and discord. Working with that woman is like combat. She attacks the unsuspecting who have no arms to bear. This always happens at their weakest moment. I am so tired of her opposition to the peace of our patients. To her they are a liability. In their faces is a threat of non-payment. She has to wait to release the patients from admission until she is sure that they won’t default. “Hello”, is replaced with “what kind of insurance do you have?” She is always in eye for the welsher. One would think that it was her purse strings that were held by Trumann General. While in fact in many ways it actually is. She is assessed on her reviews under the category of non-payment and she gets chewed out when it occurs. She is blamed for the defaulter. Her words hurt me too. Perhaps this is why Yvette is so defiant and contentious? I hope that I can see clearly to love her beyond her armor. I long for her to be free from such rage and anger. She is so offensive to everyone. It is as if she wants to be hated. It is as if she was made to believe that she deserve it. Will I be willing to blanket my own heart in the warmth of this great and noble purpose? Can the sacrifice that will be requested of me be accomplished? I choose to love her. I must exercise strong boundaries with her, yet show her the love she so desperately needs. This adventure will be and has been one fraught with the most risk. I fear her. I have seen the spirit of violence over her. At times I think she wants to kill. I see in her a frightened wild animal rabid with wounds of some major extent.
I have to fight for those with whom I will be investing my time and energy. The reactions and actions I choose will be governed by my choices as to how I will act, making every effort not to react. I have such an obligation to attempt to free them. This is my mission to free the captive by either blowing out the prison bars or turning a key in the lock. What is the key to Yvette’s’ lock? What of all the others? Where can I find the answers I need to help all these people? I am only a Hospitaler, a Chaplin a simple servant to the world at large. I don’t want to just peddle hope and courage. I want to instill it. The pain, fear and pride get in the way of the evidence of faith and trust. The loss and desperation evoke deals being cut with God. Promises as if He could be bought off, the ostentation of it all makes me ill to witness. So many times I see with only my eyes and judge these desperate souls. I need to find more understanding and wisdom for this job. It is no wonder that the insolence looks like arrogance but these people are facing the greatest hardships of their lives.
Here around me and within me my battles are waged and will be hard to see and fierce. The truth can be so allusive yet I must keep in pursuit of it. Oh Theola, Oh my heart, can I really be this Elder. Am I really a healer or just a woman with good intentions? Can I hold fast to humility? When they look upon me will they see through to the heart of a friend? Will they ever see me afraid and modest?
The sunrise is shining I must get up! The showers warmth will do me good. All these contemplations fatigue my mind and pull me back toward sleep. I see the faces of all those souls that are depending on me. I have to just let them go all of them the children and parents of the Casmir family, Millie Mae, the staff and the Doctors. Their faces filled with pain and fear they long for hope. They look to me to give them courage.
“God you are the hope that they need.”
Every one and everything else will let them down.
“Oh God please help me to trust you and to rest. I’m so tired.”
The flow of desperation seems to never stop. I see one family after another facing, broken bones or broken dreams. I have stood beside so many who see me at times like I was the ghastly reaper himself. I am numb from so many visits to the hospital mortuary and so many deaths to tend to and so many dead to bury. There are funeral arrangements to be made.
Weeping, I wash my hair clean. This smell of coconut and pineapple takes me to the islands in my mind. I wish I could just melt into this soothing ease. It is so quiet here with the absence of the air traffic. No rumbling of the helicopter pad and its’ desperation.
This year has been so hard at Trumann Kendall General Hospital. We have children drowning every other day. I try to imagine that the water was as soothing to them as they passed into the embrace of all holiness. Dear Perdita her eyes are so empty now. Once they were full of wonder and hope. Imogene just sits beside her little girl’s bed and weeps. I do not know how I could endure seeing my child in such an abyss. How can I find a way to reach Imogene her heart is so broken?
My mind is racing. “Please help it be still a while.” I am just melting into tears flowing like water, misting like the mountain clouds as they engulf me. Weep my heart for the tears within me have been caped like ice. Frozen while I have to embrace the mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters of those I’m serving each day. Numbness now and I am still. With the water off it is now truly quiet. I am motionless in space.
“Hold me God. Hold me.”
Cotton soft absorbs the tears and the warmth on me drying my weary body. My skin so olive, I love my skin. I was the girl who always had a tan a glow of a sun kissed face. The mirror is fogged but I see you Theola. I see your kindheartedness in my eyes and that’s what others perceive in me. That’s what I offer them. Present it now to me, rest in patience. I need that consideration now. Here is a tired soul laying still. Rest in the tenderness, hush my mind. A wish to be pleasing today, my wish, that someone could see the beauty within. Inconvenience no one and be troubled by none. Gently glides the comb through long brown hair. I have always loved my long hair it is so familiar. It is a constant and never changes. Eyes so hazel reflect a refreshed moment in time. Eyes full of everyone’s sorrow. There is no place for my own. Heal me. Refresh me. Fill me with the joy I so long to play in. Give me time without anything pulling our pouring me out. I wish to lay down all the concerns that are so distressed and have peace without any torment. My mind prays thinking of how great the love I have for the presence of my friend my God. My thoughts are so full of amazement at all the things I have seen and how the miraculous has been the norm in my daily life. Death with the bargaining I see every day can have a rest.
Even though it is so chilly in here, this little cabin is a real sanctuary. An old cast iron potbelly stove sits center stage. It demands the attention my efforts will afford it if it is to get any warmer in here. Without having much to work with the fire is tedious and small. The kettle could use a good rinse out. So many years, lifetimes have passed since I have even seen an old pump in the sink like this. This must be well water. After a lot of effort the water ran clear and the handle on the pump loosened up a bit. It stopped rubbing metal after only a few squeaking heave hoes. The kettle warmed water for the tea. Warm orange spice tea will be nice with some of the organic blueberry muffins I brought from home. Those muffins would go well with butter but without it they will just have to do. Theola be still. Take it easy a while.
This will be a wonderful morning here alone. No morning theology or pious moral reasoning with Egan today. He is always on time to attend that last moment of my desired solitude. He seems so close to knowing God but in all of our deliberations all I hear is what he knows just about him. He is unable to formulate any ideas that differ from those absolutes that we were taught in seminary. Being separated by our religions the intimacy is spoiled by defensiveness. College and the university gave us absolutes and defined reasoning’s so we could in theory respond to any given situation; the business of the Clergy has replaced personal relationship with God. It hurts so badly to be in an employ when it is so far from the foundational reasons I pursued in it. The exclusions and restrictions Egan sets for me are heart breaking. Can I continue to work under this repression by a brilliant yet misled man. He never really was in favor of a female Chaplin. I have invested so much into college and the university loans. I know I am doing the task that was set before me. I see it every day in the faces of those whose path I cross over. How can a cup of tea so delightful become so embittered? I am so overflowing with anger at the contemplation of Chaplin Egan Seraphine! He is so zealously pious. I just wish he knew God and not just generally speaking about him! I just wish he were free from the regulations of business that Medwin Bryant in administration constrains him up with. I wish he could understand how hard it is to listen without responding to the words only. I must become more able to here the hearts of those who seek out my help. How am I able to help them if I am not capable to meet their needs? I know he is not my adversary nor is the hospitals administration office but it is so hard not to desire to put up a fight in opposition to them. My rival is not flesh and blood. The ignorance just caused so much loss.