Eternal Fall

ETERNAL FALL

Fall days are my favorite for taking walks. The trees in their multitude of colors, hanging on for the last bit of sunshine, before going dormant for the winter adding a festive feast for the eyes. . The leaves themselves, clinging to life until the last moment when a gust of wind takes them to their resting place bring about an appreciation for life still lived. . The smell of those leaves, already fallen, giving off the musk of promised future life giving fertilizer. The summer has already gone, the barren winter beckons and the coming spring is just a promise for now. On this particular fall day I walked as usual in the city park. It was not cold enough yet to wear a jacket but the breeze reached out with a taste of chills to come. The ground was still wet from the evening rain and the lights had just come on adding color to the leaves that, just for a moment, would vie with each other for attention before the sun would leave and the leaves would grow dark.

I was left contemplating life. It had been a long time since I took a walk with someone and I found myself deep in reflection. I was content with my life and happy to go on as usual. I was reaching a point where there were more years behind me than ahead of me and my focus was on things other than a fleeting companionship or some attempt at staving off the end with a rushed attachment. Dong so reminded me of the lives, so desperately hanging on to the tree, not wanting to let go I was OK with letting go when it was time. My fall was here and winter was coming. The spring I was to see would be in another realm.

I am not sure what happened. Was it my contentment with life? Was it the fact that I really did want to hang on desperately for just a little bit more? I am not sure. I can only say that my life changed forever. I was walking down the path when my eye caught another walking my way. I have passed many people over the years but this time was different. I was instantly taken by this person. It was a woman, a bit younger, but not too young. It was an immediate attraction, which was surprising; surprising because she seemed different to me than those of whom I had been interested in before. . Her hair was a red that made the leaves jealous; the green of her eyes was the envy of their youth. Her demeanor, what little could be ascertained on such short notice, was pleasant and open. I was moved and for reasons that shook me for they could not be readily found. I was not looking to find someone. I was content. Why was I taken so quickly by this person? What about her? Was this to be another fleeting moment that would pass forever by and leave me suddenly wanting for that which I thought I needed no more?

I did something different, something unlike my persona. I, the usual stoic and analytically natured person, simply smiled as she looked up at me. She smiled back as she passed me by. I stopped, and time stopped with me. I was frozen in a moment and had to decide how to proceed. I could simply take that moment and sear it in my memory as another moment in time to relive and contemplate or…

I turned and called to her. She turned still smiling. I asked her the time. She looked to her watch and told me. We then started talking as naturally as if we had been friends for years. We left together and headed off into the park heading towards the other side and the coffee shop that waited.

It has been years since this occurred and I find myself in that same park, in the fall and with my beloved at my side holding my arm giving me a sense of security that I have not felt since childhood. I remember something she said about that first encounter when I asked her the time. She told me much later that she was still smiling after I asked her the time for she saw the large watch on my wrist. She looks up as I chuckle, with a smile and love in her eyes that I would do anything for. Dear world, I do not feel like the leaf on the deciduous tree any more, I feel like an evergreen, alive until the very end. The path ahead is still bright with color and I feel so alive, alive like never before.

-Shiidon, July 2011

This work is a work of fiction. I sound like a broken record at times but no, I have not "found someone." The photograph is of a painting by Leonid Afremov (afremov.com). The painting is titled "When Dreams Come True." It took my breath away when I saw it and I now have three prints, including this one, hanging in my house. He paints with a pallet knife, not a brush. Think of this story as a tribute to that painting. I have been encouraged to write more stories by you, the reader (all three of you, just kidding). One of my friends today commented on my story from yesterday and suggested I rewrite it in the first person as an exercise. My response was this story. I had been wanting to write something inspired by the painting but could not get the grasp of it. I then went out yesterday on errands and became a bit clearer of the way I wanted the story to go and then the first person idea took over and within an hour of that suggestion this story formed. I hope you enjoy it. As with my poems I am surprised at what ends up coming from the keyboard as it takes on a life of its own.

Copse of Brotherhood

The three men started on the path one late spring day. They walked among the tall grass along a nearly dry creek bed. The evidence of horses not long gone could be found here and there. It was a pleasant stroll and one that would see them separate for some time to come so they were making the most of their remaining time together. The path they tread ran parallel to a more formal path, one that would allow the casual cyclist or stroller to pass through the tall and expansive trees. There was a gentle and almost unnoticeable breeze and the sun, past its zenith, was not hot enough to cause discomfort.

They passed the time conversing of times long ago and times to come interspersed with a silence from time to time while each one lost themselves in their own private thoughts. The youngest served as guide as he had made his way through these trails for many years. They approached a breach in the brush along the path and he led them through. A natural cave of overhanging trees covered a slightly wider portion of the creek still holding a steady level of water. The only thing out of place, and in a strange enough way not, was a barely recognizable lean to and the remnants of a sleeping bag with a few items of debris strewn about. It was clearly a place that some transient made home for some time. The men then took part in a tradition by pulling out and lighting cigars. They sat for some time reflecting on the mysteries of life with each one giving their perspectives on the various topics of concern for the day.

Slowly the cigars dissipated into nothingness and the three men bid the copse goodbye, thanking the long gone transient for his hospitality.

