May 6, 2013

May 6, 2013

(Please Read: Google has reintroduced the thumbnails at the bottom of the photos after you double click on any image. All photographs are mine unless otherwise noted.)

   Spring has arrived! All I have since time is an issue and spontaneous poetry is at this moment flat, are a few photos I took over the weekend.

   Take a listen to a short piece of music - Tchaikovsky, The Waltz Of The Flowers - Six minutes 

    Click here: https://www.box.com/s/f3b297754f6db118dd00

  ( I am including at the end of this post the full poem I wrote on the dying of a man I sat with a few months ago. It has taken this long to put things in perspective. )
                                             ======================

Grass begins its march

into the hearts of all lovers of Spring

Not unlike the butterfly breaking loose from its cacoon

the first flower of Spring reveals 

what has been in the seed pod all Winter,

as an exact minature of what it is to become. 

I am taking a course on Comtemplative Photography,

this week the assignment was to take fifty photos of a small area of view -

all were tossed save this one, number fifty one.

The pine and fir trees all have their Spring as well.

Sitting on top of a low branch

a small, one half inch, sprout

begins its journey to new life.

A single strand of spider silk 

offers its welcome to the forest.

Fiddle ferns, 

fiddle faddle ferns,

faddle, phooey fiddle ferns,

Right! Fiddle Head ferns!

------------------------------------

   Here is my poem. If you are full of Spring leave it for another time. Yet, the poem is about another Spring that will only be seen after all our Seasons here are over. Everything for me these days is about hope and transitions.

                                   - The Vigil –

The vigil in the ICU began without my knowing the reason for it,

Until the moment arrived when the patient's breathing stopped.

Rushing out to the desk outside the room I was told, 

"Yes. We want it to stop."

Do not resuscitate, comfort care only, were the orders on the chart.

"Comfort care" echoed from the doctor at the nurse's station.

A strange term to use – what is comfortable about not breathing?

Back in the Intensive Care room the patient's breathing had returned.

And the nurse who called for me said, "I don't want him to die alone."

My role now clear I settled in a chair to observe 

   and see if I could be useful,

Calling the patient's name a few times brought no response –

Remembering past experience my job was only to sit, pray, and witness

This man's final leg of his journey, not to be a part of it.

Short prayers came and rose with few words,

"Lord, if you are ready, take this man Home."

Said perhaps five or six times, I ended all words –

What more could be said for someone about to pass the final veil ?

I saw myself in place of the man on that bed

Glimpsing the future that will one day be mine.

My preparations for my own ending continued easily

With a silent teacher who was showing me the way.

Who was comforted ? Him, or I ?

The one coming to life's destination, or this traveler looking ahead ?

The Spirit, and God's Grace were bringing the man in that bed and I close;

A dying man, a living man, both headed in the same direction.

The space around me became different as the Present Moment arrived –

Time ceased to have meaning and the Real entered quietly.

Fifteen, twenty minutes passed without notice of the clock

Until my attention rose to the screen where all lines that showed life

Slowly dropped to zero …. heart and breath were no more …..

It was time for this stranger, this brother, to cross the finish line.

 The nurse who cared, arrived, shut down the electronics,

Arranged the pillows with wet eyes even though she said she was okay.

I signed the empty body with the Cross and bowed –

"Thank you for being my teacher." was all I said.

There was no shock at death's arrival,

No drama, no relatives crying as he was completely alone

Save for my presence, my witness to a life moving on.

My being there was Grace, to see and be teachable,

A call to answer, a showing up to observe, and then, to remember.

                                                    

                                                                  Bill Lagerstrom

                                          ----------------------

A little humor:    "Two Cows"

    

A cow in Spring

A cow who tried to spring

                                             -----------------------

Peace until next week,  Bill Lagerstrom