This recently popped up on my YouTube channel from the PIANO GUYS
and as often the case:
NO WORDS NECESSARY. . .
not that
THAT
has ever stopped me
. . .in fact,
it usually inspires more words
(from the producers):

Behind every song is a story. Some superficial or spontaneous. Some deep and more meaningful, even life-altering. Music plays so many roles in our lives. On the surface it is entertainment, but that grossly underestimates its depth. It can be a messenger — have you ever had just the right song played at just the right time, sending you just the right message? It can be a pathway to a change or step forward we need to make in life. Sometimes it can be an angelically-aided connector of people. Well, in this story, music was all this and more. A simple social media post that shared a tourist’s video of an extraordinarily talented puppeteer, Márton Harkel, who performs as a busker on the streets of Budapest. What caught the eye was his cellist puppet. It was a near-perfect copy of the puppeteer. And as he made the motions of playing cello, his puppet would mimic his movements with astounding musicality. It was captivating. It was like watching art come alive. And so there was this magnificent pairing of his puppet design and marionette skills with the arrangement of the Mussorgsky’s “Promenade” theme from “Pictures at an Exhibition” — the prominent piece among a suite of classical works written about art coming alive! And the timing of it couldn’t have been better — as it’s releasing during a time when we can’t film traditional music videos due to the current pandemic’s safety measures. So this is a pandemic approved, proxy puppet’s performance of Pictures at an Exhibition! Please take some time to listen to the original suite here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TAHX0… (The theme chosen is right at the beginning and throughout the piece — it is the melody Mussorgsky wrote to depict us walking from painting to painting) Márton worked for over 200 hours to handcraft these puppets so that their articulating fingers, and a multitude of hinges and joints could be “in concert” with the music. Notice the care he takes to see that they are doing their best to even play the right notes. The best part of this story? After Márton finished creating the puppets and prepared to film, he realized he couldn’t make them come alive alone. He needed another puppeteer. He hired Napsugár Trömböczky, a lovely and talented young lady. As they began working together, their interest in the project and the puppets took a back seat to their interest in each other! In ONE WEEK they were engaged. They say it’s crazy. We say it’s destiny. Márton and Napsugár’s love story that’s truly touching. We pray before we write our music with the desire that it will somehow spread hope. All of us all spend a great deal of our lives waiting for something or someone we’re hoping for. Stories such as this can perhaps provide some evidence that a life can change and hopes can be realized in the matter of one song. One week. One idea. That gives us hope that when things aren’t lining up or we’re far from where we had hoped to be, the alignment that we seek can come together in a mere moment — in a way we could have never anticipated. Now, we don’t believe that we, as humans, are puppets of Destiny. But perhaps there is a “Grand Puppeteer,” who loves us and who knows us better than we know ourselves — and He pulls destiny’s strings on our behalf. Márton, in his message to us after he finished the video, humbly and graciously expressed gratitude for the project, but more than the project, for the opportunity to meet his soulmate, and to do what he loves, with whom he loves. Who dare take any credit?Look to the Grand Puppeteer for that. But we thank you, Márton and Napsugár, all the same. If all the time, work, energy, and passion that went into this project was all for you two and your eternal family, then it was well worth it. This is just a small honor to have the opportunity to “play a small part” in something much more important than a music video. After all, we are just a mere puppet(eer)

Pay Attention, Class. . .
The Music
The Action
only continues on
(in each of us)

Each May for the past four years I have had the honor of doing a
BLESSING OF THE BIKES
at Lake Erie Harley-Davidson
in Avon, Ohio

It brings a crowd of Bike owners out for a Pancake Breakfast
and a Blessing of the Bikes Ceremony. . .
Each year before the Blessing
I usually give a small meditation
that emphasizes that
LIFE IS A HIGHWAY
and at it’s best when we go down one road
only to find ourselves coming up another street
we didn’t know existed
to places we never imagined. . .
Sometimes
LIFE IS AT IT’S BEST
when at it’s least GPS’D. . .

I go to each Biker
young/old and all in between
and ask them how many miles they have on their bikes and then tell them, “Here’s hoping that the best miles are the ones you’ve yet to ride to places you’ve never imagined; BE BLESSED TO BLESS.”

