Friends without Barriers

Today there will be an abundance of conversations all throughout the world. Some will be meaningful and have great significance, and others will be filled with triviality and balderdash. Still chatter will occur, and communication will prevail. However, there will be those instances when reserve is employed, and the person who desires to say one thing will say another, and the restraint of the tongue will sometimes be beneficial and other times seek only to hide. That's when true friendship is revealed. That's when one knows if he or she has friends without barriers.

An old manuscript states, “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity” When a person is in “the heat of the battle”, “engaged in the war”, and “where the rubber meets the road” the truest relationships appear, and those who are merely acquaintances and associates manifest themselves. Friends know no barriers, and the revelation of the deepest thoughts and feelings are never impeded for lack of trust. In other words the simplistic “raw” individual will be known, and nothing is hidden from view.

So, how many “friends without barriers” does each reader know? How many people can be trusted with the deepest, darkest thoughts and ideas within? How many times has each reader bore his or her soul in hopes that a “friend without barriers” would appear only to find themselves shoved into a proverbial closet of disregard, unresponsiveness and disassociative labels? Perhaps today should be a day when people seek others to whom they could be a “true friend”, a “friend without barriers” and find themselves confided in when adversity compasses their friend's life.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

When It's All Over

The clicking of the clock hands resonates in the background. With each stroking “tick” another second passes, and the inevitable draws closer. The end of waiting, the end of suffering, the end of moving toward the goal or the end of another era draws closer and closer as time passes by. For some, the end is welcome. For others, grief begins, but without any ability to impede one way or the other the pending deadline approaches, and no one can do anything to stop it. But, when it's over, when the end has come, and the deadline has passed, the question remains, what will the living do?

Beginnings and endings occur all throughout life. The beginning of a race, the end of a race, the beginning of a school year, the end of a school year; the start of a vacation, the end of a vacation; the start of a job and the end of a job. Each of these have their emotional tie that brings a person to either laugh or cry, feel anxiousness or relief, sadness or joy, and sometimes it is noted that the end of a thing is better than the start.

However, when it's all over another chapter begins, another saga starts, and another page in the proverbial life is turned. Each end brings with it a new beginning, and part of the management for the emotions associated with the completion of a relationship, situation or circumstance is to realize that the horizons of one's life not only include sunsets but radiate with the light of the dawning of a new day that carries with it the wisdom of days gone by.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Top Floor Elevators

Over the years comments have been heard that try to describe individuals whom someone has assessed as not being within the “bounds of acceptability”. Sayings like, “He is a few bricks short of a load” or “She was absent the day they handed out brains” or “His elevator doesn't travel to the top floor.” Mean spirited or not those who hear and say such things simply believe that the person with whom they refer doesn't quite meet the standards expected. Buy why not? Why doesn't their “elevator travel to the top floor?” Quite possibly because someone was responsible for leaking their fluid along the way.

Some lives are like elevators which operate on hydraulic fluids, and without the fluid, the elevator operates dysfunctionally or not at all. Perhaps it was a comment, a slam, or a put down when the person was a child. Maybe it was a derogatory term. Maybe the label assigned to them early stuck with them all through the years, and now the person even believes themselves to be that label. Certain spoken words hurt deep and although “sticks and stones” may be a convenient statement, words do leak the very fluid of the soul out of a person's life.

Maybe the next person who is deemed “just a little off” or “not quite altogether there” will cause the onlooker to wonder “who leaked the fluid from their lives?” and rather than comment about the status of which floor their elevator reaches, the assessment will be that this person may need a little fluid for the soul which the observers may readily supply.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Making It One More Day

A young man turned to his fiance' and asked with a shy little face, “Did I make it one more day?” The question was a standing joke between the happy couple that there just might be something he or she would do that would somehow sabotage their entire engagement. They would laugh together and then she would happily reply, “Oh yes, Baby, there is nothing you could do that could ever make any day in our future not one day closer to being with you.” Now, isn't love grand? Isn't it so free-floating and kind? Isn't it wonderful how there can be such a resolve just to make it one...more...day?

Not many who read this entry will be without examples of how the blissful question and answer above turned sour right after the honeymoon, however, wouldn't it be quite the venue if people really lived according to just one more day? Even though plans must be made in advance for some things in life, simply allowing for the adventure of the present day would be compiled into weeks, months, days and years. For example, how many people are really so in love that each day they grow closer and closer together and they do so by making it one more day? The ideal is desirable, and the simplicity of the venture is within the capacity of most.

Perhaps the encouragement for making it one more day will allow some reader to realize that the entire relationship, healing, repair, or position may not be acquired in full in one day's passing, but beginning with today, each day can be one step closer to realizing the goal that is set before and enjoying the relationship that is desired within.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Mail Slots

A little girl walked beside her grandfather as they entered the post office after hours. She watched as her “Papa” walked over to a large wall where there was a small rectangular slot cut into a brass frame. She watched as her grandfather placed letter after letter inside the slot, and the letters disappeared. “Papa” she asked, “Where do the letters go?” The grandfather smiled and said, “Honey, there are large containers on the other side of this wall, and when someone puts a letter inside people gather the letters and send them to whomever they are addressed.” The little girl placed her index finger on the side of her head and began to tap it slightly and said, “But how do you know that the letter will get to them?” “Well,” began the Grandfather, “Most of the time the letters do get where they are supposed to be, but I suppose there are some times when they get lost.” The little girl tapped the side of her head again and said, “Hmm, that's what must happen with Daddy.” With a puzzled look the Grandfather asked his grand-daughter, “What do you mean, honey?” “Every time I send him a note to let him know I love him he never tells me he got it, so it must have got lost in the mail.”

