Remembering Infinity

Spirituality | Metaphysics | Consciousness | Life


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Remembering Infinity: All Lives Matter


All are loved beyond measure--even the tiniest house finch.

All are loved beyond measure–even the tiniest house finch.

Several days ago, I had the privilege of rescuing a tiny young house finch whose feet and legs had become tightly bound together by several strands from her own nest. She had been flapping her wings in a desperate attempt to escape for quite some time and was hopelessly trapped, a dozen or so feet above the ground, under some solar panels where I work.

As soon as I heard about the bird’s predicament, I knew I had to help. I borrowed a tall ladder and soon found myself perched rather shakily at the top, sweating in near 100-degree heat. It was no easy task—trying to free her gently without causing her further injury.  Her little legs were crusted with dried blood and a part of one of her wings was rubbed raw by her struggles, but she fought bravely against her unforgiving bonds and me as well.

Working to free her, I was impressed by her incredible will to survive.  As I felt her frantic heart pounding wildly against my hand, I suddenly felt an intense Love and Compassion for this small, seemingly insignificant creature.  I was instantly and profoundly humbled, for she had reminded me that the gift of life should be cherished—in all its many forms.  It occurred to me that this is an important lesson many human beings must still not understand, for so many of us still continue to harm one another (and so many other of Nature’s creatures too).

While I carefully pulled the nest apart and gazed into this little bird’s frightened black eyes, I thought about the reasons so many humans seem to have such little respect for life. I came to realize that, in many ways, this callous disregard is just a dark shadow from some very old and clearly outdated ways of thinking and reacting. For thousands of years, mankind has somehow come to see itself as being completely separate from everything else. Like this little bird, from our earliest roots the drive to survive has taught us to be suspicious or even hostile to those who are not familiar to us.

In our troubled human history, it hasn’t been unusual at all to see new neighbors fear, compete with, and even kill one another—simply because they perceived themselves as being different from one another. Unfortunately, even those with close familial ties had (and still have) no guarantees. Those who’ve had disabilities, behaved differently, or somehow failed to meet “cultural standards” were often ridiculed, beaten, shunned from society, or even killed. In some situations, this habit of discrimination may have been seen as a way to limit the spread of illness or disease, but in far more cases these primitive fears and their resulting brutality were completely unnecessary and utterly baseless.

As shards of glass will scatter when a window pane is dropped upon a hard surface, humanity itself has become shattered. And, while the human population has grown, so it seems have our differences.  Tribes became clans, clans became villages, villages became cities, and cities became states and nations.  Instead of seeing our differences as beautiful and unique expressions of Creation and accepting them as such, we continued to cling to our old, familiar biases.  Today, people allow themselves to be eternally divided by their own beliefs and allegiances.  When we aren’t divided by national origin, language, or culture, then we’re divided by race, skin color, religious belief, or political philosophy. If these differences aren’t enough, we divide ourselves by age, physical appearance, sexual orientation, and gender.  We’re even judged and segregated by the kind of cars we drive, the brands of clothing we wear, the sports teams and celebrities we worship, and the type of “smart phones” or technology over which we obsess.  And the lists of things that separate us just goes on and on…

To make matters worse, recent tensions between some members of our community and the police have led to even greater divisiveness.  Resulting slogans of “Black Lives Matter” and “Blue Lives Matter” seem only to have fanned the flames of conflict, as do claims that the phrase, “All Lives Matter” somehow disrespects or minimizes the feelings of those who are suffering from the violence on both sides of the issue.

Seriously, has it come to that? Have things gotten so bad that even those with the utmost respect for life are now vilified and attacked for their Compassion?

I would suggest that if we are to evolve as a species, we must stop looking at one another through the myopic lenses of ignorance, prejudice, and fear.  At some point we must begin seeing each other as fellow travelers, all sharing a life together on this beautiful Earth home of ours.

