Fist and Faith wrote:I've also read it a couple times. (I've recently gone back to read all of Stephen's words again.) "Astounding" is, indeed, the best word for him. And what a perfect quote to go along with it! Nice job ShadowLurker.
I thought it fit him perfectly too, Fist and Faith. In all my travels, and there have been many, I have met alot of people. But, I have never met anyone like Stephen. And, for reasons unknown, I feel that is a profound loss on my part. I find myself just sitting and thinking about his words. They steal their way into my mind constantly, even in my sleep. He has definitely made an impression on me and I find myself now coming to this board just to see if Tracie has posted more.
Without effort or instruction, Stephen knows the Law as well as anyone I know, and a good deal better than most. When faced with a new situation, most would have to ponder what to do, ask for advice, or look things up in books. Stephen knows automatically, in his heart. That kind of knowing doesn't go wrong, and doesn't hesitate. Who better to hold the Staff and keep the Law?
Last edited by Han-shan on Sun Nov 30, 2003 5:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I climb the road to Cold Mountain,
The road to Cold Mountain that never ends. - Han-shan
We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows. - Robert Frost
Han-shan wrote:Without effort of instruction, Stephen knows the Law as well as anyone I know, and a good deal better than most. When faced with a new situation, most would have to ponder what to do, ask for advice, or look things up in books. Stephen knows automatically, in his heart. That kind of knowing doesn't go wrong, and doesn't hesitate. Who better to hold the Staff and keep the Law?
I could not have said it any better than that, Han-shan. Who better, indeed. Tracie has given us all a glorious gift in this sharing of her brother. He was/is wise beyond words.
It was, of course, a gift to you as well as to Stephen. Not only for sharing him with us, but for everything about your presence here. As I said, no one is better suited to hold the Staff than Stephen, and I knew it would mean more to you if I gave it to him than if I gave it to you, so I honor both with one act.
And in accepting, you return honor to the giver. *bows*
I climb the road to Cold Mountain,
The road to Cold Mountain that never ends. - Han-shan
We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows. - Robert Frost
...mindblowing and very apt gesture...I read all five pages earlier today and I'm still speechless...the second conversation with John Doe ripped my guts out...I feel I need to say more, but I can't right now...somehow it evokes too many things at once...almost reminiscient of surviving anifelectic shock. (goes off to sit in quiet place for a very long time )
The effect this man has on us is nothing short of remarkable. Can you imagine what it would have been like to be one of the lucky people who were able to actually sit and talk with him? I do believe he would have reduced to me tears.
Han-shan wrote:It was, of course, a gift to you as well as to Stephen. Not only for sharing him with us, but for everything about your presence here. As I said, no one is better suited to hold the Staff than Stephen, and I knew it would mean more to you if I gave it to him than if I gave it to you, so I honor both with one act.
And in accepting, you return honor to the giver. *bows*
Oh, you were so right. Hugglesssssss Han-shan, I sent you some WGD's as added thanks. You really touched me.
danlo wrote:mindblowing and very apt gesture...I read all five pages earlier today and I'm still speechless...the second conversation with John Doe ripped my guts out...I feel I need to say more, but I can't right now...somehow it evokes too many things at once...almost reminiscient of surviving anifelectic shock. (goes off to sit in quiet place for a very long time )
Hugglesssssss to you too, danlo. John's story is heartbreaking for sure. I will have another entry about him posted soon. There are three more. All very heart-wrenching. I also met him, and he drove me to tears. Stephen was beautiful with him tho, and in the end, I believe he helped give John the peace he so desperately needed.
Shadowlurker wrote:The effect this man has on us is nothing short of remarkable. Can you imagine what it would have been like to be one of the lucky people who were able to actually sit and talk with him? I do believe he would have reduced to me tears.
Oh no, Shadow...he would have lifted your heart so high that you would feel like you were flying down from a mountain top. And you would be laughing as you lighted back on the ground. And if there were tears, they would be tears of joy.
Peace
And I believe in you
altho you never asked me too
I will remember you
and what life put you thru.
~fly fly little wing, fly where only angels sing~
~this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you~
...for then I could fly away and be at rest. Sweet rest, Mom. We all love and miss you.
I carry around one of those little micro cassette recorders, off and on, been doing it for a few years now. I use it to document events that I can later write down here in my journals. I don’t take it everyday, because my mind forgets the little things at times and I just leave it behind. But today, He told me to bring it along with me. It was like a physical shove, that pointed me to the drawer that I keep it in. I laughed and said, “You don’t have to push, I can take a hint.” He’s funny that way, thinks He has to slam things into me. And so, I had it today. New batteries and fresh tape.
John came into the Gallery shortly after 10 this morning. I pushed the button on the recorder, realizing then why I was meant to have it this day. He looked sick, I could see it as clearly as I could see his clothes. I knew the sickness, the lesions, the cough, the sunken eyes, all familiar to me. He smelled of fish and that pipeweed. His bloodshot eyes searched me. I waited.