People often put mail in other people's slots. Sometimes it is in the form of a compliment, and other times it is a simple hello. Sometimes there is a certain surprise that is given, and other times the effort is blatantly obvious. Whichever the case, the one who puts the letter in expects that it will get to the intended destination, and unfortunately, many times the recipient never gets the mail. Mail goes in, but nothing comes back. Efforts are tried, but there are no responses, and soon a person decides to never mail again.

So, who's been sending mail lately? Who's expecting a letter? Who's been sending emails, phone calls, text messages and other communications where not a single response is given? Maybe it's time to check the mail, and see if there is anyone who has been putting mail into the slot and getting nothing in return.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Figments of Imagination

Two people are having a conversation. “Did you see it over there? What? That. What's that. That thing. What thing. The thing over there. I know I saw it, didn't you? No, I think you are seeing things. I am not, it was right over there.” And so goes the story of the person who sees things that they would swear they saw that were merely a figment of their imagination.

Ships from outer space, UFOs, apparitions, mysterious appearances and the like are some of those figments that make the average person desire to place the reporting one in a retraining center. They used to say, “Go get the straight jacket, he's lost it.” But today, “Demon, demon, who's got the Demon” seems to be the norm. Figments of imagination are everywhere and constant. Why even television reality shows are manifesting them.

There is a reality here though that should be observed, and that is that figments of the imagination are certainly real. Perceptions of others and manufactured observances seem to be rampant within the minds of this ADD, ADHD world. Could it be that even this writing is nothing more than a figment of the imagination of the writer who is not really here, but is here, unless there has been some sort of castigating apparition who has been punching these keys.

By the way, are the readers also figments too? One may never know but live happily ever after in the imaginative bliss.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Another MRZ CENTRE Outreach Story - The Final Chapter

It began out of the blue, and it seems to be ending out of the blue. The Bibles, the food, the clothing, and the shoes; the literature, and the medical aid, the caring people, and those who work so diligently. What if it was said, “Yes, unless some sort of miracle occurs, today shall be the last MRZ CENTRE Outreach. Today we'll break the news, and today we will help others like never before.” “What if it were told, “Today, might just be the final chapter.”

Sometimes events that occur regularly are managed in such a way that they are taken for granted. Just like loving people in our lives, sometimes the relationship ends simply because of death, a breakup or moving away. Sometimes even the greatest of ideas become obsolete, outdated or unable to be continued, and people have to let them go. Though hand join in hand and strength be fully manifested, sometimes the train is just to heavy to stop, and like a rushing tsunami, the floodgates are too strong to resist. They nonetheless become the final chapter.

However, as a reminder, as each sunset of a ministry occurs it merely prepares for the dawn of a new opportunity in the future. The resistance must be toward forswearing, renouncing and abandoning from within, and the passion must be fed with the excitement that just as one chapter finishes another will begin.

Should this be, could this be, the final chapter. If so, then let the new book begin.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Stomp, Stomp, Clap

The classic rock song sounds like this, “Stomp, stomp, clap. Stomp, stomp, clap. Stomp, stomp, clap. Stomp, stomp, clap.

Buddy you’re a boy make a big noise
Playin’ in the street gonna be a big man some day
You got mud on yo’ face
You big disgrace
Kickin’ your can all over the place

We will we will rock you
We will we will rock you”

And now for those who know this famous song from the group, “Queen”, the music is resonating through their heads. There is something dynamically memorable about such a classic tune, and once a person has listened to it a few times, the cadence never goes away. The beat is natural, and the pattern like the heartbeat. The flow is symbolic, and the cadence is not unlike the pattern of one's daily life. “Stomp, stomp, clap. Stomp, stomp, clap.”

Should one apply this analogy to his or her being, there certainly would be parallels. One step is taken, and another step is required. One applause is gained, and another stomp must follow. The beat must go on, and the deterrents must not impede. Though set-backs occur, one must continue marching. Failed pursuits should become fuel for future ventures, and the cauldron inside must blaze hotter for the next opportunity on the horizon.

Step dear one whose marching has led to impasse. Stomp oh faithful one whose venture has been squashed. March importuned one to the next beat of the drum, and look for the clap from the audience of the one who matters most.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

On Playing Harps

Her tiny frame looked as though the massive bow-like instrument would crush her if it were to tilt to one side or the other. Yet, as she aligned herself in the chair, pulled the string laced harp to her chest and began to strum the notes in whirl-like manner. With each stroke of her fingers, music resonated throughout the open theater, and now the audience was mesmerized, spell-bound and totally consumed by the entrancing sounds that came from her harp. It was more than a musical interlude. It was more than great entertainment. It was the relinquishing of a soul through the notes on the strings, and the calming affect it produced was manifested within the souls of the hearers.