It’s now well past time for us to wake up!  It’s time for us to end this insanity! It’s time for us to see that generations of insecurity, competition, and conflict have left us all struggling to find common ground and the understanding that, when it all comes down to it, we are all one race.  Differences are wonderful, of course, for they make us each stand out from one another–just as the individual grains of sand appear different upon a tropical beach. But in the end, we are One Tribe.  One world.   One people.  One Spirit.

It took a chance encounter with a small bird for me to fully understand that all are important.  All are equal.  And all are loved beyond measure—even the tiniest house finch.

So please…let’s learn something from the struggle of this little feathered creature.  Let us remember that all life is precious and irreplaceable, all life is sacred, and all lives truly matter.

With Love,

stargazericon

PS:  In the end, I was finally able to free this little bird and take her to a local wildlife facility for treatment.  Several days later, I was disappointed to learn that she didn’t survive her difficult ordeal. While I am saddened by her loss, I’m profoundly grateful to her for reminding me how wonderful, fleeting, and precious life is. And I’ll continue to honor her gift every each and every day by appreciating the Life Spirit in all things—no matter how great or small they may be.

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“Motherly” Love


Happy Mother’s Day to all who unselfishly nurture and care for others—just as any mother would.

Happy Mother’s Day to all who unselfishly nurture and care for others—just as any mother would.

On this Mother’s Day, as we think about, acknowledge, and honor all the beautiful souls who have brought life into the world, I’d like to express my gratitude and appreciation to all women—and indeed, the sacred aspects of femininity that exist everywhere!

Whether or not they have physically conceived, carried, or given birth to a child, there have been countless examples of blessed beings (both men and women) who have embraced what many perceive to be expressly feminine or so-called “motherly” traits. These often include such virtues as empathy, compassion, acceptance, and creativity. We see examples of this every day—when people (and even animals) care for, nurture, and share unconditional love with others.

I’m reminded of a pond near my home where a large goose has, for several years now, taken on a role as protector of many young ducklings. The goose, who is clearly not the progenitor of these youngsters, follows them and their mothers around, keeping a wary eye out for would-be predators and fearlessly warding them off. Although the goose is not a mother herself, it has quite unselfishly taken on such a role. To me, this exemplifies the finest qualities of motherhood and unconditional love.

It’s important for us to understand that, although our physical bodies may reflect a certain gender, we humans are most spiritually balanced when we embrace and honor both our Divine Masculine and our Divine Feminine sides. This simply means that we can allow ourselves to freely express whichever aspect is needed and most appropriate for a given situation, regardless of any preconceived notions about gender or any perceived societal role.

For far too many millennia, humankind has denied, persecuted, subjugated, and suppressed the feminine. This has resulted in a patriarchal modern society where women and the Divine Feminine must struggle to find equality in religion, government, industry, community, and even family. Although much progress has been made, particularly in the past few decades, it’s high time for all women—indeed, all human beings, to step forward in their power as Divine, Sovereign Individuals. All must be free to become the highest expression of themselves, regardless of gender.

So on this “Mother’s” Day, I’d like to recognize and honor not just all the moms out there, but the beautiful spirit of “Motherhood” that beats powerfully in the hearts of so many others. Whether you’re a grandparent, parent, aunt, uncle, or any other caregiver, it doesn’t matter if you are male, female, or someone’s biological mother. If you’re caring for someone as any mother would, you serve as a shining light and nurturing example of all that is right in the world.

Motherly Love. It isn’t just for mothers anymore!

Respectfully,

stargazericon

P.S.: Thanks, Mom!

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Remembering Infinity: Grandma’s House


We may find that "Heaven" is within ourselves—by simply opening our minds and hearts to its presence.

We may find that “Heaven” is within ourselves—by simply opening our minds and hearts to its presence.

This post is dedicated to my good friend Grace, at Amethyst Road and The Earth Plan.

