Heart Awakening

Study or Lecture?

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A usual intriguing invitation to attend a study of one of our favorite books. With a relaxed and anticipatory attitude the date is set and marked on the erasable calendar. It’s a big one that is pined to the wall every month with new dates and exciting and often obligatorily appointments.

The day arrives and a drive ensues to the study site along with an appropriate container of coffee. These paper containers can be had and filled at many convenient locations. Settling down at a table, the leather ‘coach’ briefcase is set (in plain view for class distinction) and a notebook and ‘The’ book set beside it. Pen extracted and extended. Ready for scholarship as there are duplicate scholars around the large collection of tables nearby.

The usual chatter and greetings are somewhat abated by the leader of the study. There are several students that feel their conversations must go on for a short while longer while the leader waits patiently at his seat. Perhaps a loud cough or even a whistle is needed to quiet the room. One of those really loud ones that I wish I could do. The one with your thumb and forefinger type. Those who were still socially chattering act as though a glass fell and are silent. Good. It worked.

This is indeed a scholarly study with one of the scholars reading a half dozen or so sentences of the focused page(s) of the book. The leader asks the group for a summary of the last meeting and comments are givenand the new passage is dug into. More polite comments and references to other books and sources of the material are noted and quoted. The main dish has been served and the coffee begins to flow, pens and pencils scritch and scratch and the delightful sound of thin, almost parchment pages turned fills the room. Images of paneled rooms, lined with tall shelves of books are felt.

A lecture can be enjoyable. A good one is exciting, an average one is endured and a poor one can result in yawns and glances at timepieces. These lectures are often called sermons. The exciting ones are a delight. The room comes alive, the ones in the room listening lean a little forward and that rustle of thin pages begins in earnest. At times the journals and pens start their work, Images, words and scholarship for further study with others or alone near a good table lamp.

So, a good lecture or sermon can be dicey as to we attention deficit disordered ones. The best ones are as an excellent drive in the countryside which reveals beauty seen for the first time on the same roads driven as before but never seen. A flare of a sunbeam sparkling millions of rain drops frozen till they melt a minute later. You know how it goes. Surprise! It’s an owl that just flew across the road or a cloud rumbling and flashing overhead.

Music concerts or worship sets can do that too. Words and notes together make a good study and revelation of emotion that accompanies them. Standing, driving, sitting quietly or even jumping around. It doesn’t matter much when experiencing sudden beauty.

Conversations engaged with truth spoken and heard can engender the feeling of being in the presence of the wisdom of the ages. Old books opening and fluttering around you that you have wanted to read for decades are revealed with a single sentence.

I am dull and don’t pay attention many times to treasures all around me. These few sentences will perhaps open your iris’ and minds as well as mine. Beauty abounds and the wisdom of the ages will be whispered into my heart if I look for it. A child of a wise man said six words that have helped me pay attention to the wonderful world that surrounds me. Studies and lectures indeed. Focus. The young child said: “Talk to me with your eyes” The eyes of our spirit. Our maker of all things that have been made, turns His face upon us and talks to us with His eyes. Open my eyes Lord and I will talk to you too. Watch and pray. Then silently listen It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

LONLINESS

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Nothing can remove the loneliness that we all have. All of us. It is the human condition.

No one can alter that, A wife or husband, an affair, a community or commune.

No thing either. Money, power, position and status. Those actually accentuate the lonely.

I have used many excuses for my ways of isolation, never realizing it is universal and excuses are what we think we need for our behaviors. It makes us feel justified to blame others for it.

I felt such lonliness when I was playing fiddle for a well known country western band. We did a lot of Bob Wills songs and my favorite one was “Faded Love” the line of ‘I still miss someone’ wept off my D string and hung in the air. Sometimes I wondered why it was so tender to me and others.

Loneliness, It’s not a bad thing at all. If we would only stop blaming ourselves and others for it.

Henri Nouwn states this condition in a startling and almost unbelievable way. The deep chasm within all of us is actually a blessing.