Harp players are a rare and special talent of people who demonstrate abilities that few ever know. They do however become a wonderful example for the manifestation of each person's life. The harpist knows when to strum, stroke, and pluck the notes according to the songs, and the variety of movements of their hands provides either continuity of notes, or ciaos and random clatter. Every day people play a symphony of notes, and sometimes they are flowing, gentle, and calming. Other times they feel like plucking sounds that have them bouncing from one stage to the next. Other times the strumming of each hour is like that of the waterfall flowing from one step to the next. Yes, in essence, each person holds his or her own harp in hand and plays each day according to their own heart's desire.

So, how will the massive instrument be played today? Will there be plucking? Will there be a stroke or two? Will there be provision for the random interruption that often occurs? One thing is for certain, each person holds his or her own harp in hand, and the music that comes from them will either benefit or disadvantage the hearer of the symphony played from each harp.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Rescued From the Fall

The little girl was learning to ride her bicycle for the first time without training wheels. With careful steps and great concern she put herself in position to make the daring move. Her father was beside her, and he gave his encouraging words, “You can do it, honey. Just keep peddling.” The father began to push and the little one weaved from side to side with the father's steady hand holding tightly to the seat of the bike. Just as the father let the little tike go, the wobble increased, the bicycle weaved more and the toddler was destined for a fall. Just in the nick of time, the father ran beside her and grabbed the flailing bicycle. He rescued her from the fall, and she was ready for another attempt.

Life sometimes is like learning to ride a bicycle. Oh, in the early stages like riding with training wheels many do well, but just take the training wheels off and have to manage alone and there is a whole new story. Wobbles come, and the bicycle weaves. Steering becomes difficult and sometimes hitting the ground is an unavoidable part, but with a few attempts, a few falls, maybe even a few bumps and bruises along the way, a person learns to ride. Some have many bruises and scrapes, and others seem to fly carelessly by. Quite possibly the difference is whether there was anyone there to rescue them from their falls.

Look around. There are weaving bicycle riders everywhere, and there are plenty of opportunities for rescue. There are plenty of chances to give a little aid, maybe mend a few bumps or bruises, or notice the scars others have to show the falls from the past. Maybe like the father with the toddler on her bicycle, the hand that is lent will be the one that rescues them from their fall.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Rescued From the Fall

The little girl was learning to ride her bicycle for the first time without training wheels. With careful steps and great concern she put herself in position to make the daring move. Her father was beside her, and he gave his encouraging words, “You can do it, honey. Just keep peddling.” The father began to push and the little one weaved from side to side with the father's steady hand holding tightly to the seat of the bike. Just as the father let the little tike go, the wobble increased, the bicycle weaved more and the toddler was destined for a fall. Just in the nick of time, the father ran beside her and grabbed the flailing bicycle. He rescued her from the fall, and she was ready for another attempt.

Life sometimes is like learning to ride a bicycle. Oh, in the early stages like riding with training wheels many do well, but just take the training wheels off and have to manage alone and there is a whole new story. Wobbles come, and the bicycle weaves. Steering becomes difficult and sometimes hitting the ground is an unavoidable part, but with a few attempts, a few falls, maybe even a few bumps and bruises along the way, a person learns to ride. Some have many bruises and scrapes, and others seem to fly carelessly by. Quite possibly the difference is whether there was anyone there to rescue them from their falls.

Look around. There are weaving bicycle riders everywhere, and there are plenty of opportunities for rescue. There are plenty of chances to give a little aid, maybe mend a few bumps or bruises, or notice the scars others have to show the falls from the past. Maybe like the father with the toddler on her bicycle, the hand that is lent will be the one that rescues them from their fall.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Both

The question was asked, “Would you like peach or blueberry cobbler for dessert?” The answer, “Both”. Another time the person was asked, “Wish sport do you like better, football or baseball?” The answer, “Both.” Isn't it interesting how a person can be given a choice that limits them to one selection or the other? Sometimes it seems that there is “The Great Limiter” out there somewhere that says, “Now, if you like one thing you cannot like another thing the same, otherwise you break the rule. You know what happens when that happens, don't you?” Actually, what does happen if you like both?

Chocolate or Vanilla? Red or Blue? Hot dogs or hamburgers? Chevrolets or Fords? The mountains or the beach? On and on the questions are proposed that one choice must be made, but what if a person says, “I like both.” Seems that the decision to enjoy both allows for greater expansion, larger opportunities, and increased availability. What if chocolate isn't available or if the only ones left are blue? Certainly there would be an advantage to enjoying both in those cases, wouldn't there?

So, what is the favored show, movie or sitcom? What is the best-loved food? Which one is the preferred child, grandchild or great grandchild? When posed in these manners there seems to be only a couple answers, and that answer is “Both” and “All”, but what if the question is related to a one on one relationship like, “Which boyfriend do you like the most? Or does this girl or that girl mean more to you?” Seems to this writer that an exclusive answer might be the safest in those situations, and safe is both good and favorable to the one who walks there.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Hickory Chicory Dock

Most who read this have heard the well known nursery rhyme “Hickory Dickory Dock”, but just in case one has not, it goes like this,

Hickory Dickory Dock

The Mouse ran up the clock

The Clock struck one

The mouse came down

Hickory Dickory Dock

From most of the descriptions, the purpose of this rhyme is to help children with telling time, and the musically enjoyable version of this poem encourages them to be involved. However, who among the readers has ever heard of “Hickory Chicory Dock?” Oh, now Chicory, that's quite another story.

