The Urgent Pull of My Wants

I don’t want to discuss President Obama’s speech to the nation about dealing with ISIS. I’m so weary with war. I don’t want to hear Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell launch another arrogant attack against the president. I don’t want to see any more beheading videos. I don’t want to watch people being swallowed up in floods and typhoons and mountain slides. I don’t want to hear anymore petty whining about defenseless children coming here from vicious countries hell bent on abusing and killing them. I don’t want any more lectures from Republican Congress members about how horrible everything is in the nation when they won’t lift a finger to do a damn thing about any of it. I don’t want to watch another unarmed young black man being shot to death by a gang of cowardly white cops. I don’t want to see anymore senseless beatings by bullying rogue cops. I don’t want to see anymore backward hillbilly racist Ferguson, Missouri’s. I don’t want to view another video of a pampered rich football player beating the daylights out of his wife or girlfriend and then calmly looking at her like she was a sack of rocks. And I don’t want to hear anymore lame excuses from ditzy fans or anyone else defending that behavior. I don’t want to hear any more sanctimonious counterfeit Christians telling the rest of us how to live and vote and believe.

I want to be with laughing children. I want to hold the hand of someone hurting. I want to be in the presence of goodness. I want to hear the music of unity; somewhere, anywhere. I want my black friends to feel safe in this country and be given the human dignity they deserve. I want your children and grandchildren and mine to grow up in a country of moral depth, where intelligence is celebrated, civility is practiced, creativity is encouraged, and independent thinking is allowed. I want to see the ocean. I want to sit on a white sandy beach and be mesmerized by the dancing horizon. I want to be in the company of friends. I want to give and receive affection. I want to understand and respect my mortality. I want to laugh so hard my stomach hurts and my mouth gets sore and I cry great salty tears. I want to hug people who need hugging. I want to give something of myself that makes one person or many feel good about themselves and be open to loving more. I want to take time to watch and be appreciative of autumn arriving with its misty cloudy mornings and chilly nights. I want to be aware of the changing leaves and hallow their dazzling colors. I want to go down a long country road where the trees bend down to touch one another and shelter the passengers beneath. I want to take off across an open field and feel the wind on my face. I want to look out my window and see a thunderstorm brewing and hear the thunder rolling and watch the rain softly fall. I want to enter a church sanctuary and be lost in something sacred. I want to have something to be awed by and fall to my knees in wonder. I want to have more compassion, not more money. I want more meaningful learning, not more of the same old ideas and beliefs that have become useless and moth-eaten.

I want to follow the calling of the Persian poet Rumi: “Be a lamp, or a lifeboat, or a ladder. Help someone’s soul heal. Walk out of your house like a shepherd.”

If I had five minutes to evacuate--what would I take with me?

If I was told there was a bomb in my building and I had five minutes to evacuate my apartment I’d grab a grocery bag and quickly toss these items into it: 1. A photo of my grandparents, Mom and Pop and me, when I was 15 years old. I learned what love is made of from them. I learned what it is to be kissed on and hugged in arms so tender they felt like God’s arms. I discovered self worth from those two angels in human flesh. Of all the people in my life, they were the ones who made me feel I counted. Honestly, whatever capacity I have to love others came from them. 2. A sentimental, dog-eared, stars in the margin copy of Pat Conroy’s, “The Prince of Tides.” It is a book I have read three times and often return to for its wisdom. It is a harsh, profoundly tragic novel, the story of a family so broken and tortured by such flawed and wounded people that it is sometimes difficult to turn the next page. And yet it is the story of such Herculean courage and endurance that you want...

I Saw the Delicacy of Life

I was flying Across the deep And I saw the delicacy Of life Wrinkles on the faces Of the old So pure they glistened Like awards The joy of children Running with abandon Their laughter ringing Like chimes in the wind I saw the soft moving waves Across the sea And the trees releasing Their rainbow leaves Birds joined me on my flight And I saw the surface of their wings Adorned with patterns Glorious and unfurled I saw the tears of the sad And the smiles of the glad The suffering in mourning And the celebration of birth As I descended toward the ground Slowly, slowly, softly I saw the gentle grass of the field And smelled the fresh earth It was a perfect landing © 2018 Timothy Moody

Actions Make a Difference

“We make progress in society only if we stop cursing and complaining about its shortcomings and have the courage to do something about them.” ~ Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, Physician/Author Pictured here is Kikuko Shinjo, 89 years old, a survivor of the Hiroshima atomic bomb blast. As a 17-year old nursing student she helped nurse victims of the carnage back to health. Many of them died in her care. She says she holds no grudge against America and encourages interaction between the Japanese and Americans. She has devoted her life to peace, saying, “I want all the people around the world to be friends, and I want to make my country peaceful without fighting.” Today she makes colorful paper cranes and donates them to the Children’s Peace Monument at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park.

The Unclad Soul

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