Posts Tagged ‘Love’
Dizzying Dissonance
The firehose of ridiculousness and the horrific is flowing at a dizzying rate from one main point in the country of the USA. The buffoon acting as the figurehead is busy spouting his aggressive desires to take over other countries and much of our own, by force if necessary, while simultaneously claiming himself to be the most peaceful person to ever deserve a peace prize.
It is so comical while being equally evil that the rest of the sane world seems to just stare, dumbstruck, wondering what the heck could possibly happen next to stop the madness.
Those who made this mess have no interest in stopping anything. As with so many realities of this world, it will likely get worse before things end up better.
Cyndie and I romp on our beautiful rural acres with our dog and horses, enjoying what diminishing features of winter remain. Rain in January has become the new normal for our position on the planet at this point in the warming climate. Asher behaves as if he doesn’t have a clue about the evil in motion in the world. His pure joy of chasing his rope-pierced Jolly Ball is a healing balm for our fractured sensibilities.
The horses, on the other hand, give off a different vibe. From everything we have come to know about the far-reaching sentience of these amazing equine beings, it doesn’t surprise me that they recognize the nastiness that humans are spewing into the world (again).
It means a lot to Cyndie and me to be able to give them our love and attention each day, letting them know we understand when they are uneasy. Having been rescued from some truly dire situations, our four horses are well familiar with what humans are capable of when acting at their worst. Every good thing we can do for them helps to heal whatever previous suffering they have endured in their lives.
The best thing we can do for ourselves amid the dizzying dissonance of the transition to an authoritarian state is to avoid the blasts from automated bots working for the propaganda machine and increase our loving attention to each other, our children, our friends, our neighbors, and all the animals in our care.
The little things we do matter in ways that too often get overlooked. As individuals, we can’t solve the threat of ICE agents murdering citizens, but we can help each other to cope with the storm of hatred rumbling over the country (and world).
Give a little extra love to people you encounter every day. Share a smile with someone you’ve never met. Give rise to a feeling of love for yourself and everyone you know.
The human race is so much better than the way the worst of people can make us all seem. Two different things can be true at the same time. It’s dizzying, I know.
I’m thinking about going outside to hug some of our trees. Then I’ll go retrieve the empty feed buckets from the horses on this picturesque Saturday morning.
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Random Distractions
Despite the smothering grief we are feeling over the murder by federal ICE agents, and the incendiary rhetoric being spewed from the White House ever since, Cyndie and I trudged through yesterday with faith that those intent on hurting others will never fully extinguish LOVE.
Living in a rural area while choosing to abstain from guzzling at the firehose of news broadcasts tends to leave us feeling disconnected from the rest of the world about how like-minded folks are responding to the extrajudicial killing of Renee Nicole Good.
I struggled to focus on most tasks I attempted, but managed to distract myself for a while with some meditative jigsaw puzzling.
It was above freezing most of the day, and it was fun to see the horses romping in the snow that remained in the hay field. We had removed their blankets for the day to give them a break from the artificial covering. It’s wonderful to see them rolling around on the ground to scratch their itches and feel the direct contact with the ground again.
By their dinnertime, we learned rain was expected, so Cyndie put a rain sheet on Mia. The other three needed to figure out the simple act of staying under the overhang to stay dry. We know Swings does it, but we worry that Mix doesn’t tend to demonstrate those same smarts.
Before we went to bed last night, it was raining like a spring shower again. That’s almost as depressing as having ICE agents destroying citizens’ lives every day.
Cyndie took a picture of Asher with his squeaky/krinkly campfire chew toy in his mouth, standing beyond her red waxed Amaryllis bulb and her wooden roses puzzle, which Elysa helped her assemble the previous weekend.
Red, red, and red!
We find ourselves looking for any distraction in a storm. The likelihood that things will continue to get worse before they get better weighs heavily on both of us.
Cyndie left voice messages on phones at the offices of our representatives, expressing her anguish and dissatisfaction with the illegal activities of the masked immigration agents. We have not ruled out finding a protest that we can attend to offer solidarity with others equally despondent over Renee’s murder.
The days end up being a blur of sadness and frustration, mixed with the contrast of love and hope we are striving to conjure up to feed the world.
