Common Courtesy

Do to a recent disappointment I had I am contemplating what it is we owe one another, both friends and strangers. These things fall under the general rubric of "Common Courtesy". When you inadvertently bump into a person, friend or stranger, you say 'excuse me' or something to that effect, and when it happens to you, or you see it happen to another, and the person doing the bumping goes on his way without a word yo say "How Rude". Likewise, you do not let the door you just passed through slam shut on those behind you, barge into the front of a checkout line, or talk loudly, or use a cell phone, in a movie. We owe and are owed these things not because the law says we are, or because the Bible says so, but as a member of a polite society, they are demanded.

Another burden common courtesy puts upon us is to do what we tell others that we will do, or explain why we did not. We never know the importance another puts upon our words, we can only know the importance that we put on them. I am reminded of a relations seminars I watch some while back, the lecture picked up a pebble saying to the man as he dropped it, "This is what your words were meant by you", then he picks up a large stone and as he dropped it said, "This is what your words mean to her."

This analogy is applicable to many of the things in which we go about our daily intercourse with family, friends, and strangers. Just because you put little importance on what you tell another you will do does not mean that they put the same importance upon it.

A friend just reneged on a trivial matter in which he said that he would do, and when I complained about it he responded, "... don't have to report to you." No, he doesn't, but common courtesy put a burden on him to explain why he did not do what he said he would do. It was a pebble to him, but a bolder to me.

Long Live the Horse!

The horse has fallen

Long live the horse!
In Elysian Fields he will await his
Rider and companion.
Amidst all the one who have came before.
In soft green meadows, and lovely groves
With all the horse who have served so well
Their rider’s wishes.
He will await the bugle’s call that tells him
The one he awaits
Has arrived.
There is then a spot where
the way forks in two directions
A place, which has a sun and stars of its own
Here, in these groves he will
Make his beds near the riverbanks.
Through the day he may
Wander in luminous plains and green valleys
As he waits for the one he serves.

Dedicated to Bärchen
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©
Rexx

Little Girls Cry

       She looked through eyes

    That had saw thousands of days
More days then she cared to remember,
          But remember she was.

      It was the child in front of her
That sent this sudden flash before her eyes.
               Of days long gone,
             And mostly forgotten.

            The little girl was crying,
                Crying for candy.
Begging with all her heart for just one bite
                   To deaf ears.

             She watch as the little girl
          Tugged at her Mommies shirt,
            Tugging for attention that
             She was not going to get.

          Oh how she wanted to go,
              Go and pick her up
          And take her to the counter
      To buy her anything she may wish.

       But it was none of her business,
                    Not her child.
                There was no abuse
                  Just mild neglect.

           The law would not care,
          All she could get would be
             Trouble for her effort
                 If she intervened.

        But oh how she remembered
          How badly she had wished
             For that Candy Apple
                Oh, so long ago.

              At the county fair
     With her sister she had romped
           And played all day
   With Mom and Dad just behind.

               At the days end
               The sun had set
         The rides were all so bright
      Whirling and flashing in the dark.

         Dizzy and tired they walked
         To the gate and there it was.
            A little shack stacked
       With bright red Candy Apples!

        “I want one” she had screamed
          And tried to run to the shack,
               But Mommy’s hand
                     Just held tight.

     Squirming and twisting she remembered
               Did her no good at all.
         Mommy was talking to Daddy
         And could not hear her at all.

          Tears streamed down her eyes,
             The tears had blinded her
             To all the fun she had had
                 And all her joy fled.

           It had fled and not returned
                      Until this day
                    As she watched
                   The Little girl cry.

©
Rexx

Cain Slew Able

Cain Slew Able 

On down through the ages
We have came
From out of the darkness
And cold of old.
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To the light and understanding
Of today, bit upon bit,
Just a little bit at a time
Fire, here, wheel there
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Till upon the shoulder of giants
We stand looking afar
Way unto the stars,
And down into the atoms them selves.
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But as far as we have came
We have carried our selves the same.
The same fears, dreads, and concerns.
The same ambitions drive us
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Just as when we were ran from the garden
As when Cain slew Able,
As when we built the tower of Babel,
And when Lot’s wife looked back.
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Now we can kill with hydrogen bombs,
Shoot our towers into space,
Look back to the beginning of time,
And peace among men is as far away as ever.
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The answer is as elusive as ever
Be enslaved or fight
Be killed or kill
Resist or give up!
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For those who would enslave you
Will not stop because you do.
Will you forsake your God
For the sake of peace?
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Would you exchange freedom for peace?
Will you bow to another’s God for peace?
Will you sacrifice your liberties
For a promised security?
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Just remember, what one man locks up,
Another man can unlock.
Any fort you make can be breached.
To win you must carry the fight.
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If you hold up behind a wall,
If you are forced to go the defense,
Then history tells you
That you will lose.
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The tactic of Marten Luther King
And Mahatma Gandhi
Will work against powers
That sees themselves as humane.
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But had the Romans tried it against the Vandals,
Or the Greek against the Romans,
Or Egypt against the Greeks
It would have been to no avail.
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And if we try it against the Islamic
We will end up dead or enslaved.
If it is fight, die, or be a slave
I will not turn the other cheek.
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But to give our government
The same powers that
Our Enemies want
Is not a road I wish to walk.
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Live free or die
Now that is a slogan I like,
But let not my blood
Come cheep!
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©
Rexx

In Search of the Truth

A consideration into what is true. One’s perspective can and does alter what is perceived. I would remind you of the old teaching story of the five blind men who were walking down the road to go to a fair when they encountered an elephant. One of the blind men felt only the tusk and said to his brethren, “This beast is like into a spear”. Another had grabbed tin ear and said to a friend, No, it is much more like a fan than a spear”. A third, holding its tail declared that they were all wrong that it was much more like a rope than anything they had described. Then the fourth, who had his arms wrapped around one of the legs, chimed in, “Nope, it is much more like a tree than any of those things”. Finley the last one, who was standing with his arms up and his hands on the elephant’s side said out loud, “My brothers have all gone mad, for it is plain to me that this beast is more like into a wall than any of those other ideas!”

Then another said to the rest, "Agree or disagree, we have to get on down to the fair before it closes" and off they went, each with a firm understanding of what each had perceived of what a true elephant was. This is the state we all find ourselves in trying to perceive the truth, it is colored by the angle of our perception, no two people can see the same thing at the same time because each must, by the inability to stand in the same place at the same time, observe the thing from different points of view.

This is the state we all find ourselves in trying to perceive the truth, it is colored by the angle of our perception, no two people can see the same thing at the same time because each must, by the inability to stand in the same place at the same time, observe the thing from different points of view. Not only is our perception of the truth determined by the angles from which we look at it how much time we have to consider it, to alter our point of view also determine our ability to perceive the true nature of something.  Each mind that perceives is alone in it perception and its reasoning based upon that perception is unique to the individual.  It is an amazement that we can ever agree on what the truth is.

Consider the rightness of smoking tobacco. From the time it was discovered by Europeans in America until fifty years ago, it was considered not only a good thing, but a necessary thing in that a large part of the English’s making colonies in the New World was to grow and export tobacco. Many a people’s livelihoods depended upon its growth, processing, and sales. All of this was possible because of our angle of our perception was solely for the pleasure it brought to us. Pleasure both from the wealth it brought to those who provided it and from the ones who smoked, chewed, and sniffed it.  Now it is perceived as a health hazard  and to be avoided, and taxed to death.

Did not the way tobacco was seen change it from being right into being wrong? And did not this change in our understanding of the goodness/badness of tobacco come from a changing point of view, a point of view focuses more on the negative consequences of smoking, higher incidents of cancer in users compared to non users.

Now if it is true that tobacco is good or bad is still dependent upon the point of view that the user/nonuser looks at the issue from, for some the good outweighs the bad and for others the bad is not worth the good.

The Great Devide

If wanting could make it true,

If wishing could bring it to pass

Then by her side, I would be.

But I am here and she is there,

And like East and West

Never the twain to meet.

We had hoped that if she went west enough

And I went east enough

We could meet in the middle,

But she cannot leave her part of the world

And I no longer will leave mine.

So, like to sides of the same coin

We stare in out in our own direction

Unable to see

The other’s way.

Love burns in our hearts, but not enough

To overcome the difference from here and there.

Therein lies our great divide.

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©

Rexx

Yes, I do Choose

Yes I choose, but sometimes the only choice is to endure.

Sometimes thoughts unbidden cloud my mind, and leave no choice rather than to let them fly their course. And feelings, un-invoked, wash over me sometimes like a sea. I am not an island, so self contained, that some choices cannot be forced upon me, some choices are no more than a Hobson choice. Yes I choose, and I think, and I feel, but I am not always the genesis of thoughts that runs through my mind.

Satisfaction , like comfort, is always fleeting. No more then obtained before it is gone to be sought again. I eat until I am satisfied, then hunger leads me to once again seek satisfaction. I find my comfort in my bed, but toss and turn all night leaving the spot that has become uncomfortable to seek it elsewhere. What suited us at one time is no longer the attraction it was, and we look to change things more to our suiting. The only thing certain in life is change.

I would rather do this than that, but circumstances conspire such that I must do that and let this go the way of an unfulfilled desire. I love her, but she does not love me, she loves me but I do not love her. Frustration not of my choosing, but of my choices. But really, do I choose who to love? Is that a freedom given unto men? Or is it the arrow in Cupid’s bow that decides?

I don’t like my job, it is a job I chose, and I can choose to leave it. But can I choose not to pay the rent, make the car payments, buy the groceries for my child? Must I not, at more times then not, do that which, if left to my rathers, I would choose not to do? The road before me chooses the way much more than I do, for I can only choose between the choices put before me. And each decision casts a long shadow into the future.

A decision to go to college or not, to marry or not, to be a Doctor, Lawyer, or an Indian Chef all lays out a different path. To choose is to determine what choices will be placed before you. So what freedom do you have been what you would want to be? A child born to a coal miner his path will be different then the path of a child born to a movie actor. Yes, some coal miner’s children become movie actors, but how many movie actors’ children become coal miners?

You are shaped and formed by every experience in the path you walk. Hard times, for some, shatter them into thefts, or welfare dependents. Easy time is the ruination of others. Those same hard or easy times yet for other build a foundation for success. Maybe not in a way they would have chosen if the choice had been theirs to make, but one that they, and those who know them, are proud they have found. This is where the adage, “The man does not pick the job, the job picks the man” comes from.

What is the difference between the doctor/lawyer and the theft/welfare cheat? This is not to say that all those who are on welfare are undeserving of the charity they receive. Well let me rephrase that, for no one is deserving of charity. To deserve one must fulfill a bargain, the worker is deserving of his pay, the employer deserving of the labor he pays for, but the man watching the work is not deserving neither the worker’s pay, nor the employer’s money.

Both, however, should be free to give to the non-worker if it is their free decision to do so, that is their choice. But when the government takes if from both the employer and the worker and give it to the non-worker, that is theft. For the only choice given to the employer and the worker is to give to the non-worker or go to jail or die in resisting the government.

But back to the question, what is the difference between the different outcomes, between the one who becomes a carpenter respected for his labor, and the decision he had made when the choices were put before him, and the bad check writer who decided that his need and wants are greater than the bank’s whose money he defrauded? They both start out on a path not of their choosing, they were born to whom they were born, and where and when they were born. Choices that they did not and could not chose were presented to them.

Nature or nurture? Your genes or your environment? What of the brothers that both were loved, went to the same school, and killed their parents? When next door all the children lived model lives. And consider President Clinton and his brother Roger, what explains the difference? Genes are demonstrable not the answer. Just as sure, as the Coal Miner’s Daughter shows, the environment is not the answer.

The answer must lie within the mind, the soul if you will, of the individual. According to their personality they chose between the choices presented to them, and react to them in the manner that their heart leads them. One to stay in school, another to sell drugs on the street. One to quite selling and using drugs, another to kill to keep his business. One to do their homework, another to think that school is a waste of time.

As we go through live on the path that God has put us upon we are shaped by our experiences, and it is our experiences that lead to or away form God.

Jeremiah 18-19:

The word that came to Jeremiah from the LORD: "Arise, and go down to the potter's house, and there I will let you hear my words." So I went down to the potter's house, and there he was working at his wheel. And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter's hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do. Then the word of the LORD came to me: "O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter has done? says the LORD. Behold, like the clay in the potter's hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel. If at any time I declare concerning a nation or a kingdom, that I will pluck up and break down and destroy it, and if that nation, concerning which I have spoken, turns from its evil, I will repent of the evil that I intended to do to it. And if at any time I declare concerning a nation or a kingdom that I will build and plant it, and if it does evil in my sight, not listening to my voice, then I will repent of the good which I had intended to do to it.

Romans 9:19-21

Thou wilt say then unto me, Why doth he yet find fault? For who hath resisted his will? Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus? Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?

End Of My Days

Had a life time to get it right

And it is still not right.

Nobodies fault but my own,

And I have tried, time

And time again

Only to come up short,

Far short of happiness.

Pursuit I have had,

Pursued it my whole life.

But here I sit alone

With my dog and the TV.

Not the way I hoped,

Not the way I have dreamed,

But it has come to this

With the best I can do.

Who can I blame,

What can I do?

I do not like it,

But it is the best I can do.

The grave beckons

At the end of my days

Which comes closer

With each passing day.

Dream on, dream on,

Dream of the one,

The one who will come.

Better late than never,

But never I fear.

Yet in the days to come

My horse and my dog

They do comfort me.

I am glad for all that I have had,

But wish that I had more.

I wish that I had done more,

It was the compromises I made

That led me to this day,

Not my way or the Highway.

But for all involved

This is the best I can do.

I am as I am, changed into

What I am by the decisions

I have made in life.

Some willingly,

Others by force.

Forces by the best

Of the alternatives available.

It is with a light heart

That I move onto my grave,

Which awaits at the end of my days.