By Tom White
The incredible span of time we witness and measured in our heavens, in our literature and in our amazing minds is breathtaking to say the least. Within all that we encounter, we are often left with the humbling view of own place in the timeline. We also are left to consider that someone much more powerful than us began “it,” sustains “it” and holds power over “it.”
It’s that same power many of us have been led not simply to respect, but deep down inside our very being, fear. Perhaps terror is a better word for some of us. “It,” we are told, is so incomprehensible that it is beyond being a mystery. It is, OMG, huge and, well, so powerful!
God began everything and everyone, and holds power over all creation. I remember being taught early in life that maybe I should consider this: If God forgets you for even a brief moment, you will cease to exist. For a period of time, my nightly prayer was very focused: God, please do not forget. This was fear beyond words. (Read More Here)
By Tom White
It has been said of the Irish that they perfected the art of holding a grudge. Quantify it, chew it, savor it, hide it and take it out to consider over and over. Maybe even “sanctify” it and provoke what started it in the first place.
A wiser person than I recalled when a young person was asked why they were so reluctant to be more vulnerable, the response was somewhat chilling: “I am afraid you will make fun of me and ME is all I have.” This response may not feel that foreign to us when we feel as if we have been wronged. [Read more here.]
By Tom White
Many of us fear silence. No, it actually terrifies us! We are more comfortable trying to manage a tsunami of sounds than we are of embracing no sound at all. Perhaps this is no truer than when we must meet death and dying.
Hospice care is a term often associated with an almost reverent, and certainly gentle, extension of mercy to those judged to be near death. Peaceful and prayerful are common descriptions for the “environment” of hospice care. Somehow, we feel better when we have helped our loved one to be in embraced by this new womb.
Physicians of many descriptions have told us that quiet can be the best medicine when someone is ill. “They” will get better sooner when it is quiet; “they” will be able to calm themselves so the body can do what it is designed to do; “they” don’t feel like company anyway. These physicians implore us with lack of sight and sound to make their case for properly treating illness. This is the tsunami of sound we try and manage. We seem to prefer it to silence. [READ MORE].