Chicory? What in the world is “Chicory” anyway? This is what “livestrong.com” reports,

“Overview – Chicory, or Cichorium intybus, is a plant that grows in Asia, Europe and North America, and has a history of medicinal uses and properties. Chicory is also known as coffeeweed, which reflects its popularity in coffee,. Chicory is used for cardiovascular, gastrointestinal and sedative purposes. Regardless of medicinal properties, side effects may result.

Appetite and Weight Loss – After starting to take chicory as a supplement, you may notice a drop in your appetite. Specifically, a loss of appetite as well as some weight loss may occur, states Wellness. Com. These side effects are usually are temporary and will subside as the body gets used to the supplement. Should these side effects become worrisome, the speak with your doctor.”

So, after that very verbose and technical explanation, let's break it down to a simple explanation. Since most of the “Fibre bars” have “Chicory” as one of the main ingredients, a person who delves into “Chicory” bars might feel a little gassy, sleepy, and skinnier. So, in other words, the poem might read,

Hickory Chicory Dock

The bar began to mock

Throne came around

The weight went down

Hickory Chicory Dock

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Being Alone

The crowd was extremely loud, and there wasn't a seat left in the stadium. Noise, music, screaming and shouting were all around. People were bumping into one another. People were moving to the side, positioning themselves for better views, and standing so close together that there was hardly room to move. And yet, there were some that were alone.



How is it that a person can be among such a massive amount of people with bodies everywhere, communications all around, and more human presence than a stadium could easily manage and still be alone? It is understandable if a person is abandoned on a deserted island, but to be alone in a crowd seems impossible, doesn't it? Nonetheless, there are those who are alone.



Quite possibly events from the past have encouraged their loneliness. Perhaps persistent hopes that others would accept them have been dashed upon their lives. Maybe there were promises that were not kept or vows that were broken and violated by those they once loved, but whatever the disappointment with events and relationships their state is now loneliness even though a crowd of people are around.



Who reaches out to them, and how shall they be known? Are there any who are looking for them, helping them, and encouraging them to lend a hand in their loneliness? Maybe if everyone were aware that there really are those who are alone even when others are around, the world would truly be a different place to live. Should there be one who is reading these words and fitting the profile, consider this the writer's effort to reach out and say, "I'm with you."



Until tomorrow...Why Say More? 

Able to Leap Tall Buildings

“Faster than a speeding bullet. More powerful than a locomotive. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Look! Up in the sky! It's a bird. It's a plane. It's...” Most who read this blog know the answer, It's Superman, and with that wonderful opening one of the greatest super hero shows would begin. The “Adventures of Superman” was magical, out of this world, and gave hope that there was somewhere out there the one person who could do something that no other person could do. Yet, where is that “Superman” today? Or that “Superwoman” today?

There seems to be enough activity around that could use abilities like these superheros obtain, but where are they? Are they on the sidelines looking on the battles and wondering who will be the next to step in? Has cowardice prevailed and ambivalence shined? Has boldness been replaced by “parrot-ism” and the idea of being faster, more powerful and able been substituted with awkwardness, weakness and inability?

Maybe it's much easier to be on the sidelines and relax into criticism rather than plunge in the game and become a participant rather than a spectator. After all, the players are the ones who are subject to injury, right? Not the spectators. Of course, there are the news analyst who obviously “know it all” and will give you the haughty faces and words to declare it, but there aren't many of them in the game.

No, a person could conclude that it is indeed much easier to just tailgate rather than train. It's more simple to take a seat or grab a pom pom than to rough it out. Observation supersedes participation for any who might consider the fall-out for attempting to leap the tall buildings. And for any who might dare to venture into the core of another human life, absence is safe, and being nonchalant is innocuous, but those who dare become the superheros who are needed today.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Filet is on the Way

The menu called for Filet Mignon with lightly salted baked potato and a garden salad with all the trimmings. Pumpernickel bread would be served in advance with lightly whipped butter, and the beverage of choice was included. Her mouth was watering at just the sound of the delicious meal, and knowing that her order was completed, soon the delicious entree' would arrive, and the taste would be all hers to enjoy.

However, a little time before this gourmet meal was prepared, a waiter came by her table holding a delicious hamburger on a platter in his hand. “Would you like to try some nice hamburger?” the kind waiter asked. “Sure would,” the young woman replied, and though she thought about her order arriving soon, she accepted the offer. Oh, the hamburger tasted okay, but it was no Filet. For the time, it satisfied just a little, but she still knew her order was out there somewhere.

Soon, another waiter came by with a hot dog, of which she also took a bite. Then other waiters came by with a ham sandwich, spam, and other potted meats. One by one the progressively worse meats came the woman's way, and she could tell that she was now getting full. With each bite of each lesser and lesser meats the desire for the Filet was waning, and the thoughts of it being a fulfilling meal were now long gone.

