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beauty
November 2009 
What imaginary worlds did you create as a child?
Posted on Feb 17th, 2008
by 
Satya-Seer
Satya-Seer
This is in Response to the Questions and Reflections for February 17, 2008:
This was 1967 and I was seven. So, it was long before the movie/book Pay It Forward, but I remember thinking one day, what if I just give a flower to Miss Prather, a rather unhappy coggy next door lady, - what if I give her a flower to cheer her up (God knows she needed it - that or Exlax), and what if she were made to feel happy, and thank me. Then I would ask her to do something little for someone else. I took a journey around that time to think and develop this thought of Pay It Forward (not trying to claim credit for the movie or book), that would go something like this - You can only do for others and not for yourself, and my job should be to try to love people as much as possible and do as much for them and not worry about what I got in return. At this point, I think I really started to learn to TRUST WHAT IS.
I didn't have words for it at the time, but the feeling was that we were interconnected and that we could not afford to not live this way. I pretended that mine was a benevolent kingdom, where wealth was always secondary to the needs of the entire body of people living, that wealth was given to those who gave more. Imagine gaining by giving, but doing it without expectation. Those were the stories I lived. Except now, they are made real - I'm rich with these things PEACE, HAPPINESS, BEAUTY and I'm full. The miracle for me is in the simple giving of myself daily, the pouring out of myself, and miraculously, the vessel is left full for the next pouring out. So, I'm still imagining and dreaming. I'm keeping my dream and imaginings alive . . . for those who yet know to dream, who have perhaps lost hope. I find hope in my dreams, enought to share with them.
Access: Public
Did you ever see me? That's my world too, John…
=)
I've always been attracted to the broken pieces, the cracked pots, the unfinished canvas, the worn-out gilded frame … the things and people that are thrown away. This gets my attention. You can find treasure in the garbage heaps of life, lots of it. And you know, very few people look to see how useful these pieces actually are. I'm such a broken pot, spilling my water all the way back home. My carrier wonders at my usefullness, but if you follow the path back to the well, you'll see that all that water fell upon some fertile ground where perhaps seeds had fallen previously. It all has a purpose beyond what this little mind can know. I know that I know AND I know that I don't know. All I know is that there is knowing.
Yes, I saw you - I see you and feel you. I know your heart and its beauty.
thank you for being my teacher
broken pots let through the light, wounded physicians heal
i love fringes, portals, liminal spaces
An adjective referring to an elusive but sensually rich threshold between two different places or states.
www.gradesaver.com/classicnotes/titles/mariner/terms.htmlLiminality (from the Latin word līmen, meaning “a threshold”) is the quality of the second stage of a ritual in the theories of Arnold van Gennep, Victor Turner, and others. …
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liminal
I was just going to write what Joty said ;-)
My vessel holds the Light…and now that I have been cracked, the Light can shine through.
Indeed, there is a purpose and use for Everything in this world.
Your trash is my Treasure. ;-)
did you ever give Miss Prather a flower?
I gave Miss Prather several flowers. She was still a coggy old cuss. But I did have the joy of seeing her smile one day. And I never divulged her secret that she had smiled at me. She wanted to show her love. She wanted to be loved. Everyone wants to be love and to love. I really believe they do.
I think what I gave Miss Prather was deep listening and deep observation of who she was. But as a child I could see that she was like anyone else in their desire to be loving and to love. I could see past her suffering.
I think what I gave her was a little bit of my light and fire and she rekindled her's from mine. I love the Miss Prathers of the world.
Oh, I thought I was being helpful once and cut the hedges between our yard and she was furious. Now, I cut them just as she would cut them, but her resistance to my having done it was not looked upon very well. The paradox here was that she was so in control of everything that she would get out of control in situations like this - and for nothing, wanting to be understood, for wanting to be SEEN and KNOWN for who she was (or whatever she thought she was). She helped me, however, haul all the debris to the street to be picked up, and at the end of it, she offered me some of her “sweet tea” which she claimed was better than anybody elses sweet tea. The tea sucked. The victory and connection we shared was sweet.
