Dead Burying Dead

I see dead people now. I'm a first-year medical student studying human anatomy and nearly every weekday I study structures in the carcasses of people who chose to donate their deceased bodies to our medical school. We students, of course, study these dead to ready ourselves to study the living. I suppose in some ways the experience is quite special in that these persons have allowed me to see the parts of their bodies in ways no other person has.

Quite a strange feeling, to be confronted with the mortality of my species on a daily basis. I wonder if, out of respect for the dead, I have purposely chosen to let it bother me. It's as though my heart were questioning, "If I forget I am dealing with the physical half, do I deny the existence of the other half, diminishing that person's existence?"

I ask many questions now -- the experience shakes them out of me. What were they thinking as they approached death? I wonder if they gave their bodies out of fear ... fear of dying without having done something selfless with their lives, or fear of God, or fear that their loved ones won't be able to afford the cost of burial. I look at the limbs of my own body now, knowing their machinery and functions, but I wonder if these arms are part of "me" -- would I lose a part of "me" were I to lose an arm? ... or how much can be taken from my body and it still be "me"? If my organs were donated to others after my death, would part of "me" still be alive? (I don't think so.) Were I brain-dead but my body on life-support, would I still "be there"? (I kind of think I would be.)

One other concern is Death overriding my joy in life. Will I be always thinking about my own death and the death of friends? I think it would be easy for a person like me to lose the "joy of living", unless of course, that person had an 8-year-old starting football (which I happen to have). It is my new-found therapy to watch my 8-year-old practice football. I think we anatomy students need reminders about what life means to counteract the meditation on death.

Jonathan's Arrow

Saying good bye to someone dear is no small task. When I read the account of Prince Jonathan sending the signal to his beloved friend that it was time to flee, I think of him pulling the bowstring far past his teary cheek, knowing he wouldn't see his friend for a long time, (and so I sketched this picture).

The image for me is one of a friends saying goodbye.

Ain't Worth The Blues (song)

Ain't Worth The Blues
song by Joseph Bishara, (c)2009

[E] Talking to an artist [A] friend of mine
[E] Had her heart torn [B7] all apart
So she picked [E] up a brush,
some [A] paints and a canvas
[E] For to put her [B7] pain in [E] art.

I [A] said, I know you're [E] feeling sad
'bout [A] all that you've been [E] through
I [A] know you're all torn [E] up inside
From this [C7] fellow who you [B7] knew

Uh-huh-huh

[E] Save your blues for [A] someone,
Who [E] loved you through and [B7] through
I [E] know where you are
'Cause I've [A] been there before and
[E] This one ain't [B7] worth the [E] blues.

So [A] paint your picture [E] bright girl
[A] Yellow, green, or [E] red
But [A] paint this picture right [E] girl
And then [C7] get him right out of your
[B7] head.

Buh-buh-buh

[E] Blue is very [A] special
In [E] all its shades and [B7] hues
So in Art [E] or this song,
I just [A] think you're all wrong,
[E] He just ain't [B7] worth the [E] blues.

(music solo)

Ma[A]genta, mauve, or [E] teal
rose, [A] pink, or maybe char[E]truse
You got your [A] ambers, browns, tans,
lime [E] greens, or cyans
But [C7] easy on squeezin' on them [B7] blues.

Buh-buh-buh

[E] Beige or olive [A] drab
[E] Purple might work I [B7] bet
Or try [E]gold, silver, bronze,
orange, [A] green, indigo,
burnt [E] ochre, or [B7] even vio[E]let.

[E] Save your blues for [A] someone (you done
wrong),
Who [E] loves you tender[A]ly (like me)
It's [E]easy to see,
y'oughtta save [A] them blues for [E]me ...
'cause [D?] He ...
ain't no [C7]good for you [B7]baby.

[whistle solo]

[E] Please don't refuse.
Put your[A]self in my shoes.
[E] Don't make me [B7] sing no more [E]blues.

[E] Don't get confused.
Squeeze some [A]other paint tubes
'Cause [E] he ain't [B7] worth the [E]blues.

He ain't worth 'em ... He ain't worth 'em

Empty Ambition

I have failed at accomplishing many of the tasks I had hoped to achieve by now. However, 'failure' is not a fair characterization of my past few decades -- failed ambitions perhaps.

I am a fan of the idea of monasticism, especially the Coptic variety. Coptic monks, both historical and contemporary, seem always to have something to say to me, either in their writings or in the way they live their lives and accept their deaths, and I have had a gold mine of blessings in having corresponded with a couple.

Recently, perhaps the most famous living Coptic monk wrote a letter I felt was directed squarely at me. His Holiness Shenoudah III, the patriarch and figure head of the Coptic Orthodox Church, had an excerpt of one of his books published in a magazine. I reproduce it here, hoping it will give as much comfort to others as it does to me. Quoting this is difficult for me, since by doing so, I confess a serious flaw in my own character that I am only now recognizing: ambition.