Finally, the head waiter presented her with the gourmet Filet Mignon meal, and the trimmings were just as described. But it was none too appetizing for the woman. Her stomach was full of all the lesser bites, and now there was no desire for the Filet any longer. She looked at the scrumptious meal, pushed her chair away from the table and said to the waiter, “I'm sorry, the meal that you have provided looks lovely, but I have no taste for it any longer,” and with that, she exited the restaurant.

So many settle for hot dogs and potted meat when Filet is on the way. The ones who wait know dining at it's best, and the rest are filled with remnants of memories of what might have been.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Pushing Past the Blank Spot

It happens to the best of them, and there seems to be no way out. A blank paper is before the writer, and he or she must develop some sort of writing or else the mission will not be accomplished, the grade not received or the essay never completed. Still, with all effort exacerbated, nothing comes to the mind to write. No words, no sentences, and certainly not a paragraph are coming to the page. It stares like a catatonic hebephrenic who giggles at the lack of certainty, and there seems to be no way to push past the blank spot.

Lost memory is like this too. Some events are pushed so deeply within the subconscious that recall is impossible, and to remember a single detail is like a mirage. Sometimes hurt, pain, insult or injury shoves memories into places that are more blank than the moment of one's birth. Faces, comments, locality and presence are lost in a blur and nothing more than a blank sheet stands in the place of what was involvement. Callback is mute, and deliverance from impending mutation is as useless as a porous umbrella in the rain.

So what is one to do when such occurs? Is there a cure for the writer's blank? Is there hope for release from the buried past? Indeed. For each, just begin. Begin to write whatever comes to the mind. Soon words appear, then sentences, then paragraphs that can be ordered into essays. Begin to speak whatever is remembered about that time. How old was the participant? Who was living then? Was there a school attended or car driven? Were there certain friends known at that time? Soon as the simple memories are recollected, more memories arrive. One by one the details return, the feelings associate, and the person moves from the perpetual blank spot to a zone where healing begins, and being is realized.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

The Bird Feeder

Once upon at time there was a lonely older woman who looked upon her back porch and desired to watch the birds. Although there were birds quite a distance from her porch, their searching for food, working to find their meals, and playfulness were a delight for her to see. But the more she watched the birds, the more she desired to have them be closer to her so she could see them more clearly. She decided to purchase a bird feeder and put it on her back porch.

She bought the feeder, some decoration, and a little bird seed from the local store, and as quickly as she could she hung the bird feeder on her back porch. She placed a little bird seed inside and soon the birds were coming around. What a delight she had as she watched red birds and blue birds find her small bounty. Their playful activity and enjoyment seemed to be thanking her profusely for her contribution to their living.

But soon, more birds came around, and the bird seed was eaten ever so quickly, so she had to buy more seed. However this only brought more birds, so she thought it best to buy another bird feeder, and surely there would be plenty of supply. But this simply caused even more birds to come around which incidentally began to make a mess of her back porch. She bought one, two, and three extra bird feeders which began to cost more to fill with bird seed than her own food cost her in a week.

The birds began to be demanding and pecked on her windows as if to say, “Get our food out here now!” One by one the birds seemed to demonstrate their disgust with the woman for not providing as they thought she should, and rather than being an enjoyment to watch, the birds became a nuisance. They made messes. Their feathers and refuse were everywhere, and the woman's back window and screen were an absolute mess.

She thought about it for a moment, and realized something fantastic that would solve her problem. She opened her back door, shooed away the birds, and took down her bird feeders. The birds were soon gone, she cleaned up her porch, and she could watch them in her yard. She noticed they were back to searching for their food, working for their meals, and playing like they used to do.

Government, why not learn from the bird feeder story?

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Marionette

Pull this string and his little foot lifts. Pull that string and her little hand moves. Lift the sticks up, and the cute mouth opens, and push them down and the cute mouth closes again. If coordination is available, the puppet can dance, and with a little improvisation an entire show can be put on. Up and down, round and round, trot over here, dance over there, singing, hopping and clap, clap, clap goes the little marionette that makes motions according to the control of the puppet master.

So, who is holding the strings? Who is the one to whom a person attaches themselves? Who has been given control, and is there a way to be detached once a person is, let's say, “strung up?” One supposes that some strings are unavoidable, however are there strings to which a person ties themselves, and if so, are those strings now able to be untied without permanent damage? Is there a certain level of comfort in knowing that the strings are attached, or is there a fear that should the strings be loosed that the puppet might fall to the ground and never move again?

Unless a person takes the time to examine the strings there may never be revelation that they are there? Often the control of others has become so routine that the dance is set, the play goes on, and the movements are expected. The belief that there are other moves that can be made is never realized.

Test the strings. Pluck a string or two. Maybe even cut a string or two. Find out how to be released from one, and watch the little marionette become a real boy, or girl, that moves upon its own.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Undernearth the Tears

The damage has been done, and the wounds are inflicted. Enemies have flown themselves into the lives of the innocent. Tragedy occurs, and those who were once whole and going about their business now have their lives interrupted. They scream. They cry, and tears flow from their faces from the onslaught of a massacre that effects their very being. Rather than be the free-floating spirits that they once were as children, they now must push away their vivacious souls to accommodate infliction, wound and repulse. And yet, underneath these attacks, underneath this devilish mistreatment, underneath the tears there are precious souls.

