Inspiration

Out of the blue came the hoot of an owl.

Sometimes this happens in my back yard. Sometimes in my neighborhood. Sometimes I think it follows me.

It was a very pleasant surprise - three long, slow, low hoots. A pause, then it repeated. A pause again, then it repeated again.

It calls up in me the feeling of the deep woods. Where there are wise animals, knowing old, huge oaks, and the feel of soft, moist dirt underfoot.

The woods are alive with mystery and quiet surprise. At any moment there could appear a deer, a chipmunk, or a giant, black crow.

I remember going into a garden shop and being happily surprised to see a huge parrot in a great cage. It was so unexpected. To see a parrot by itself would be a surprise, but to see it in a place where it usually wasn’t, made it shine even the better.

A similar thing happened when we visited a paper store that sells gift boxes, tissue paper, cake boxes, and so on. In the back, in a fenced in area, was an emu, you know, an ostrich – actually a pair of them. It’s like seeing a dandelion growing in a sidewalk crack.

As we age, and most people retire, many people tell me that they have nothing to do, they’re bored, and they have no clue how to spend the day. And then I meet others who are so busy, they’re busier retired than they ever were when they were working.

I’d like to talk about my faith today. I give full credit to my mother for my faith.

My mother was a divorced Catholic who remarried. Who could no longer receive the sacraments in the Catholic church, but she made sure that we were brought up Catholic. Every week we went to religious education. And every Sunday, she took us to Mass.

And if my older brother, who had been out having a good time, came in late and knocked the phone off of the wall, we went to 7 o’clock Mass, otherwise it was usually 10 o’clock Mass.

Grandpa always wore a three piece suit with a white Oxford shirt. In the heat of summer, he removed the vest. In the winter, when he went on his daily walks, he added a topcoat and a fedora to his outfit.

Two blocks from his house was a small grocery store where my brother Mike worked as a manager.

Every day, grandpa, in his late eighties, walked to the store to visit Mike and to pick up an item or two.

Did you ever want to go beyond what technology offers?

Way beyond what governments offer?

Way beyond what art or entertainment offer?

To live beyond the horizon of now.

I really like the idea of the outer limits.

A place in the unknown that has discovery everywhere.

Yes, it’s like being a child again – seeing what is in the world – this place and time I find myself in.

Plato believed that everything already exists – every idea, every work of art, every everything – and that we only need to discover it, find it, uncover it.

John: This is John back in the studio with Reet. I just heard about Reet, did I hear right, that you just went back to college, and you have a degree in college? And what is your degree?

Reet: I have a certification in ASL which is American Sign Language.

John: My understanding is I went to college, 17, 18, 19, graduated at 20. Most people go to college when they are 18 to 20 years old. Are you 20 years old?

Reet: No, John, I’m actually 74.

Let me call upon you now.

Every thought calls you.

Every breath calls you.

As the waves come upon the shore, so do I call you.

Let me feel you press upon me.

Do you stare upon me as I look to see you?

So much is unseen, unheard, unknown, yet surely there.

Lift my senses into the higher realms.

The waiting is over.

I ask for a drop, and you give me buckets, oceans.

Light my way.

Let it be easy and sure and powerful.

You all seem to talk in one voice.

   The actual song itself is available only in spoken form, as requested by Philip.

Response by John:

The last GEM you heard was called The Happy Journey. And it reminds me, in my own life – and that is what is amazing about these poems and songs by Phil – how much you can relate to yourself.

I can think of a woman I once knew from Japan. This woman traveled from Scotland to Canada to see him. I met a woman from Japan. Her name was Shigiko.

I love floors that creak. There’s a power, a personality to it, as if the floor acknowledges me there, greets me, in a way. The house feels homey and lived in, in some sense imprinted.

Old houses have creaky floors and stairs, for sure. It’s not clear if it’s the personality of the people who lived there coming through or the personality of the home itself. But, to me, it always seems inviting and cozy.

It makes me mindful of the moment, more fully present with more of my senses focused here and now.

I also love doors that creak and drawers that squeak.