For Sale_ This Old House

Sensei Canna offers insight into the real world of self defense!

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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Mon Apr 08, 2019 8:42 pm

WHAT WILL MATTER
By Michael Josephson

Ready or not, someday it will all come to an end.

There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours, or days.

All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to
someone else.

Your wealth, fame, and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.

It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed.

Your grudges, resentments, frustrations, and jealousies will finally
disappear.

So, too, your hopes, ambitions, plans, and to-do lists will expire.

The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.

It won't matter where you came from, or on what side of the tracks you
lived, at the end.

It won't matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant
Even your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.

So what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought, but what you built; not what you
got, but what you gave.

What will matter is not your success, but your significance.
What will matter is not what you learned, but what you taught.

What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage or sacrifice
that enriched, empowered or encouraged others to emulate your example.

What will matter is not your competence, but your character.

What will matter is not how many people you knew, but how many will feel a
lasting loss when you're gone.

What will matter is not your memories, but the memories that live in those
who loved you.

What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom and for what.

Living a life that matters doesn't happen by accident. It's not a matter of
circumstance but of choice.

Choose to live a life that matters.
Van
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu May 16, 2019 7:37 pm

A million times we've needed you,
A million times we've cried.

If love alone could have saved you,
You never would have died.


If all the world was ours to give,
We would give it yes, and more,
To see you coming up the steps,
And walking through the door.

To hear your voice and see your smile,
To sit and talk a while,
To be with you that same old way,
Would be our fondest day.

A heart of gold stopped beating,
Two smiling eyes closed to rest,
God broke our hearts to prove to us,
He only takes the best.


:cry:
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu May 16, 2019 7:45 pm

If all the world was ours to give,
We would give it yes, and more,
To see you coming up the steps,
And walking through the door.

To hear your voice and see your smile,
To sit and talk a while,
To be with you that same old way,
Would be our fondest day.


Image
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu May 16, 2019 7:46 pm

The rooms of the big, and now old and solitary house _would once again be all mine.

Always that same radiance in the big kitchen and in the lovely old dining room that had shed light first upon the sour quarrels of my parents during my childhood, and next the same between parents and children…all coming to an uncomfortable silence at the dinner table over a sad and monotonous voice of the radio commentary from the old Blaupunkt radio on the corner console.

When we are young we never cease to find enthusiasm in every day, in new things and new friendships. Youth enlivens hope which contributes in enriching and to render interesting even the simple daily grind, always from the prospective of something new, change, and expectation.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu May 16, 2019 7:59 pm

One evening, after wishing good night to my fellow rowers on the Pattison team, and ambling back home, I suddenly stopped, observed the rituals of the retiring crowd, and as the night beckoned, the profiles of sea and mountains began to dissolve…the church bells slowly tolling… I somehow knew that only a great silence, as later in life I discovered, would help in restoring peace to a wounded soul.


Tomorrow … would be another day, maybe warmer.
Van
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu May 16, 2019 8:00 pm

As time goes by we don't realize that we die every passing day_ every passing minute _ and that life gets consumed like sand in an hour glass that slides in silence towards the bottom.

Our biggest mistake is in believing that death is something that is yet to come someday…later someday...

…but in truth, wherever that damn shadow may be, for the most part it has already inundated us.

Every passing hour comes out of our safe of life …and passes into the domain of death.

Good night my son. Rest in peace.
Van
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu May 16, 2019 8:03 pm

Time is a dream, he thinks, a destroying dream;
It lays great cities in dust, it fills the seas;
It covers the face of beauty, and tumbles walls.

What was this dream we had, a dream of music,
Music that rose from the opening earth like magic
And shook its beauty upon us and died away?

The long cold streets extend once more before us.
The red sun drops, the walls grow grey.
The days, the nights, flow one by one above us,
The hours go silently over our lifted faces,
We are like dreamers who walk beneath a sea.

