Supernal Love, Chi to Life

Lover mine with lovely fair skin, open eyes, bare chest so smooth,

Hover over me with flute in hand to stay and play and plant a kiss

Upon my fit lips at the dawn of a new day drawn from your bosom,

And hold me close against the cold in an emboldened living passion

Born of your compassion for mortal creatures you mean to refashion

In the likeness of your light and life, love and truth, peace and beauty

As an everlasting answer to brahmin prayers that wear into samsara

And this chi shall then forever be free to be all of you to be all of me,

So play some life-giving tune of heavenly fruit upon your sacred flute

That this poor boy may ever rest in the riches of your verdurous grove

In the shadow of tall trees near the sea, waves lapping on a near shore

In your place beyond all places in endless space, laced to you eternally

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No Slave to You, Only Love

In your eyes is sanctuary, no lies, no prison bars, no far reach to love,
And my soul falls each time you call, so impossible then to stand tall,
But no slave to you, much as my body may crawl, with you above all,
And this is love’s ever-demanding requirement of whole submission,
Still no chains are found, no shackles to explain this throbbing pain,
So deeply rooted, bitter sweet, keeper of my heart apart from all else
As we fly higher, holding on in bold revolt against every expectation
Of those who know no affection, have no peace, and no compassion,
So in this strange journey this poor boy gladly submits, no guilt felt,
As my hands reach up to touch, so much more, joyful tears flowing,
Yet here you have no slave, master beautiful, it is but love, only love

Paramvir: Great Warrior

You are the fighter, mightier than any sword, stronger than any word

You are the warrior, travelling light by day, by stealth in dark of night

You are young, your song to be sung loudly, gladly by crowds cheerful

You are dear, brave at heart with no part left to harbor fear nor tears

You are the David who faces Goliath, the shepherd boy to face the lion

You are the earthquake that breaks the enemy for the sake of children

And the gentle folk you defend without any pretense, shame or regret

You are Paramvir . . .

Companion

Heart gilded in gold compassion with laces of love

Never wearied by any worry born of fretful fear

And you are so dear to me so truly near my soul

Always abiding with an affection never subsiding

Along with songs sung so sweetly to comfort me

As your eyes open into an infinite sea of solace

So serene with an opulence of treasured peace

And joy bringing me rest in the folds of eternity

With my head so safely laid upon your bosom

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Singer of Light, Bright Bringer of Smiles

Born of the bright sun, giver of light, incarnate Bhaskara

Child divine, meek and mild, so strong, an ever-new song

My delight to stay the night, illumining my darkened soul

While the whole of your life given so free for me yet to be

At liberty from the ravages of time in chime with eternity

Yet speak to me, please, of Bhagavan and love and peace

That will never cease to flow from celestial throne above

And tell me your tales never heard by the ear of my heart

And grant me the better part of truth undistorted by ages

And self-crowned sages, theologians and priests of shame

Who blame what you came to reclaim in the bless’d name

Of the One who created life to shine with joy and laughter

And tell me you’re much more and other than definitions

Of men who prey on guilt, fear and threats of damnation

As they inflame their own pride while they hide the truth

Of who you are … singer of light bringing light and smiles

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Crazy Life: In Praise of MHTs

Mental health technicians, in my humble opinion, really form the backbone of group home and day treatment care of the mentally/emotionally/psychologically-challenged. Much like CNAs (certified nursing assistants), they are “down in the trenches,” so to speak, and fighting alongside the “consumers” (as we are, unfortunately, called) in our daily battles against our illnesses.

mental-health-technician-women-s-t-shirtI found this to be very much the case while living in the Samson (Alabama) Group Home, and marvelled at just how much patience and understanding was required of MHTs. Not that I have a clear and complete picture of MHTs across the state and country (and, I suppose, the world), but my limited experience gives me at least an informed appreciation for the work required in this profession.

At the group home, with which I am familiar, it falls to the MHTs to lead group sessions, to prepare (or help prepare) meals, to dispense medicine (except to “self-medicators”), to mediate disagreements among residents, supervise chores, and so very much more. Indeed, it takes a very special kind of person to be able to do this sort of work, all the while truly caring about the flesh-and-blood human beings they are serving.

Of course, this in no way implies that everything was hunky-dory while in the group home. MHTs are by no means perfect, and I brushed shoulders with some who, quite honestly, needed to find another type of employment. For example, I encountered one young girl ~ young enough to be my daughter ~ who treated us as if we were toddlers. At one time she actually threatened to put one resident in time out as a form of discipline!

Needless to say, MHTs are every bit as human as “consumers,” which means they have their own faults, failings, and shortcomings just like everyone else. There was another MHT that I clearly recall, who took it upon herself to openly, and rather brashly, criticize individuals who received disability benefits… She did this numerous times, dogmatically asserting they didn’t need this income; they ought to be out working, she complained.

Well, believe it or not, all in all she was (and is) an excellent MHT. No, she certainly should have kept her opinions to herself (on the matter of disability benefits, anyway), but being human is being human, and this means that we all sometimes spout off and say things we shouldn’t. Overall, this MHT really did do her work very well …. and residents, in turn, really did (and still do, I presume) respect her.

But I also think of one sweet, little girl ~ and by the way, there were no male MHTs where I was, for some unknown reason ~ who also could have been my daughter. She was very petite and quiet. At such a young age, and being so tender, I really felt as if she’d been thrown to the wolves, in a manner of speaking. Not that residents in the group home are wolves (exactly); she just didn’t have what it took to exercise authority.

And this is, of course, one of the greatest challenges an MHT faces, that is: To exercise at least some modicum of control over the environment and various situations with which they are confronted on a day-to-day basis. After all, if an MHT cannot establish and maintain leadership, then they are very unlikely to be able to accomplish any of their numerous responsibilities. Point in fact, they will get run over, and very quickly at that!

Overall, my experience with MHTs was good, and as time went by I learned to appreciate and respect them more and more deeply. Of course, when I finally decided that I wanted to enter into some form and fashion of counselling (eventually), it did occur to me that I’d have to be able to live up to their examples; after all, counselling entails at least as much pressure … perhaps even more, at least in some ways.


For previous installments in the ‘Crazy Life’ series, see…

Crazy Life: Hanging in the Balance

Crazy Life: Meeting the Mystery of God

Crazy Life: Humiliating the Already-Humbled

Crazy Life: A Little Less Crazy? But Still Guilty

Crazy Life: Dreams and Dreams Again