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
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Big Sigh
It’s all over for another year. The grand Christmas-palooza that Cyndie’s family puts on starts with a dinner on the eve and then breakfast and presents on the day, followed by time for a nap before an evening meal and games. Dinner on the 24th occurred in an event room at the senior living complex where Cyndie’s mom lives.
The younger volunteers were racing to roll doubles to steal the present before the person ahead of them was able to unwrap it while wearing oven mitts. The presents were wrapped with multiple layers. Cruel.
Cyndie and I made the drive to the cities and back three times in the two days. We took advantage of the car time to hear more mind-blowing episodes from The Telepathy Tapes. So fascinating.
When we got home after the Christmas Eve dinner, already after our normal bedtime, Cyndie assembled the caramel rolls she would bring to breakfast the following morning.
After leaving them to raise over night, she put the pans in the oven in the morning while I took care of horse chores.
We drove some extra miles to get to the house that her brother, Steve, is renting on Lake Minnetonka while his house is being rebuilt after the fire.
Between the exquisite food served at each of the three meals and the irresistible sweets offered for dessert, I violated any measure of appropriate caloric intake and blissfully consumed more yummy goodness than I should have.
Santa (Marie) brought me a new pair of chopper mittens! Wasn’t I just raving about those…?
It was a holiday of pure love among loud family conversations, gift exchanging, some singing, and fancy feasting.
Today feels like a big sigh of relief, now that the events and repeated commuting of the last 36 hours are behind us. It’s always a lot of fun, but part of me feels a little extra appreciation to be home again and returning to our normal routines.
The hard part will be convincing my body that it needs to return to normal calories now.
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Love Letters
While walking back up the driveway from the road, rolling the empty recycling bin through the cold air under a bright sunny sky, I paused to confirm that Asher would come with me after finishing his task in the tall brush of our north loop. We had just accomplished an almost perfect interaction at the road with the mail van showing up just as we got there.
I got Asher to sit and stay while I stepped up to grab our mail as the postman rolled by, but then I spotted that the dog had released himself from his ‘stay’ and was planning to prance around the back of the van. A simple command interrupted his misbehavior, and he enthusiastically corrected course to join me for the trek back to the house.
It’s not obvious to me why that pause I made at the peak of the rise in the driveway triggered a thought that my daily blog posts are love letters I write for you. Maybe it was the mail in my hand, which consisted of three holiday cards, one of which was an ad from a steakhouse, disguised as a friendly card in an envelope.
Traditionally, at this time of year, people reach out to their friends, families, neighbors & associates with heartfelt greetings of warmth and appreciation via cards through the mail. I used to design a custom Christmas card every year after we got married and started trying to fulfill the “adulting” role.
After email started to replace snail mail for communication, and workplaces initiated campaigns to become “paperless” in their daily operations, I developed a complex about using so much paper to print and mail cards. Being naturally frugal, I was also unhappy with the cost of the number of stamps needed to reach our ever-expanding variety of people in our thoughts.
Now I use Relative Something to send Thanksgiving and Christmas greetings to those of you who might see them here. No trees are harmed for paper, and no additional postage expense.
But every day, I write something that reflects my experience in the world. It is what I would tell you if we were sitting together without the usual distractions of work, or surrounding people, or things cooking on the stove. It is a way to make a connection despite being great distances apart.
This may have been the intent of other social media platforms, but I long ago chose to avoid those. I am satisfied to have this space, devoid of advertising, bots, and algorithms, as my media method for sending love to those of you with an interest in checking in on what I will come up with next.
Thank you for allowing me to visit you through this blog. I get to see all the countries where readers are located, and I am well aware of the reach this WordPress blogging offers. It may be mostly a one-sided pen pal connection, but it is a thrill to be able to beam love to you all in the simple form of my narrative of *this* John W. Hays’ take on things and experiences.
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Detecting Numinosity
Cyndie and John
The initial attraction was mutual and undeniable. In our early years of exploring a relationship as potential significant others, there were plenty of twists and turns. Cyndie was a year older than me and in the high school class ahead of mine. In many ways, we were opposites. She was more of a go-getter. I was more inclined to wait for things or opportunities to show up in my life.
I bailed on our relationship several times, thinking it was unlikely to survive the ravages of time. However, the magnetic pull between us was relentless. She was all I ever wanted, so it was easy for me to give it another go.
