3 Episodes

1. The swing of conversation
To dedicate this piece to my mom and dad who lovingly took a fellow into the world that has had challenges and has made it a better place to catch up to those within it.

Going back and forth
Making many twists and turns
Not knowing the directions that our words will take us.
Sometimes catching up with us and sometimes having us fall behind.
A treasure chest in a maze to find
Singing a melody with the violins and cymbals
particpating with their own ryhthm and place within the whole.

Last night, I watched a documentary , A Song for our children. It explored how children interact with those who are disabled and do not fit the ordinary mold of how the regular world pictures us.
I remember up until I was 11 years old, I was in the protective womb of the Human Resources School in Albertson New York to gather for myself and my family the tools that I would need to lead a more productive life. Not that that was necessarily bad but failed at the time to condition me to what is out there when I faced the public school arena.
I guess nothing really prepares people for what they encounter when facing a new environment.

Having entered the world with few springs and screws amiss and loose made the ride on the swing a little bouncy and uncertain. I felt the base of the swing set shake and the swing squeaked as it moved up and down. A little sand to kick with my feet as the swing moved along its course and the gentle cheers of children running around it and climbing the bars of the jungle gym.
At 11 years old I crossed a small beige concrete step from the playground into a classroom of strangers. A different town and a public school- Scary at first =seeing desks with blue and pink name tags-with names ranging from Amy to Chuck to Norris and then to mine-Scott. With no real knowledge of how to interact with people different from myself, it made a great divide-a bridge that took a decade for people to be comfortable with me around. A new world. A new place to chart my life and course for my life. New rules to encounter and new waters to fathom. Time to untie the boat and start a shaky adventure but one that has been worthwhile. At times, I had to row against the stream having splashes of spume thrown against my face and at times the surf carressed my face with a smooth silky sensation from the emerging waves from the sea.
While seeing the documentary, I realize how fortunate I was to be surrounded by loving family and friends. There are those who are less fortunate who range from Downs Syndrome to Autism and other developmental delays-both physically and mentally.
Yet whether ones response rate is that of a pentium #3 or an apple G5, it does not really matter.



I developed a love affair wtih a region known as the Down East. It became a special place 30 years ago where I would begin a sacred pilgrimage each summer for about 10 years and then weekly encounters each year afterwards. It gave me a way to participate in nature-the sacred firmament that would never judge me-a curtain that would welcome me into her presence by name-that looked intently on my face with its beauty-calling to my spirit. Calming and restoring my fragmented scars that I received and endured during the year.
Being able to count on the Pratt's Island for the 7 summers of rural cottage living and the visits to nearby Boothbay Harbor and the visit to the yachts and the boats and wharves. The ability to smell the salts in the air and to hear the hark of the angels overhead in the form of seagulls, terns and crows. An odd orchestra of birds that clamor for their property with all its vast expanse of land. Just as mankind has done to me and others like me-not allowing us a chance to settle down and find rest.
Now when I look at the face of nature, I see God's glory shining forth to me whether outside or from a worship screen. Participating within the divine realm.
Something that I can call to=stop for a moment to watch and wonder-just as I did 30 years ago standing on a ledge of rocks -looking into her hollow-her womb that had barnacles and snails and shells and seaweed-recessed within the hollow-an ampitheatre for the audience to look at. Protected from the crashes of the surf and a leftover memory of a trip that the stream has left for me to see and observe .Being like a modern day Rachel Carson-having received the training from 30 years ago near Dogfish Head where much of her research was done.
Thanks mom and Dad and thanks to Maine=where Mainiacs are grown and nurtured and allow the world to be a better place. A parable for life.

Oh Sacrament of summer days

Oh sacrament of summer days
Oh the summertime has opened up and been exposed to the words of time.
of words of time that are free from the cares of the world--of schedules and cares of care.
Oh time to frolic in the waves of summer and to the times of warmth beating on the brow.
--of times spent in the park, at the beach, at the country store--eying the glass candy jars and the post card racks.
--of the constant trips over Pratt's Island Bridge-rickety and steady at the same time.
-of times standing on the bridge with fishing pole in hand-tossing the line to the cove and predictably catching the same crab over and over again.
--The Daze from the air-of time in snore and the times to restore. Bagging up on the munchies and sleepies that I so needed from the times in the school world.
--of the birds flying home at night to Gull Rock-passing by Hendricks Head light -cooing the stories of their days=their gloria deo.
--oh the times spent with the fires crackling in the firebox of the hearth and the creaking of the beams overhead.

These are some of the memories of the summers spent on the remote and near island on the coast of Maine.

Randomness

Life is a series of random waves in a pool that are interconnected to one another in a mosaic of purpose that is determined later on in life.

My Love to Write

Oh How I have been reminded of how I love to write. Often I neglect this love for the mundane things of the world to read of what others have written of it and yet fail to take a fresh look at my world to paint my response I have to it with pen and ink on a sheet of paper or by keys at the computer to make music to my words.

I was interviewed once by the paper of why I attended my local writing workshop in Bridgeport and I said that I love to write. That is what the reporter quoted my saying. Yet looking back on my last few months, I have written a few pieces and have taken meaningless scribbles down on what I have seen and read. If only I cold connect those dots on a broader scale to make a masterpiece for others to see.

Just as in the show, StarTrek, the men and women of the Enterprise boldly went where no man went before. Just as in my words as composer to my life, I vow to go where no man may have gone or may have passed by without really looking as is sometimes the case.

Let us remember that it is the process of reflecting that is important and to keep the water flowing. Do not let the dam of doubt of ones importance block the flow of ideas. Let the ideas rush over the top of the waterfall with a crescendo that makes a bold sound and music in our lives.

I am ready, Maestro Lord to compose for you!!!

So I untie my boat and start to row with my two oarlocks in place. Not having the fear that one may break off along the Way.

Life as a fairy tale

How interesting it would be to tie our lives to a fairy tale and make it to a more modern one at that. Which is the fairytale to choose is the tough question. It was suggested at my last writing workshop by the facilitator yet I failed to give it full attention. What first comes to mind is that of Goldilocks and the three bears. Not that I would be Goldlilocks, but a combination of the three bears.
It can be tough to make a decision on what to do with ones free time in life. Especially in the area of how to schedule multiple hours on a saturday when in the past I used to define that day in the office for almost 6 years. I have grand plans for the day, yet I fail to accomplish much-frittering away on the computer or sitting in front of the television not always accomplishing a lot. It would be a great opportunity to be more proactive in what I do.
When it comes to the bears, there is the complaint by one that the porriage is not well enough done. Our lives are similiar to the bowl of porriage in that our days are filled with ingredients that are tenderized with boiling water. And at times oatmeal does not always have the right consistency. But persistence is needed with the oatmeal and the enjoyment can take on different levels of intensity.

And having to commute daily, I feel sometimes like Little Red Riding Hood going through the forest going to her Grandmother's house on a journey. I remember growing up as a child going to my grandmother's house several times a year after she became a widow. It was always good to see her be hospitable to my parents and myself and other family members. It gave me a window to what she must have been like as a parent raising 5 young children.
So as I reflect across the aisles of my buses, I see a reflection of how the lives of the commuters might be. We are all on that journey=looking forward to what will be behind the doors we open-whether it be family or commerce or relaxation.

Reflections are always welcome to my thoughts. Peace,scott

Blessings on the eve of our conclusion of the missions festival in CT. Having heard an inspirational message on the importance of staying in prayer even when confined to difficulty, it is important for our hearts to open up to God and rely on Him for our strength in our struggles.

Passing it on

Today is a day of blessing others. I learned the importance of passing on scritpure from generation to generation.
In a puddle, a child places a pebble and then stands back and sees the ripples going out from the splash of the pebble into the pond. The echo effect of that toss is immediate. A legacy passed down in faith takes years and the impact is heard and enacted upon through the one who remmebered and the listeners. Indeed that is how the oral tradition of telling the Bible occurred long before the printing press and the written papyrus scrolls.
Last night on Book TV, there was an speech done by Alan Shepherd , the astronaut from the Gemini and Apollo space programs. He stated that when moon rock and dust come back to earth, they need to be preserved in cases with special nitrogen surrounding them. So in the same way the family acts as the environment through which stories are preserved and passed on to be a legacy to future generations.

I tag Len.

May I have my Din Din please

Four legged felines have been famous throughout history. There was Morris the Cat known for his commercials throughout the world, and the director's chair that he used to sit in.
In my corner of the world is the infamous cat, Lewis, who has been the talk of the town with the Avon Lady and many others getting angry at the cat. Maybe it was the order that didn't arrive from Avon that got him a little miffed and he sprang to action. Kind of hard to understand the mind of a cat. I had one once and Tigger was a lot of fun chasing rope and balls throughout the house. But we never had t.v and paper reporters with our cat.
Some reporter did try to have an interview with Lewis the Cat but words were absent-only perceptible with meows instead.

My Aspirations

I would love there to be no discrimination or teasing of those who appear different from others.

1. If there was only a way for people to recognize the beauty and potential that is within another and not to rip apart the person with ridicule.
2. If there was a way to celebrate the victories and triumphs of those who struggle everyday on the front page of the news.
3. If there was a way to encourage those we face who struggle and be the advocates during their struggles.
4. In all of the above, I was blessed in having parents, educators and friends help me in the process.

   I FEAR for those in the beginning years of their education who can not find their way in life.

5. I WISH that I could come alongside them and offer that helping hand as I received early on.

6. I DREAM of the day that we will not be able to tell apart people based on their disability but upon their ability.

Breathe in-breathe out

It is the first of May already. The leaves have already formed on the trees. They are doing their breathing again as the chlorophyll fills up the leaves for the green pigment.

Let us all breathe in the newness of May and springttime. The very elements that nature is putting together for a glorious view is the same that I observe in the urban setting of the mall as stores are getting ready for new business.