As adults, young or old, we ache to go back to the womb, where a soothing presence coming upon us satisfies. From birth we cry and as a baby we cry. We are lonely, no longer totally embraced by love. It never ceases.

“Such a baby!” “Stop crying or I’ll make it worse” “What’s the matter with you?” Those things really helped a lot, didn’t they.

I was amazed to feel hunger when I first came into the very large room of my current church. I had entered with a good friend, high up on a landing above the room to be surreptitious and wait to pray way down below after service. Stepping onto that platform I started to weep. Instantly. I was overcome, astonished with the knowledge it was hunger that I felt. I asked our Lord. “What is this! Is this hunger, from me, or is it them?” His answer was “Yes”

It was the combined spirit longing of almost two thousand people that overwhelmed me with resonance in my own heart. That was the beginning of my quest for answers to His answer of Yes.

It was indeed, a blessing to be lonely and then realize my drugs, affairs, gang involvements, military comrades and even jail time in Spain with other sympathetic prisoners and guards was not enough to sooth my hunger. Even the beautiful love of my wife and children was not enough. I was lonely, always was. Just like you and everyone else.

Truth of the only love and embrace that would satisfy me came when I heard and saw the lover of me. All of me. Past wounding and wounding others. The only cure. Jesus. The best. Jack Gator

Old Fashioned Or Antiques?

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There they sit until the next auction. Plates, cups, bowls and saucers. Mahogany furniture and kitchen utensils. Machinery and huge steam powered…things..Barn ventilator caps and do dads and gimcracks and folderall. Gewgaws, and the best one of all, Tchoktchke. The last one comes from Yiddish Tshatshke (or an absolete Polish word, Czaczko.)

You can find them in really nice corner cabinets with glass doors, on top of upright pianos or just scattered about the house, seemingly at random. Placed with a discerning eye or propriety and in need of occasional dusting. Dust the Hummel’s at your own risk

Everyone has their faves and lists for the spouse to browse local second or third hand stores. Why do we do this? Perhaps we are hanging onto an older time, perceived as more a genteel one.

Excepting the black buggies of the Amish, stagecoaches are in that category but cannot be displayed, unless you own a herd of horses and a nice driveway or fence line to park it so it is visible. Old ‘collectible’ vehicles are a bit bulky but store on the property..somewhere.

“That’s an old Edsel! It’s worth a lot of money!” Does it run? “Well.., no but I’m workin’ on it.” The Montana vehicle parking lot sort of thing.

We collect stuff, we built a 20 foot shed and lean to just to store some of it. It was full less than a few months later. Big stuff and shelves for parts for the big stuff. You know the list. That old lawn tractor that just needs a new engine and few tires. The old walk behind snow thrower that needs a carburetor and a little paint. Nostalgic and useful stuff. Sort of.

What else that is old and worth saving? My favorite one that is still used, is the long wrap around bookshelves you can see from the living room, up on the balcony walk around. 3D wallpaper. Books from many centuries ago and great illustrated children’s books. Dr. Suess’ Birthday Bird type of stuff. The best antiques of them all as it is OK and right to handle them. Flip through an old Aristotle or a McDonald and find a page that randomly jumps out at you and then it goes downstairs to be added to the random stack by the big rocking chair.

Lately, the stack has been centered around middle ages literature. Most recently one about St. Ignatious of Loyola (early 16th century). The somewhat forgotten wisdom sears truth into me and Julie about this founder of the Jesuits. Lectio Divina, Interacting with God, Oratio, talk to Him, and my favorite, Contemplato, sit in His presence. Timeless and recently, perfectly timed for these times. With our ceaseless scurry to satisfy the emptiness in us with all the stuff we gather, or, think we must gather, to help us be satisfied and joyful. I need to be reminded that essential wisdom is found in another old book that helps me to contemplato our Creator and His plans to love me and never let me go. Ever. I seem to be the collectible for Him. Made by Him before I was even conceived, before the written history of the universe He knew me and helped form me into the man I am. Created to glorify Him and tell other people about Him and His Love. It’s pretty good. (The other old book is the Bible, its good to have several versions.) Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

And your Children’s Children

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

“May His face shine upon you and bless you..” Great words that are sung by my favorite singing band from Scotland. Almost every morning as I sit at this desk, awaiting the dawn and looking at my two email accounts (one for business of sorts, the other one more personal) I cry most times when I hear that song. More than I cried when I was at home for lunch and played the moonlight sonata on the piano, In my sisters forbidden room. Just a grade school child, seeking more than words and home alone for my lunch with Casey and Roundhouse Rodney. They were there for me at noon from the rabbit eared TV on the kitchen counter. As you can surmise, music has been my pathway to joy and unity with the creator of it.

What happens then when I hear the thunder in my head, tears roll down and the peace overcomes me, often for hours afterwards? Why me to have this gift of harmony and joy?

“I thought you’d like it” comes the answer. More than I can understand, but yes, I do like it. More pleasing than those first 5 notes of the sonata is the bagpipe chanter and violin of the song, ‘The blessing’

When I then sit in my comfy living room chair and begin to read some Nouwen or Lewis I have a fresh spirit and the words go deeper and once again, I am open to His voice and gentle nudging to look upon the world anew. Julie sits nearby in her comfy chair and once in a while we share out of our thoughts. Clarification is needed at times as our thoughts are a bit lofty and can be confusing to each of us as we are both in different contemplation’s of faith.

If we are on this schedule it is pleasing to look out the big door windows and see the world, sometimes anew. A pheasant and some springtime robins that are hopping around in the newest falling snow, perhaps looking for breakfast with a puzzling look upon their little beaks.

Time to get more coffee and perhaps, build a small fire in the stove nearby. In the kitchen it is a bit warmer from the radiators we put in 30 years ago. It’s not the same as the wood stove however.

Our children are at work now, one overseeing a big machine shop, the eldest managing sound at the large church campus about 65 miles away. Indeed, the blessings from our lord have fallen upon our children and His face has also fallen upon them and blessed them and us with his mighty hand and outstretched arm. I thank Jesus and the Father and there is the blessing to thank Him for and often, speechless with joy I cry. He said that he collects every tear from joy or sorrow in His bottle. Those tears are an for annointing with the gladness that passes all understanding. It’s pretty good, Jack Gator

with much thanks to Steph Mcleod and Celtic worship

Phase 10 and a Quilt

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It seems an eternal loss. She is gone and yet, life goes on. Not as usual, but as best as we can.Is that it? We live a short time and leave behind a few memorable items and memories.

Sometimes there is a ruckus about who gets the pristine car and the freezer full of years old meat from the VFW meat auctions.

An accord is reached among we survivors, we get the quilts along with some fat quarters and a lot of supplies and long arm sewing machine. We get the freezer and the old meat to boot. Satisfying. Even the big lawn tractor comes with along with the card games. Good stuff.

Stuff, that’s it. But really it is the all important fecundity of her life. Pleasing and joyful in spite of a spouse that did not comprehend her. Laughter, joy given and understood. Gifts of smiles and strength that taught us many things about life and living well. Most lingering is her laugh and her eyes of understanding things we did not. A glimpse when we sat around the kitchen table and played card games. Phase ten was a favorite and she won a lot.

There were always a few Jokes from the chuckling husband about deuces wild. She was a book of knowledge we do not even know we needed until now the book is opened from time to time. Eternally loved by us and the One who made her. She was and is treasure to the Lord.

What did Jesus’ life amount to according to our standards? He lived a short life and never left His country. He had no possessions to leave behind and his clothes were taken by an unknown man. Mostly not understood when he spoke and had only a double handful of faithful friends. Only His mother and her friend came to him as he was being executed by the government. A ‘nobody’ that left behind the greatest treasure to us. That word again, fecundity which means ‘fruit produced.’ Like a tree or garden giving forth fruit and food. A field of grain perhaps. Wisdom passed through generations will do.

