Christmas 2005

Christmas
by
Jerry D. Smith

Every time a hand reaches out
To help another,
That is Christmas.
Every time someone puts anger aside
And strives for understanding,
That is Christmas.
Every time people forget their differences
And realize their love for one another,
That is Christmas.
May this daily Christmas celebration
Bring us closer to the spirit of human understanding,
Closer to the blessings of peace.

 

Thanksgiving 2005

Always with a bounty of Life, ever onward into the unknown in search of all those things which enrich and make Life beautiful. 

Marbella, Espana

Looking north into the Andalucian mountains with the cool wetness of the sea to my back, Marbella, always Marbella. 

Stardust

By

Jerry D. Smith
One Sunday Morn in the winter of 1995


The dust settles on the glass top of the coffee table like stardust blanketing the thin air of the vast, timeless, and emptiness of space. In its quietude and serenity, and now almost motionless settlement, a near calm and peacefulness permeates the blackness and silence with only the starlight from the multitude of vastly distant stars interrupting this sweet unfolding. There has been another layer of stardust placed on this life’s existence. For all the previous sprinklings and the ones yet to be layered, life remains as it was intended to be: lived.

Stardust…..another layer.

Atop the coffee table lies a blue leather-bound book at a slight angle dusted with particles of stardust. This book, the book of holy truth, has been opened and the words written so long ago have stirred many questions within my identity. Although most of the words are thoughts, ponderings, or judgments based on life’s almost seemingly endless journey of many, many years, their messages have tilted the delicate balance of my “self” into seeking or formulating new thoughts about my life in general. Though I briefly pause to interpret and comprehend the full meaning of their written visions, I fully understand the eternal, unwritten wordless feelings and experiences in yet another important, but hidden book: the heart.

Stardust…..another layer.

Alongside the book rest an ornately framed mirror of baroque décor of heavy metal ornamentation of curves and lines. I pick up this mirror to check and evaluate my reflection. Knowing as I do that most people in society tend to project themselves as “the image in the mirror” until the time they feel secure to break with the bonds reflected in the glass and the mercury, I only allow myself to see the physical vision of my image without projecting it as who I am. I gaze cautiously, but hopefully, at this reflection and marvel how pain can manifest itself in such deceitful serenity. Quickly, the vision and the pain vanish and is replaced by my truth: “Seek the person and not their image.”

Stardust…..another layer.

Standing in a metallic frame only inches from the mirror is a set of pictures of two people each occupying each frames and facing one another displaying bright smiles of happiness outwardly created by the naiveté of time. A captured moment of harmony frozen from turmoil.

Stardust…..another layer.

To the right of the pictures is a bud vase with a single rose so fragrantly filling the air with its sweet perfume. The rose’s fragrance permeates the air but with dying intensity for it has little life remaining. Who and when someone will come to care for the rose is unknown, but Life will create the needed happiness nonetheless.

Stardust…..another layer.

Our Living Limitations

By
Jerry D. Smith


13 May 2001


Many people are in a prison. Their incarceration may not be limited to the physical body being restricted behind a guarded enclosure. Their prison may be mental, emotional, or spiritual. It may be self-imposed or subjected on them by the will of others. Nonetheless, being a prisoner is not our limitations. Accepting hopelessness, apathy, loneliness, or a loveless life would be to concede to this physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual prison. I believe the mind and the spirit can overcome such trials and tribulations we encounter in Life. The key is hope; i.e., never loose faith that Life will become better. Oftentimes, this feat has to be found on a daily basis and in small ways. It may be in the form of listening to a tender piece of music, experiencing a word of kindness from another person, or simply by an accomplishment, regardless of how small in nature. Together, these things and many more like them accumulate over time and becomes the foundation to our renewed confidence. Then hope becomes a reality for each of us.

Peace

Peace


By Jerry D. Smith




Sunlight crested the mountains, the fiery gold and orange of summer light broke forth filtering through the clouds and striking the ground in beams of solid light. The soft playing of a harp can be heard drifting silently through the heavy air with the complexity of harmony and the chords that trap the heart and keep the listener spellbound. The animals and birds do not rise from the places where they rest; the unexpectedness surrounding this day is stifling. The only sound is that sad and sorrowful harp which slowly tears away at the soul, drawing grief, pain, despair, and suffering…..the images of death. The untimely deaths of people all play like sorrowful scenes across his tune while tears stream down his face and his fingers continue to pluck at the strings of the harp.

The lost battle of the day still scars the land below him with waters sullied and defiled. Death leaves behind the ones who will suffer from this day’s finality. With the mind opened to the essence of the moment, the harpist feels and knows that the pain of today, of yesterday, and tomorrow, will be a long time healing. The light of dawn, the promise of tomorrow, seem hollow now, but he knows the truth – without death, the promise of tomorrow, the loss, the healing, would not be able to occur.

Standing, the harpist holds his harp to his chest and he leaps into the air, his hair rippling behind him with the single white lock of his temple glowing a soft gentle blue…..his white and platinum robes billow around his ankles, his wings carry him over the scene. His pain is unlike that of many, yet it is the same…..he feels the pain of all life, the uncertainty of what is to come as he drifts away into the unknown…..leaving the sacred waters of death now so innocent, where driven he makes his choice to carry those whose lives are lost to a place where they find peace.

Keeper of the Unrecorded

 

Veils of Truth

Veils of Truth
By
Jerry D. Smith



The embers glow softly reposing on the hearth as the five a.m. fire burns lifelessly to its inevitable, self-consumed termination. What fiery glow it once experienced is now but listless, smoldering ashes which eventually return to the evangelical dust that has been prophesized for you and me. Who shall remember this once fiery blaze but the keepers of the unrecorded, who, in all their charge, note the veils of truth for those who are so blind that they cannot see. And these keepers whisper these truths to the four winds to be carried to those who look beyond the misty haze of reality into the spiritualness of the universe without fear nor judgment, and then understand the pure truths – all that is was; and all that was, is.