The events of nine eleven reach into any caring soul's life. The agony of watching and listening to the events of that day penetrate to the core. Each one who observes this disaster places themselves in the airplanes, the buildings, as a firefighter, policeman, office worker and the like as personal testimonies are shared by those who experienced it up close. Their tears, bravery, fear and calling out to loved ones touches all who allow it, and most draw from this experience to relate to their own lives. Underneath the tears of all who have compassion is a desire for justice, retaliation and revenge.

Still there are many who identify with these tragedies personally as their lives have been torpedoed by others in their past. One by one terrorists of the soul have demolished who they were as children, and rather than just “be” they now employ “doing” as a method for acceptance. If the performance is satisfactory, then nothing is said. However should the execution fail to meet expected standards, then a penalty must be applied, and what is lost is the beautiful heart of the innocent beneath the tears.

Nine eleven's occur every day to some, and their tears are outward expressions of that which has been stolen. For many it shall never replaced, because it was the very core of who they are and will never be again.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

911 Call for Love

A woman called her husband and frantically said with tears, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” Another man called his wife and ended his conversation with, “I love you.” One other woman called her father, and tearfully said, “I love you. I love you.” One by one the calls came in to family members from the Twin Towers, and for those who either left messages or spoke to their family, the overriding theme was love.

At the very core of the human existence, beyond any other circumstance or situation, beyond any imminent danger or threat is this passionate need to love and be loved. As each person listens to, sees, and remembers what “9 11” means, there is an underlying compassion for others who are not known but identified with because of an internal need for love. Desperation reveals it, and impending danger exposes it just the way it did for those who knew their end was near.

Since this underlying desperation be so, then there is explanation for why some people do what they do. How is it that a person will find themselves in unhealthy relationships and remain there for years while the basis for the relationships is nothing more than performance? The need for love. Why do others join fraternities, sororities, gangs or social memberships? The need for love. Why do people isolate themselves, become hoarders or social outcasts? The need for love.

Today as each person remembers the events of ten years ago let it be a reminder to think and act upon what a very famous author once wrote, “Love one another.”

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Another MRZ CENTRE Outreach Story - Giving the Towels Away

He noticed the ribbon wrapped towel set in the household items that were to be given away. The new light tan colored bath towels, the single hand towel, and wash towel were like a Christmas present that anyone with a home would desire. They were soft, and looked to be a refreshing treat to anyone who used them, but Tommy wanted to claim them before any other person spotted them. His question to one of the volunteers was, “Are they giving those towels away?” “Oh yes,” responded the volunteer, “Why?” “Cause I want them,” Tommy answered firmly. The truth was that Tommy didn't need them. He had towels, and knowing that the volunteer knew this was a wonderful opportunity for a valuable lesson.

“So, you really want those towels?” the volunteer asked. “Yes I do, “ Tommy repeated and continued, “they would look really good in my house.” “Okay,” said the volunteer, “take those towels, but here is the catch, you have to find someone who needs them and give them away.” “Give them away!” Tommy retorted with unbelief, “But I wanted them for myself.” To which the volunteer answered, “Yes, Tommy, that's what makes this such a great opportunity for you. You really don't give something to someone else unless you really would like to have that item for yourself.” “Give it away, huh?” Tommy asked again while thinking with an incredulous look. “That's right, Tommy. You can only have the towels to give them to someone else.”

Tommy looked at the volunteer, and reluctantly said, “Okay”. He and the volunteer watched the others who were visiting that day. Many had very little, and most were very much in need. Finally Tommy spotted an older feeble woman and said, “I think she is the one.” Tommy took the towel set in hand, looked at it closely one more time, and said, “Ma'am, could you use this towel set?” The elderly lady looked at him with a huge smile on her face and said, “Oh my yes! All of my towels are so bad in my house. Thank you so much. I have needed a new towel for so long.” Tommy smiled at the lady, then smiled at the volunteer, and they walked away from the happy woman together.

“Tommy,” the volunteer questioned, “How did that make you feel?” “Pretty good,” he said with a smile, but I sure did like those towels.” “I know, Tommy,” the volunteer answered, “and now you have given away that which you truly wanted for yourself and have learned a valuable lesson at MRZ.” Tommy smiled and said, “Yes I did. Yes I did.”

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Day Jam

The very important meeting is thirty minutes away, and the participant has only a fifteen minute drive to reach the appointed place. Of course the interstate is the fastest route, so the choice is made to use this thoroughfare and make the easy drive. Then suddenly it happens. The cars are slowing ahead, and the exit is two and one half miles away. Now the cars are near a stand still, and the exit is still over two miles away. What? There has been an accident? Who said there could be an accident? Who decided that this accident would stall the ability to make the meeting? Who decided that there should be an interruption like this? Doesn't everyone know that there is no time for a day jam?

