Sixty-Six for Sixty Six, Part LXII: Quiet Love

6

August 30, 2017, Prescott-

I said I loved someone,

who was not ready to hear it.

Confusing love,

with the lust that has been shown her,

by several others,

she fled and keeps her distance.

That is not an insult to me,

rather, it only confirms

that my love is what

will stand by her.

Her dreams,

her life’s path,

her independent spirit

mean more than

her lovely face

and engaging personality.

Lust,

infatuation,

possessiveness

fade.

Love,

from the depth

of one’s heart,

only grows.

Lust needs to be front and center.

Love may shine from the background.

Years from now,

the wife I loved,

now my angel,

will still feel my soul’s

agape.

The women, to whose efforts

I have shown

a quiet and steadfast

support,

will realize

that they are

safe and sound,

in my presence.

My friend,

know you are

among this number.

You have the space you need.

 

 

The Road to 65, Mile 277: Every New Beginning…..

9

August 31, 2015, Prescott- I almost used the byline, The Universe.  I have begun reading “Way of the Peaceful Warrior”, Dan Millman’s 1980 book which loosely describes his inner journey to a higher functioning self, using the anthropomorphoses of  Agape and Eros, a spirit guide named Socrates and a whimsical, attractive spirit named Joy.

Like Dan, I have spent a lot of my life following the Prescribed Path- following, first, a maudlin, alcohol-and-marijuana-fueled series of efforts at fitting my square peg into society’s round hole.  When I was 25,  I encountered an eleven-year-old boy named Mickey, who got me to quit smoking dope; in exchange for which, he gave up smoking tobacco.  Five years later, I met Penny, my own spiritual guide, who became my wife, and alcohol was cast aside.  At age 58, after a roiling series of life setbacks, I gave up credit cards- and the habit I had developed of blaming others for our family’s ill fortune.  At age 60,  I saw my wife, my Heaven-on-Earth, transition into the spirit who guides me, day by day, no longer kept prisoner in a body that had been failing.

I have experienced beings, and phenomena, that are not easily explained in human terms:  My maternal grandmother’s spirit visiting me, early one morning, when I was ten; my father’s angry spirit pushing my head into a tile wall, in response to a wayward thought I had, about a year after his passing; Penny’s spirit filling our bedroom, as her body lay dying in a hospice, ten miles away; a bright, multi-coloured light flashing frenetically, at a spot called Sipapu (Emergence Place), on the floor of Palo Duro Canyon, as I sat on a nearby bench; my maternal grandfather’s spirit, regarding me with a stern eye, when I stopped shy of climbing to the top ledge of Cathedral Rock, in Sedona.  These are experiences that many would regard as hallucinations, but they all occurred during daylight, when I was awake, and I haven’t used mind-altering substances since 1981.

“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end”.  So goes a line from the song, “Closing Time”, by SemiSonic.  I see this, in terms of each day, week, month and year.  I have seen my own transition from married caretaker to wandering widower.  Now I am becoming a solitary seedsower, concentrating on helping to build a community. There will be other transitions ahead; other tides, rolling in, rolling out.