“I apologize for walking out on you, that day in the deli.” He finally managed to croak out.
I waved it off, “it’s alright. I’m sorry if I upset you.”
“You did. But I got over it. Besides, you were right.”
He began to talk then, as though afraid that if he didn’t he would forget how. This is our conversation as I recorded it. I am writing it down as it plays back. I feel like crying, this man is in so much pain.
“I was thrown out of the hospital yesterday. Violated the ‘no booze allowed’ rule. Had it hidden in my coat. Funny thing is, I forgot it was in there. They didn’t believe me, but who would? I am a drunk after all. The shelters wouldn’t let me in either, because of these. (He pointed to some of the sores on his neck). So, I spent the night in an old warehouse down on the Warf. Stunk of fish, but at least it was dry. Anyway, I came to find you because I dreamt of you again last night. And you were diseased, your face was nothing but festering blisters, your body reduced to bone. I woke up in a sweat, started coughing and hawking up phlegm. Why do I keep seeing you like that?”
“I don’t know, John. But, you are sick. Let me take you to my doctor. I’ll pay for it.”
He shook his head at that, waved his hand in front of my face as though I had just cussed at him.
“That’s not why I’m here, I don’t want or need that from you.”
“What do you need from me?”
He stared at me hard. Said something then that I really didn’t need a recorder to remember. “I need to know why I keep being drawn here, and I need know why it’s so important for me to hear what you have to say, and I need know why the hell I keep dreaming about you?”
“I don’t have those answers for you. But, I can tell you this, there are many things around us and in us that the desultory world we exist in has forgotten. Heart and soul and spirit seem to have faded into lost whispers. Sometimes, and I say only what I believe to be true, sometimes, the souls of those not so lost, the ones still existing in that spatial place where such soft voices can still be heard loud and strong, answer those who cry out. I believe mine is reaching out to yours, because you are dying and your soul is wailing for understanding, acceptance, and forgiveness for what you believe hell to be the only answer. I don’t know what you feel you should be damned for, but I do believe that you won’t be. As I said the last time we talked. You have punished yourself severely by the looks of you. Hell is where you are now.”
I paused then, thinking he would probably walk away again. He didn’t. He began to weep, and weep hard, so hard that he began to cough uncontrollably. I gave him some water, which he drank in between spurts of coughing.
“You have a wisdom about you, Steve McKinney, the kind that shook the sense out of me that day I first laid eyes on you. It’s that wisdom that lifts you up above the face of your ultimate fate. It’s a wisdom that I thought I had once. Before my life went to hell. And hell is where I am now, as you said. I’m a mere shadow of who I used to be, before I threw myself back at God.”
“What does that mean? How did you throw yourself back at God?”
He smiled then, but this time, it was a smile devoid of happiness, one of those smiles that would break a face if it were made of glass. “Do you really want to know?” At that precise second, I realized that I didn’t. But, I also knew that God wanted me to hear this man, wanted me to help this man, for whatever reason. I needed that answer.
“Yes.”
He pulled in a long rattled breath and physically sagged, his eyes leaked tears and he made no effort to wipe them away. “I killed my family. I had a wife once. Two beautiful kids, both girls. Taught literature at a high school over in Atherton. Life, as they say in the movies, was good. I thanked God everyday for my blessings. But, I didn’t take care of them. I took them for granted, you see. I started to nip a bit at the bottle. Money seemed to be a growing reason to nip at it more and more, until I was gulping. Thing is, I was one of those drunks that seemed for all the world to be sober. I walked steady, talked steady, and…” He broke off there, finally wiped at his eyes which he had staring down a the long counter, he pulled them up to my face and finished that sentence. I’ve never seen anyone look so haunted. “..I drove steady. My wife beside me in our little Toyota Corolla, my little girls in the back seat, I was driving, drunk out of my mind. I jumped a curve, the car swung and hit a tree on my wife’s side, smashing it in.” He choked then, began to weep harder, cough harder. I put my hand on his shoulder.
“John, you don’t have to finish…”
“Yes I do, that’s not the end of it. Though it was the end of a man named, Nathan James.” He put his face in his hands. So I waited. The Gallery mercifully empty. God made sure of that it seems. “There was a trial, and jail time, then a release for good behavior. I had 15 years to think about how I murdered my family. I promptly tried to kill myself, more then once.” He smiled that awful smile again. “But, God, oh He has a way of making you get what you wished for the hard way. Things happen to you in prison, and I deserved every thing I got. I didn’t try to stop any of it, became used to it. And when I left, it came with me, and I carry it around now.” He pointed again at his lesions. “The mark of prison, the mark of a murderer, the mark of God’s answer to my wish to die. It won’t be quick and easy, no sir. Now, you tell me, Steve McKinney, how is it that I’m not meant for hell?”