One of my favorite places growing up was my paternal grandparents’ house.  One of many boxy row houses squeezed alongside one another in San Francisco’s Miraloma Park neighborhood, most of the homes were built there in the post-war 1940’s.  Their uniform stucco walls weathered the infamous San Francisco fog well and from their flat tar and gravel roofs or upstairs bedroom windows, the views of the Bay were absolutely spectacular—at least on those seemingly rare days when the sun actually broke through the gray.

Whenever my parents and I would come by for a visit or a weekend stay, I’d race down the walk between closely trimmed hedges, race up the painted concrete steps, and ring the doorbell next to the dark wooden door.  Grandma, plump and rosy-cheeked in her apron, would often be working in the kitchen when we’d arrive.  She’d greet us at the door with a delighted laugh, and as she dried her softly-lined hands on a faded tea towel, I’d rush in for one of the warmest and best hugs—ever!

The door would shut tight behind us with a solid thump and click, shutting out all the worries and cares of the outside world.  We’d cross the worn hardwood floor, pass through the dim, book-cluttered living room, and head straight for the kitchen. With its large windows, pale yellow paint, and bright vinyl tablecloth, the room was always warm, cheerful, and inviting.  On warmer days, the fragrance from Grandma’s favorite “Cecile Brunner” rose bushes would drift in through the open windows, along with the joyful song of her many backyard birds.

Grandma would put a pot of water on the stove to boil for the adults’ coffee or tea and bring down a package or two of cookies from the high cupboard above the oven.  Sugar cookies, iced raisin cookies, or chocolate chip “Angel” cookies—all were well-appreciated, especially when dunked in a glass of cold milk which, in those days, was still delivered to their doorstep in heavy glass bottles with little pop-out cardboard caps.

While the adults were catching up on the latest news and gossip, I’d usually excuse myself and go explore.  Sometimes I’d sneak down the squeaky wooden stairs and into the dark, cave-like basement, full of its electronics equipment and power tools.  Grandad, in addition to being an amateur radio operator, was well-regarded as an electronics “whiz”.  He took pride in being able to repair just about anything that had wires, transistors, or glass vacuum tubes in it—and every nook and cranny in the basement reflected it.  Every square inch, including the overhead rafters, was crammed full of saved parts and pieces from disassembled appliances or communications equipment.  Even though his work kept him away from home for long periods of time, his well-organized workbench always smelled pleasantly of melted solder, shoe polish, and his lingering aftershave.  Sometimes I’d just sit on the tall stool at his workbench and spin round and round, dizzily watching the basement rush by in a blur.

Since both my grandparents had experienced the difficult and “lean” times of the Great Depression and World War II, neither one threw much of anything away.  They saved just about everything, for they had learned that to throw something away was only to have need of it later.  And if the basement of the house was a collection of goods for posterity’s sake, the remainder of the house was much the same.  It was replete with dusty stacks of papers, books, magazines, and every manner of box and container.  Most of the rooms were stacked, floor to ceiling, with such treasures—all of them just waiting to be rediscovered by a snoopy youngster.  Closets, drawers, and creaky-hinged trunks were adventures in the making and, thanks to a rather active imagination, I had a grand time exploring undersea caves, jungles, and centuries-buried tombs.

But in addition to all my imagined adventures, there was another, even more important thing that I’ll never forget about Grandma’s house.  It was a truly special place that was filled with love. I always knew that, no matter what I had done or what might have happened since my last visit, at Grandma’s I was always forgiven and loved—completely and unconditionally.  I always knew that I was free to be, fully and unabashedly, me.

Now, many decades later, I know that in life—just like at Grandma’s house, we are always forgiven and loved by Our Creator.  And there’s no need to go anywhere or search afar to find our Home or connection with this Source either.  One only needs to look about with a sense of awareness, spiritual connection, and gratitude to realize that “Heaven” isn’t somewhere else.  It’s already here.  We simply need to open our minds and hearts to discover that it’s hidden deep within ourselves—right where it’s always been!