Cyndie pursued multiple university degrees; I sought the least expensive and shortest path to a trade that offered stable employment. We shared an equal passion for similar music, certain foods, and an empathy for the plights of others. I took pride in fulfilling the [at the time] non-traditional role of supporting her career as she repeatedly climbed higher and higher in educational administration positions, being the only woman among numerous old-boy networks.
Somehow, together we managed to raise two intelligent, well-adjusted children while simultaneously unraveling and resolving our own personal issues that originated unconsciously in each of our formative years and grew with us into our adult minds and relationship dysfunctions.
She let me go off on bicycling adventures on my own; I enjoyed being allowed to stay home when she wanted to travel to distant shores. No one seems able to fathom how or why I would pass up a trip to Italy. I consider having gotten permission to stay home one of my great accomplishments. (No offense intended, Italy.) Cyndie says it was one of her favorite trips.
I experience greater pleasure from saving money than spending it. Cyndie is uncomfortable with tight constraints on our expenditures.
We have benefited immeasurably from more than a year of work with a couple’s therapist.
Cyndie was always more of an optimist, while I was a classically trained pessimist. We have rubbed off on each other enough at this point that I occasionally am able to note the switch for her.
When Cyndie came home from a training session with horses and reported receiving physical sensations and eventually messages in her mind transmitted by the animals, I was dumbfounded. I had no reason to doubt her experience –even though she was unsure about what was happening herself– but it took some time to reconcile the unbelievable aspect with which we were suddenly presented.
We’ve been through a lot together. Today, we share an equally strong understanding of the presence of a divine loving energy around us in every direction and in all creatures, plants, and materials in the universe. We understand telepathy is a reality because we have experienced it.
Looking back from where we are today, I better understand that magnetic attraction that was relentlessly drawing us toward our eventual long-term relationship. Nothing short of numinous.
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Mind Bending
It’s like when you reach to flip a light switch and it doesn’t toggle all the way over, and you notice instantly that it didn’t. So you react instantaneously and flail at it a second time. But it still bounces back because you didn’t get any closer on your second flail. How ridiculous it is to find yourself spastically flapping away at a switch, three or even four times, to finally achieve what you successfully do dozens of times a day without a thought.
Yeah, that’s never happened to me.
Cyndie and I were out to dinner and a music show with Barb and Mike, and Barb brought up the Telepathy Tapes podcast we had told her about. She was listening to season 2. We told her we had already listened to the whole season. We listened to it right away after we finished the first season.
Except we hadn’t.
Funny that we both had the same incorrect perception. When we figured out that we hadn’t, it became a priority. I don’t know if it is fair to write about this podcast, other than to try to convince everyone else in the world to give it their full attention at the earliest opportunity. I’d love to share the wonder and glory of the concepts being explored with anyone who has already absorbed the mind-expanding possibilities it reveals.
The theme of telepathy is not a difficult one for Cyndie and me to reconcile, as we have both experienced it at different times in our lives. What weighs on my mind is how beyond my reach it is on the regular, despite completely believing the concept. One phrase that is used when they talk about communication with people who have died is that they are on the “other side.” I wish they wouldn’t use those words because it’s not really another side. It’s right here all the time, all around us, unconstrained by physical limitations.
If you have started watching the Apple TV series, “Pluribus,” that show depicts humanity joined in a hive mind; the telepathy realm is a little like that, and most of us are like the lead character, who hasn’t melded with the rest of the all-knowing others.
To the [mostly] non-verbal people featured in the Telepathy Tapes episodes, the “place” where telepaths commune has been dubbed “the hill.” I don’t believe that “hill” or the “other side” where past souls are speaking with mediums are separated from the rest of us. It is an energy of love that is everywhere.
One feature of the Telepathy Tapes stories that I particularly enjoy is the number of people whose stories start with their lack of belief that any such thing is possible. After instances with a non-verbal child mastering a letter board to communicate or an encounter with otherworldly energies in a near-death experience where they report verifiable telepathic situations, non-believers find themselves willing to consider expanding their understanding.
Yes, it’s a lot like religion, minus a human-translated textbook of confusing divine orders or finance-fixated institutions with power hierarchies controlling subordinate groups of followers. It’s imbued with the one thing all the various attempts at religion in the world seem to share: LOVE.
Try to bend your mind around that.
