What a Thrill It Is

The night, with its stars set in the darkness above, silent in the mystery that is space, shines as a messenger of light. The sun, fickle, some days glaring, burning, and some days shedding warmth against the cold, has its purpose. The clouds, hazy and swift at times, like crumpled tissue floating across the sky, and at other times motionless, taking odd shapes, a unicorn, a face, a mountain of snow, offering relief from the summer heat, or billowing and turbulent warning us of threatening weather ahead.

The earth rotates without our notice. Caught up in the tedium of our lives, we take for granted the miracle of our planet. Its landscapes and oceans, its highlands and peaks, its trees and flowers, the green grass, the yellow fields, the clear streams, and rugged paths. Majestic. Stunning. Mesmerizing. Awesome. All of it. Every rock and petal, every clump of earth and blade of grass, every jagged crevice and smooth hill. Astonishing in their place of function. Healing in the glory they bestow.

The community of animals that feed us, protect us, entertain us, befriend us, remain ever loyal to us. The cattle in their grazing. The birds in flight. The fish and sea life that nourish and fuel us. The dogs and cats we claim as pets, as family, that lay at our feet, that purr and snuffle, nestle and comfort, tiptoe and dash, and provide us with laughter and affection and allegiance.

The deep, inscrutable feeling of human love. The touch of another. The pleasure of kissing. The intensity of tenderness. The unexplainable mystique of lovemaking. The crush of heartbreaking tears. The wonder of fidelity, faithfulness, and the keeping of vows. These things make us human. These things keep us human.

Children. Their enormous energy. The innocence that catches our notice, breaks down our hard barriers, fills our hearts with wild feelings of protecting, holding on to, and making sure nothing bad happens. The music in their eyes. Their soft, open faces, that generate something divine, something sacred, something we miss and want.

The long-held bonds of friendship, of having an ally, a coach in our corner, an unfailing confidant, amigo, sister, collaborator of fun, holder of secrets, that one person outside of family that is treasured as family. The person we admire. The friend who has taught us how to be our better self by being there when no one else could be or chose to be. The friend that always understands without judgments or censure, without scolding or lecturing. The friend that just sits with us. Cries with us. Laughs with us. Holds our hand in our weariness and puts an arm in ours when the journey has beaten us down and left us unable to walk on our own.

In the bewildering and yet magnificent experience of living, these are the foundations of our survival. These are the people, the places, the observations, the gifts of our existence that give us the capacity to see everything as though we were seeing it for the first time or the last.

And what a thrill it is.

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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