October 31-November 1: The Nature of the Universe, All Saints' Day, "Amen"

Curiously enough, the only thing that went through the mind of the bowl of petunias as it fell was Oh no, not again.  Many people have speculated that if we knew exactly why the bowl of petunias had thought that we would know a lot more about the nature of the Universe than we do now.

Knowing the nature of the Universe.  That's sort of like understanding the mind of God.  Whether physicist or theologian, politician or poet, every person grapples with the laws of Mother Nature, human nature, or divine nature.  Having been a resident of this little piece of rock called Earth for several decades now, I'm no closer to understanding these laws than a bowl of petunias.

This evening, I received a message about a high school friend who is quite ill and wants to see me.  I care about this person deeply.  He was one of my best friends when I was growing up.  We even share the same birthday.  After we graduated, we lost touch with one another.  His life went in one direction, and mine went in another.  Yet, on our birthday every year, I thought of him, sent a little prayer/wish/hope out into the universe, wishing him love and happiness and grace.

My friend has struggled in his life.  He's struggling now.  It's not for me to share his life journey in this post.  But, I was surprised to learn tonight that he's thought of me throughout his life.  Quite a bit.  In the last year or so, he discovered my blog, read it, appreciated it.  It gave him a kind of comfort somehow.

It's strange for me to sometimes think about the disciples of Saint Marty.  I furiously stab my fingers at the keyboard, crank out these little virtual messages, and send them into the ether on an almost daily basis.  Yet, I don't often contemplate how these little pieces of writing affect others.  I sometimes go back and read a post I published two or three or five years ago.  I don't recognize the person who wrote it.  I've changed.  Evolved.  Devolved.

I am trying to understand how the universe works, and, in the process, how I work, too.  I guess that pretty much sums up the entire goal of this little blog.  I work through the messes of my life in these posts.  Maybe they help some of you disciples out there figure out your messes.  Give you some comfort or hope.  Maybe that's what my high school buddy needs right now.  Comfort.  Hope.  The love of an old friend.

That's all I have to offer on this All Saints' Day  No answers.  Lots of questions.

And, for his birthday friend, Saint Marty has a poem tonight. . .

Amen

by:  Stuart Kestenbaum

It's easy to ignore the moment we dwell in
the time when we should be our own choir

shouting amen to every second that's given us
but we forget and think only of the machinery

that's driving our lives, the idling
engines of our day-to-day, the endless

tapping on the keyboards.  Or else we're waiting
for something better to come along, some

out-of-town engagement better than where we
are now.  Life isn't some film we can review again,

it's live theater, and even if we could go back
what's the point?  Sitting in the darkened room

with the film ticking along and we reverse
the projector and see ourselves

returning in the car before we've ever left
walking backwards to our house

or leaping out of the water
we thought we were swimming in.