QUOTES & MISC.
TONY
TONY
PHOTOS BY AUTHOR WITH QUOTE
ON READING A QUOTE
An old friend once said to me “What is important in reading serious philosophy is to go beyond the words”. “The word he said, is never the thing and the description is never the described”.
Many make affirmations, repeat the words and sayings of others and have favorite sayings, but when it becomes a habit, and is repeated over and over, one must wake up to the possibility that you are trying to convince yourself, or others, of something that has really not come into being. One gets caught in the word which is never the thing, which is not the fact.
The new age intellect is abundant with idea and theory, dreams of oneness and unity, but the intellect is another burden and a wall which has no door to the real.
The intellect is trapped in time, and yesterday.
Observation is always new, has no borders.
When quietly looking at the word without opinion, without acceptance and without denial then something new begins to stir, action begins to happen. That newness is not yours, is not a new possession in your tool box, rather it is the true you which has always been, then the door begins to open.
An old friend once said to me “What is important in reading serious philosophy is to go beyond the words”. “The word he said, is never the thing and the description is never the described”.
Many make affirmations, repeat the words and sayings of others and have favorite sayings, but when it becomes a habit, and is repeated over and over, one must wake up to the possibility that you are trying to convince yourself, or others, of something that has really not come into being. One gets caught in the word which is never the thing, which is not the fact.
The new age intellect is abundant with idea and theory, dreams of oneness and unity, but the intellect is another burden and a wall which has no door to the real.
The intellect is trapped in time, and yesterday.
Observation is always new, has no borders.
When quietly looking at the word without opinion, without acceptance and without denial then something new begins to stir, action begins to happen. That newness is not yours, is not a new possession in your tool box, rather it is the true you which has always been, then the door begins to open.
-- TONY --
I was about to leave after completing my shift at the Hospice unit at the local hospital and after walking down the hallway that divides the twelve rooms I noticed a new patient who had just been admitted to room eleven. I caught a sparkle in his eye and went in to introduce myself.
It was a pleasant two-bed room, and the young man was alone near the window. There was an empty bed in the far corner which when seen together with the man's frailty, it did seem to magnify his apparent aloneness. He greeted me with a gentle smile which caught me off guard as it was clear to see that he was very ill and near the end of his battle with AIDS. Nevertheless he was happy to have an unexpected guest. He said his name was Tony and started right in to tell his story as if to say there was some urgency in the timing.
He seemed to be aware of the gravity of his situation and somewhat troubled by the finality of his new environment. He was eager to talk knowing there would be no other visitors. He had been on a serious decline for the past several months and used to have quite a few friends visit with him, though recently several of them had withdrawn due to their own painful fears and Tony acknowledged that he did have compassionate understanding regarding their feelings. Luckily there were two others whom he would mention who would come by fairly often and would stand by him during this sad and unhappy time.
Although Tony's body was failing him he was very much alive in his heart. He was twenty four years young and would be eternally so. He was of slender frame with soft blonde wispy hair and despite the withering one could see the gently chiseled features of his youth. All this combined with his intelligence and forgiving nature he must have cast quite a presence in his brief time of good health.
He drew quiet for a time, and then went on to say that there had been many family problems which seemed to go back as far as he could remember but that recently there had been what he called somewhat of a healing. He later refereed to his personal tragedy as a "necessary event" which would help bring his family closer.
Tony began to cough and needed to be propped up into a more comfortable position and was as well growing tired and suggested also that his view seemed to be going, that is, his sight was fading away. We then sat quietly for quite some time. Later he asked if I would see him the next day and after explaining how my job as a volunteer worked I assured him that I would visit daily as a friend.
For two weeks or so I visited Tony every other day then every day as his deterioration was accelerating and there were days we would not speak at all verbally. On one day I had brought to him a poinsettia plant which really delighted him and the deep crimson color soon became the focus of his attention because blindness was rapidly on the move. Thereafter, the day came when he said that the flower was the only thing that he could see, as it was the brightest thing in the room. Several days later he told me that his light had gone out and the poinsettia was the last thing of the earth he would see.
When I arrived at the hospital that morning the sun had yet to rise and the nurse said that Tony's ordeal was soon to end. There was little activity in the unit at that hour as Tony's room was heavy with a penetrating and accepting silence which knows no end. The boy had slipped into the depths of the mind, from which there is no return.