The take away:
(THERE’S ALWAYS A TAKE AWAY)

THERE’S A HUGE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN
A BLESSING
a n d
T H E B L E S S I N G. . .

A BLESSING IS WHAT YOU GIVE. . .

THE BLESSING IS WHAT YOU GET IN RETURN

(and there’s no comparison except in the spelling of the word:
b l e s s i n g)

T E S T I T

It’s often read
bedside at the time of death
with family circling the bed of their loved one:

A GRATITUDE BLESSING

We bless your hair that the wind has played with
We bless your brow, no longer furrowed, now at peace
We bless your mind, all of the loving thoughts
We bless your eyes that have looked on us with love
We bless your ears that listened for our voices
We bless your nostrils, gateway of breath
We bless your lips that have spoken truth and kissed us a thousand times
We bless your neck and throat, we will remember your voice
We bless your shoulders that have borne burdens with strength
We bless your arms that have embraced us
We bless your hands that have shaped wonders
We bless your chest that sustained your life and nurtured us in strength
We bless your heart that loved us
We bless your belly, storehouse of the body
We bless your thighs for their strong foundation
We bless your knees that have knelt at sacred altars
We bless your legs that have carried you
We bless your feet that have walked your own path throughout life
WE THANK YOU

Beautiful blessing of thanks, isn’t it?

No. . .

It’s not mine. . .

It was brought and applied many different times by a friend, a colleague of mine; an awesome hospice nurse, Jill.

I firmly believe it’s power
I wholly feel that it’s mystique
is that it didn’t come from me. . .
T H A T
would be calculated
and expected. . .

It came from a nurse
(this time)
and sometimes it’s a doctor
and at other times
a Home Health Aide
and often from
Security or Housekeeping. . .

NOT FROM CHUCK THE CHAPLAIN

Am I hurt
jealous
angry
vengeful
regretful
or just severely
grateful
humble
validated
affirmed
hallowed. . .

T R U T H :

Sometimes the greatest blessings there can ever be come from those we often don’t expect. . .
(making them even more sacred)

G U A R A N T E E D:

The best of blessings are never spoken
. . .they’re done

Why give a blessing

WHEN YOU CAN BE ONE

Pssssssssssssssssssssssst of the Day:

You don’t have to look for
Most Blessings. . .
T H E Y
F I N D
Y O U !

Have you ever met a Saint before?

It was a question raised in Bill Murray’s

ST  VINCENT

movie in 2014.        .        .

HAVE  YOU  EVER  MEANT  A  SAINT ?

What’s the qualifications:

WAIT    FIVE    YEARS    AFTER    YOU    DIE

BECOME VENERABLE (live a heroic life trying always to be better and grow in holiness)

BLESSED (Look for miracles a person has performed)

SAINTED (Miracles and cause are examined by the Pope who publicly recognizes them as a Saint

Well.        .        .

 do you meet the criteria?

Do you know any Saints?

What would your qualifiers be?

Would your nominated Saint be Rich?

Would your nominated Saint be excessively poor?

Would your nominated Saint be:

Flawed

Religious

Spiritual

Healing

Patient

Loving

Kind

Forgiving

Generous

Old

Sacrificing

Tolerant

Compassionate

Gentle

Intelligent

_________________________?

W A I T.          .          .

W  H  A  T  ?

Are you.          .          .

ARE  YOU  A  SAINT?

C O U R A G E
S A C R I F I C E
C O M P A S S I O N
H U M A N I T Y

.          .          .your    t r a i t s.          .          .           ?

There’s an ancient belief that God is like a Mirror who never changes. . .

but each one of us sees something   d i f f e r e n t

WHEN        MIRROR         COMES         TO         FACE

The Ga-Zillion Dollar Question:

When your face comes to Mirror

does a Saint stare back?

Heaven hums,

“Y            E            S”

Hell whispers,

 “N            O”

What   say

Y          O          U  ?

I’ve got a mouth that belongs in the Circus.

For as long as I’ve talked, I’ve loved to talk. . .

from A-B-C’s to Abstracts.   .   .

from simple syllables to significant stories,

I love the written word—spoken.