Beneath high walls we flow in the sun together.
We sleep, we wake, we laugh, we pursue, we flee.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu May 16, 2019 8:04 pm

As darkness falls
The walls grow luminous and warm, the walls
Tremble and glow with the lives within them moving,
Moving like music, secret and rich and warm.
How shall we live tonight? Where shall we turn?
To what new light or darkness yearn?

A thousand winding stairs lead down before us;
And one by one in myriads we descend
By lamplit flowered walls, long balustrades,
Through half-lit halls which reach no end.
Van
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu May 16, 2019 8:06 pm

Through soundless labyrinths of dream you pass,
Through many doors to the one door of all.
Soon as it's opened we shall hear a music:
Or see a skeleton fall . . .

The music ends. The screen grows dark. We hurry
To go our devious secret ways, forgetting
Those many lives . . . We loved, we laughed, we killed,
We danced in fire, we drowned in a whirl of sea-waves.
The flutes are stilled, and a thousand dreams are stilled.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu May 16, 2019 8:11 pm

I fall asleep and I dream. But part of me is always awake and I watch myself dreaming.

The sun sets at the horizon, night is returning. In my old house darkness is born from objects everywhere; plants, furniture, tapestry. Slowly the shadows lengthen creating a thousand new figures that unite one to the other, as if a part of a diabolic plan.

Not even an hour and the shadows have eaten the entire house, leaving me _ my old house and darkness to keep us company…as in being born the same hour.

In the dark, echo is the master. Every single step I take multiplies to get lost in the seemingly endless corridor of the house, creating a sonorous inexistent life. A house too big for only one person.

Even as a child playing hide and seek …when my school friends would come to visit, I would bet of not finding all the nooks and crannies.

I walk from the kitchen out into my playroom, down the main corridor and into the radio room. Attracted by a red glow. There are burning logs in the fireplace.

Getting there I stare at a large framed photo of my parents on the wall. As I look it seems as they come alive and begin to interact with me.

In the picture, for certain they are reflected in great smiles…but the eyes, the mirror of the soul, seem to cry with me.

There is a shadowy figure in front of the burning fireplace and but for the voice I have difficulty recognizing. The crackling of the fire keeps us company.

"I know well that you are no longer a child, and I apologize for worrying about you" He says.

"Don't worry, I know what I am doing" I reply. We look at each other for an instant, and then I break the ice "you know the house is really empty now"

"Well, no, it is you that wants it empty" he says in sadness.

"But you cannot understand…"

"I understand very well…this house, this emptiness…this darkness…is nothing more than a representation of what is inside of you. If you were to bring light within the soul, then all, even this old house, will repurchase life."

I lower my head and try to keep calm. With one hand I lean against the cold walls…doubts…too many doubts…I feel that a part of the emotional chaos inside does not want to leave clinging to my soul.

I leave the radio room slamming the door and head for the rear rooms in rapid steps.

Then a soft voice "So long Dad"

A strong wind begins to blow from the west over the train station making me shiver…in the distance… lightning flashes presage the arrival of a storm…probably one of the many to expect this summer.

Van
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu May 16, 2019 8:13 pm

And my good friend writes me about the train of life

At birth we boarded the train and met our parents, and we believe they will always travel on our side.

However, at some station our parents will step down from the train, leaving us on this journey alone.
As time goes by, other people will board the train; and they will be significant i.e. our siblings, friends, children, and even the love of your life.

Many will step down and leave a permanent vacuum. Others will go so unnoticed that we don't realize they vacated their seats.

This train ride will be full of joy, sorrow, fantasy, expectations, hellos, goodbyes, and farewells. Success consists of having a good relationship with all passengers requiring that we give the best of ourselves.


The mystery to everyone is: We do not know at which station we ourselves will step down?

So, we must live in the best way, love, forgive, and offer the best of who we are.

It is important to do this because when the time comes for us to step down and leave our seat empty we should leave behind beautiful memories for those who will continue to travel on the train of life.


I wish you a joyful journey on the train of life. Reap success and give lots of love. More importantly, thank God for the journey. Lastly, I thank you for being one of the passengers on my train.

Van
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu May 16, 2019 8:17 pm

“So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about their religion;respect others in their view, and demand that they respect yours.

Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life.Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people.Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.

Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend,even a stranger, when in a lonely place.

Show respect to all people and grovel to none. When you arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of living.If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself.

Abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision.

When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes they weepand pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way.Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.”


― Chief Tecumseh
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu May 16, 2019 8:19 pm

And so in one of the dreams I see my old house as never been sold or renovated after I left it….but as that sacred personal space between the walls of my childhood, mute of any modern sounds yet empty and humid with tears of time …still faithful to the family heir…left behind to age and die…strangely quiet in the darkness of the night …but rich of memories shadows reflected and intertwined upon the walls and ceilings by any glimmer of light intruding from the reveries.

I feel a light summer wind across my face…" Oh, my beloved ones_ how could I have not known that our time together would come and go so quickly" I whispered to the wind. "I have so many questions and no one to ask."

The stars above began to glimmer, the full moon suddenly out from behind dark clouds… providing me with enough 'chiaroscuro' to see where I was going.

I was attracted by delicate sounds from my old garden and decided to pay it a visit.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu May 16, 2019 8:20 pm

The stairs down from the heavy Iron Gate to the left of my front entrance door, and leading first to the wall of the beloved railroad and next down into the garden was a shambles of broken wood and fallen brick. My breath stopped. I swallowed hard.

A black dog started to bark behind me …. He was pacing nervously back and forth outside the gate I had drawn shut…but he was strangely familiar and friendly…I was not afraid of him…I spoke to him in a soothing voice…his eyes locked into mine he began to whimper….and roll on his back.

A protector of the dead?

The stairs down the garden looked crumbling and sad.

"It looks like you've been empty and neglected a long time," I said, reaching down to run my hand over one of the loose bricks that lay beside the cracked boards on the stairs.

The thought came to me…"maybe I should once more scale the wall of the railroad by grasping the natural stone 'handles' and putting my feet into 'step holes' of the wall carved by my ancestry children as well as I …over time…no what am I doing? I will fall and break my neck"

But, taking a left on the landing, I descended into my old playground. It was filled with tall, green grass. I ran my hand across the top of the thin blades. Then breathed in the sweet smell.

Slowly I stepped to the center of the garden and saw the old remnants of physical workout equipment, tarnished, chipped, rusted. There was a soft creaking from the rusted pile… as in speaking to me softly.

In its time this equipment had produced superb heavy muscled athletes of my father and his brothers…one had become a wrestler, a gymnast and mountain climber, the other a gymnasts and rower.

The youngest of my uncles had been the most promising with Olympic possibilities in gymnastics….but he was cut down by fate at the young age of 18.

I closed my eyes real tight, like I always did when trying to make something come true, and beamed my wish upon a star.

"Make this trip last forever." It was now sunrise…I had been huddled on the crumbling steps and dozed off…

The cawing of a crow jolted me awake…flying out from one of the trees nearby, in the land beyond the palisade on my right just behind the nut tree, the garden still in the heart of the early morning penumbra.

Once I had read in one of my father's books in his library…. that Crows gather together, like family.

That they continue to meet on the same tree limb for generations. My eyes followed the flight of the Crow.

At the far end of the garden ….down below the open sided, covered, long balcony we used as a porch that overlooked the garden and the railroad station far into distance something started to move. Shadows of light and dark shimmered through the air like waves of electricity.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu May 16, 2019 10:24 pm

The voice spoke softly…

"You're right. A part of you has been stuck here. A part of you is us. All of us who settled this land long before you were born. All of us who came after. We've been holding the only part we knew of you, the ten year old, and waiting for you to come back."
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