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Wednesday, June 28, 2017

A Return to Love

A (clickable) repost from
Sunday, May 19, 2013:

A Brief Sermon On Love

It is Sunday and I have begun with a doodle, a local monocular  tradition. When our valley is in a state of barometric flux, some of us wake up and celebrate with migraines. It is best to keep one eye closed --the hurty one-- which induces clumsiness. Not clumsy to the degree recorded by Ecclesiastes [(10:18), "He that diggeth a pit shall fall into it."] but still pretty clumsy, so movement is kept to a minimum and no pit-digging for sure.

I only ventured out to the pumphouse for a headache pill and came right back. Forgot and carried the pumphouse padlock in with me. There it is up there, and a doodle I drew of it. I drew a human between them and that's when it became a sermon, a sermon about love. We'll start in the past, back when I had two eyes open and radios contained little orchestras.

The little orchestras played  love songs mostly. I thought I was in love once or twice but my hat had only caught fire --as often happens. Then one has a chance encounter. One sits at a table somewhere opposite a stranger, and since decorum dictated --at the time-- strangers remain even stranger, a strange thing happens. First, one's past and present tenses are confounded.  Then one notices the other's eyes and decides there is something really quite elegant about them. Then one falls in love.

Oh my. It's what, 1968? The thoughts: "Why now?  At a time when our best and most progressive leaders are shot dead at their podiums, when theocon regressionists and international belligerents consider God their quaint subordinate, when I could be drafted or jailed, when there is so much to do, why now? Why not ten years from now, five even? Why now?"

Let us turn to Acts 9:5-6 - "...it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks."  Because there are a lot of them out there, and one only has two feet,  we must rely upon the transcendent power of love. Love doesn't care what's going on. It hits when it hits, incapable of putting itself off no matter how inconvenient it is. It, I mean Norma, finds one doodling the pumphouse lock and asks, "How's your barometer-head?" And, miraculously, my eyes are opened.

25 comments:

  1. Love that, even when you are blinded by love, Norma can open your eyes. And heart.

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    1. Indeed, she is a reliable stabilizer when my powers are under a cloud.

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  2. A post well-worth repeating. No way I was going to wander my way back to 2013 and find this gem.

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    1. Thanks Geezer, sometimes it's fun to go back and see what I posted when I was a boy of 63.

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  3. Love happens when we need it...not a minute sooner and, thankfully, not a minute later. The person, cat, dog, bird, house intended for us to love appears just at the right time....sometimes after a few misunderstood messages from the universe but that's our own fault. Hope your barometer head clears up before you tumble into any pits.

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    1. I have a book of Mevlana Rumi's poems and have always admired how he considered the universe his "beloved companion".

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  4. You have the most interesting thoughts. Your pumphouse must be a trigger.

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    1. Kind Emma, yes pumphouse is a great place to think and to lock up medicines, tools, cigars and other necessities away from grandchildren.

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  5. I echo EC and The Geezers both.

    What a wonderful way to tell your love story.

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    1. O_Jenny, love stories are great favorites, especially when we are in them.

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  6. Also, I've yet to have my hat catch on fire. I must be doing something wrong.

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    1. Must admit that turn of phrase is a rare exaggeration on my part. The hat was only smoldering.

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  7. Thank you for the reprise. It is a beautiful and wonderful post and certainly timeless. Your doodles are lovely art.

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    1. My pleasure, Tom. Doodles are a way of thinking about things --more compulsive than lovely. Thanks.

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  8. I'm happy you have Norma. For you.
    Reading this post though, made me feel....'where are we, what have we done....where have we gone, what can we say about our progress'?
    We've gone effing nowhere, Geo. Much as you (and I) would like to put a positive spin on it, we've gone effing nowhere. Backwards even. I don't know what to say about that, except I hope that my oldest, youngest and the Adorable One will somehow fix it. We've fucked up.
    Sorry for the negative take on it all, maybe it's the thunderstorm.

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    1. Could be the thunderstorm, dear Mike, but I too realized --while tweaking the 2013 post-- I was more optimistic back then. A different time, a different,hopeful national mood --but then I thought of my kids and grandkids, as you have, and felt something more solid than hope --trust. I trust them to maintain rational, humanistic, compassionate, positive postures toward existence --even beyond themselves-- and make it general. We didn't fuck that up, Mike. I trust them to choose futures that best include them. I can't look at these impressive new generations, their conscientious activism (or Adorable One's smile) and doubt they will "fix it" again and again until it stays fixed.

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  9. Love is a funny thing; it hits us suddenly, and if we are lucky, it stays forever. You and Norma have it all locked up and that is a beautiful thing to read.

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    1. Lovely Arleen, you're right. Love is a funny thing --sometimes I have to go outside to calm down-- and I have been fortunate, as I trust you have been and will always be.

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    1. Thank you, Ana. You encourage me!

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  11. Dear Louise, I think this is the repost that accidentally sent you back in time. I love your comment and reprint it here. Fundy Blue has left a new comment on your post "A Brief Sermon On Love":
    A beautiful story of love, Geo! It strikes at the most unexpected and inconvenient times. It can royally screw up your plans and goals and shoot you off somewhere where you never dreamed of going. And sometimes, sadly, it doesn't strike the object of your love. So you go through several times of smoldering hats or wounded heart, and then suddenly the right one is there. I don't know where I stumbled across this quote, or who said it, but it hit me hard, hard enough that I've copied it into my calendar the past few years. Because, after all the false starts and heartaches, Terry was the right one. "Someday someone will walk into your life and make you realize why it never worked with someone else. My greatest friend, my greatest joy, it was you." Life is good!



    Posted by Fundy Blue to Trainride Of The Enigmas at July 1, 2017 at 8:18 PM

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    1. Thanks, Louise. Happy Fourtha Weekend and Canada Day too.

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    2. Thanks for all your kind and thoughtful replies, Geo! They brightened my Sunday morning. Terry and I are looking forward to a BBQ with friends this afternoon, so I'm busy baking goodies while I watch the Sunday morning talk shows. I hope that you, Norma, and the rest of your family have a great Fourth!

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  12. Really enjoyed this post. My daughter would enjoy this. She is in love at the moment, and it was definitely NOT on her schedule for this year.

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    1. Thank you, Lori --and to your daughter (and to you!), I wish happiness.

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