I was listening to a podcast on The New York Times regarding people in the last throes of dementia suddenly becoming lucid for short periods. These lucid moments are called Paradoxical or Terminal lucidity. Folks who have not spoken for months or years suddenly speak lucidly, and the speech indicates they have been following conversations around them. The phenomenon does not last, but where does it come from? If all personhood comes from our brain, and, absent a soul, our brain is nonfunctional, we are lost as individuals. Recent scientific studies on Terminal Lucidity have suggested that the Mind may be distinct from the brain. A hypothesis is that the Mind is energy that resides in the body. There are untold documented occurrences where a person has died and then been revived. The Mind was active during death and has specific memories of the event between life and death.

You see, we develop scientific explanations for what we do not fully understand. We instinctively believe we have a soul and spirit. We know because we know. We understand there is more to life than the body. People who have died and come back speak comfortingly of the pleasant surroundings they experienced and the loved ones they saw. Rather than fearing or dreading death, they look upon it as a peaceful, welcoming transition.

There is more that we do not know than what we know. We have taken the physical, the temporal, the corporal surrounding us to explain the spiritual.

‘Well, I saw Neva J last night standing at the foot of my bed,’ Billy B said. ‘She smiled and told me to be sure to wear my hat when I went out into the cold, as a lot of heat in the body escapes through the head,’ Billy B winked. ‘She said she likes her new home, and she and Aunt Wanda Vema and Guelda visit Grandma A every Monday night just as they did so many years ago,’ Billy B mused. ‘She noted that they all missed me reciting the Night Before Christmas,’ Billy B laughed. ‘You know when we first moved to Eldorado, Neva J and I went to Grandma A’s house every Monday night to visit with her and Aunt Wanda Vema and Guelda while I often performed for them,’ Billy B continued. ‘Neva J apologized for being somewhat distant in the last years of her life, saying she was not herself,’ Billy B recounted. ‘Neva J had Alzheimer’s disease in the last years of her life,’ Billy B whispered.

‘Don’t fear, I am on a dark journey walking in the winter woods. I do not talk much anymore; I can not find the words, but oh my, I do think of many. I hear you when you laugh and chat with me; I remember the old days when we ran and played. When I sleep, I visit with old friends. They tell me to not fear the dark woods; there is a door at the end of the woods leading to a bright sunlit day.’

MJ and I have become members of the St. Louis Art Museum. We parked in the parking garage for the first time after having visited the Museum for over 30 years. What a difference a parking garage makes in July heat. We saw an exhibit from ancient Rome. The St. Louis Art Museum advises that, to truly enjoy the exhibits, visitors should focus on one at a time and return another day for the next. I read the explanatory cards and lingered over each statue and painting to ensure maximum immersion. I know more than I did this morning. We enjoyed watching an older couple around our age attempt to back their vehicle into the parking garage space next to us. Each attempt made their vehicle more crooked in the slot. The gentleman driving reminded me of myself. We were at the door of the Museum three minutes before opening. The crooked driver and his wife said that usually the guard lets them stand inside the air conditioning rather than stand outside in 100-degree heat. Before sitting for lunch at the Panorama Restaurant, our friends were ahead of us in line. MJ asked the lady what was good, and she responded that she always gets the same thing but could not think of the name of it, to which her husband offered Waldorf Salad. MJ did not think she wanted Waldorf Salad, and I did not as well.

There was Trajan’s Column, ‘Built by the Senate to celebrate Emperor Trajan’s decisive victories in the Dacian Wars.

There was the sculpted head of a Barbarian. Barbarians was the title Romans used as a catch-all for anyone who did not speak Latin or Greek and was outside the culture of the Roman Empire.

‘Caligula is most famous for his extreme cruelty, megalomania, and bizarre extravagance during his short reign (37 – 41 AD).’ Caligula supposedly made his favorite horse a Senator. He declared himself a living god. ‘His four-year rule cemented his legacy as the archetype of a mad and unpredictable tyrant.’

In Metamorphoses, Narcissus was a hunter known for his unparalleled beauty who cruelly rejects the nymph Echo, preferring to gaze at his own reflection in a pool of water.