--------------------------------------------
An excerpt [translated?] from "Release of the Spirit":

Do you know what things you ought to escape from? Escape from the interests, the hopes and desires. Escape from all such things if you really want to attain the release of the spirit.

My beloved brother, please let me go a little deep into you heart to talk to you frankly: You have great hopes which you are much concerned about and which occupy part of your heart. They even occupy your imagination and so that when you are alone they come to you as daydreams and when you are asleep you dream of them. You have certain aims which you know most and cannot deny. You want to be important, you want to be known by others and venerated by them. You have hopes regarding fame and good reputation, authority and power, hopes regarding wealth, social positions, knowledge, titles, future, appearances and credit. You have certain desires concerning your home, food, clothing and various pleasures of the body. You do not live in the world but in fact it is the world that lives in you, and dominates over your heart, your mind, your imagination and your will. As for your spirit, it is imprisoned within all this; it desires to be released of the fleshly desires, as "the flesh lusts against the Spirit" (Gal. 5:17).

These hopes and interest make you miserable, my beloved brother, because not all of them can be achieved.

This of course makes you discontented. You long for such things and this longing makes you unhappy. So, you make your plans and seek the means to achieve them: you think, meet certain people, write down notes, go and come, strive and try hard; then you sit and wait. You may get bored and tired of waiting and of having hope. You may get desperate and become anxious or feel afraid of failure. Thus you become unhappy. Perhaps your labor and attempts end up unsuccessful and you do not attain your desire, thus making you even more unhappy.

A more dangerous consequence is that you may go astray because of such hopes and desires and fall into deceit, beating about the bush, fawning and flattery, lying or worse things. This is what one of the wise men once said, 'A person will certainly fall into hypocrisy if he wants to hide something within himself.'

I know that you feel tired and I pity you. But when will you live in the fire of hopes! What is amazing concerning such worldly desires is that they make you unhappy even if they are realized. For when you attain what you desire, you will be pleased; such pleasure leads you to seek more. As the Lord Jesus Christ said: "Whoever drinks of this water will thirst again"(John 4:13). And when one feels thirst, one seeks water to quench one's thirst and the more one drinks, the more one will feel thirst and desire for water.

So, my beloved brother, I want to discuss the matter with you calmly. Why do you hold fast to certain worldly desires while you know that "the world is passing away, and the lust of it"(1 John 2:17). You are like me - a stranger on earth and the hour will come when you will leave the world and all its possessions. You have come naked from your mother's womb, and naked you will return (Job 1:21). You will be forced to leave the world with its glory, wealth and fame and descend into a pit in the ground like any other person. Whatever authority, pleasures or fame you attain in this world will not protect your mortal body against corruption or prevent the worms from feeding off of your body. On judgment day, you will stand before God destitute of all worldly possessions. You will keep nothing from the world except your works, whether they be good or evil.

Therefore, my beloved brother, it is not good for you to confine your interests and hopes to this earth. Do you not remember that this earth brought forth to you thorns and thistles! It had once accepted the blood of Abel the Righteous and the cisterns hewn in it can hold no water (Jer. 2:13).

Take an example of our fathers the saints who lived on the earth before us and whom the earth was not deserving to be trodden on with their feet. Those holy fathers did not attain that holiness except after emptying their hearts of the love of the world and its worldly material. They no longer had any desire or lust, nor any possession in the world. And because they did not hold on to anything in the world, it was easy for them to leave it - they longed for their departure.

As for you, my beloved brother, you still have some worldly desires and, "where your treasure is, there your heart will be also" (Matt. 6:21). Your heart clings to the dust and its glory so that the spiritual matters lose their value in your sight. This is the same temptation with which the devil tried to tempt the Lord of glory, "the devil took Him up on an exceedingly high mountain and showed Him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory. And he said to Him, "All these things I will give You if You will fall down and worship me" (Matt. 4:8,9).

Now, consider, if you possess all such things and lose your soul which you imprison in a golden cage of desires, what will this avail you? Your soul wants to be set free.

Heart of Soft (a new song of mine!)

Heart of Soft
(my song's working title -- got a better one? please share! Hope you enjoy it.)

by Joseph Bishara
copyright Joseph N. Bishara
_________

A heart of soft / and a mind of steel,
And these two things / will help you feel,
I've thought oft, of a heart that's soft,
and a mind of steel.

Laughing often, and loving much,
A helpful hand, a baby's touch,
one more moment, with the ones you love,
Laughing often and loving much.

BRIDGE:
Words were spoken by a man in his dying day.
He said, "Child, if you want to live, don't let time blow away."

a second mile / a higher road,
a better friend / a lighter load,
ears to hear / the grace bestowed,
a desert quenched / as the water flowed.