How many times has this scene been played out? Over how many centuries can one imagine this occurring? These events are the legacy of similar events in the expanses of early Texas, the Australian outback to the fields of Mazindaran and beyond. They hold to no time or place. How similar events in the future will manifest is to be seen. Let it be said though, that it was a magical time that will never be forgotten.

-Shiidon, July 2011

The Minds Stage

THE MINDS STAGE

On this path I tread

Do I reflect

Or rush on ahead

I see myself

Watching me

As I wander

In life’s deep sea

Sometimes content

Sometimes sad

At what I see

Life is lived

As if on a stage

Chapter by chapter

Page by page

One day we’ll be gone

To that world beyond

And bring to account

Our deeds we shall

Up to, our curtain call

Why is it then

If we know this end

That our lives

We do not mend

When we step out

Against another

Tis clear to all

Our standards

Hath taken a fall

Yet when

In our thoughts we transgress

There’s no one around

To see our distress

And tis easy

A different face to profess

Can we in truth

With our own thoughts live

What if these moments

We repeat and relive

Tis one thing

To do what’s right

And another

To ourselves be forthright

To wash our thoughts

With water pure

So that the good in us

Will long endure

And of our own salvation

We doth ensure

-Shiidon, July 2011

Many different descriptions have been written about what it will be like when we are called away from this world. Most describe taking a look at ones life and judging. Some imply that God will judge us and others that we shall judge our own selves before God. A quote of Bahá'u'llá that I read each day is as follows:

O SON OF BEING!

Bring thyself to account each day ere thou art summoned to a reckoning: for death, unheralded, shall come upon thee and thou shalt be called to give account for thy deeds.

So a thought has been in my head. What if I was looking at my own life and wishing that I could change some action or thought. I mention thought for it is our thoughts and actions that encompass the essence of who we are. Why did I do that? Why did I think that about that person? So, many times, when I think a thought that could be construed as ill towards another, I find myself stepping back for a moment, reflecting and then asking forgiveness from that person. For in some ways, I think it is not just us that look upon our lives. What if that person was there with us and saw what it is we say or do that reflects poorly on them. What if they also saw us ask for forgiveness as well. Can this not help but better our lives?

This temporal world we live in is all we have for reference. The world of true reality is out of our understanding and so what we have left is to make the best of this world and to prepare for the world to come.

Think good thought :-)

Moshref

MOSHREF

I sat at your feet

With your love replete

Your quotes and logic

Know no defeat

With a sense of majesty

You doth show

With knowledge gained

Didst I grow

In my heart did you reach

as you did teach

showing me a love

from above

like the sages past

your faith steadfast

bestowing love upon me

showing my destiny

a treasure you are

a heavenly token

with a certitude unbroken

Of this I am sure

As I kneel here beside you

At the Masters feet

Will you be found

When my time comes

To leave this ground

You have respected me

One so undeserving

Your love and joy

Unswerving

From now on

As this journey doth go

Of this I know

A part of you will I keep

Within my heart, so deep

And each and every day

When love doth not show

Within my heart will I go

-Shiidon, June 2008

Most people of faith would say that we are entering a different epoch of human history. Our interpretations of this are different depending on the belief structure we adhere to. One of the changes I foresee is how we remember people. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, son of the founder of the Bahá’í Faith wrote a book of selected biographies called “Memorials of the Faithful.” In this book He describes the lives of individuals of note in early Bahá’í history. We read about their character, how they arose to serve mankind and most important, their stellar character.

We are souls that are preparing ourselves for the world beyond. We have animal instincts and needs yet a cognizant soul that aspires to reach out and beyond to fulfill a higher nature. When we remember someone we can do so on two different levels, we can choose to remember their weaknesses and failings or we can remember their character and service to others. It is the latter of these that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá memorializes in His book. One can say that to remember a person in their weaker times helps to see their higher nature. In the Bahá’í writings it is understood that when we pass on into the next realm of God, we do not take anything negative with us. Evil is not a substantive power in itself, it is the absence of good, only the good nature passes on. There is much negativity in this world already, let us focus on the good.

The subject of this poem is a dear soul that I knew for half of my life. He was a dear soul to me and he passed on this past week. On Sunday last week he was laid to rest. There is much about him and what he means to me that will not ever be publicly written.

I had the honor in the past few years to have had the opportunity to get to speak with Mr. Moshref on a one to one basis. We spent many hours at times discussing spiritual matters. He interpreted dreams that I have had as well as having shared with me some of his knowledge and wisdom. I have had the honor of serving with him for a time on the Spiritual Assembly of Austin. What I learned was this was a man of great depth, humility, honor and integrity. I am an avid reader of history of all kinds and of Bahá’í history in particular. Mr. Moshref reminded me of those early believers that I have read about in the history books. He was a connection to a time long gone. My parents are around the same age and I have to remember from time to time that they were born at a time when the daughter of Bahá’u’lláh was still alive.

II wrote this poem a few years ago when I felt that the time of separation was drawing near. I will miss him very much and the unconditional love he showered on me. The tears that have been shed are watering the path that will one day see me leaving this realm for the other. At the end of that path will be the loved ones that have gone before me and among them will be Mr. Moshref.