The fruit of grandmas laughter and joy was given to us. The fruit of the spirit and the bread of life was given as our inheritance by Jesus. He left us with the joy of a life well lived and a way to live forever with him. A last will and testament for everyone that will read it and understand what it means. Most everyone has a copy of that testament, you can even find one in hotels! It’s a big document and has two parts but both of them clearly state the writer of that document. Every word. Much beauty in that Word (another name for Jesus by the way) he said to “love God with all your strength and spirit and love your neighbor the same way” All of that sums it up.

Quite a deal, the best inheritance of all time. Of course, there are those who sit in their swamps and croak that they are the only ones worthy and fit to get these gifts. That is sad. We have the tendency to contest the will. We get the inheritance if we listen to the spirit of God he left us with and answer back with acquiescent joy. Simple will really, love him and love others as He did us. Mother Teresa said it well: “If you spend one hour a day in contemplative prayer and never do what you know is wrong. You will be alright.” All our brothers and sisters are beloved as we are. Leaving time behind and entering eternity with the father of we prodigals we will know It is better than anyone said.

Eternity, it is calling us away from this short and mostly difficult life to the place of joy. After all, if God made us with souls and the ability to love him before we were born, then we still be His beloved after we die. It’s pretty good, Jack Gator.

With many thanks to Michelle O’Rourke and Henri Nouwen

What we Cannot Do and What we must Do.

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A list perhaps of all the incredible things we can do. It has built a veritable tower of our civilization. Progress or regress, the things we take for granted is enormous.

For thousands of years, wisdom has been garnered and if we take the time, we can find some of this. Of course, reading is an acquired skill set along with the desire to do so. Not common for many of us. There are already tasks of reading that we must do and we are not inclined to do more.

“Where’s the manual for the vacuum cleaner?” Does anyone really have that much organizational skill to put their hand on that information quickly? Some do. I have a folder on my desktop that says ‘manuals for various devices’ Some how. the one manual I really need to find doesn’t seem to be in there. A search ensues. A search for knowledge and wisdom to apply it

A recent search I did not know I was doing, revealed a quote from a much larger collection of books. “Without God we cannot, Without us, He will not” A.

I must have read that quote ten times, to understand what it said. Still reading it, I love it.

There are a lot of people that I have met lately that are consumed with grief. They approach me and tell me of those things. I am good at listening, (finally after decades of talking about myself and thinking I was relational.)

I have learned not to try and ‘fix’ a person grieving. It is good to grieve and it never helps to immediately tell your story and worse yet, tell them platitudes of relief coming their way if they just listen to our advice. After all, didn’t we survive all the deaths from close friends and family? Not really. It’s still there, deep inside our hearts, locked with our emotional Swiss army knife. You know the one. The death of a thousand cuts.

I also have learned, very recently, that I must unlock my heart and actually grieve. It’s good for me, it’s also what we all must do. There were professional wailers at funerals long ago. They got paid to make a lot of noise and ‘comfort’ the ones footing the bill. That alone was grievous in itself. I listen now and feel others grief, tears come sometimes and it is good and right. It’s called compassion which translated means to suffer with. Jesus wept. There’s never been a Son like this before.

The loss of our daughter before she was born is still hard for us. At a big family dinner I was nodding off on the living room couch and had a vision of a young girl running into my arms. Stunning as I remember her every detail. God’s still voice told me, “It’s all right, It’s Greta your daughter and she is with me” That is the kind of comfort that we need. We ache for those words with that mighty and gentle assurance. It has been a great gift and I didn’t have to look for it. It just came. Surrender to the lover of our souls and he will hold you close and never let go.

“To teach is a necessity, to please is a sweetness. To persuade is victory” A. It’s pretty good. Jack

A. Augustine Fifth century AD

Bullfighter

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

A saying I attribute to Sitting Bull. He spoke of the two wolves inside of us as well. I wondered about this wisdom this morning and ran across more wisdom from Michelle O’Rourke. The little bulls are the battle we have with the little deaths we all must experience in our lives.