I’ve made my livelihood with my mouth, from sermons to speaking engagements to Life Celebrations, Memorial Services, Keynotes, Workshops, Weddings, Commitment Ceremonies, Master of Ceremonies, Small groups, Leadership Training Series to Counseling sessions to simple phone calls to 1 on 1 conversations.

My mouth has taken me to many different places and put me in front of a lot of Eclectic audiences,

but one of my favorite of late, without any hesitations,

was at Lake Erie Harley-Davidson Sales Company for

T  H  E      B  L  E  S  S  I  N  G      O  F      T  H  E      B  I  K  E  S

I unfortunately met Mike Stevens a couple of years ago when his father George, who had been the proud owner of Lake Erie Harley-Davidson, died of a heart attack.

I was honored to conduct George’s service which included an awesome tribute of a motorcycle procession to the cemetery.

Because of a prior commitment,

I wasn’t able to participate in the Blessing of the Bikes in 2014,

but was so honored that Mike didn’t forget me and booked me to be there

the last two years

and then again this year on May 13, 2017

There was not a cloud in the sky and it’s blueness served as a perfect backdrop for a

perfect Sun and all of it’s warm rays.     .     .

there would be no fear

that this beautiful morning

would be more of a Baptism than a Blessing,

in  fact,

the only thing that outshone the Sun

was the multitude of warmth and brightness

by those who came to have a complimentary pancake breakfast before

a brief meditation.       .       .

and standing proudly by their Bikes

before heading out on their various treks.

“There’s a huge ROCK that you can’t help but to see when you pull into this Dealership.  It represents a man, George Stevens, the foundation for this Company and more, the one who has brought countless people together. . .and still is. The Road promises us nothing, in fact, it almost always guarantees lots of danger and uncertainty, but it offers up a Creed where the Law is Love and the Gospel is Peace…Ride Well…Ride Safe…,”

I offered up before going to each bike and individually blessing it and its Rider(s).

I usually asked each bike owner how many miles they had on their bikes and no matter what their answer,

I would offer,

“And yet the best miles are those still yet to be ridden.    .    .No matter what roads you go down or come back up, from the most dangerous to the most comforting, may you be blessed to bless those you’ll undoubtably meet.      .      .      .”

A 68 year old lady who as ready to saddle up for a day of riding told me that she never felt more alive than when she was riding.

Another lady told me that this was a Sanctuary on two-wheels; that she felt truly worshipful and the Presence while riding.

A man, eyes filled with tears told me that he only had gotten his bike because it was his dying wife’s last wish for him and he now rides every mile not for her, but with her;

A proud grandfather stood beside his bike with his small grandson by his side and proudly said, “This is his, he’s just letting me ride it for a little while longer.     .     .”

Couples, Ladies, Men, Young, Old

and all in between were there to show

intensely that Road before them

was for the Riding and the Living.     .     .

I was being accompanied to each bike by Lori, who literally had an offering bag, where the riders gave donations for Hospice of the Western Reserve.

I got  B I K E D  that day in a most intimate way.

B l e s s     o r     B l e s s e d

is there a distinction?

Uh.    .    .not   THAT   Saturday,

not for those couple of  hours in the Sun

where the Sun was  even more

magnificently manufactured

and much more pure because of it.       .       .

A  Community  came  together

and He-Who-Was-First-Created was very Present;

A Journey wasn’t begun that morning,

only Continued in a most profound way

and the hummmmmm of the Engines

was really a Symphony of

 H   E   A    R   T     B   E    A   T    S

A  b  r  a  c  a  d  a  b  r  a       a  w  e  s  o  m  e  l  y       h  e  a  l  i  n  g

( S   t   i   l   l        i   s )

]]> http://thecaringcatalyst.com/b-i-k-e-d/feed/ 0 1268 http://thecaringcatalyst.com/compassionate-graffiti/ http://thecaringcatalyst.com/compassionate-graffiti/#respond Fri, 24 Jun 2016 11:00:46 +0000 http://thecaringcatalyst.com/?p=654

Who would have ever thought that. . . .

Sometimes even the Soul can’t help but to gasp:

W      O      W  !

We’ve all seen it before, haven’t we?

