Heart Awakening

Bullfighter

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a 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. 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 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 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 can’t 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

Silo

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

On my way down the local 2 lane, I started counting barns and old farms. A way to stay alert besides scanning for deer with my fog lights on for extra vision on the shoulder. I had already noticed most barns had all equipment of a dairy operation, but no lights on for early morning milking, no bulk trucks and a silo cuddled up to the barn. The blue Harvestore silos looked fresh and functional. Most of the rest of them had no caps often the barns were at their service life end.

I remember the past time when I visited a neighbors dairy farm and was asked to shovel silage to the cows. It was either that or start hooking up the Delaval milkers. Some of the farmers showed me how to hand milk. “Just hold her up higher with your closed hand and squeeze gently from the top down.” Splash splash into the stainless bucket. Wow.

Mostly, when I shoveled the silage from the convenient opening in the barn, I liked the smell of it. Almost tasty like a good granola smelled. Rich and nutritious and sweet. I asked a few questions about the ease of loading the wheel barrow in the barn and how silage was made and how did it come out of the opening in the wall. Silos, snugged up to the barn and filled with crops grown during the summers. I didn’t taste the silage.

I saw the cycle of dairy farming that made sense. Some of them even made cheese. The milk house vat was scooped for breakfast coffee or baking. It was good and special to me. Daylight was breaking and after we finished and let the cows out to pasture, it was time for that coffee and pancakes. I felt like I was experiencing farming and did not stick around for the planting, tilling, praying for rain and the harvesting.

Hard work, many hours of it and a connection to the land that was comforting and astonishing for a city transplant. I respected my neighbor and understood his life.

I was a railroad track worker and knew hard work but I was working for someone else for wages and there were only wooden ties, spikes, fish plates and ballast to go around for 8 or 10 hours. A city job with commuting in my old 41 Ford. I miss it in some ways, mostly the wing windows when it was summer. I am sure air conditioning was in the works for cars but expensive as a choice. I was used to sweat and my old farm house had good screen windows too.

Now, fifty years later, I look at that old dairy farm as I drive by and the silo is empty, there are no cows getting muddy at the pond and the house chimney has a little pipe sticking out of it for the propane furnace. There are no lights visible in the small barn windows either.

A gigantic green tractor with all the implements scattered around is warming up and getting ready for work. Field work. There are gravity corn boxes and big corn cribs but no bulk trucks backed up to the barn.

Hundreds of acres of corn and soybean fields surround the old farm and all that vegetation gets trucked to a buyer nearby, usually called a dairy. No cows there either, just huge corn cribs and drive through scales for the trucks filled with glowing kernels of corn.

I feel the world has changed and it isn’t neighbors farming. They are cropping for money and not getting much pay for their labor after buying more land and very expensive equipment. A lot of older people I chat with notice this change in rural life too.

Everyone in the township works hard and some of them move south after they feel their work is done. Good beer and restaurant food and relaxation comes with the cost of leisure. Cruise boats are not Glastron fishing boats at the local lake. Fast food and leisure engenders visits to the clothing big box stores. The patio parties and ocean views do not have neighborhood charm. The good old days are replaced by the sirens call from the Odyssey of Homer.

It’s pretty good, Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

In Retrospect

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

A beautiful October morning that started with windshield scraping and is now showing the glisten of maple leaves in bright sunlight. Drying just for me to gather and spread onto the strawberry plants within our garden.

It is October 16 as I compose this and I decided to sit in the living room sunlight and read a delightful book, A year with C.S. Lewis. It is a gift to me from one of my mentors and good and loved pastor. I read the quotes and entry for today and realized that today is the day that C.S. Lewis’ The lion the witch and the wardrobe was published in 1950.

I was six years old then and had just entered first grade at Loring Grade School about six blocks away from our home in North Minneapolis. My sister, Diana, was in fifth grade and soon to be in Junior high at Patrick Henry School about six blocks away to the east.

A few years have past since then and I have been through the usual life we all experience. Again, in C.S Lewis’ The problem of Pain, there is wisdom that struck me today as encouraging. This book was quoted in my Calendar for today and the assurance of my life unfolded.

“I have seen great beauty of spirit in some who were great sufferers. I have seen men, for the most part, grow better, not worse with advancing years…” 1.

As the sun advanced across the living room floor, I began to see my life once again. Many interesting escapades and many close calls along with poverty, imprisonment and bitter sarcasm resulting from my embracing that pain.

And yet, somewhat recently, I have begun indeed growing better and not filled with fear and hatred of the world and myself included with it. A gentling and calming that surprises my family and other friends. I still keep my wit and humor but it is now tempered with a romance of life that gently pushes the pain aside. I like it and the opportunities to give the little bit of that transforming Grace from our Lord are coming forth. The thrill of action and prayer abounds when the transformation and healing come forth from Him.

There is great hope and Faith growing within me and those are the very gifts of God.

It’s pretty good.. Jack Gator scribe

1. C.S. Lewis The problem of Pain The type writer photo is the one that Jack and Warnie Lewis used

Working Together is an Old Family Tradition

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Photo of a Father and Son teaching at Wood Lake Bible Camp, five miles north of us. [Bjorn and myself}

And they work together. Father and Son, as it has always been throughout time. Agrarian towns scattered over the countryside. Dad on the old A and his son right behind him on the big levers and adjusters for the plow or side mower.

Teamwork with the ages that is still among us. Young Harley, Davids son manufacturing motorcycles and many such business throughout the world. There are good odds that you are one of those Father and Son enterprises.

There is a business that my Son and I work at now. He has the training to be a full time director of media production and I am in training to be his assistant. It’s fast paced and like many jobs I have had, it’s a dance. Whether you are assembling something together, playing ensemble or flying, it’s satisfying and joyful to be working together. It’s perhaps akin to a ballet.

There is a Father and Son who work together that is a perfect example for all of us. They confer together and in every instance of their work, there is always consensus. The Son listens to the wisdom of his father and the work they do is nothing short of a miracle. They also have a third person of the family that is a communicator between them and us. You can use His name too if you like.

You know them, you talk a lot to them and sometimes we get confused as which one we are talking to. Thanks OK, they don’t mind. They have many names and all of them work pretty well. The names most often used are in our instruction manuals we keep near us. I loose the ones for appliances and such but I always have a manual for those three. Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Have a nice talk with them and be sure to pay close attention to the wisdom and guidance they will give you. Listening really helps.

It’s pretty good. Norm the Gator

The Aeolian Harp

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Wind chimes, the delight of the flutter of blown leaves or the sway of a tall tree from a breeze that can be heard. These simple things generate a delight that can be explained that have never been explored in the emotion we feel.

The sudden pleasure and smile within our spirit is not even noticed in some ways. It’s just there. We are mostly unaware of the two forces within and without of us. There is a sudden flash of lighting and the instant thunder that shakes the house as the imprint on our retina starts to fade from the sun hot blaze strike. Nicoli Tesla would stand up clap and cheer every time he heard a bolt of lightning. A miracle all of us have heard of the connection between negative and positive EMF. From clouds that can weigh up to a million pounds!

We can then tremble at the power and fear felt or immediately be amazed in delight at the impossible power in a cloud of water. A thought that brings us to our spirit connection and the calm presence of our familiar lover of our soul.

The wind chimes again come to mind. That storm with the wind and thunder may have played a fast tune on them before they became tangled and perhaps so tangled that they could Knot easily be put right. [pun] Are we then to look about the strings and tubes and give up and toss the whole assembly? Or, take hold of the calm and rightness of beauty in the storm and take it apart lovingly, and bring the chimes back to life.

I have begun to see the connection between emotional storms and the music of the Aeolian harp that responds to the storm and gives us the steady center of our being. Full of sound and fury is the world and ourselves if we don’t listen for the calm and clearing skies within us.

“What if all animated nature be but animated harps diversely framed that tremble into thought, as o’er them sweeps plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze, at once the soul of each, and God of all?” A.

Prayer seemed unnecessary. As I heard the breath of God tell me, once again the old saying of no one really knows where the wind comes from and wither it goes. He was telling me that His breath indeed is the breath inside my lungs I can now use this inward gift to praise Him and live in His presence. An Aeolian harp sings and it’s pretty good. Jack Gator

We must be sensitive to nature’s voice if we are to be truly human. This is the whisper of God’s voice to us. I was at a prayer meeting where we were told to find a place where we could, in isolation, pray. I chose to go outside and sit on a porch. I began to hear wind and watched a very tall tree swaying it’s top.

1. Colerigdge Many thanks to the writing of Carl R. Trueman

Where did that Guitar go?

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Photo of Schmidt Music building in Downtown Minneapolis

It was supposed to be shipped to Naples, Italy. A complex money deal that went through the mail and that precious Martin D-28 I longed for, was put on a ship or airplane and shipped to me at my APO. It went somewhere else, no one ever found it.

Every time we went into Naples, our home port, I inquired at the local post office and of course, through the Navy postal service for that much wanted Brazilain rosewood, dreadnaught guitar. That one was a D-12-28, which guitar players know is a 12 string instrument, now of high value, In the five figure range.

I really wanted it as I was just beginning to learn guitar and had obtained an Italian Echo model which was OK, but I knew from my limited knowledge and observing vinyl record album covers, that Martin instruments predominated the guitars I saw. I wanted what they played, I wanted to play their songs and I really didn’t know what I wanted but I wanted something beautiful and perfect.

It never came. No one had any idea what became of it. The Echo was quickly sold when I went AWOL in Naples. Along with most of my fancy brooks brothers clothing and Rolex watch. My landlord sold them all as I need the money to escape from a man that had bad intentions for me. He too, was a sailor and I gave him up to the CID as the drug dealer on board ship. Those idiot agents put us both in general population in a marine brig up the hill.

A long story ensued, Escape and Capture (on this web site) After being discharged a year later in Newport beach, I returned to my home town and Schmidt Music store in Minneapolis. I inquired about my Martin 12 string Guitar and they also had no idea where it went. They offered to replace it and pointed to the guitars hanging on the wall. There was no 12 stringed ones but there was a six string D28 and it was the same price, $400 (that was 1967) with case. I took it as they had record of my payment. I Still have it. Brazilian Rosewood back and sides. Worth five figures or so now.

It’s been around the block (Motorcycle diary I) {also found in this web page}I have carried it all over the country. I have played it in a lot of clubs and later as a worship leader in a lot of church’s. I Don’t play it much now, usual excuses. It’s been repaired a few times for free due to me being the original owner.

I own and sometimes play other various precious wood instruments. A French Viola made by C.F. Minel from the late 1800’s, A Gibson A model mandolin made in the 20’s during the Lloyd Loahr era. A violin built by my dentist, Oliver Olaffson, when I was a child. That violin is so loud that most of the bands I played it with that all I heard in my left ear was my playing. (In ear monitors had not been invented when I was doing country western music)

Precious musical instruments that I do not get to take with me when it is my time to cross the bar, [old sailing term for coming to port]

I have begun to realize that property, possessions and riches mean nothing compared to my love of Christ and His love for me and His promises of joy and fulfillment in my life. Wanting something beautiful and perfect is the wish of everyone. That perfection above all things is only found by Crossing the bar indeed. The Cross is the gate to our home port. The bar is removed for us and it isn’t a sand bar. The old sailors knew things like that. It’s pretty good, Jack Gator. Scribe

Sweet Georgia Overdrive Band

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It’s a real easy thing to do with music, if you play that is. If you play in front of people. A hushed room, listening to every key change, every high tempo from the kick drum. Listening when the whole outfit stops playing and just sings Capella. Most everyone in the band knows their parts and if the sound engineer knows their stuff, the band knows what everyone else is doing at any one time. Applause if you do it right and stay in key. Play off key, just surround it with friendly melody and no one will ever know the mistake. 1,.

The problem begins when you have a ‘gig’ (music world for job to play) and are really not in the mood, tired and just beating yourself up about the gestalt of performance. It’s a huge step to exclusively change from playing every two bit bar within driving range, and change to playing for a worship group or band. After a short while, the change to Holy music from Holly music seems to be harder, much harder. Holy means touching eternity and it’s pretty good!

There is a fallback when you have to play and would rather not. You put your musical skills on the line and play in Georgia Overdrive. Put everything in neutral and just coast. It sounds good but you know it doesn’t sound like anything. Just making the moves. Waiting for a touch from the numinous Lord, waiting to hear ‘those’ notes.

