SPOOK!

r.r.lackney, intergal expressionist

How do we live our short lives and learn to enjoy all we experience?

Every feeling, thought, idea, and decision:
every friend and foe, every cup of coffee drank or ice cream cone eaten has placed us here in this moment of the here and now.

I ask the question “Why?”

How did you and how do you, currently, schedule your time?

Time is that ever present NOW,
relentless, mindless, and tyrannical thing we experience until we slip into serious illness, suffering, and disease regardless of the event we are on that steady path to our Death.

It may be that the only question we are asked by the angels of the afterlife:

“What did you do with the time we gave to you?

My human cry since birth,

I want light, I want life, and I want love.

Whatever the cards we have been dealt to live the authentic, the true, the real life and avoid the negative life we must somehow rise above the program we have been given first by our mothers, reinforced by our fathers, and disciplined by our family, friends, and strangers who have and who continue to appear in our individual lives. The ruthless "Dualities"!

As a child, who looked into a Rainbow on a mountain in West Virginia,
70 years ago, and heard a voice:
“You shall be a person of value.”
A vision some would say, others would say a purpose, and
a few would describe as My Life Plan.

For certain, as I look back in time to recall my best memories my life script has never failed to guide me to a life of
 independence, creative imagination, spontaneity, and curiosity.
 

The negatives, of course, have had their way with me confusing my feelings, thoughts and decisions  from time to time with anger, fear, anxieties untold here, wanting to belong to this group or that, wanting to be included, to be recognized: 
distractions that deceived the individual in me- sidelined some dreams- yes but,
I have never succumbed  to the call of the group, the collective, or the cooperative and its sirens who offer the promise of  “togetherness”,
in which there can be no hope for authenticity.

Who knows the number of fairy tales, tooth fairies, or fantasies

that my mind and body has been exposed over the past 75 years, deceptions of truth?

And, who knows the damage they have incurred on

an unsuspecting and struggling worker as myself.

 

I matters not. I remain sane and spontaneous still.

only the good things
robert r. lackney, permanent deacon