I realized that my brief relationship with him was coming to an end and a bit later that morning I felt a silent goodbye and the freedom to leave the room.
Before I left, two of Tony’s friends came in soon followed by another bearing Tony's leather jacket which he placed at the foot of the bed. There came a new lightness in the air as they talked of old times, Tony's life and how good he looked in his leather jacket.
Everything seemed now to be as it should. I was later told that Tony that day near Xmas slipped away into the timeless mystery while being held by a friend.
I retrieved the poinsettia and planted it in the yard at Beagle Haven and though I had been doing this for several years I could never get them to bloom the following year. A year later however Tony's plant did bloom and one cannot help but to suggest it had a little help from a friend.
AHA Writings December 23, 2013 Copyright © 2013 at writing. com. All rights reserved.
I was about to leave after completing my shift at the Hospice unit at the local hospital and after walking down the hallway that divides the twelve rooms I noticed a new patient who had just been admitted to room eleven. I caught a sparkle in his eye and went in to introduce myself.
It was a pleasant two-bed room, and the young man was alone near the window. There was an empty bed in the far corner which when seen together with the man's frailty, it did seem to magnify his apparent aloneness. He greeted me with a gentle smile which caught me off guard as it was clear to see that he was very ill and near the end of his battle with AIDS. Nevertheless he was happy to have an unexpected guest. He said his name was Tony and started right in to tell his story as if to say there was some urgency in the timing.
He seemed to be aware of the gravity of his situation and somewhat troubled by the finality of his new environment. He was eager to talk knowing there would be no other visitors. He had been on a serious decline for the past several months and used to have quite a few friends visit with him, though recently several of them had withdrawn due to their own painful fears and Tony acknowledged that he did have compassionate understanding regarding their feelings. Luckily there were two others whom he would mention who would come by fairly often and would stand by him during this sad and unhappy time.
Although Tony's body was failing him he was very much alive in his heart. He was twenty four years young and would be eternally so. He was of slender frame with soft blonde wispy hair and despite the withering one could see the gently chiseled features of his youth. All this combined with his intelligence and forgiving nature he must have cast quite a presence in his brief time of good health.
He drew quiet for a time, and then went on to say that there had been many family problems which seemed to go back as far as he could remember but that recently there had been what he called somewhat of a healing. He later refereed to his personal tragedy as a "necessary event" which would help bring his family closer.
Tony began to cough and needed to be propped up into a more comfortable position and was as well growing tired and suggested also that his view seemed to be going, that is, his sight was fading away. We then sat quietly for quite some time. Later he asked if I would see him the next day and after explaining how my job as a volunteer worked I assured him that I would visit daily as a friend.
For two weeks or so I visited Tony every other day then every day as his deterioration was accelerating and there were days we would not speak at all verbally. On one day I had brought to him a poinsettia plant which really delighted him and the deep crimson color soon became the focus of his attention because blindness was rapidly on the move. Thereafter, the day came when he said that the flower was the only thing that he could see, as it was the brightest thing in the room. Several days later he told me that his light had gone out and the poinsettia was the last thing of the earth he would see.
When I arrived at the hospital that morning the sun had yet to rise and the nurse said that Tony's ordeal was soon to end. There was little activity in the unit at that hour as Tony's room was heavy with a penetrating and accepting silence which knows no end. The boy had slipped into the depths of the mind, from which there is no return.
I realized that my brief relationship with him was coming to an end and a bit later that morning I felt a silent goodbye and the freedom to leave the room.
Before I left, two of Tony’s friends came in soon followed by another bearing Tony's leather jacket which he placed at the foot of the bed. There came a new lightness in the air as they talked of old times, Tony's life and how good he looked in his leather jacket.
Everything seemed now to be as it should. I was later told that Tony that day near Xmas slipped away into the timeless mystery while being held by a friend.
I retrieved the poinsettia and planted it in the yard at Beagle Haven and though I had been doing this for several years I could never get them to bloom the following year. A year later however Tony's plant did bloom and one cannot help but to suggest it had a little help from a friend.
AHA Writings December 23, 2013 Copyright © 2013 at writing. com. All rights reserved.
