English as a First Language

With all due modesty, in the secret recesses of my mind, I believe I'm a pretty good writer.  I have a healthy grasp of the English language and am more than familiar with the structural components thereof; at least, this is what I thought.

As part of my education at University of Phoenix Online, I have to take a writing class for students.  Who knew that after 30+ years away from college, I would have forgotten as much as I have.  Transitive and intrasitive verbs, comma-splicing, passive and active voices, and many other areas of writing are being received by my musty brain as though they've never been learned before. 

When I was in elementary school and high school, I did my best work on speeches and creative writing essays.  Book reports were fine, but they required far too much effort, quite honestly.  I suppose, in a way, I preferred blogging long before personal computers even existed.  Now that I'm expected to write with authority, accuracy, and in abundance, all directed by someone else, it's another matter all together. 

What I'm enjoying about the process, though, is that parts of my brain that have been dormant for so many years are dancing with glee in the ballroom that is my cranium, being allowed to sway once again to the music of my education. During my years of teaching, it was so much easier because I gave the assignments, then graded them after the little children cranked out their well-worked prose.  Even while I took a turn as a long-term substitute teacher in 10th Grade English, the units I covered were on short stories and poetry.  Again, creative writing.

I'm learning, though.  Structure, syntax, grammar, punctuation, and style are coming together.  It's very exciting; especially considering that I want to write for a living when I'm done with college.  [Author's note:  That sounds so funny coming from someone who is nearly 51.] 

The sad truth is that my work for the last 20 years as a musician is coming to a close.  Playing the piano is becoming more and more difficult with each passing year.  The arthritis, the carpal tunnel, and the issues following two strokes are more than my hands can handle anymore.  One would think that typing would also be a problem; however, it not as much because there isn't as much extension and power as when I play the piano.  The irony is that I can no longer write with a pen more than a few minutes at a time, if even that some days, because the act of holding the pen is painful.  The same holds true for the baton as I conduct in the pit.  Clearly, the Universe is directing me to the act of typing.  It's painfree (most of the time), enjoyable, and I'm able to do it at home.

I love my native language.  English to me is expressive and direct.  I will admit to a certain proclivity for the Italian language for sound and lyricism; but for function and comfort, it's all about English.  As a side note, if we add much more colloquial language to our American idiom, we'll soon develop our own distinct language.  Perhaps it would be called, "Amuricun." 

Hopefully, as I continue blogging, those following my entries will see a growth in my writing, both in style and structure.  As with music, I know that learning the foundational components of anything does not detract from the creativity of the work.  As my dear friend, Emily, says, it just adds colors to your box of paints.

Wishcraft

Every so often, when I least expect it, I spontaneously begin a sentence with, "Wouldn't it be nice if..."  One can fill in the blank any way one wishes, but if I say these words without thinking about them first, whatever is in that blank seems to come to pass.  I can't explain it.  It's been happening my whole life.  It's like wishcraft.  There's nothing evil about it.  It just feels like I am heard.  I suppose it's all about intention, because let me consciously think about those words before I say them, and more often than not, they end up evaporating like a drop of water in 105 degree weather.  Poof!

The Universe has a funny way of hearing our purest heart.  If we simply and innocently express a need, the Universe offers a satisfying response to that need. Sometimes, it takes a long, long time to get a response, but one eventually arrives.  When our intention is to manipulate and bring benefit to ourselves alone out of greed or malice, the Big U may actually give us what we ask; however, it comes with a very steep price.  That price is a lesson about our request.

In his blog on the Psychology Today website, Dr. Steven Diamond, forensic psychologist, quoted St. Thomas Aquinas who said that greed is "a sin against God, just as all mortal sins, in as much as man condemns things eternal for the sake of temporal things. (2010)"  In most religious and spiritual traditions, this overwhelming need to acquire things, feelings, or experiences for a selfish benefit goes against the nature of abundance and unity in the ethereal world.

There is, of course, a balance in all things.  Selflessness to the detriment of one's own health and wellbeing is to ignore what sustains us.  If we drive our car without refueling it, it will certainly run out of gas eventually.  Then, we are stuck in the middle of nowhere, waiting for assistance.  No matter how important it is for us to get where we are trying to go, and who needs us to be there, the truth remains that we didn't take care of our own needs so that we can continue being of service to others.  A certain amount of introspection about our own needs is necessary.