I love this; because it shows once again, that it is not universally true:”If a child lives with security… … . .he learns to trust in himself and others .” [with apologies to Dorothy Law Nolte].
There is an inner light that can be seen even more clearly when the outer world is bleak or dark and frightening.
Thank you for this, Satya seer, written with light, and a light-heart.
If the tea sucked, I am glad that you didn't give her the exlax instead of the flower!
Seriously, after reading this, I know that you are truly my twin, pretty one. I have several pieces of pottery, most are cracked or chipped. As I am cracked and chipped. But the cracks and chips are what makes me who I am today,and if i must say so myself, I am a loving being and no matter how many cracks or chips there are on my surface, my heart is loving and forgiving and giving. It contains hope and dreams that will never seep through the cracks and chips.
Thank you my dear friend for sharing this part of you, but then I felt and knew from the start, that you are a 'pay it forward' person with a huge loving heart.
John, this is striking me hard, for its familiarity and its absolute 'closeness to home'. I have to say I am being given hope every single day I come to this site because of the feeling like I am finally in a real place! Giving through inspiration only has been my particular cross forever, and I can't explain why it just feels like the right thing to do. It isn't through guilt; I'm clear on that now. It's just that desire to see someone smile and feel appreciated just for a few minutes. I recall the pain in my household and the almost anti-care that went among family members, so that I would go to my little neighbours and give them stuff since it obviously couldn't be received in my home. Darn it was hard!
All the same, unconscious though it was, it obviously was the right thing to do. And I am so thankful now that I was willing to listen to my spirit even then. I'm gonna get right back to doing it now.
Thanks again John and everyone else here. You are great and wonderful to me. Sherri
John, I just tuned in and read only the first sentence of your QaR entry 2/17/08.and then Resurrected's comment. My comment is “Ditto”. But …
I've had this image: We, they, us, all are beautiful souls, stirring and stretching and breathing under a dark pile of dysfunctional dung. We claw our way to the surface and discover we were being nurtured all the while into beautiful, beautiful blossoms.
It is one universe, the dung is a combination of the same ingredients but of various proportions, and the blossoms are unusually unique but equal in beauty.
It is an image that thrills and comforts me. Maybe I am a little odd.
Thank you, John….
I am sorry that it took such a thing to bring you into this making, but much appreciate your sacrifice then so you could be yourself now….
many blessings and love,
CG
***smiling at JOYOUS and thinking of the Lotus***
=)
YES!!! Smiling and loving the image of beautiful unique blossoms that are grown in the surprisingly fertile soil of dysfunctional families…
I loved this, john…thank you very much for sharing…feel I know you much better now.
Two songlyrics spring to mind…
Len Cohen; “There is a crack, a crack in everything / That's how the Light gets in”
David Byrne..“Flowers grow best behind the factory shithouse…”
Blessings, jon xx
John,
I see so much of myself in this blog….no wonder I find you so irresistible…you are me! And I am you! You are a beautiful man with whom I so easily resonate…you are a gift my friend! TY
all these pieces of broken pottery here have come together to make the most beautiful mosaic, unique, special and illuminated with the most brilliant light :)
wow….brings tears to my eyes you are beautiful
Pour on more manure - it will be great fertilizer for the lotus. Thanks my broken-pot friends.
Okay…here's some more bullshit; “Il ya a un abime entre ce qu'on fait et ce qu'on voulou” ( Colbert on Richelieu if i'm not mistaken, which i may well be)….please rise above this…j xx
WOW… I think I'm going to start all my comments to you with that little word… your story is unique; yet rings familiar to many I'm sure… to be certain it rings true to me. I too lived in an imaginary world… I was not as noble or brave as you though… thank God for people like you; you give the rest of us dreary souls hope…. thanks.
Mine is the Sunflower. Content to stand tall and alone in a field, follow the Sun from rising to setting, feeling the breeze, drinking from the rain, listening to the birds and freely offering food and nectar. Bending low through the storms. Rising again and again.
Not alone.
I love you all bunches and bunches.
You keep me growing.
Joyous
I have always loved that quote by Leonard Cohen. You are so refreshingly kind and giving. thank you, john.