As the joke goes, “it’s OK if you like music” It’s a subtle and yet extremely powerful touch or kiss that thrills musicians. Sometimes you can tell with an ensemble when someone transcends all the sharts and flaps and begins to really play or sing. Rhythm surprises were a favorite fallback for me. I was nicknamed ‘the rhythm monster’ by a square dance group I played with for years. The changed notes or rhythm,they catch attention and start an interest. It can be compared to a flicker of light at sunset in the clouds.

Focus on an unknown algorithm that begins the solving of the connection to the conductor of the music. You can feel Him listening and watching what the Holy music is saying to Him. His delight in the formula found to draw near is palpable.

It’s more than just performing for the Holy one, Jesus. It starts with performance at the outset. Akin to handling a blueprint and ‘playing’ with it. A musical intonation that isn’t too complicated but intriguing. A few fumbled chord changes and the groove is coming into focus. Do your part you hear, it’s just made for you to play.

Use the blueprint to get to the right foundation of the music building and ‘look around’ at the other musical carpenters. They are waiting for the moment too. Suddenly, unexpectedly, a harmonic sounds and two instruments play it together. Improvisation rather than notes on a page. Primitive and not very professional but fun. It’s easier to play jazz if you don’t worry about it. Just play what shows up in your spirit and be delighted when it gets picked up.

Noted gypsy guitar player a generation or so ago, Django Rheinhart was asked what key he wanted to play in. He responded. “Key? What is Key?” Gifted beyond comprehension when he played with Stephan Grapelli on violin. If you can get a vinyl recording of these sessions, hang on to it. It’s worth a bundle. Vinyl, it’s the closest thing to actually being there.

Play well and play with heart and spirit giving you the rhythm and scale of things., It’s pretty good.

Norm / Jack

1. With thanks to Bill Hinkley and Judy Larsen

Neither Despair Nor Optimism

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Upon reading the title of this column, it can be confusing. The description of despair is more or less easy to understand. When confronted with the world we are now in, it seems rather hopeless and we lament there is really nothing we can do about it.

Optimism counters that hopeless feeling that there is a relief on the horizon. Believing perhaps in a coming regime change there will be change that is beneficial to us. The banner of someone that promises what we long for, whatever our personal belief is in a better world. For us.

The despair of course knowing that this will not happen and that things will not go as we expect. Optimism takes a hold and we feel that if we just sit tight, everything will work out OK.

Much akin to Pollyanna thoughts. Don’t worry, be happy as a popular song we have heard.

Nothing to be done, or it will be alright in the end. I find it an odd conundrum as both attitudes are in conflict with the faith I embrace. Most certainly, my life and the life of my family is pretty good as my scribe, the gator always says. It is. We have a lovely place to live and many good friends and the ability to move about and enjoy the fruits of our labor. Literally as the garden and labor provides food and repair of things that do break down.

We know, all the way back to the Diache and the Westminister confession, that there is a real solution and a way to deal with our world. A fallen world and one with joy and sorrow. Oppression and helpfulness. A world that has been promised by our Creator that is not our home but a place of formation and life. Not prosperity nor futility experienced with either optimism nor despair but with the answer for everything. Hope.

Hope indeed that can be expressed by us with belief that there is indeed a home for us that will be fulfilling and joyful. All life ends in death and yet the promise we sing in our faith filled rooms with our brothers and sisters is the one answer. Faith.

Through the ages before us, our shinning light has been the incarnation of faith itself. The impossible visit by the Creator of everything that was and will be. He told us centuries ago that our world would indeed be filled with both sorrow and joy. He experienced both things when, hard to believe, impossible for some, He walked among us and taught again and again those things. Do not despair and wallow in fear, do not sit tight and think it will all work out.

Walk as I walk He said, follow me to true life and become children of God. This is the answer to all things. Hope which is Grace which leads to Faith, the very gift of God. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator scribe.

with thanks to Carl R. Truman ‘Strange new world‘

The Difference Between Happiness and Joy

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

At the outset of these two words, there isn’t all that much difference between the two. Jumping for joy or have a happy birthday. There is a vast difference however.

I was not happy when I was in Boot camp but oddly enough, there was a bit of joy that lingers many decades later. I look upon a photo in our gallery which is on a wall next to the staircase going up to the spare room (not the one in Narnia) We are all smiling for the camera, holding our class flags and in our dress blues. We sang for graduations of all the recruits and every Sunday for the church services for the officers and their families. It was pretty good duty. Our choir director was from the Mormon choir and he was very strict and knew his stuff.