Gautama Buddha teaches that greed is an expression of desire for worldly material things in the extreme.  Buddhists believe that greed, like all human attachment to our physical world, is the root of all suffering.  This attachment can be to material goods (Bernie Madoff and his Ponzi scheme), physical pleasures (Tiger Woods and his many mistresses), or relationships with others (the murder of Jennifer Hudson's family by her ex-husband, William Balfour).

An axiom in the religious community has been for many years, "God will provide."  There is also a quote from Benjamin Franklin, paraphrased from the wonderful Greek storyteller and moralist, Æsop, "God helps those who help themselves (1736)."

There was a story about a fellow who lived in a house near a river.  A flood was approaching and the police came to his door, lights flashing, and said to the man, "Get in my car, sir.  A flood is coming."

The man peacefully responded, "Don't worry, God will save me."

As the waters rose and the man was hanging out of his second story window, a rowboat drifted by.  The man rowing said, "Get into my boat!"

"God will save me," said the man securely.

The man ended up on the rooftop with a helicopter hovering above.  Out of the loudspeaker, the pilot implored the man, "Get into the chopper, sir!"

The man defiantly and faithfully shouted back, "God will save me!"

A short time later, not surprisingly, the man drowned.  As he approached St. Peter at the pearly gates, the man inquired, "Why didn't God save me?"

St. Peter said, "We sent you a car, a boat, and a helicopter, for crying out loud!"

This man was both greedy for what he wanted in his way and clearly incapable of recognizing his own needs at the same time.  Certainly, it is obvious that if the man had been humble and grateful for the assistance of the first police officer, he would have survived to have many years ahead of him on this planet.  It could be reasonably argued, too, that his time was done and perhaps he understood that he had completed his work on Earth.

I recently found out that someone I love very much who has been suffering for a long time is finally getting long-awaited help. This very special person has been generous in time and love, even during physical and monetary suffering.  The prayers offered by everyone for this special person didn't go unheeded; simply offered in just the right moment, and after a long journey of work and faith.

The truth is, I don't understand much about the operation of the Universe.  What I do know are these things:

• My faith tells me that there is something larger than myself that exists.  I call that something alternately God or the Universe.  Some call it Grandfather, Allah, or one of many other names.  It doesn't matter to me, because it is all the same thing;
• My faith tells me that I carry a part of the Universe inside my spirit-heart.  Everything "out there" is also "in here;" 
• My faith tells me that in gratitude, love, joy, and faith, all things are possible; and  
• My faith tells me that only in unity are we fully connected with the Universe.  When we are exclusive, we lose some of our rememberance of who we truly are.  

Pretty much, that's all I know about the Universal order.  So, when I make my wishes... the spontanteous, innocent ones... it is that place from which they come.  I'd like to believe that this is the reason wishcraft works so well for me.   I'd love to know if that's how it works for others, too.

Happy wishing!
____________________

References:

Diamond, S. (2009) Is greed ever good: the psychology of selfishness. Psychology Today. Retrieved from http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/evil-deeds/200903/is-greed-ever-good-the-psychology-selfishness.

Franklin, Benjamin. (1736). BrainyQuote.com. Retrieved July 1, 2010, from BrainyQuote.com Web site: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/b/benjaminfr379646.html

Photos:

(2010) [Man Daydreaming] Lifecoachinglls.com. Retrieved from http://www.lifecoachinglls.com/site/files/Man%20Daydreaming.jpg

(2010) [Man on roof during flood] amadeo.blog.com.  Retrieved from http://amadeo.blog.com/repository/1204084/3264645.jpg
(2010) [Inner self light on heart] 4.bp.blogspot.com  Retrieved from https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJtnZZN1xWGoymfv8ETH7UH-bOmcphSnXEDp84EX_enQlEHb84YNeaP4GxzIdJIwg02Ype8KLrVPC0SkptUe2Dv0nwwEN-voerYGc9wjYRh1Be0LZRz-gMBTInw8hgQJx7_5T/s400/innerselflightonheart.jpg