Isn't it interesting how everything can be moving along just fine and then something gets in the way to stall it? Even when a person is reeling through an old story or fond memory, suddenly the memories fade or the incident is unclear and a log jam occurs in the brain. Some students experience a day jam during a test in school. Preparation has been made, study efforts were there, but when the test question is before the student, nothing comes to mind. Other times one person will be in a conversation with another and in an instant, they forget what they were talking about. It happens to the best of people, and those who have been there, know exactly of what the writer conveys.

So, what is one to do when the proverbial “day jam” comes? Well, for starters if the day jam is on the interstate one might take time to listen to music or a teaching. He or she might also meditate, pray, or look for the emergency lane, but since that last offering might incur a ticket, a person might want to think that one through. If the “day jam” comes during a test a person could just try to use what he or she can remember because this will sometimes jar other thoughts, and if the obstruction, “day jam”, is about a memory or old story, just using the parts that are not so fussy will often aid in remember what was lost.

Anyway, there was a lot more the writer of these words had to say about this, but for the life of him he cannot remember anything except that there is a meeting with tests about memories that has something to do with old stories about jamming, so he better be getting on the interstate to be sure to be there on time.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Outrunning the Train

The little boys were on the train tracks on an overpass bridge when suddenly they heard the sound of the train coming. One by one they began running to avoid what they knew was certain disaster, and as quickly as possible, they rallied one another to get to the other side. Unfortunately, one of the boys got his foot stuck between the ties, and now there was imminent impending doom. “Pull your foot out!” one of the free boys shouted. “I can't! It's stuck!” yelled the boy who was trapped. “Lose you shoe!” another boy screamed as he pulled the arm of the youngster to try to free him. “But they're brand new! I can't lose my brand new shoe!” said the trapped boy loudly. “Then just stay in your shoe and be killed by the train!” screamed all the free boys at once.

When the nearing of the train was now seen and not just heard, the boy who was trapped finally said, “That's it! I can get a new shoe,” and he loosened his foot, left his shoe, and ran to safety on the other side. The boys were relieved and realized they avoided a huge tragedy when one of the boys looked back and said, “Hey, what is that sticking out in the tracks.” The boys walked back to the protruding object, and to their surprise, there was the trapped boy's shoe.

The once trapped child pulled out the shoe, put it on his foot, and began walking with his friends again. One of the insistent boys at the time of the trapping said, “Just think, you almost lost your life to keep that shoe when all you had to do is let the train pass .” Sometimes, the train is coming, and there is nothing else to do but get out of its way, and then find that which was supposedly lost is right where it was left behind.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Hair Management

One goes in place, and the other sticks out. Just when that one is pushed back, another one pops up. When this one is combed over, then that one seems to point out. What is the deal with the days when the hair goes haywire? How is it that there are some days that it looks like an expert took care of it, and other days it looks like it has been blown in the wind from a convertible? Why does the crowning glory look more like it has been in a motorcycle helmet one day, and the next day it acts like it just came from the barber or salon? And by the way, who knew that the writer was talking more about running a business than the follicles that are on one's head?

Some days everything runs smoothly without a single glitch, and the very same place the next day makes the manager want to pull his or her hair out? This spills; that breaks; this goes bad; that falls apart; this deal goes through, and that deals falls through okay. It's no wonder some managers just take the hair follicles by the roots and pull them all out. Bald is in for more reasons than style.

So what's a manager to do? One day at a time seems to be the best method. Some days will be hair pullers, and some days the hair will breeze through the wind. Some days will be difficult, and other days will seem so effortless a child could take on the challenge. The key is to continue moving. In other words, just go forward, and let the hair fall where it may.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Wisdom

An old proverbs says, “Wisdom is the principle thing, therefore get wisdom/” What a wonderful challenge this is, and what an encouraging word. Could it be, would it be that wisdom is the principle thing? One would think the ability to know how to use knowledge that is gained is important, however, maybe it's time to visit wisdom again.

When a person hits himself with a hammer, it is wisdom to be more careful not to hit himself again. When the temperature is over one hundred degrees, it is wisdom to put shoes on before one walks on the asphalt. Tightening the lid to the salt shaker is a practice of wisdom before a person shakes the entire contents on to his steak. When bread has grown a fungus on it from sitting in the cabinet too long, it is wisdom not to eat it, or when the ice cream has frost bite all over the top of it, one would use wisdom by throwing it away. These day to day acts of wisdom seem principle, don't they?

Perhaps one should consider wisdom in the way the country is being run? Where is wisdom with the elected officials, makers of the law, economic strategies? Perhaps policies that have been in place should be observed and then wise decisions be made about them? Maybe the effect upon businesses, unemployment, entitlements, and the like could use a little of the principle thing, but then again, why use the principle thing when everything is okay the way it is, right? But then again, old proverbs are archaic and outdated, and people are more sophisticated now with much more knowledge than was available when that statement was made, right?

Here's a little wisdom, when it isn't working the way that it is being done now, what makes anyone think that it will work if a person continues to do the same thing?

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Non-Labor Day

Is there anyone else out there who wonders why some days are named what they are? Like, for instance, “Labor Day”, Why is “Labor Day” called “Labor Day” when it is actually a day when people are supposed to take off from labor? Wouldn't it be better named, “Non-labor Day”. Of course that is if one actually has the day off, because for certain the fast-food restaurants will be laboring today, and there is serious doubt as to whether big named shopping centers and stores will be closed. Who will be operating those establishments, non-laboring laborers?