The loss’ of physical strength or stability in using what I have left. The bull of my early times swinging spike malls and 16 pound sledge hammers. I agonize over that when I should just join that death with me being the matador and the bull, joined with that blade.

We all have them, those little bulls we embrace. Perhaps the world inside that speaks failure and personal weakness or loss as the source. To rise up from the sand and brandish the blade and put that snorting thought to death. There are also the worlds many wolves that linger, just beyond the glow of our inner campfire. Eyes lit and eager to pounce upon our sense of worth and trample the fire.

That indeed is the leader of the wolf pack, sense of worth destroyer. I think I am worthless because of changes that come to us all. Physical strength, provision fears. What will become of me when those around me see this?

We indeed do change as we approach death. In old age or in disease or accident. All of us.

My favorite quote from Woody Allen: “I am not afraid of death, I just don’t want to be there when it happens” Why do I cling so hard to my little bulls when I know they must die with me as everyone knows. Playing games within that perhaps Jesus will return and I will just be caught up with Him. Maybe I am akin to Enoch and will just ‘leave’ (after a long life) or perhaps Elijah who ascends in a flamed out custom chariot with really fancy custom wheels.

Better to listen to our God with his Mighty hand and outstretched arm that delivers time after time and tells me how much He loves me and will never leave me. Loves me the way only He does.

Many times He has shown me my true worth. Small things that are even bigger than the wolves that whisper and howl. He says, “Go here and talk to someone I will show to you” A purpose and all I have got within me. The reason I have had things happen that I cannot explain as excellent and good. My life unfolding with a mystery of loss and gain. Not embracing my mind and the abilities that I have been given as my very own brilliance and creation.

Indeed, the blade must go deep and true to put to death all those thoughts of self importance.

Listen to the creator of all things brilliant. He will give you all the encouragement and worth you ever have needed. He will turn your losses, your grief, and sadness into joy as you dance in the light of His light. Sit at His campfire and the wolfs of the world will not dare approach. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

ANECHONIC

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Absolute silence. A place where you can hear the blood circulating in your body, not just your heartbeat but flowing. No sound reflection, no outside sound nor vibration. Nothing. An anechonic chamber that does not reflect or transmit sound. No echo when you clap your hands or pop a balloon.

After about an hour, hallucinations begin in the dark and your mind begins to hear and see things that supposedly, are not there. How do we know this? The world’s record is around an hour and a half to be in there. Try one sometime and let me know how long you lasted.

How much of our life is in silence? None of it really. I remember sounds from my childhood that still move me. I hear melodies after they have ceased. Several repetitions of my son’s alarm clock when I am up ahead of him. “Is it still playing those few staffs? No” Why do I hear them?

Even the washer and dryer which sing ten note songs. Silent in the house as I am in the kitchen at 4 am. I hear them several times, clearly and I know it is not playing. It only does it once when it’s done.

The desert fathers in Egypt in the first and second centuries knew silence. Pretty quiet then. The whisper of wind. What did they hear? Something we do not hear well, if at all. Right now I hear my tinnitus and the wind of the humidifier. The clatter of my keyboard and the slight rustle of a paper bag with a cat in it. Noisy.

I remember when I was living in the big city of Minneapolis and the roar of the freeways nearby could be heard 24/7. I got used to it and then I moved to Northwest Wisconsin. I visited the old west bank neighborhood and wondered what the noise was. Sounded like an amp on with no input, just white noise from a big 15 inch JBL and a crossover with an EV horn.

I often wonder at the small amount of wisdom I been blessed to read about Father Anthony, one of the more well known desert fathers. Also the Maharishi of the Himalaya’s, these were some of the early ones who heard whispers from our creator. He is often been described as speaking in a still, small voice. I know this to be true from a few precious experiences.

“Silence is Golden” Why? Sounds like it’s worth a lot! Scarcity always drives prices up. “Hold your tongue”, awkward thing but we get the idea. Try to listen. There is a voice crying in the wilderness and it is crying ‘Holy, Holy, Holy’ I will have to do more of that perhaps! Instead of chattering on and on about me, I could just listen and find out who I am and why I am here. Were the desert fathers and mothers bored? I don’t know, I wasn’t there.