Bathroom Stall Graffiti.

Understandably so,

this is not the stuff that Novels are made

or HBO Movies or even some really bad:

The Worst Poetry Ever Contests.

No one goes to the Bathroom stall to see Bathroom stall humor and expect to be enlightened, inspired, encouraged or motivated.

NO ONE.      .      .

or.      .      .

m   a   y   b   e

S o m e      O    N    E   

who’s seeking much more than that in the most desperate, dirtiest part of their busted up, broken, seemingly laid-bare parts of their most inner self.

S      H      O      C      K      E      R

Not so much that Bathroom Stall Graffiti exists.       .       .

but    T H A T     it could ever possibly

COMPASSIONATELY    exist!

I didn’t take the photo.        .        .

maybe it was manufactured or maybe it’s 101% authentic?

What’s Truer than TRUE?

Compassion is at it’s best when it’s at it’s filthiest.

Compassion shows up for appetizers but brings a Banquet.

Compassion shows up when everything and everyone else checks out.

Compassion Shouts: “HOW CAN I HELP?” when everyone else sighs, “is there anything I can do?”

Compassion runs towards the Fight and not from the Uncomfortable.

Compassion Seeks Suffering while its Pretenders Hides in more comfortable surroundings.

Compassion Hugs the Porcupine of Hurt, Disappointment, Loneliness.

Compassion camps out in the stench without holding its nose.

Compassion is a Verb that doesn’t settle or embrace being an adjective.

Compassion invites, “All-ie, All-i e  In  Free,”  instead of just quitting and going home with the ball.

Compassion ISN’T until it IS and then it isn’t anything else that can even begin to compare.

Compassion just may be found anywhere, anytime, anyplace—-

even  a  Bathroom  Stall.

But mostly.     .     .

Compassion   needs   to   be   where   it’s   often   NOT !

Be the Bearer,

the Wearer,

Sharer,

Carrier

of where it needs to be the most:

WHEREVER      YOU      ARE!

They really live anywhere, but still you wouldn’t expect to find ONE there. . . .

It was a Friday afternoon and the air still couldn’t figure out if it was the last day of Winter or the First day of Spring.

It was quiet in the hall way of the nursing home, well after lunch, with many naps in progress.

But not her. She was sitting in a wheelchair in front of the nurses station. She noticed me right away, this Keeper of the Hall way Kingdom.

“Hey, WHO ARE YOU?”

“My name’s Chuck,” I said to her.

“WHO?”

“My name is Chuck. I’m a Chaplain.”

“Come over here, I want to see your name tag,” she demanded.

I went over and knelt down in front of her and she grabbed the name tag I had clipped on my shirt and she first smiled and then started laughing…almost hysterically.

“What’s so funny,” I asked her?

“You’re Charlie Chaplain!”

I laughed with her and smiling back, owned it, “Yes I am.”

“Well, WHO AM I,” she asked, looking confused?

“You don’t know?”

“No, really, I don’t know. Who am I?”

“Well you’re a Princess!”

“A Princess?”

“Absolutely. A Princess. I knew it as soon as I started walking down this hall way and I really knew it when you asked me who I was?”

“And who am I,” an aide asked as she came from behind the nurses station?

“Well, you have the most important job of all, ma’am. You’re the Caretaker of the Princess, making her even more special than she is, every day and night!”

The whole exchange between The Princess, her Caregiver and Charlie Chaplain took no more than probably 30 seconds and we all had smiles on our faces.

Compassion isn’t this long, drawn out process. It’s a moment; one purposely given and one humbly received.

In less than 30 seconds a Princess, a Caregiver and Charlie Chaplain all took on new meanings, purposes, definitions, reasons and destinies.

We all became ANEW and less UNAWARES.

We all became better.

We all became.

Go Crown a Princess or a Prince who’s forgotten their truest identities.

Stand in awe of the Royalty of IT all. . . .

“He sure is he crazy,” this new anointed Princess said to her Caregiver as I walked away from them down the hall. “But I like him!”

THEY can live anywhere…maybe most especially WHERE THEY ARE NOT SUPPOSE TO BE….

Maybe it’s not so important to find one as to be found by ONE. . . ?