With Very Much Love,

stargazericon

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Remembering Infinity: “Stealth” Rainbows


I like to think of those brilliant and surprising patches of color in the sky as “stealth” rainbows.

I like to think of those brilliant and surprising patches of color in the sky as “stealth” rainbows.

I suppose I’ve always been a bit of a sky watcher at heart (and a “Stargazer” as my pen name suggests). As such, throughout my day I frequently catch my thoughts—and attention drifting skyward. Before I know it, I find myself admiring the lazy circles of a hawk in flight, billowing cloud castles, or the golden rays of sunshine streaking through the firmament.

My wife apparently knows this quite well, for several weeks ago I was supposed to meet her for an appointment after work.  The sky was absolutely gorgeous as I left—and I was so captivated by the shifting light and clouds that I completely forgot I was supposed to be somewhere.  I drove up to a nearby park to shoot some photos and wasn’t reminded of my prior obligation until my phone “blew up” with text messages wondering where I had gone.  When I finally arrived, quite late for the meeting and profuse with apologies, my wife lightheartedly accused me of “chasing rainbows and moonbeams”.  I’m very grateful that she and our tax preparer have such a forgiving nature—and a cheerful sense of humor!

It’s strange, but I have been noticing a lot of rainbows lately—and not the usual kinds, either. I certainly expect to see these brilliant arcs of color on rainy days or in some settings, such as Hawai’i, where water and light frolic among the clouds and waterfalls. But in the relatively dry climate where I live, rainbows are a typically rare occurrence. In the past few months however, I’ve been seeing what I like to think of as “stealth” rainbows—and I don’t recall seeing these much, if at all, before. I’ll be going about, ostensibly minding my own business, and I’ll suddenly glance up to see a brilliant patch of shimmering color all by itself in the sky!  Sometimes they’re subtle, but other times the colors just seem to jump out at me from nowhere—like the ones in the accompanying photo. I was actually on my way to work one morning when I saw this amazing streak of color. I was so impressed I just had to pull over, grab my camera, and snap its picture.

Since then it seems, I’ve seen dozens of these sneaky little critters. I’ve seen them in the morning, in the afternoon, at sunset—and sometimes even at night, when they seem to shimmer and dance around a full moon.  No matter where or when I see them, they’re all breathtakingly beautiful. Personally, I love the whimsical idea that rainbows are sylphs, or nymph-like, living beings that inhabit the Earth’s atmosphere.

Each time I see one, I’m reminded of the story of Noah’s Ark, in which God is said to have created the rainbow as a sign of His covenant with all living creatures.  At that time, so the story goes, He promised that He would never again destroy the Earth by flood. Even though I no longer believe in the angry, vengeful God of the Old Testament, I do recognize the rainbow as a rare and wonderful gift of Nature and All That Is. Rainbows are presents of light and color, where each wonderful hue is individually represented and expressed—yet all blend together to form one brilliant masterpiece. I see rainbows as signs, symbols, and reminders of the loving bridge that connects us all with one another and with Source. It reminds me that we are eternally One in essence and in spirit.

About the same time I began seeing these wonderful signs, I was delighted to learn that many others were witnessing them too. Rather synchronistically, several photos of some truly spectacular, rainbow-hued ice halos cropped up on the Internet. One such scene in Red River, New Mexico, was described as having a total of eight different types of atmospheric phenomena present.  Any one of these was, in and of itself, acknowledged by experts as being quite rare. How is it then, that eight could be present, all in the same place and at the same time? The odds of that happening must have been astronomical! I just can’t allow myself to believe that these magnificent, even magical occurrences can be simply explained away as random, pragmatic events. To me, they are all harbingers of a bright and brilliant new time, one in which such glorious beauty will become customary—and it is therefore all the more appreciated.

So the next time you see a rainbow, whether it may be “stealth” or otherwise, why not take a moment to pause and admire its beauty? You might find it more than a bit comforting to consider it, as I do, a gentle reminder that Our Creator loves us all—deeply and unconditionally. Period.