I get bored when there is no one to hear me dazzle them with acquired wisdom. I usually don’t acquire it the hard way, I read and repeat, and write and give credit where credit is due. I am usually just a wise guy but ‘I got better!’ those who know me know what I am referring to with those three words. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Jury Rigged

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Another word that means different things but is spelled the same is called a homonym. The rigged jury is familiar to most of us. Money or clever selections can rig a jury.

The other rigged is used also as Jerry Rigged which is an old nautical term. A quick fix with material on hand, usually cheaper and somewhat functional. Actuating controls for engines is common. Why replace a broken choke cable and dash knob with an expensive part when mechanics wire wrapped around a small bolt will do! A few classy variations like a rubber grommet in the dash or some spiral wire wrap helps the illusion of good repair. It works.

There is another, less used speaking of our lives that uses this term of patchwork or worse.

There is a traumatic event recent or past that lingers in our spirit. I have several of those and usually it is me that the event happened to. So, I just Jerry rig the memory with small platitudes that make it more tolerable. Making excuses for those things then push them back to a place not quite so dark. ‘Gramps was always crabby and that’s why he said that or did that’ Very forgiving and a good way to turn the darkness into someone else’s. Still, the sting remains.

Realizing that everything that has happened is why I am the way I am and that is the grace of God operating in my life.

“ As long as we stay resentful about things we wish had not happened, about relationships that we wished had turned out differently, mistakes we wish we had not made, part of our heart remains isolated, incapable of bearing fruit in the new life ahead of us. It is a way we hold part of us apart from God” A.

We jury rig our lives with fantasies, self condemnation and internal rage at our life. Embrace God’s vision and grace for our life and see what has been given to us. We grow when we see the way we have grown and indeed, become wounded healers for those we meet.

A. Henri Nouwen ‘Turn my mourning into dancing’

Out of the Mouth of Babes

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

As soon as they begin to talk, children are truth talkers They do not have to be told to speak truthfully and are usually quite bold to do so. Why? Good question.

I have experienced it in surprising, insulting and often, wondrous ways. “Your teeth are yellow”

wow, your right little guy. This led to an odd situation afterwards when my two front teeth fell out on my dinner plate while eating sweet corn on the cob. Odd clink sound.

I got some really nice implants that appear normal in size and color. White. The two front teeth are the first thing you look at in a smile. My other teeth are not bad, a little crooked on a lower incisor and they are pretty white with a little scraping. So I smile with my front teeth as most of us do with a slight smile. I don’t eat corn on the cob anymore. Being a mechanic I realized the horizontal stress’ and I don’t need to pull down as though I am debarking piece of firewood.

(Side note: I do debark some of our firewood with a small hatchet because the bark and the cambric layer causes ‘clinkers’ in the wood stove. (Minerals pulled up from the soil kind of thing.)

I have heard another child tell someone without malice, “you smell funny” or just “you smell”

Another common truth is “Your fat” How about them apples?

Children are the innocents and examples to us to be direct and speak the truth. Some folks say it’s being blunt. If you are easily offended as I can be, it is shocking and lately, refreshing!

I would take offense at truthful remarks that most times were actually spoken with concern to me. Precious concern that I did not see then as a very good thing. An indication of loving to me.

We do not have to say such things with loudness to be obnoxious ourselves. It might be needed to aim the anti condemnation round with accuracy and fervor in difficult cases. The nearness of the burst may just shoot down and shock the recipient of truth spoken.

Parachuting down and watching years of fear and self condemnation crash and burn can be traumatic which usually leads to freedom as you float into the arms of the best truth talker ever. Jesus. You can find a reference in a very truthful book under ‘Matthew” check it out.

A new friend gave me the inspiration to explain the truth spoken by His youngest child. She simply told him: “Talk to me with your eyes”

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator