(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. )
======================
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. )
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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!
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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
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A little humor: "Two Cows"
A cow in Spring
A cow who tried to spring
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Peace until next week, Bill Lagerstrom
