What is Magnificence

What is Magnificence

What is Magnificence?

I’ve thought a great deal about what – magnificence – truly is. I am not referring to definitions found in a book of words or on a computer. Magnificence cannot be bound in that manner, nor should it be.

It lies beyond the beyond; yet magnificence is within us all. It is worthy of a soulful journey and once found to held tight as it can easily slip through inattentive figures.

A journey to find magnificence is unique to the one who searches for it and to the those who have found it.

I am reminded of a book of pictures I was once given by a group people who collected money and boxes of clothing, new and used, to ship, along with themselves, to an overseas village.

The pictures showed villagers politely greeting the group with offerings of food and drink as the boxes of clothing sat upon the shore, where they remained, untouched, as the villagers waived the group goodbye.

I wondered about the fate of the clothing; but, the villagers, themselves, held my attention. I am may does not agree with some of their customs, and I am sure some of the villagers may not either, would seek a new address, but the fiery independence in their eyes, the way they posed and displayed their finely woven and beaded garments seemed to say – “Look at us! We are magnificent. Thanks for the clothes. Their will make good rags!”

In other words, one size does not fit all. Possessing “magnificence” means something different to everyone. As the group with their boxes of clothing and the villagers, each thought they were magnificent either in deeds or as they were.

When I first started my journal, website, social media, I guess I was like those folks’ carrying boxes of new and used clothing, partially, not entirely, seeking good deeds by the way of training for the Senior Olympics through I am in no way an athletic nor competitive that way.

My intentions were to wow the world with such bits of wisdom, as far as what magnificence meant, the skies would open and peace would fall about the earth. No more hate, hypocrites, labels, I’m right and you’re wrong, my way or the highway, get over it as not everyone of a certain age is this or that and political shenanigans if one would to look.

I do wish the world peace, if people really want peace; but, to dwell upon all that I have typed in the last paragraph – well – I would be lost to it and be poorer for it. As every creature, regardless of the color of their skin or fur, everything shaped by the winds and rains of its environment, each is more than just form or whim.

I believe that an internal “spark”, something very old, very ancient, lies deep within all – a human, a rock, a tree, an animal, a blade of grass – every bit of a thing that is or was, regardless of its age, form, alliances, sex or species.

That “spark” is the seed of magnificence which can be nurtured into something grand or ignored until it is but a lingering whisper.

This spark, this very old and ancient ember, this magnificence rests quietly within and waits for one to bring it forth or ignore it. Regardless, it is the strength that gives one hope in the dark times even if one does not know it lies deep within.

For all its strength, magnificence is delicate and can be easily destroyed intentional or unintentional. Sometimes by one act and other times bit by bit.

My parents, as children, knew of the great depression where the winters were hard and cold, little food or clothing, little to no education, no land to tile for food, no social programs to ease the pain for the back woods’ poor and something even worse than all of that.

At an age, when children look to their parents as gods and protectors, my father’s mother was murdered, by his father and his father’s lover. She laid dying aside my father. My mother, from a large family, watched her father walk out the door, leaving the children to fend for themselves in a time of little to nothing.

When my parents entered the world as teens, World War II began, and each had to grow up fast. Death was in the air for all. After the war, they meet, married and started a family as many did at that time whether marriage was desired or not.

As years past, neither silenced memory of a troubled past and lack of blessings. Neither set battle against personal demons to embrace a brighter future as we all must do at some point in time. Neither sought their own magnificence.

Bit by bit, each suppressed their inner spark of magnificence and replaced it with hate, coldness, selfishness and meanness which slowly infested their minds, weakened their bodies, led one to alcohol and the other to a strange childish resentful hatred. Both refusing to accept things done and undone.

That was my inheritance, as the first born, along with the knowledge of poverty though there was a time or two of kindness. A first born may say, if your parents are from poverty, no education, lack a wee bit of enlightenment, not a penny to spare for a book to read, the first years of marriage, childhood, are tough.

Their story, as well as mine, are very insignificant in comparison to billions of others whose stories are far more tragic; yet, all stories should be told as within each story lies the tale of magnificence – it’s delicacy and its strength.

I have been told that not everyone, including my parents, had the strength to overcome their past, to nurture their own magnificence and to that I say, “No, you are wrong.” Everyone is capable of accomplishing far more than obscurity.

Anyone can but it takes willingness, effort and time. Days, weeks and, believe me it can take decades. It is possible and if the quest is tossed to the side, one can return to renew the journey with lessons from past failures in hand and heart.

I have also been told that not everyone believes that within them, all things, lies a spark, the seed of magnificence and again I say. “No, you are wrong.”
Every time I see a line of people waiting to go into church, at an amusement park, upon a hiking trail, smiling at the sight of a sunrise, a sunset, planning a vacation, admiring a work of art or a word written, not raising a hand to cause destruction or pain, tolerance and respect to one who does not believe as they do and when a hungry animal does not eat its prey but protects it and sees it on its way, — yes — they DO believe in that inner spark, the seed of magnificence – the higher ground, beyond just to survive, to get through the day, social insanity.

So, there you go my journal. Words written; thoughts expressed that may never see the light of day. But does it matter, really? No, it does not !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’ve started all that I have, training, website, journal to help myself find and nurture the delicacy of magnificence. I never want to forget the times I have been with one, and not just human, when life ends. I know that the end is not the end. I’ve seen the good of death. I’ve seen the bad of death.

I rather go into whatever the unknown is as magnificently as I can and not crawling. My spirit to reside in enlightenment, light the sky in a golden yellow. To sit by an Irish waterfall, with Nicky and Mendy, and all those before them, and a wonderous kind magical Irish spirit who will share with us the secrets of the universe, travel through time and space – learn how to laugh.

So—————————————————————————–

THAT is my journey! Yes, magnificence, the seed of it, the spark of it, to its very nature – and something else. I’ve had. I’ve lost. I’ve found again. I’ve had. I’ve lost. To find – the secret of holding on to, of nurturing the magic, the delicacy of magnificence which in this world I live in is a hell of an accomplishment —–indeed!!!!!!!!!!