With profound Love and Respect,

stargazericon

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Remembering Infinity: Love…Is.


Love…is.  Love will always be.

Love…is. Love will always be.

This post is dedicated in deepest gratitude to my wife and closest friend—and to all who Love, everywhere.

A s I sat thinking about something special to write for Valentine’s Day, I naturally began to think about “love” and what the word really means. I supposed I could look up the word in the dictionary, but would a clinical dissection of those four little letters help me understand and express what “love” truly is? Hardly.

It occurred to me that “love” is something that’s quite different for everyone—and, indeed, there are many kinds of love. I was delightfully reminded of that (love)able character, “Bubba” in the movie “Forrest Gump”, when he begins listing all the different kinds of shrimp and ways to prepare them. “They’s, um, shrimp kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo, pan-fried, deep-fried, stir-fried, pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp…”, and so many others.

Just as there’re all kinds of ways to cook and enjoy shrimp, there’re all kinds of love. There’s brotherly love, sisterly love, love of country, love for certain foods, things, or activities, Divine Love (the kind we receive from our Creator), unconditional love, compassionate love, romantic love, unrequited love, and so on.

Since love is such a deeply personal and circumstantial thing, I decided to write about what “love” means to me. Quite obviously, it’s an emotion. It’s an intense feeling of warmth, joy, attraction, and contentment—all rolled into one. It’s a profound attraction, desire, or even yearning to completely engage or embrace someone or something. It’s a feeling that makes us want to freely and fully experience that which is the focus of our attention at that very moment. And it’s a feeling that seems to touch us on so many levels, all at once. It tugs at our hearts. It soothes our souls. It heals. It comforts. It fulfills. It brings excitement and happiness. To me, love is all these things—and so much more.

Love is the mother cradling her newborn child in her arms. As she basks in the glow of her accomplishment, Love soothes her pain, eases her exhaustion, and lifts her spirits.

Love is the quiet hand extended in friendship, forgiveness, or apology.

Love is the tearful hug shared by two souls suddenly reunited—when each thought the other had been lost forever.

Love is a playful puppy, bouncing across the lawn in pursuit of a shrieking, delighted toddler.

Love is the compassionate, cooling touch of a damp cloth upon a fevered brow or a mother’s tender kiss upon a child’s injured finger.

Love is the strength of a father, lifting his child up high to peek in wonder at the soft blue eggs in a robin’s nest.

Love is the shy, blushing excitement of youth’s first kiss.

Love is the tender embrace of two wayward souls, each desperately seeking—and finding, blessed completion in one another’s arms.

Love is the warmth of two hands, joined together in the promise of home, family, and lifelong companionship.

Love is the peace that two share, their bodies entwined in passion’s blissful afterglow.

Love is in the last thundering beats of a heart—as one life willfully, selflessly, and fiercely sacrifices itself for another.

Love is in the soft lines, wrinkles, and unsteady steps of one who has lived long and well.

Love is in the gentle tears that fall as we hold a dear one tight in final embrace.

Love is beautiful, love is blind.

Love is respectful, selfless, and kind.

Love is perfectly felt by the soul when, suddenly released from earthen bonds, it remembers that it is indeed infinite and immortal. Soaring blissfully free among the stars, it finally returns to The One who has always been and will always be—Home.

Love…is.  Love will always be.

May you and yours find all the Love that is you, this Valentine’s Day—and always!

With profound Respect and very much Love,

stargazericon

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Remembering Infinity: What God Said


God said, "I love you...pass it on!"

God said, “I love you…pass it on!”

The other day, I was thinking about God and pondering the nature of Life as I often do. If God had only one thing to tell us, I wondered, what would it be? In an instant, I knew. The words formed themselves in my mind with no effort whatsoever on my part—and I’m certain they weren’t my own.

Would you like to know what God said to me?

     “I Love You…pass it on!”

Respectfully,

stargazericon

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