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Truly Gorgeous
We were blessed with about as nice a day for bike riding in late October as one could hope for in our part of the world. Afternoon temperatures rose into the 60s(F) yesterday, and we enjoyed every bit of it.
Our gang of intrepid pedalers reached Stillwater in what felt like a blink of time. When we arrived at the photo frame, a mom was taking a picture of her daughter. Bob volunteered to take a picture of them both. In turn, she agreed to take a picture of us. We asked Lilly to stay and be in our picture, too. Her mom said Lilly smiled bigger for ours than when posing with Mom.
Before stopping for some lunch, we rode up and over the Hwy 36 bridge, pausing for a portrait in the middle, overlooking the beautiful St. Croix River.
On the other side, we were in Wisconsin for a short loop before dropping down a big hill to cross the old lift bridge that is now limited to bikes and pedestrians. This delivered us back to the bustling energy of families with young kids in Halloween costumes, enjoying festivities along the riverfront.
Navigating our way to a little market where a few of us purchased something to eat, we took advantage of public tables to consume some sustenance.
I brought my own lunch.
Bob gave me a thumbs-up of approval.
While sitting there, I caught sight of a very attractive woman approaching from the market with her arms full and visibly gushing with a glow of love. She was looking at an equally handsome man who was cuddling a tiny bundle that I knew had to be their beautiful baby.
I couldn’t help myself as they tucked the blanketed cherub into their pram and prepared to move on. I approached them to let them know how truly gorgeous it was to witness their obvious love and joy radiating so unmistakably. Their baby was 9 weeks old. Their happiness was such a delight to see.
I’m glad to have intruded on their space because they seemed really delighted with my gushing over them, and that rewarded me with a burst of their love energy.
The ride back to our cars was a continuation of superb cycling weather and scenery, and we reached just under 30 miles ridden by the time we finished.
I wonder if my legs will feel stiff in the next 24 hours. I hadn’t been on the bike since we did the Mickelson Trail in South Dakota.
I’m really grateful I didn’t pass up this opportunity to get out and enjoy the fabulous day and my fabulous cycling friends.
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Still Resonating
Our weather yesterday was about as nice as could possibly be. Whenever the humidity drops in the summer, we are rewarded with fantastic days for getting things done. I jumped on the riding mower and cut grass. That exercise leaves plenty of room for my mind to wander.
Without attempting to direct my thoughts to any particular topic, the people and events of the wedding weekend in Chicago kept spinning around in my head. I am well familiar with the way good vibes linger after a hearty dose of happy people cultivating new connections and sharing time and stories.
There is only a slim chance I will cross paths with most of them again, but having been introduced to Haley’s relatives helps me to feel more familiar with who she is. I already know Alec’s side well, now coming up toward Cyndie’s and my 44th wedding anniversary.
One positive I can take from the annoying flight delay that had us stuck in the airport in Chicago for extra hours is that Cyndie’s brother, Ben, and his boys were on the same flight. It triggered more conversation than usual with the nephews. It’s not often that I, in my mid-60s, engage in more than a brief exchange with someone in their teens and twenties.
When I was stuck with all the people in Chicago for the previous three days, I longed to be home in the solitude of our fields and forest. Now that I’m here, my mind travels back to the good times we had with them. I think that is the power of love vibrating still.
Rolling along on the mower, I found myself returning again and again to the scenes and the sounds my brain was still processing. Our arrival at the wedding venue and claiming our seats as the string quartet performed off to the side. Taking in the view of Lake Michigan sprawled out to the horizon beyond the platform where the vows would be exchanged.
Feeling tears of emotion on my cheek as I watched the groom’s reaction to his bride’s first appearance on her father’s arm. The loving touch as the bride wiped his tears with her hand when she arrived to stand with him. Flower petals blowing back in our faces as people showered the couple after they joyously stepped off the platform as newlyweds, pausing for a bent-over kiss for emphasis.
Mingling for a moment in the absolutely perfect weather with drinks and appetizers before being ushered toward the dinner tent. The incredible dance band kicked off their first set with an energy that pulled guests in, seamlessly moving them directly onto the dance floor.
Food would have to wait. One song after another without stopping until it seemed like dinner might as well be entirely skipped. Finally, the band allowed the energy to subside, and folks moved toward their assigned tables.
