The adults know what they’re doing. They have a plan, and the plan is progressive. Surely, they wouldn’t do anything to endanger their own children. They’ve taught us that it’s safety first. If you get cut on a rusty tin can, make sure to get a tetanus shot so you don’t get lock jaw . Clean up the kitchen counter before the bacteria has a chance to spread. Personal hygiene is very important. Clean behind your ears. Brush your teeth. Oh yeah, by the way, don’t play tag around the chemical dump or you’ll end up with cancer.
Growing up in the mill town of Hope, Rhode Island, I witnessed the effects of corporate environmental irresponsibility on a daily basis. During the summer, when school was out, I would set forth each morning with an adventurous spirit and a curious mind. I could hardly wait to see what color the river would be that day! Will it be powder blue? As a seven year old boy, I think powder blue was my favorite, because it made the river look “happy”, more like the River of Oz. It was happy powder blue on special days, but more often than not it was an “unhappy” color, like burnt orange, navy blue/bordering on black, or dark green with masses of snot-like cloud formations in the yellowish-green shades of pea soup. Yes, unfortunately, this is a true story. During my childhood, the Hope Mill was still a functioning lace factory. Sadly enough, the river wasn’t magical; its water didn’t change color each day, based on the wishes of a little boy and his hopes to see powder blue; no, the color was in fact, directly related to the order of lace being manufactured that day. When the mill workers would finish dipping each lot of lace in the dye vat, someone was apparently charged with the directive to open the valve and discharge the contents of said vat into the “first river”. The first river was the canal that cut through the mill and came out the back, the second river was the Pawtuxet River, where the first river would bleed off its dying colors. As a child, it all made sense. In hindsight, I can perceive it only as madness. Eventually the Environmental Protection Agency must have stepped in, because sometime during my early teens, the mill owners dug massive pits between the first and second rivers and proceeded to pump their waste dye into these holding ponds. No more colorful river, just nasty colored poison lakes. Then, one fine day, the bulldozers came and filled in the dye pits with the soil they had previously bulldozed out. So, the problem was solved, because we could no longer see the bold colors of criminal environmental destruction.
I realize that today’s journal post is focused on an extremely negative subject. No one wants to face up to, and take responsibility for, our forefather’s indiscriminate selfishness and greed. However, I am convinced that we must start the healing of our planet and ourselves, by first owning the mistakes of the past and working toward a better future by learning from those mistakes. Our physical health is dependent on environmental health. If the Earth is sick, so are we.
If you desire positive change in your life; If you are dissatisfied with the negative circumstances and situations you continually find yourself in, there is only one road you must travel that will bring lasting results – the road inward. Every guru, shaman, life coach, master, wizard, witch, or warlock is in agreement on this. To change your life for the better, it starts with inner change and progresses outward. Positive personal change effects the way you live, the way you die, and it is also directly correlated to your potential for having a positive impact on the world around you, before and after you die.
So, what does this say about our personal relationship to the world we are living in? It is clearly evident that positive personal change has a direct effect on the world around us. How are we supposed to change the world in positive ways, without letting the darkness and negativity overwhelm us? By insisting that positive personal change (growth) takes top priority in our lifelong journey. Many a tired soul objects to the amount of tenacity, persistence and courage it takes to raise the bar of one’s integrity to this level. It’s hard work! Too much to ask! I mean, it’s ridiculous to require weak and imperfect humans to remain positive, even during these exceedingly negative circumstances (times). It is my personal opinion that the dogma of religion is often used as a rug, under which a person can sweep all of their failed personal attempts at positive change. Being totally transparent and without fear of retribution from organized religion, I will make the following statement: If all of our personal energy is focused on where we go next, when we die to this world, then we are subsequently absolved of any responsibility for our personal behavior on the planet Earth, at this time in the history of the human race. If we are already saved, if our place is reserved in heaven (with or without a thousand virgins), then we can feel entirely comfortable settling for a weak performance from ourselves, here and now. No work, no sweat, no worries. We can point the finger of blame at all the others; the unsaved ones, causing all the pain and suffering in the here and now. And religion is only one of the ways we can “cop out” on our personal responsibility to change for the better (thus changing the world around us for the better). There are health issues, societal class assignments, parental misguidance, karma, cruel misfortune, and a slew of other arrows of injustice we contend with while trying to stay true to our personal responsibilities. The solution to this dilemma? Each one of us can raise the bar of our personal growth in the here and now, and that action will in turn raise the bar for everyone within the sphere of our individual influence. It changes our world exponentially. If you would like a world filled with peace, love, joy and abundance, seek more of these qualities in your own life and watch the very same qualities spread around you like a wildflower bloom. If you want to change the world in a positive way, live positively. Individual intentions have a global impact.
Miraculous personal change is achieved by planting mustard seeds of hope in the fertile valleys of your imagination. Personal dreams become our shared reality.
My dear departed Dad, Timothy Otto Moore (our coach), stands on the far left in this photo. As for me, I didn’t last long on Bettez’s farm league baseball team. I was far too distracted by all the frogs, bugs and turtles on the outskirts of the baseball field.
The story I wrote yesterday was particularly exhausting for me to recount in the now. I am finding that the lessons gleaned from these childhood stories retold, are sometimes more illuminating symbolically than when they actually occurred. Introspective exploration of this story of three friends, riding a river on what might have been their final voyage, has surfaced a boatload of understanding for me. The first revelation I experienced through the telling, was that I have always blamed myself for putting my best friends in danger in the first place. It’s a damn good thing that I pulled them from the undertow! If I hadn’t saved them that day, I would have condemned myself to a lifetime of regret. I’m quite sure that I goaded them into taking the ride to begin with. As I stated early in the tale, I was the oldest boy in our triad, and I was also the biggest risk taker. I loved adventure, and I still do, although these days I’m a lot less likely to play chicken with the Grim Reaper. So, if I had failed in my attempt to save them, I’m certain I would have lost every bit of self-respect I had, right there on that stretch of the Pawtuxet River. Another possible outcome – If all three of us chickened out and jumped off the tube, it might have been days before our little boy bodies were retrieved from that cold, dark river. The absolute grief of our combined families would be rippling upon the ocean of Universal consciousness, even in the now. One final possibility – If I was a boy who had visions of grandeur, and I’d used that fateful float and the life or death situation we created as a promotional anecdote for my own heroism, I’m quite certain I would have never made it past the extreme self-loathing of my later teens. Or, just maybe I would have started a super successful guide business out of the event. Picture this: “Scott’s Discount Desperation Tours”!
Here in my studio, presently aware and living in the now, I have a deep and abiding gratitude for all of the friends and family I’ve loved and been loved by, during this amazing journey. Jeff and Delo will always be close in my heart and mind, as will Darlene, Kieth and Bob (of Bob’s Variety, in Hope). Through our many shared memories, we are eternally united in a way that even the river of time cannot erode.
This is a true story. A story told from the perspective of my own limited memory, and from my personal viewpoint as one of the participants in the drama as it unfolded. This story is dedicated to my very first Best Friend, Jeff, his older Sister Darlene, her Husband Keith, and Deelo (another close Friend during my childhood years).
School was out! It was a crisp and clear June morning on Mill Street, and all the little kiddies were making big plans for summer fun. Almost three whole months to dig in, dive down, run around, and explore, in our extraordinary hometown of Hope, in the biggest little state in the union, Rhode Island. Climbing the steps to Jeff’s house, I had no idea what was in store for us that day. That was the beauty of my childhood in our New England mill town; we never knew what sort of adventure we’d embark on until we were deep in the experience of the adventure itself. So, when my best friend Jeff said he could get us a fine truck tire innertube to take swimming that day, I got so excited I could almost hear the splashing and laughter of our awesome summertime float-trip. As I remember, it was Keith, the boyfriend of Jeff’s older sister Darlene who would loan us the inner tube. At twelve, I already had a great appreciation for Jeff’s big sister, in a puppy-love kind of way of course, seeing how she was at least five years older than me. Her boyfriend Keith was someone that I knew I should always respect, mostly because he always insisted on us respecting him. I had the feeling he tolerated me, and all of Jeff’s other friends, because he loved Darlene and would do anything for her. That meant being a big brother to Jeff, even if his friends were a bunch of little hooligans. So off we went, to procure our dream float, and get busy adventuring. Back in the day, any tractor trailer tube you could get your hands on was as good as gold, especially if it didn’t start deflating as soon as you put air in it, so when we got our grubby little hands on the tube and saw that it didn’t even have a single patch, well, you might say we were giddy in our enthusiasm. We were big time explorers, at least in our little boy minds! Deelo met us in front of Bob’s Variety Store, where Keith and Darlene were renting an apartment above the store. Being the oldest of our triad friendship, I’m sure I was the instigator of our proposed rapidsadventure on the Pawtuxet River. We carried the tube on our shoulders for the half-mile walk to Falvey’s Linen in fear of popping Keith’s precious tube on shards of road-glass, but also because the tube was our great treasure for the day. We carried it down the road like a trophy, each taking turns and sharing the glory. Putting-in just below the old wooden dam behind Falvey’s, we were thrilled but also a little nervous about the cold temperature and heavy flow of the river on this early June post-melt morning. But the summer sun warmed the black rubber nicely, and in no time the three of us were navigating the runs and pools of the Pawtuxet, with our spirits soaring high. This part of the river was new to us, especially in terms of floating it. I’m sure we had been along the banks and wooded areas on both sides, but the river flow itself was virgin to our explorations. Before long, we were shivering, arguing, and clinging to the warm rubber tube for comfort. I can still remember clearly the wonderful smell of that heated rubber. I also remember waiting for the breaks in the overhead foliage to enjoy just a few blessed moments of sunbeams on my goose-fleshed skin. As the river steadily got deeper and flowed faster, we started looking for a place to paddle to shore for a rest. That was when we heard the low familiar rumble of water falling. Rounding a bend, we saw the water fall as soon as we heard its swollen whooshing sounds. We were in the middle of the flow with about forty feet to either shore, so there was no time to abandon ship and swim. I immediately took the role of Captain, ordering my men to batten the hatches and hold tight to the tube, we were going to “Ride this one out!” Just yards from the crest of the falls, my best friend Jeff and our first mate Deelo agreed upon silent mutiny. They chickened out! Leaping from the tube and leaving me to find balance just before the descent. As I rode over the edge and plunged into the tumbling waters three feet below, gripping that tube with life-or-death desperation, I wondered whether today was my day to die, or would I be spared, at least until Halloween, because Halloween was my favorite holiday. The tube went under on edge with me attached, but only for a second, and then I was being whisked off downstream. I turned back to see Jeff and Deelo riding off the crest of the fall on their backsides, fear and excitement on their little boy faces. Then they were gone. At first I thought they were playing a prank on me. I was sure that they would swim underwater and pop up next to me any second now. Three seconds passed, and blind panic drove me off the tube and sent me swimming frantically upstream with one arm and two legs, the other arm gripping tight to the tube. And that’s when I saw their fingertips splashing just at the surface of the frothy waters at the base of the falls. I struggled and thrashed, moving slowly upstream toward my disappeared friends. I can remember the slippery tops of rocks teasing the tips of my toes with false promises of sure footing, but it never came. I finally reached the base of the falls, and I could see the hair and fingertips of my drowning friends writhing just below the churning foam. I’m pretty sure I pulled Jeff out by his hand and Deelo by his hair. Somehow, I managed to attach the two of them to our life raft and swim us safely to shore. As we slogged our way onto the muddy shore, I’m certain we pledged never to float that wicked rotten river again. Of course, when you’re a kid, you make all kinds of silly pledges and promises. In fact, it was in our future to take another misguided adventure, on another stretch of that same river, years later. We were slow learners, I guess.
I’ve always felt a strong loyalty to Friends who have joined me along the path of this amazing journey. I never mean to let anyone down or leave them behind. Life doesn’t always allow me to keep my friendly promises, but I continue to honor every friendship to the best of my abilities.
And in case anyone is wondering, we returned Keith’s tube in excellent condition and the three of us survived this wild ride to go on many new adventures in that little town of Hope!
I am most grateful for the harshest trials of my life’s journey. The treasures I hold dearest are the lessons learned during the experience of those hardships.
– Scott Joseph Moore
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton
I am most grateful for the harshest trials of my life’s journey. The treasures I hold dearest are the lessons learned during the experience of those hardships.
grandprovidentiaunited.blog 