Lost and Found

As one particularly interested in the written word I found the following piece to be an intriguing take on how semantics can affect the philosophical beliefs of an entire culture. I hope you find it an engaging read.
Namaste,
Reiki Clown

I’ve been living with the misguided, if one is to believe the prevailing dogma, notion that those who die, or to say it in a more socially acceptable genteel way--pass on, do so in order to facilitate their soul’s arrival in whatever type of afterlife their spiritual belief system subscribes to. The recent death of a parent has placed a critical spotlight on this personal belief and prompted an evaluation. The use of a four letter word seems to be at the crux of the matter.
So let’s consider the word lost. Lost has several meanings and experts advise that unless this word is used in such a way as to offer no ambiguities regarding the intended meaning a different word should be employed. According to the dictionary lost can describe rapt attention such as being lost in thought, a failure of some sort such as a lost battle, it can refer to something no longer known or practiced such as a lost art, it can mean unable to function as in having lost ones arm or to finding ones way as in having lost the trail. No mention is made of an association with death.
Since the passing of my father seven months ago I’ve become attuned to the ways in which people skirt—now there’s blog worthy word—the issue of death. According to one and all I’ve misplaced my father apparently in much the same way I might lose a set of car keys, a book, my pen, money, occasionally my mind, or my car in a large parking lot--an eventuality, I might add, more likely to occur during inclement weather.
I have been regaled with, “we’re so sorry you’ve lost your father, losing a parent can be so difficult, we’re sorry for your loss”. I’m sure these blithely repeated platitudes are very kindly meant but I haven’t misplaced—a synonym for lost—him! Admittedly the parameters of the relationship have shifted but there’s no need to form a search party. His essence is firmly embedded in my memories and his soul is enjoying the next phase of life.
I do, however, now understand why there are so many things left undone or poorly done in this country. A great preponderance of the population is out searching for a misplaced loved one.
Perhaps an edict should be spread across the land—Stop The Madness Now! Return to your homes, your families, your jobs. It’s all a big mistake, someone misused the word, another repeated the mistake and it spread like wildfire. It’s a matter of semantics--your dearly departed are just that, departed…not lost!

Spleen Juice

How a vacation can change perspectives, This is a journal entry from one of our favorite journal writers of the 21st century. She doesn’t follow the typical lifestyle and provides interesting insight into a perspective not immured in the stereotypical mindset of her times.

Euroswydd, Reiki Clown and Mort

An interesting change happened to me over vacation. I lost my spleen. No I don’t mean to say that I had an operation, I’m referring to the fact that I’m not as inclined as I once was to write stinging commentary regarding the insufferable—as I see it—inept, handling of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness as perpetrated by those functioning—I use the term loosely—in what is purported to be the most important administrative offices in the United States, oh excuse me…the world. Yup, I just don’t seem to be able to work up the amount of energy needed to spout off witticisms regarding such atrocities as the possibility of Judge Alito spending the rest of his life in the judiciary seated on the Supreme Court, further sealing this country’s fate—or put another way, its reentry into the Dark Ages.
Interestingly enough the word spleen when used in the literary rather than organic sense brings to mind thoughts of anger, venom and the like. The spleen—when housed in a human body—is actually an important component in the battle to keep things in humming along effectively. As a member of the lymphatic system it cleans and restores as a member of the literary community it alludes to things of a malevolent nature.
It’s not that I’m any less perturbed by the events as played out before me on both my TV and computer screen it’s just that I’m not sure anymore if harping on it all will make any appreciable difference in the outcome. Perhaps those who espouse the concept of prayer are correct. A concept that I actually do believe in by the way.
It has been bandied about of late, and I believe Federal dollars will soon be appropriated to fund a scientific study of this phenomenon, that when people pray—and the more the better the results—what they pray for is more likely than not to come about. In other words if a bunch of people are all thinking the same thing and putting their energies of mind and spirit towards a common goal, very often that goal is achieved.
Given this concept I can’t help but wonder if it’s wise, for those of us appalled at the path this country is charging down, to be granting it so much of our time and energy? Shouldn’t we be emulating the organic spleen, cleaning and restoring?
Of course venting can also be such a healthy pursuit…

Imagine

Studies have shown that an unfortunate repercussion of the human maturation process is the shutting down of specific sensory perception sites within the brain. These sites help facilitate mental and emotional developement but were ridiculed by the masses as being "childish". Apparently not everybody succumbed to the inevitable and we've incuded this poem as proof of this hypothesis.

Euroswydd, Mort and Reiki Clown

Imagine

Wafts of breeze undulate gossamer threads
Inspiring woven expressions as they pirouette
through the air

Can you still see these delicate curtains?
Bejeweled with shimmering memories
Of warm summers, sea salt zephyrs and
unlimited possibilities?