Salt of earth / a common man,
sacrifice / take a stand,
an amputee / made whole again,
for the greater good / and the common man.

BRIDGE:
With every breath it seems, we're closer to our graves.
Let's live our lives and do what's right to make our better days.

A heart that's soft / and a mind of steel,
And it's these two things / that help us feel.
Set your thoughts aloft / with a heart that's soft,
and a mind of steel.

WHAT CAN BE

As I consider decades long since past, I'm finding memories I had forgotten were there -- inspiring, hopeful, renewing memories. What's more, I find they all have a motif, a theme, a golden tether that gathers them together. Hope from heroism.

In junior high Biology, we were supposed to prepare a lesson and give a presentation on anything remotely scientific. Mine *was remotely* scientific, but others really took a shot at delivering quality. When Maria's day came, she did something extraordinary and brave. She brought her mother to class. The subject? Alcoholism. I can't forget when Maria and her mom stood before our Biology class talking about what alcoholism can do to a body and a family, and yet how it can be dealt with and overcome. I felt privileged -- the duo delivered the science and shared the sensitive vulnerability of dealing with addiction. I can't help but think they did a Good thing -- Good with a capital G, beyond exposing alcoholism. A fellow 9th grader showed me it was possible to befriend a parent (I didn't know), and that courage wasn't something only found in stories -- she was courageous, therefore maybe I could be courageous.

Irish Rebecca in 11th grade English had been quiet the five or so years I had known her. Her beautiful curly red hair and fair complexion made most of us certain she was Irish-ancestried. She was graceful as could be, and none of us would have offended lovely Irish Rebecca for the world. When Ms. Cunningham made us present an essay for a grade, most of us either goofed off or did only what was necessary to get the grade -- snickety band that we were, one-by-one refining and distilling idiocy in its purest form. But then Irish Rebecca arose to the podium -- quiet, thoughtful, lovely Irish Rebecca, and even we hushed a little because we knew quality was about to speak. Her subject? She delivered an eloquent and riveting thesis on Racism. All those Mexican jokes told in her presence bothered Irish Rebecca -- not just the jokes themselves, but even the fact that people laughed at such jokes and found them entertaining. And then she shared a fact that shamed us all. It turns out Irish Rebecca wasn't Irish at all. Bonnie Irish Rebecca, was and is Hispanic. I had no idea -- none of us did. We were dumbfounded. As she returned to her chair, none of us said a word. Whether we had told a disrespectful joke or laughed at one or even failed to walk away from one, we were ashamed, and more importantly we were changed. I hadn't known integrity was possess-able until Hispanic Rebecca showed me some -- well if she had some, maybe I could get some too.

Clay and Andy and Eric and Beth and Michael and Marc and Pedro and Erin and Sonya and Laura and others were students like me. I guess I never knew that songs on the radio or art in a museum could be made by people like me -- I didn't know how they got made, but I was pretty sure they were not accessible to me. And then they played or they sung or they made. They produced art from the core of what makes us human, or so it would seem to me. It was better than radio and better than museum! I had no idea people like me could make art like that -- not caring who was was paying attention, expressing feelings some of us didn't know how to express, and helping us notice our own spirits. They were doing it. I had no idea it could be done, but there they were, doing it, and if they could do it, that meant that maybe I could to. It was is if I didn't know my own soul until I saw others giving flight to theirs.

When my four year old decided to give a Christmas gift to a charity for children who would otherwise not get gifts, he chose a shiny red fire truck -- one that he wanted -- and he paid for it and we dropped it off to the charity's corporate headquarters because we were too late to leave it at drop-off locations around town. The lady said to him, "I know a boy who is your age who will just love this -- his name is Bradley." My son stood shocked -- who can know the caring emotions that rolled in my four year old's heart? -- he was a bigger man leaving that office. A year later, my FIVE year old decided to do the same thing -- he picked out a construction play set he would have liked and bought it with his own money to give. THE SAME WOMAN who took his gift the year before CALLED HIM BY NAME, gave him a big hug and then said, "Bradley LOVED the fire truck you gave last year." Emotions swelled up in both of us. My five year old wanted to take care of Bradley. I had no idea. It really is more blessed and more fun to give than to receive and I knew that for certain when I watched a four year old give.

Many of you reading this have shown me that what I thought was on an unattainable high mountain IS available, even to me. You make the world a better place by reaching high places, because people like me who are watching are taking notes. Thanks for showing me what can be.

+Joseph

Learning from Sadness

Have you ever seen an empty vessel
sunk into a shallow sea?
Brine and bone, and all alone,
is what we're destined for eventually.

Have you ever heard a wailing mother,
weeping for her fallen son?
And his child and widowed bride,
staring at his coffin stunned?


copyright Joseph Bishara