1 Reason Not to Look Back

Jesus of Nazareth said, “one who puts hand to plow and looks back is not fit for the kingdom of God” (Lk 9.62).  A person working for God looks ahead to the goal of the mission, not behind which is further away from the goal.

Satchel Paige of Mobile (Ala.) said, “don’t look back, something might be gaining on you.”  Do not be concerned with what is behind.  Something may be chasing you, but it shouldn’t distract you.  M.B. Roberts has a nice, concise biographical essay on Paige at ESPN.com.

The lesson we’re being taught here is – look forward.  The future is an important place for us to go.


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A General Comment

The world and everything in it are just fine.  There is good and evil, order and chaos and it’s all expected, though the details are entertaining.  God is good, the source of it all and the faintest notion, down here below, of what God is, tells of ignorance and sin.  This too is a good thing.  Know thyself.

Image result for sunrise

Image result for sunset

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“Maybe Someday” or ‘How Long, Lord?’

I want to go on record about the special feeling I get when I hear Stevie Wonder sing his ballad, ‘My Cherie Amour,’ especially the phrase – “maybe someday” (…”you’ll see my face among the crowd” or “I’ll share your little distant cloud”), which appears twice in the third stanza.  It’s like my heart melts or cracks and I’m suffused with lonely joy.  (Of course there are tears.)  Link to YouTube video:  https://youtu.be/b0Gu-CyE-NQ .

Music, an art form, involves aesthetics.  Hearing something beautiful instantiates emotion and the quickness of the experience makes clear the causal relation between music and the affect, but in between is soul and this is the realm of psychology and philosophy, in other words, endless theorizing. I’ve no doubt though, of the apprehension of beauty when I hear Stevie sing “maybe someday.”

All have wishes.  Wish and dream are very powerful processes of the human psyche.  When Little Orphan Annie sings ‘Tomorrow,’ she’s expressing a wish for an end to sorrow.  An end, an ending – “all’s well that ends well” (play by William Shakespeare).  The end or purpose of wish and dream is goodness, that is, some good, which means that things are not so good for the dreamer in the here and now.  We may work and wait for a change for the better, but how long is this to go on?

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
    How long will you hide your face from me? (Ps 13.1  )

His disciples said to him, “When will the kingdom come?”

“It will not come by watching for it. It will not be said, ‘Look, here!’ or ‘Look, there!’ Rather, the Father’s kingdom is spread out upon the earth, and people don’t see it.” (GTh 113)

Too bad and oh so sad.  Some things can’t be forced.  One can hope and wish and pray and dream!

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Funeral Dirge: Form and Function

A dirge is a hymn, lament or poem about the death of someone.  A funeral dirge would be such within an actual funeral.  Etymology of the word starts with Latin verb dirigere (English, ponder-direct, guide) used in Catholic church ‘Office of the Dead,’ liturgy for remembering and praying for someone no longer alive on Earth.

Here is link to Chopin’s ‘Funeral March’ – https://youtu.be/kyFyAqLtHq8.  This musical composition would typically accompany the gathering of mourners at graveside of the deceased.  It would foster a somber mood, with prayer, which would serve to implore the Almighty Creator to guide the soul of the dead to heaven and guide those remaining.

We are all on the path to death.

Eat, drink, be merry, for tomorrow we die.

“By the sweat of your brow you will eat food until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you will return” (Gen 3.19). [Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..]

If I should die (54)

Emily Dickinson, 18301886

If I should die,
And you should live,
And time should gurgle on,
And morn should beam,
And noon should burn,
As it has usual done;
If birds should build as early,
And bees as bustling go,—
One might depart at option
From enterprise below!
’T is sweet to know that stocks will stand
When we with daisies lie,
That commerce will continue,
And trades as briskly fly.
It makes the parting tranquil
And keeps the soul serene,
That gentlemen so sprightly
Conduct the pleasing scene!

After Great Pain, A Formal Feeling Comes

After great pain, a formal feeling comes –
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –
And stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And Yesterday, or Centuries before?

The Feet, mechanical, go round –
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought –
A Wooden way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone –

This is the Hour of Lead –
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow –
First –  Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –

Emily Dickinson

Contemplate the dirge, pray for yourself.







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Emily Dickinson – Rebel

Much Madness is divinest Sense

Much Madness is divinest Sense –
To a discerning Eye –
Much Sense – the starkest Madness –
’Tis the Majority
In this, as all, prevail –
Assent – and you are sane –
Demur – you’re straightway dangerous –
And handled with a Chain –
This poem by Dickinson (1830-1886) shows her rebel self.  She didn’t hold with ‘going along with the crowd’ or social convention, generally, just for the sake of comfortability.  In fact, she was a recluse.  I wish I could be a recluse, but I have to go out into the world every day to work.  Work gives me the independence I need so I’m not a burden on others.
In 1847, in her last year of schooling, Dickinson was the only student who didn’t stand up when the class was asked ‘who wants to be Christians.’  This willful act also shows her rebel self.  Here is the first stanza of one of her poems which well-shows her thought about God.
 Nature and God — I neither knew
Yet Both so well knew me
They startled, like Executors
Of My identity.
She was taken aback by the majesty of creation.
I like the poetry of Emily Dickinson and through it, I like her, though she’s dead.  There is a fine biographical essay on her at the poetry foundation.


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Two Literary Pieces from my Mom

My Mom, Etta Marie Rizzuto, asked me to post these two  poetic pieces on my blog.

‘Cardboard Boxes’

Snow slowly drifts down onto

Leafless trees, dirty streets with

Shuttered homes and

Cardboard boxes covering homeless people


Fragrant flowers, poking through weed-filled

Yards and broken glass, their aroma flowing into

Cardboard boxes covering  homeless people


Dazzling days filled with light and sunshine,

Surrounding deserted parks and garbage-

Laden fountains and warming

Cardboard boxes covering homeless people


Leaves of autumn colors – red, orange, gold

Drift against broken fences and junked cars

Bright and bold landing on

Cardboard boxes covering homeless people


Lord, open our eyes so we may see

The arms of all those who plead

Lord, open our ears so we may hear

The cries of children filled with  fear

Lord, open our minds to the poverty, sickness

And loneliness suffered by

Homeless people living under cardboard boxes


Lord, open our hearts to the love you gave us

While dying on the cross

Glory and hope will give meaning and

Faith to the homeless people who no

Longer live under cardboard boxes

Because we care.

(published in local newspaper, The Orange Transcript [NJ], 6/12/2014)




Look for amazing rainbows

instead of terrible hurricanes

Find fluttering butterflies

instead of noisy beetles

Stay with happy children

instead of pesty pains.


Travel the soaring mountains, the

verdant valleys, the country lanes

instead of dismal swamps,

devastated neighborhoods,

barren plains.


Fly the drifting clouds, the

brilliant ray of sunshine, if

only in your dreams

instead of drowning yourself

in sorrow, harsh criticism

and worthless schemes.


Gather those about you who plant

fruitful seeds

instead of walking through

fields of endless weeds.


Live today and be glad, forgive

those who may be sad,

We do not know the problems

others face,

While we live happily in the

Almighty’s grace

instead through it all if

we rid ourselves of stress

we may find the next moment

will be the best!




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[I’m sixty years old.]

I wish for a private grave

on another planet;

with pretty flowers,

to be seen only by God.


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