I remember most of the names, their voices and where some of them wound up after we moved on to our new duty stations. I wound up in teaching electronics and Morse code at the A school in San Diego. It was pretty good duty and then I got stationed overseas with Comservron Six in the Med. We had formed what was permanent and this is Joy. It is the result of knowing someone beside you is willing as you are to go the limit to death. Love for your neighbor, you know the chapter and verse, it’s in the book of John.

That’s me, third from the left, front row. Fifth class Education Petty officer

It has been written about many times, movies made and statues dedicated to that bond. It is the reason for heroism experienced. It is the essential instruction given us by our Creator. Love one another as I have loved you.

I tried to explain this to the people I know and love in an informal and pleasant Bible study. Very erudite and educated men and all very respectful and delightfully so. We have laughs and we have the stunning moments when truth comes forth from words read and spoken. Our leader reminds me of one of the men in that photograph. We nicknamed him “Father Flanagan” he went on to the Pensacola air station to be a carrier pilot. I remember his voice as we all sang together in the Naval Bluejackets Choir. I still tear up when I hear for those in peril on the Sea

Something happened to all of us and hopefully, has happened to you as well. It was easier for us as it was the 1960’s and the draft caught all young men. It was my first lesson in the joy that lasts…forever. Happiness is self centered mostly and joy expands out from us as radiant beams of smiles and real truth. Truth centered within and will never be destroyed by anything. Life nor death nor angels and powers, present things or things in the future can separate us from His strong love.

You know who He is, everyone does. The giver of truth and creator of true Joy. Eternal Joy that is written on our heart. I don’t go to church for happiness, I go for the beauty of Joy and the confidence of being embraced by the one who made me. Just for now, just for this time to write it down and tell someone that it is not easy and many times hard to embrace this world.

No guarantees of happiness but guarantees of the revelation and reason we are here. To love one another as He has loved us. Before time began He knew me and treasures me. And you. This is Joy whatever may come. Happiness can be found in all the usual places, but Joy can only be found in the romance of God. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator scribe extraordinaire.

I am to Love my Neighbor

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

There it is, right in the basic and truthful words of the most truthful man that ever lived and walked among us. Seems like a good idea. At least peace would reign and I would not be so concerned about our mutual fence line, or the other one a bit further away. After all, I don’t want all the land there is! I just desire the land next to mine.

It is easy to circumvent in my mind, after all the words are not ‘Love your next door neighbor’ The second part seems pretty simple, ….As you love yourself. Or it’s companion we use a lot; Hate the sin, but love the sinner.

After all, it is the modus operandi of my life. (That phrase usually refers to a pattern or method suggesting the work of a criminal.) After all, when I do something foolish or worse, that which is called sin, I usually hate that behavior. But, I still go on doing that sort of thing and go on loving myself! Sometimes we hate ourselves, I have said that more than once but eventually come around and realize what a really lovable person I am. I just slip up now and then. Forgive the sin but love the sinner. Does that apply to us? Of course!

How to do this thing, extending my self love outward to another? Recognizing suddenly, over and over again that the people in front of me, behind me, all around me are to be loved as they are by our creator. It can be done, I have done it more often than I thought possible. Sometimes several times a day! I need a storehouse of that sort of love to call upon to do this. Always.

The only way to do this is to fix my eyes and mind and spirit upon everything that is beautiful, right and true. The only way for me to do this is worship the living God Jesus who tells me again how to do this. The way he loves me, the way I love myself. More often now, when I find my mind and my eyes and ears fixed on His words, actions, and His incredible life, then I feel Him near. He is always there, of course. When I feel Him, I feel His breath upon me.

Worship music can help do this for me. Sometimes I forget the many times I worshiped with my beloved team. There were times that were overwhelming with God’s presence shining His face upon us. Suddenly the only response was tears on my instruments. The stains of salt water are still there. Colors of remembrance of timeless love given and felt. The whole team felt it when it happened. That is the reason we see enraptured listeners gesturing, raising hands and weeping. I love it when I see them but know the reasons and intensity that are sweeping through their very being.

Over the internet, in person, even helping produce a visual and audio ‘performance’ of a worship team. When I am awake, then I know when I see things and I hear things in that room. It’s glory and beauty inexplicable and eternal. Astonishingly, things that exist forever. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe