Quotes of Renown

Authors of beauty and Truth

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

Vägmärken

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

‘Markings’ This was the title of a book of notes. It was written by a very noted man from Sweden. Diplomat, ambassador, acquaintance of Presidents, kings and prime ministers. At his unfortunate early demise, he was Secretary General of the United Nations.

Dag Hammarskjöld from Stockholm Sweden. He was an avid mountain climber, very good at it and he would leave trail markers at certain ascent areas to remind him and other climbers. Usually a pile of rocks. Alike the rocks piled by the Jordan by Joshua. A mark and memory.

The rocks that Dag left not only guided him on descent, but also guided and reassured climbers on their way. ‘This way is doable, this is the right way, I remember for you, the correct route.

He was a man of deep faith and in this book was excellent advice for all of us. For us to unite in one life (via activa via comtemplativa) Calling and Vocation. He was bridging the chasm between the world of devotion and the world of work.

That book has astonishing knowledge to me. Recently I wrote a column titled Vocation. It’s in the archives, I used the Latin word Vocare to denote our job that results from the calling the Lord whispers over and over to us. When I listened to Him, I realized He was calling me to use words of devotion wherever I found my work.

For instance, someone that is called to protect and serve having a vocation of a policeman. His contemplative life joined with his ‘job’ I have never met an officer that did not have the base of him based on anything else. We have met some that didn’t and one can see the difference and the frustration. Same for us, all of us. “Why did I leave that repair job that paid well and find my self playing worship music for half the pay?” Things like that.

Yet, it was relaxing, being with a worship team and the presence of the Lord massaging my spirit. It was hard to rehearse and be in the ‘practice room’. The manual labor helped my changing strings and lugging that case around (or cases)

The obedience to our calling is the most important decision we make. The vocation falls in place. You will know where you are being led, it’s watching and listening to Him who knows all things about you and has made you just for the place you are being led to.

“The truth is of course that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one’s real life—the life God is sending one day by day; What one calls one’s ‘real life’ is a phantom of one’s own imagination. 1.

Wisdom from beloved writers and men of faith. It’s always pretty good. Jack Gator

1. C. S. Lewis
They Stand Together. The letters of C.S. Lewis to to Arthur Greeves

Burdens

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A very old story from the Desert Fathers describes a priest from Armenia , Ethymius the Great who lived to be 95 and died in 373 A.D. He was known to make baskets and supported the poor.

As he went to the market to sell some small articles (perhaps baskets he wove) he met a crippled man on the roadside. He was asked a favor by this man to carry him to town and he proceeded to sell his baskets after he set the man down. He sold everything and each time he returned to the crippled man, the man asked him how much money he had acquired and then asked him to buy him a cake and other things each time. He then asked this priest for another favor, “carry me back to where you found me” He did so and then the man told him “You are filled with Divine blessings, in Heaven and Earth” Lifting his eyes, Ethyminus did not see the man but an Angel of the Lord.

This story stuns me with the truth of carrying one another’s burdens. Instead of just saying “gosh, that’s too bad” and ending a conversation, there is much more to this carrying. How many times I have ignored what immediately fills my spirit and mind and moved on. Once in a while, I am reminded by that still, small voice we all know to stay or return and listen. Listening is the key to it all. After all, if a man in his late 80’s can carry a man to market, I can at the very least listen!

I must overcome my eagerness to get to the next assignment I have in my mind. Get those hose clamps and then stop to purchase orange juice, a small pie and some English cucumbers for supper along with other ingredients. “Gosh, that sounds bad for you, I gotta run, I’ll see you later” Or usually never again if that person is a stranger to you. Sound familiar?

Think carefully on the book of Galatians where it says “carry one another’s burdens” How is this done? Just like crossing a set of railroad tracks! Stop, look and listen. Stop and look at them, Listen to their stories. See what immediately comes to mind to help carry their burden, even if it isn’t convenient to your time, thought or wallet. They are just as valuable as you are. Precious created people just as you are. They are right were they are supposed to be as are you. The train rushes by and you are stopped. It’s as though the train suddenly stopped and the conductor stepped down and waved you over to park your car and climb aboard.

“There is someone on board you need to meet” the conductor says to you.

Maybe the suddenness would prompt you to do so. Maybe. I have been asked three times sometimes by that conductor to come and see and often reluctantly did so.

It’s not immediate to me but it’s good and I’m learning to listen more often and pause for that quiet voice to say something back. Whatever it is. The key is bearing with the life’s troubles that you are faced with every day an whether it is your troubles or anthers, to listen to our creator and follow Him. He knows these things and He knows you, personally. Listen and the decision you make is the freedom you are given to choose the path before you. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator.

Old Fashioned Or Antiques?

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

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

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

Interruption

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

How many interruptions occurred today? I just get started on writing some really inspiring column and my phone bleeps. Perhaps Julie stops by my desk in mid word or thought and asks simple question or mentions a task that I forgot or was important to her?

It happens every day to all of us. I have seen drivers behind me get furious when I interrupt the velocity they were driving or even slow down so they can pass me safely. We are a busy people and focused on the tasks of our lives. Driven to accomplish what we have set before us by ourselves. Pushing that shopping cart at warp speed to get to those sale items or just some orange juice. Fuming at a cart parked right in front of the shelf we need to examine.

A very wise older priest said: “ I complained for too long that my work was constantly being interrupted, until I discovered the my interruptions were my work” A.

Resentment that my life was not going the ‘perfect’ way I had planned hours or minutes before. I have learned that instead of the irritation I can turn these things into concentration or even conversation. The shopper or the clerk ‘facing’ a shelf for example. I stop, park my cart out of the way, pretend I am looking elsewhere and glancing at the workers name tag, then address them and ask how things are going. Pretty busy today eh. Or perhaps say: “excuse me, could you direct me to the place where I can find organic beef broth? An interruption for them but not rushed. Quiet and gentle. It works and I learn a little bit about grace and even can ask them as they answer how it’s going today in the store. I learn and once in a while can listen to a slight problem they have, just listen and acknowledge the common lives we lead. Humanity 101.

At home or with friends that stop by (interrupting my precious time at work) I find with listening that what they need done in speaking or asking is an opportunity to give the love and attention I am asked to do. Gently spoken by my best friend and gentle guide, Jesus. He is never interrupted. He teaches me how to live my life and quickly quiets my anxiety with His voice.

The rush and bustle I absorb from the times I live in stops, and helps me realize indeed, this is my work for today. To affirm love and concern to another. To let them know they are important to me and perhaps dismiss apologies from them. “sorry for interrupting you” with a simple “Oh, that’s OK, I was in no rush” something gentle and affirming them that they are more important to me than my agenda. I listen and learn and even affirm. I like it. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator.

A. Henri Nouwen “Spiritual Formation”

The Twins of Our Life

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 2 Comments

It is not as a child that I believe and confess Jesus Christ. My hosanna is born of a furnace of doubt.” ~Fyodor Dostoyevski

It is indeed, Doubt that is essential to the path of faith in Christianity. At first, it seems that doubt is gone, once faith is embraced. But is it? I must confess that I doubt at times in the seemingly impossible promises of eternal life and all that precedes it.

Protection, provision, guidance and comfort. At times it seems my life is not protected nor provided for and the comfort I desire seems as though it is the carot out of my grasp. The guidance is forgotten for a bit and I lapse into some sort of swampy thoughts. It takes the silence to look back on my life when I have been blessed by all the excellent things that I have not even asked for.

Simple things that have been the foundation of the questioning expression on my face. You know that move of your own face. A slight tilt of your head, a slight frown and the wrinkle of the forehead. Looking down a bit and your eyes pulled in along with the frown. Sort of a sad look combined with the look of puzzlement. Trying to understand a missing thing. A lost tool or something said that you didn’t quite hear. Doubt of your ability to understand or grasp reality. Doubt and confusion coupled. That can’t be right. I just saw that object. What did she say? Things akin to doubting your own understanding and not quite trusting your memory of touch, sound, sight and proprioceptive sense of balance. Off kilter in puzzlement.

Perhaps tripping over your own feet and falling to the ground or falling to the depth of your being. Doubt.

In isolation it can be devastating. With the help of someone who loves you, there is a helping hand. Reaching in to pull you up out of your fear. Love abounding to once again, reassure and rescue us from our own self doubt. A rescue that can give faith. “You’ve got this, your OK and I am here beside you, always.

Faith in another one’s words and showing you your own worth. Faith in the words of your rescuer.

This is the path to remove the doubt, the doubt that diminishes and eliminates faith. This path is well known and written about in scripture. Everyone has doubts. I look back when I feel the doubt sleeting into me. I look back on the miracles and to others, impossible communications I have been blessed with. Indeed, the helping hand of our rescuer. Jesus. He has been with me when I did not know who He was. He has whispered words to warn and guide my life to love rather than follow my indifference or even hatred of other people and really, myself.

The only way for me is to silence my mind and listen. A very old desert father in the third century put it perfectly. “Where is your savior? Why don’t you ask Him yourself? He said listen” He doesn’t lie to me and if I really am quiet and listen, He will talk to me and tell me truth about the path of Holiness. That narrow path that anyone can walk. Neither looking left nor right but walking true. Listen and walk true to the spirit of God.

It’s Pretty good. Jack Gator, scribe

Men who cannot be Ignored

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

There have been a few men in history that commanded by their presence and words t hat startled the world and those within their speaking. An example that was written by Ben Johnson of Francis Bacon comes to mind. “The fear of every man that heard him was that he would come to an end” Indeed to have been of that time, to be there, listening “his hearers could not cough nor look aside from him, without loss”

Perhaps we have been in that situation, startled and in the presence of a speaker so captivating, so filled with undeniable truth, that these things would occur to us as well. Billy Graham comes to mind. Standing alone, filling entire stadiums with eloquence and truth that the usual mutter and shuffling was gone from hearing. All within hearing indeed, captivated by one man telling us things we have longed to hear.

Another man, several centuries ago was Cicero of Rome, was similar and heard well. Before him was a man that spoke and wrote of experiences that could barely be understood and continue to this time to be treasured. His experiences and recollections of history cannot be dismissed as mere stories. Thousands of writers confirm what that man wrote and those words must be read and understood by all men. Many efforts have been made to share those words with the world. Even to the point of recording them in languages that have no written language.

Every man with an open heart can read these words and then so moved, read them again and again. This man’s words were written several centuries ago by a man known by most by his first name! He was in the presence of the man that he knew, the man he wrote about. This man, John, was best friends of this man. Beloved actually. The stories he has told stun Norm when he reads them and reveal truth he has ached for all his life. Words that prove that the ache has occurred to many men before him. Cervantes, Defoe, Bunyan and Donne to name just a few of them. Worth the read to understate the beauty that awaits you.

The man that John spoke and then wrote about was the Messiah Jesus who indeed captivated all who heard Him ( what a privilege to have been there for that!) I have attempted to write about these things in my columns and have been chastised and told not to do so. Rather than rant about that, I wrote one more missive complementing my detractors for listening to my words. It was enough to even provoke one them to telling me they admired my boldness and devotion to truth. Still, afraid of offending others, they could not recant. Their loss and the readers of their publications loss.

I suggest to you to read John’s story and his clear recollection of the life and words of Jesus. All the way to the end of the book that contains his and other writers from the beginning to the end of their lives. Many names are used and they all are the names of Jesus. Accurate visions of the times before His birth and His transformation into the most important Son of Man that ever lived, died, and returned to tell us of wonders for our lives to this day.

These stories have been spoken about around our world. The hushed crowds that listened to Billy Graham and Martin Luther King and countless others heard them too. These stories are even found in bedside drawers in hotels throughout the world. It’s the Bible. Venerated by millions and despised by millions. As all men, we are disturbed by these words and we always have a choice to reject them or take them to heart and speak to other men about them. Questions and discussions of that book are encouraged and welcomed. Doubt and fear usually inculcate questions, good questions too. Even the famous writers of old went there. Read them too. “I think, therefore I am… and if I think, why do I think about God? Where does that extraordinary train of thought come to me?” That’s Descartes thoughts. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator