LAUGHTER!
December 22, 2010
Quote for Today
"Laughter is a form of internal jogging."
Norman Cousins
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
BIRTH
From time to time we find ourselves thinking
about the moment our mom and dad
found out they were pregnant with us.
We were a moment of love – seed and egg,
the connecting, the beginning – the moment
we became one – the gift of two – helping them
to become more and more one – marriage –
the growing without knowing – of them and us –
of all that was ahead – pregnancy,
the developing, the swimming, the shifting,
the kicking, the hearing of muffled sounds
on the other side of our mom’s walls.
Moms know waiting. Dads know moments.
about the moment our mom and dad
found out they were pregnant with us.
We were a moment of love – seed and egg,
the connecting, the beginning – the moment
we became one – the gift of two – helping them
to become more and more one – marriage –
the growing without knowing – of them and us –
of all that was ahead – pregnancy,
the developing, the swimming, the shifting,
the kicking, the hearing of muffled sounds
on the other side of our mom’s walls.
Moms know waiting. Dads know moments.
The dance takes time: days, weeks, months.
Finally comes birth. “It’s a girl!” or “It’s a boy!”
We screamed a first scream – and all smiled.
We didn’t. We didn’t know what’s next.
Then the wondering around the room at every birth,
“What will become of this child?” *
Finally comes birth. “It’s a girl!” or “It’s a boy!”
We screamed a first scream – and all smiled.
We didn’t. We didn’t know what’s next.
Then the wondering around the room at every birth,
“What will become of this child?” *
* Cf. Luke 1:68; 2: 19; 2: 33; 2:51
© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2010
SEMICONSCIOUS
Half way between conscious and unconscious
is where I sit and stand and walk around
is where I sit and stand and walk around
and spend my day. “Uh oh!” “Uh oh!”
I say that because right here, right now
I’m conscious that most of the time I’m semiconscious.
Looking out at life through my front windshield,
I see the road in front of me. I hear your words
and your suggestions. I say, “Yes” and I show up –
but often I’m not really here? I don’t know
how many moments, meals, conversations,
jobs, times in church, I was really somewhere else.
“Sorry! And then another, “Sorry!”
And as I’m telling you this right now
I’m aware of this right now.
But most of the time I guess I only wake up
when I hear words like “cancer”, “death” and “divorce” –
loud shouts and baseball bat like knocks
on my door in the middle of the night.
Christ wake me up.* Christ, walk and work with me,
to move me from semiconscious to conscious.
So does this mean my vows really don’t count?
Does this mean I have to step back
and re-decision my life – my words – my love –
my work – my decisions? “Uh oh!”
This is an “Uh oh!” moment.
And when I say, “Uh oh!” I’m conscious.
And to be conscious can be uncomfortable.
No wonder I prefer to be semiconscious –
to slide and ride along living half a life or even
to sink down deeper into unconsciousness.
Now that’s a big double, “Uh oh! Uh oh!”
I say that because right here, right now
I’m conscious that most of the time I’m semiconscious.
Looking out at life through my front windshield,
I see the road in front of me. I hear your words
and your suggestions. I say, “Yes” and I show up –
but often I’m not really here? I don’t know
how many moments, meals, conversations,
jobs, times in church, I was really somewhere else.
“Sorry! And then another, “Sorry!”
And as I’m telling you this right now
I’m aware of this right now.
But most of the time I guess I only wake up
when I hear words like “cancer”, “death” and “divorce” –
loud shouts and baseball bat like knocks
on my door in the middle of the night.
Christ wake me up.* Christ, walk and work with me,
to move me from semiconscious to conscious.
So does this mean my vows really don’t count?
Does this mean I have to step back
and re-decision my life – my words – my love –
my work – my decisions? “Uh oh!”
This is an “Uh oh!” moment.
And when I say, “Uh oh!” I’m conscious.
And to be conscious can be uncomfortable.
No wonder I prefer to be semiconscious –
to slide and ride along living half a life or even
to sink down deeper into unconsciousness.
Now that’s a big double, “Uh oh! Uh oh!”
© Andy Costello, Reflections 2010
* Cf. The Book of Revelation 3: 20-22 –
* Cf. The Book of Revelation 3: 20-22 –
better the whole unconscious dreamylike images
and calls from Christ to the Churches in this book.
UNCONSCIOUS
“To be, or not to be: that is the question….”
“To sleep – perchance to dream
ay, there’s the rub” as Shakespeare put it.
Hamlet’s questions doth make cowards of us all –
unconscious all - sleep walkers all – but questions
can also wake us – as we sit there in the audience.
To be or not to be audience – or to act, to be the actor.
Too many days, too many ways, I’m unconscious.
Unconscious of my princely, prophetic and priestly
callings. Unconscious of God’s will being done –
and God’s call for me to be the reason I was created,
thought up, gifted and put here on this planet
at this time and place – to leave the audience
and to stand up on stage and play my part in life.
Unconscious of my conscience – blocking it out
too many times. Unwilling to accept the reality of
my big sins: sins of omission – my unwillingness
to listen, to really listen to the other, to see and be
with those I label “the poor”, “the dumb”,
“the weak” and “the worried”, “the slob”.
I’ve never walked in another’s shoes.
I’ve never helped another to help them
to lift themselves by their own bootstraps.
Unconscious that there are people who love me
and I neglect them or don’t acknowledge them – or
there are people without whom I would not exist –
and I didn’t thank my parents enough
and they have been gone a long time now.
Unconscious of the earth – and its screams,
“Stop dumping on me. Care and clean me up!”
Unconscious of the machines and systems
that we rely upon: hot water, cold water,
red and green lights, those who maintain bridges
and sewerage – and those who drive semi’s –
bringing milk and cereal and peanut butter and
a thousand and one other conveniences
to stores – gas stations. Then there is electricity,
unnoticed till a storm when it’s knocked out for a time –
knocking out TV and the evening news.
“To sleep – perchance to dream
ay, there’s the rub” as Shakespeare put it.
Hamlet’s questions doth make cowards of us all –
unconscious all - sleep walkers all – but questions
can also wake us – as we sit there in the audience.
To be or not to be audience – or to act, to be the actor.
Too many days, too many ways, I’m unconscious.
Unconscious of my princely, prophetic and priestly
callings. Unconscious of God’s will being done –
and God’s call for me to be the reason I was created,
thought up, gifted and put here on this planet
at this time and place – to leave the audience
and to stand up on stage and play my part in life.
Unconscious of my conscience – blocking it out
too many times. Unwilling to accept the reality of
my big sins: sins of omission – my unwillingness
to listen, to really listen to the other, to see and be
with those I label “the poor”, “the dumb”,
“the weak” and “the worried”, “the slob”.
I’ve never walked in another’s shoes.
I’ve never helped another to help them
to lift themselves by their own bootstraps.
Unconscious that there are people who love me
and I neglect them or don’t acknowledge them – or
there are people without whom I would not exist –
and I didn’t thank my parents enough
and they have been gone a long time now.
Unconscious of the earth – and its screams,
“Stop dumping on me. Care and clean me up!”
Unconscious of the machines and systems
that we rely upon: hot water, cold water,
red and green lights, those who maintain bridges
and sewerage – and those who drive semi’s –
bringing milk and cereal and peanut butter and
a thousand and one other conveniences
to stores – gas stations. Then there is electricity,
unnoticed till a storm when it’s knocked out for a time –
knocking out TV and the evening news.
Unconscious of You – God – You who keep
this whole enterprise going – You so silent,
so silent, you so aware of the heart beat
and vascular system of gulls and bugs and cows,
You, God, still creating the core of the earth as well as
the furthest galaxy. Oh my God, I’m unconscious
in my core and in my furthest circumference of my self.
and vascular system of gulls and bugs and cows,
You, God, still creating the core of the earth as well as
the furthest galaxy. Oh my God, I’m unconscious
in my core and in my furthest circumference of my self.
© Andy Costello, Reflections 2010
CONSCIOUS
Conscious, very conscious, sometimes…
when the plane is rushing down the runway –
like a broad jumper: the run, the rush, the jump,
the leap into the sky – and for a second there
wondering, pondering, questioning,
how many in this plane are scared,
how many in this plane are very scared,
how many in this plane are conscious that they
are afraid – of life and death and meaning and time?
Conscious – when someone is holding
a very sharp stainless steel knife and it’s
too big for cutting onions or cucumbers….
Conscious of the surprise smile of a baby when
they see our eyes or face or what do
babies see when they see us? Conscious,
very conscious, when hearing or seeing
those we love getting out of the car –
after being away for three days and three nights –
or they are away for a week – and we see them
coming down the ramp at the airport.
Conscious sometimes in church at a wedding
or a funeral or Christmas Mass or someone with
loud shoes walking down the main aisle and all
are watching her till she red faced slips into a bench.
Conscious of some sunsets in late December
or the whole family together for Thanksgiving Dinner,
but one less than last year – death can make us very
conscious – or conscious when the plane is
about to land – and there is snow surrounding
the runway and it’s been a cold December – and
our seat belt is fastened – but we haven’t landed yet,
conscious, very conscious, but only sometimes.
© Andy Costello, Reflections 2010
From time to time we find ourselves thinking
about the moment we will die and slip into
what’s next – that is, if there is a, “What’s next?”
We wonder if anyone will be there on the other
side of the dark door of death or will it be light?
We hope someone will be there at our death bed
to hold our hand – to say a prayer or “I love you!”
We wonder if someone will be there watching a
monitor that will show our lifeline going flat.
We wonder if there will be tears and a gulping
scream. Does it say anywhere in the scriptures,
“It’s not good to die alone?”* Jesus, you said
from the cross “Father, into Your hands
I place my spirit.” and “It’s finished!”**
And Jesus I pray that you’ll be waiting there
for me at daybreak on the other shore of death.
Jesus, don’t ask if my nets are empty or filled.
Just call out my name and say,
“Come and have breakfast.”***
* Genesis 2:18
** Luke 23:46; John 19:30
*** John 21
© Andy Costello, Reflections 2010
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