Maybe there should be some type of legislation offered that changes the name of this day to “Non-labor Day.” Speaking of doubt, there is certainly doubt as to whether they would be working or not. Then there is our great military: Are they “off” on “Labor Day?” Certainly not. How about airlines? Do the planes fly themselves or does air traffic control itself?

Maybe it's law enforcement, firemen or utility management personnel that enjoy the day off on “Labor Day”? Perhaps it's all the husbands that do not have “honey-do” lists that must be completed or wives who do not need to care for their families? For some reason “newscasters” comes to mind, but then again who runs those television stations on “Labor Day” anyway?

No, maybe the day is named appropriately for the simple reason that some people, somewhere, during this day, actually do not have to labor, and for those who do have to work, consider this, “Labor Day” is a day set aside when laboring is not laboring because the day has been named “Labor Day” which actually means that one does not have to labor even if they are laboring while others are not laboring because laboring on “Labor Day”would be a violation to labor less day that has been set aside.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Buried Treasure

Most have seen the movies, and very few grow tired of seeing the abundance of treasures that lie beneath an old rusty treasure chest or hidden Pharaoh’s cave. Jewels and gold, goblets and necklaces, pendants and bracelets forged out of the most valuable elements. Ah the scene, ah the magic, ah the desire to be the one who owns it all encompasses the onlooker like a thick driven fog, and the worth of the gems are as seductive as a huge pile of money that means rest, relaxation, and never being worried over provision again.

And yet, how does one person look at the value that is deep within the buried treasure of another soul? The core of each person if dug deep enough, looked for long enough, and listened to wide enough releases intangible treasures that not many will ever enjoy. Most are too busy looking for their own treasure to see the valuables in another, but if there is a cessation to one's own provision and someone else becomes the quest, worth is realized, treasure is discovered, and more jewels shall be found than one could ever manage.

The difference is that which is seen versus that which is unseen. The truth is not many shall ever discover the buried treasure like is found under the sea or in a cave or buried underground. But if a person will stop for a moment and look around, treasure maps to a bountiful supply are around them every day. The key is to be wise enough to look for the buried treasure.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Plank Inspection

The ship is at sea, and there he stands. No land is in site, and for anyone to jump overboard would be foolish at best and more than any man could handle. Yet, he is forced to walk the plank. Daunting swords and angry men poke and prod him as he moves forward and looks toward the briny waters below. The plank is his only safety, and as he walks, the plank gets shorter and shorter. With every step he knows that his fate is imminent, and soon he will have no other choice than to leap. Finally, he nears the end and begs those poking him for mercy, grace, love, kindness and any other compassionate trait he can think of, however, they push on. The plank's end is near, and although he tries with all his might to avoid it...

Isn't it interesting how focused one can be on a very simple plank when the right circumstances arrive? The focus of balance, carefulness, attentiveness and full attention are given when self-preservation are in play. There is no problem at all in convincing someone to give their fullest attention to a plank whenever their own lives are at stake, However, what about when a person is observing the wrongs in others? Is there still the same attentiveness to the plank when spotting wrongs in others? For example, one wise person said it this way, “And why do you look at the speck of dust that is in thy brother's eye, but you do not consider the plank that is in your own eye”. Another person said, “It is so easy to spot the wrongs that are in others because the spirit of those wrongs are within oneself.” Whether these statements are believed or not doesn't take away from the fact that people tend to look at others wood chips or planks more than their own.

Perhaps the next time someone does something that seems so off, so wrong, so despicable, the first step should be to take a look down at the monstrous beam that is below or even within the eye socket before too much judgment is made and the person is made to walk the plank?

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?

Don't Be Hatin"?

A man overheard someone speaking in an ill manner against his favorite football team. He turned to the malefic foe and said, “Don't be hatin'”. In another venue while a woman was watching her favorite “house wives” television show, an advertisement interrupted with the message, “Erase the hate.” On a popular young person's award show, the message to the crowd was, “Don't hate. Participate.” It seems that everywhere there are challenges to the idea of hating, and anyone who hates anything is deemed one who is out of touch with the modern way, removed from reality, and a threat to society itself. But, are there things in life that should be hated? Are there places where each person should question the question, “Don't be hatin'?”

Who enjoys the fact that children every year come into contact with cancer? Who likes that mothers and innocent relatives receive the report, “You have breast cancer?” Who loves being told that their son or daughter has just been arrested, killed or has been in a terrible accident? Is there really someone out there that doesn't hate that children and women are beat by fathers and boyfriends? If one thinks about it long enough, there are things to hate.

The words of an old manuscript come to mind,

“These six things doth the LORD hate: yea, seven are an abomination unto him: A proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, An heart that devises wicked imaginations, feet that be swift in running to mischief, A false witness that speaks lies, and he that sows discord among brethren.”

Maybe the next time the idea of never hating at all comes up someone should talk to the writer of these words, and should they feel so inclined, try telling the “LORD” what to do.

Until tomorrow...Why Say More?