Ah, dear sweet Jesus, Lord. This is beyond me. You were the Voice that stilled the storms, calmed the seas. You were the Hands that healed the suffering and strengthened the weak You were the Man that walked on water and rose in light from the Dead. I’m none of that. What wisdom do I have for this?
I was silent for a long time and listened to his weeping, my own tears spilling. My heart ached for him, my soul searched for the words, the ones that would take away his pain. Then I realized I could not, I could only offer him my belief, my faith, my hope. This is what God wanted of me. This was why I was meant to hear this man. “You are not meant for hell because you seek forgiveness, because you are so full of remorse that you believe that what was done to you in prison was deserved, that AIDS was deserved. Nathan, what happened to your family was a tragedy, such a horrific tragedy that it broke you beyond mending. Now, you walk in the limbo of life, seeking things to bring you pain, seeking darkness, seeking quick death. Do you believe God wants this? You say you have thrown yourself back at Him. This is true, and you are still doing it. I believe He sent you to me to tell you that you must not do it anymore. Do you think your wife and children want to see you like this? Do you think they enjoy this pain you inflict on yourself? Oh, Nathan, no. I believe they are weeping, I believe if they could they would plead with you to cease your endless search for hell. They aren’t suffering because of the car wreck. They are in Heaven. You bring them pain just by tossing away your own life.”
He fled. I turned off the recorder, sat, wept and prayed for him.
He drinks himself to sleep and dreams of God,
of airy crosses waving before him,
like sweet benedictions he cannot reach.
A lost man, raging upward and inward
shaking off holy water like an angry dog.
His eyes roll back, his fists full of repentance
he flings it and himself toward Heaven.
All the while, pleading dreadfully for the fires of hell.
God be with you, Nathan James, on this night and always. May peace find it’s way into your ruined heart, may God’s light penetrate your darkness and may your soul cease in its wailing pain.
“The Lord longs to be gracious to you; He rises to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for Him!” --Isaiah 30:18 NIV
I sing to life
and to it's tragic beauty
to pain and to strife
and all that dances thru me
the rise and the fall
i've lived thru it all...
To my brother, Steve, who held a grace and light beyond words, God bless. I love you --Tracie
Stephen C wrote:Ah, dear sweet Jesus, Lord. This is beyond me.
In the face of such unimaginable despair, I imagine I would have been struck dumb for days. What a thing to have dumped in your lap!! I can picture someone in this situation looking up, saying, "You have got to be kidding me!! What do you expect me to do with this??"
But, this is, after all, Stephen. It wasn't beyond him at all. He knew the answer in his heart as soon as the initial horror passed. How many of us would have?
I climb the road to Cold Mountain,
The road to Cold Mountain that never ends. - Han-shan
We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows. - Robert Frost
It was Stephen's belief that when events like this one happened to him, it was God's will. (It is my belief as well). From the moment John/Nathan walked into the Gallery that first time, Stephen knew that he was meant to help him in some way. He didn't know how at the time, and even after this meeting, he wasn't sure he would ever see him again or if he helped him at all. Stephen never questioned God's reasons, only his own capability to be of help to this man. He never quite understood why he was choosen for such things, of course, to the rest of us, it was obvious.
Stephen was beautiful. In every sense of the word. There was no cruelty in him, no harshness, no hate. And when he was met with these things from other people, he simply smiled at them and told them he understood.
John/Nathan was drawn to Stephen because it was God's will. Many may not believe that, and it's not my place to try to convince. But, to my brother, it was quite clear, like it was written on the wall in big bold letters. Fate, Destiny, God...whatever you will...My brother was meant to help this man. It was months after this meeting before he saw him again. Steve actually went looking for him a few times, mostly in shelters and in the hospitals, never found him and the people he asked about him told him they didn't know who he was talking about. I went there in July of that year, my whole family did, for the 4th and some time after. Now, we come to fate, or destiny, or God's will here...because we were at the beach, getting ready to watch the fire works. Steve had his recorder with him. I remember this, and I haven't thought about it in such a long time, but I can still see my brother's face light up when he saw John/Nathan walking toward us. "It's him, praise the Lord." He grabbed my hand and we went to him. I will post Steve's entry, he recorded this one as well. I have the tape still. And I listened to it last night. My brother's voice was music. I sat listening to him talk to this man, from so many years ago, and I marvelled at the serenity and presence in his voice. The grace, the gentleness, the peace that he conveyed just by his tone...if he wanted too, he could have talked the stars from the sky.
Oh, I'm rambling again.
"If you knew everything there was to know, there would be no reason live. For living is learning. Life is never long enough to learn all that such life requires." My brother said this to my daughter on her 10th birthday, July 14, 2000. She drew it out on a piece of poster board and it hangs on her wall.
I hate to put pressure on her, but sometimes I'm like, "Jeez!! It's been hours since we got a new excerpt!" 
)