Precious speeches from the father of the bride, the maid of honor, and the best man. First-class service bringing top-quality salad and entrees with an orchestration so precise it felt like a Hollywood production.
All the while, the band was expertly serenading diners as they enjoyed their meals, and the bride and groom worked their way around each table to personally greet everyone who had come. After the traditional series of sentimental first dances, the band revved things back into high gear, and the high-octane dancing picked up where it left off before the food was served.
It was a celebration for the ages. A wedding that will linger long in the minds of all who were in attendance. A rather exceptional distraction for me while I steered my way around objects to mow our grass on a similarly spectacular sunny August day.
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Some Wedding
That was some wedding. A classic garden party. I had the honor of being an extra in a feature-film-caliber extravaganza of an event last night at a country club on the shore of Lake Michigan because I am married to Cyndie, sister to Steve, the father of Alec, who married Haley. I have no idea how the future accomplishments of Haley and Alec will unfold, but last night and this entire weekend, they made an impression that whatever they do in life will be exceptional.
I am unable to convey the entirety of the brilliance displayed in the heartfelt messages delivered by the principals who offered toasts to the newlywed couple throughout the evening, nor the graceful and genuine attention Haley and Alec offered to each person before the tent erupted into a celebratory dance of jubilation.
While all that was happening, I found myself equally fascinated by witnessing the elite execution of a top-tier wedding planner and the army of staff who attended to EVERY detail with the utmost precision and professionalism. I was not in Beldenville anymore.
Somehow, I got included, admittedly a bit begrudgingly, in a gathering where there was no hint that cost imposed any limitations on outcomes. I do not feel worthy.
Luckily, I do have a currency with boundless reserves to offer to all of the fascinating people I encountered this weekend. It is love, which fits rather seamlessly with a wedding.
There was a lot of love ricocheting between the two precious people and the multitude of family and friends they managed to bring together for a matrimonial fete that will not soon be forgotten.
It was so mythically flawless that I’m not entirely sure it wasn’t just a figment of our collective imagination.
May equally mythical blessings be bestowed upon this fabulous married couple forevermore.
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Dream Driven
I haven’t got a clue. I’m feeling a little shaky about trusting my intuition after the dream I experienced last night. It was classic in how real it seemed compared to how obviously unreal it proved to be upon my waking. The way it mixed time and locations should have helped my sleeping mind to recognize it was a fabrication.
It has left me wondering if I will be savvy enough to sense when I am reading a message from a Russian bot or a genuine American citizen with a hairbrained opinion lacking any factual basis. If the President of the United States looks like he is buddying up with Putin, can anything healthy possibly result from it?
My dream had nothing to do with world politics. It involved someone with whom I am close. It involved death.
What is up with that? I’m not sure. I don’t want to delve into it.
Nothing to see here. Carry on.
I spent a little time shaping my latest wood piece yesterday while sitting on the shore of the lake, listening to the sound of the water lapping against the sand.
It is a cutting from the Y of two branches of the oak tree section that crashed to the ground in front of our eyes on an otherwise calm morning. We don’t know why it fell at that time. It was the kind of thing that could have happened in a dream.
As is often my style, I am leaving the bark on one side of my sculpture. I try to come up with words to explain the symbolism I assign to this, but I’m not entirely sure it isn’t just a way to get out of needing to finish all the surface area. Although, a smooth side and a rough side can be a pretty easy metaphor for a lot of things/people/situations.
Meanwhile, I hear the fearful leader has called out our military to control D.C. Talk about a disconnect between some people’s dreams and reality.
The delirium of this kind of thing happening in our country is a travesty. No wonder I find myself drawn to intense focus on precisely shaping a heart out of the solid wood of an old oak tree, bringing out the splendor of the beautiful woodgrain.
The symbol of a classic heart shape is a universal representation of love, and genuine love is the only thing that will get us out of any mess the world is in. When enough people of influence get around to fully embracing that, we might see that our best dreams can actually come true.
My dream last night has me wanting to soak up as much of my immediate reality as possible today. Maybe even hug the ones I love. Retune the vibrations of my intuition. Hold a heart-shaped piece of an oak tree and feel its strength and the love it symbolizes.
It’s our last full day at the lake this weekend. We drive home tomorrow morning.
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Relative Something 