The Bullfrog Quartet has been practicing their song of Narcissus. They pull Narcissus from his reflection in an attempt to save him from himself.

When you point a finger at someone, the rest of your hand’s gang of five are pointing back at you. To be up today and riding high in the saddle is to be down tomorrow without a saddle. It is possible to be so full of hate for others that you are consumed by it.

‘A soft answer turneth away wrath,’ the Bible tells us. Have you ever said harsh words to someone who answered you with a kind response? Often the anger melts away. An eye for an eye leaves us all blind.

There is nothing funny about someone dying. For their loved ones, a crisis has happened. Imagine being able to watch your acquaintances when you die and being shocked at their real thoughts about you.

Hate is a vessel that can not be filled. Kindness flows down like a waterfall.

Walk a mile in my shoes, the song implores. No one knows the thoughts, challenges, and hurts of another. They may be smiling on the outside and crying on the inside. Someone you do not care for may be battling depression and thoughts of suicide. They may feel unworthy or worthless or wonder if anyone would miss them if they were gone. They have built a wall around themselves for protection against intruders. When you knock on their door, they pretend not to be home. We all have a limit on the hurts we can absorb. The saying that sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never harm me is bunk. Words kill people.

As we climb the Waterfall, reach out for the hand of the one who is ahead of you and the one who is behind. The wet rocks are slippery, slick, treacherous. We need each other desperately.

Life is short. Be happy. Happiness is a decision. If you look for it, there is always a reason to be happy. Bobby McFerrin had a wonderful song entitled ” Don’t Worry Be Happy. We are often manipulated by what happens to us; it is a natural response. Senator Graham died last night; by all accounts, he was a happy Senator.

Byford Beaver is exploring near my house. He is up from Brooks Pond. Byford is carefree. He bid me, ‘Good morning, Jay.’ ‘How was your Woods Walk this morning?’ BB asked with a sly grin. ‘Have you seen the Dam I am building,’ Byford asked. ‘It represents my focus this summer,’ BB laughed. ‘Did you know Great White Heron passed away in the night?’ Byford noted. ‘We are having a celebration of life for GH on Monday, and I hope you can attend,’ Byford continued. ‘ I did not agree with GH always, but he was my friend, and I loved him,’ BB said softly. ‘Brooks Pond is way up since the massive rain we received Friday night and Saturday, BB informed. ‘We will bury GH next to Brooks Pond, which he loved and spent most of his time at,’ Byford Beaver said. ‘He was a good GH,’ BB said with a tear in his eye.

‘What a short road life is,’ Mr. Badger lamented. ‘Why worry about the small stuff, and it is all small stuff,’ Mr. Badger continued. ‘We are here for a purpose; the joy of life courses through our veins,’ Badger laughed heartily. ‘My mission is to make others feel better if they are sad and to turn frowns upside down, Mr. Badger offered. ‘There were thirteen Badgers in our little Den,’ Badger said. ‘Mom struggled to keep us all fed,’ Badger noted. ‘Often I would sit by the lake and think of the vast world that surrounded me,’ Badger mused. ‘Then I met Mr. Toad and Moley and Ratty, and we formed a band of merry brothers,’ Badger danced. ‘This is where I began to form the love for boating with my merry band,’ Badger said, lost in his memories. ‘Sundays were especially joyful boating on the lake in the woods,’ Badger noted. ‘Mr. Toad was loquacious and a riot to have fun with while Moley was circumspect and had an eye for detail when he had his spectacles on,’ Badger continued. ‘We played cards with GH and the Deer Family in the Woods for hours on end,’ Badger said. ‘GH was always happy, Badger remembered. ‘We all thought humans a bit strange, but GH told us to accept them, invite them to our picnics and learn their ways and wants,’ Badger reminisced. ‘GH told us that there is good and happiness all around us if we just accept it,’ Badger whispered.

‘I have decided to look on the sunny side of life,’ Billy B said. ‘I have known disappointments and sorrow early in life and found a downturned attitude very satisfying but hard to maintain,’ Billy B observed. ‘ I choose happiness as a path of life,’ Billy B proclaimed!

It was dry. The ground was thirsty. We were all a bit thirsty. Choc-Ola would not do. Neither would Mountain Dew. Milk was nice. Wine was fun. Vodka made you more thirsty. Water was the answer.

We sought a leader who had the answers to life’s persistent questions. Someone who could quench our thirst. A person who understood from the Gut how the world works. No Training is good, we said. Please review the mess the trained team has created. We are in a desert seeking an Oasis. Rich people have many jugs of water. It must be raining at their mansions. What about a rich leader who has the common touch? How different that would be. A leader who talks our language, who speaks our thoughts like he is reading our minds. A leader who came down from his throne to mix with we common people. A leader who was born for such a time.

Rain fell in buckets, sheets of waterfalls. It seemed good; it looked good for a moment. Everyone gathered their rain barrels. Ace Hardware and Lowes sold out of buckets. Many gathered the rain in tarps made to look like the American Flag. Songs were composed and sung about the leader who brought the rain. Soon his face and name were everywhere. Under his visage, the words, The Rainmaker.’ The rain kept falling. Roads flooded. Dams burst. Travel halted. Most did not own boats or have the money to fill their fuel tanks.

‘Listen to me and only me; I have the answers like no other,’ the Leader proclaimed. ‘The rain is going to stop very soon, everybody says so,’ the Leader continued. ‘In the morning it will be sunny and clear without a cloud in the sky, the Leader promised. ‘My Gut told me so,’ the Leader danced on one foot and then the other. ‘I have a wonderful brain. I went to the best schools. I understand the weather; I understand Rain,’ the Leader laughed.

‘So where is the door to Sears?’ Jane said. I walked out a few minutes ago after taking the escalator to the first floor. Now I can not find the door I came out of,’ Jane continued. ‘Remember, Chet, we were talking about SIU and the new class in the fall semester,’ Jane mentioned. ‘It was a class in the Home Economics Building,’ Jane prompted Chet to recall. ‘When I did not see you, I looked behind me, and you were walking into the Theatre, Jane continued. ‘The Exorcist was playing, and you kept talking about how badly you wanted to see it, hoping it did not give you nightmares or cause you to have psychological difficulties,’ Jane said pleadingly. ‘I can not find Neva J nor Billy B anywhere in the Mall,’ Jane whispered. ‘Something has changed; we are different,’ Jane noted. ‘I am excited to find a decent word processor; I will use it in my new classes at University,’ Jane promised.

‘Where are the kids?’ Neva J asked with a laugh. ‘This happens every time we come to the Mall,’ Neva J continued. ‘I know Jane was going to Sears to look for a word processor, and Chet wanted to see The Exorcist, but I have no idea where Billy B was going,’ Neva J mused. ‘I will look for Billy B in Walden Books. He loves. Soon we will eat lunch in one of the Mall’s fine restaurants,’ Neva J thought. ‘I bet he is in Wick’s and Sticks looking at the Tom Clark Gnome Sculptures,’ Neva J said with a grin. ‘Billy B lives for those statues of Gnomes and Witches, Hobos and Hobbits,’ Neva J laughed as she walked toward the store. ‘Where did Wicks and Sticks go?’ Neva J said in amazement. ‘It was right there a moment ago; now there is some type of funhouse with flashing lights and loud sounds. ‘ It’s full of kids laughing and playing mechanical games,’ Neva J mused quizzically.

‘Man of Man, where am I?’ Billy B said under his breath. ‘Sears store is empty,’ Billy B said with trepidation. ‘The four Theatres are gone, and in their place is a shoe store,’ Billy B continued. ‘I still have Witch Hazel, the Tom Clark Sculptor, and Enoch the Farmer, but where is Elizabeth the nice proprietor of Wicks and Sticks?’ Billy B said with some dismay. ‘I went to JCPenney, and they no longer carry televisions,’ Billy B said, rubbing his eyes. ‘I wanted to talk with Chet about The Exorcist. I cannot find him or the Theatre Where he viewed the movie. I do hear him crying softly,’ Billy B whispered. ‘ Jane is sitting on a couch holding a bag with a picture of a word processor; she looks frightened,’ Billy B continued.

‘The silence is deafening,’ Chet said. ‘There is nothing here, no laughter, no singing, no excitement about Christmas,’ Chet mused. ‘I found a photo of Jane purchasing her word processor and Neva J going to Walden Books.’ ‘I am alone but do not feel alone; someone is with me,’ Chet said.

We seek him here; we seek him there; we seek him everywhere. The leader who has the answers. We need answers. Many promise us they have the answers. Sadly, they have the answers that made them rich and successful, and sought on the lecture circuit. The rich have money but still the Burr. The persistent idea there is more to life. The rise of Money to the throne of leadership is compelling. Money opens the door to opportunity. The seats of power are reserved for the financial success stories. Certainly, if you knew how to make millions, you must know how to run a university or a country. Is the elusive Wisdom inherent in Capitalism?

Christ was born in a barn, a manger surrounded by animals. He was wrapped in swaddling clothes. The religious leaders did not know him. The political leaders did not know him. ‘The Common People heard him gladly.’ Christ said, ‘Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and unto God the things that are God’s.’

Could we be looking in all the wrong places? Not long ago we sought wisdom in the reading of God’s Word in church on Sunday. Most folks attended church a generation or two ago. We knew the Stock Market did not have the answers. President Nixon did not have them either. Our elders taught us to be humble. Do not brag on yourself. Do good in secret. Wisdom comes from God; seek it.

Wisdom is more elusive than the Gold of Ophir. Solomon asked for it. Presidents that understood the burden of their office asked for it. We have a Burr under our saddle as we ride our horse home due to a lack of wisdom and the seeking thereof. Humility is a virtue. We have known this in my lifetime. It is not all about who can get the ear of the Emperor who has no clothes first. It is not about who influences more people. It is not about who looks better on television.

July is progressing rapidly. Ice Cream Socials are at hand. Families are rushing to get their summer vacations taken. Every idea is not the right idea. Ideas that hurt people are wrong. Ideas that destroy families are wrong. Ideas that demand everyone look like we do and worship like we worship and recognize love if it is in our narrow mold are wrong.

A storm is rolling in. The Old Man liked storms always had. Nature on the edge. A bit like life changing each moment. There is no time to become complacent. We must be watchers. In the Old Testament, the watchers were called Watchmen. Life is comfortable for the satisfied. But many have a nagging notion that there is more that they can do. If someone is hungry, feed them. If they are naked, clothe them. If they have no friends, befriend them. This was Neva J, who never saw a person down on their luck that she did not help. She did it quietly; no one saw. She did it humbly. Neva J remembered what it was like to have nothing. If she had a dollar, you had fifty cents.

The idea of charity being a tax write-off was not in our home. We were all in this together, and if our sister or brother, mother or father, son or daughter were suffering, it was up to us to help. No, look what I have but rather how can I help?

‘It is awful the shape we are in,’ Mr. Stocks said. ‘I do not know where to put my money; my bonds are failing, and the political climate is changing daily, hourly,’ Mr. Stocks noted. ‘I have little time to worry about the poor and homeless as I am consumed with worry about myself,’ Mr. Stocks proclaimed. ‘My dividends are suffering; the War in Iran is killing my portfolio,’ Mr. Stocks wept bitter tears. ‘I am rich; I have high debt; I must keep up with the Joneses,’ Mr. Stocks said softly.

‘I have a piece of sourdough bread from the bakery trash that is not soiled; we will share it,’ Rosie said. ‘The Baker will throw out the unsold sweet rolls soon; we will get some if we are lucky,’ Rosie continued. ‘Abigail, do not worry; things will get better for us the Preacher in the Woods said. ‘ Help is coming,’ Rosie promised. ‘I went to the church today, but they turned me away,’ Rosie continued. ‘They have a beautiful sanctuary, and there is peace there,’ Rosie continued. ‘The church Sexton saw me and gave me twenty dollars,’ Rosie noted. ‘His face was like the face of Christ,’ Rosie noted.

In the eyes of the homeless and hungry, middle-class people are rich. They have fine art on their walls and wood floors to walk on. When the middle class goes to the grocery they do not worry about prices. They satisfy their needs and their wants. There will be a vacation every year or perhaps more. Perhaps a cruise or a trip to New Orleans. The middle class will laugh and drink expensive cocktails. They will listen to jazz music and be saddened by the homeless sleeping on the sidewalks of the French Quarter. The middle class will be thankful for their comfort and the ability to do what they want to do. ICE agents will be there, but not for the middle class. They are the tourist bringing needed Tourist Dollars to the French Quarter. In capitalism, we place our trust.

Rain is coming. The distant thunder is a clarion call. Life is calm in the Woods. July is a week old. We awaken looking east and sleep toward the west. Our days are numbered, yet the hours seem plentiful. We take them, checklist each morning. What are the duties of the day?

Communism is a renewed threat in America, the leader says. Democratic Socialism is communism, the leader tells us. Putin is a Communist, as is Chi. A new Bogeyman to cloud the facts.

We have faults until we can create a Strawman to blame them on. Suddenly we are alright. We are exonerated for the greater good. Titles we do not know the meaning of. Rhetoric based on the reality of our fantastic story we have constructed in our minds. Do not worry about affordability; blame the Communist. The war in Iran, the Strait of Hormuz, obviously the Communist. When did we decide we prefer… much prefer the Story of Us to the reality of us?

‘So I am living the dream, Chet said. ‘I was riding herd with John Wayne the other day, and we stopped at the O.K. Corral and had breakfast with Wyatt Earp and his brothers,’ Chet laughed. ‘In walks Doc Holliday and tells Snidely Whiplash, ‘I’m your Huckleberry,’ Chet said wide-eyed. ‘Tess Trueheart walked into the saloon with Dick Tracy on her arm, with Breathless Mahoney walking behind them,’ Chet noted with some breathlessness himself. ‘Dick Tracy told John Wayne that he would join him at the O.K. Corral, and Tess Trueheart said she was coming also,’ Chet smiled. ‘Mumbles commented on the plans, but no one understood him,’ Chet laughed.

‘Wake up, Chet,’ Jane said. ‘You have fallen asleep while we were floating across Pounds Hollow. I think you were dreaming,’ Jane laughed.

So it goes as we carry our candles on the path home. Many use a fog machine to hide the path. There are real problems and solutions to those problems, or there is made-up stuff that is deceptive and damaging to us. We thrash about searching for the Wise Woman or the Wise Man to help us. The Strawmen wave at us along the path home.

Well, the 4th of July is over. Summer is in full flower. Kids know what August brings. School Days. The year is middle-aged. Next come the golden days.

Life felt smooth today. As the old guys said when I was a lad, ‘You live until you die.’ A good admonishment worthy of observing. We move through life asleep. As we avoid the real world, we seek happy pills. Others take a drink or more. Looking for happiness in a bottle or pill container is a depressing cycle leading to bad stomach and headaches.

A calm mind and a sense of place engender contentment. Honesty begins at home. We all are broken and cracked; that is how the light gets in, Leonard Cohen told us. We are light seekers. Darkness heightens the flickering light we see in others. As we stumble in the dark, we grab the wall and feel for the doorknob. When someone brings light to us, our lives are renewed. We feel the difference light makes when surrounded by menacing clouds. Many words are spoken, but words touched by God’s Spirit are special.

Think of the times that a friend or stranger said a few words to you and the clouds of depression and darkness rolled away. You felt there was no hope, no answers, no wisdom. Then God sent one of his broken humans with the light shining through, and you were rescued. At times we know the deeper answer to life’s persistent questions. Darkness enters our hearts, our minds become clouded, our sense of place has lost its compass. We watch for the light. Those who uplift with their words and smiles, deeds, and helping hands.

One candle in the darkness has a weak but comforting light. As the candle lights another candle and then more, soon the room has a warm and welcoming glow. When we do this while singing Silent Night at the conclusion of our Christmas Eve Service at church, I feel a deep understanding of the meaning of Christmas.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. led the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s with nonviolent protest and won a great victory. How about today, we, broken, cracked vessels of humanity, join to let the light of peace, acceptance,aand inclusion shed a warm glow over a world hovering in fear and darkness.