My recent experiences at a nursing/rehab center for the elderly haven't been easy to process. Although I observed my mother give great care to her parents as they drifted into those situations, I still didn't appreciate the scope of how it takes over one's life. Her care giving was monumental and without lapse; her sacrifices were never laid at our feet as martyrdom. Instead, she went about the daily task of caring, worrying, and taking on responsibilities that the rest of the family couldn't imagine. I couldn't imagine until these last few weeks.
If someone needs a caretaker from the family, it tends to fall on the ones who live nearest. With today's mobile society, traditional family units have fractured. Our belief that the internet helps us to closely monitor the lives of our loved ones is a misnomer. It doesn't. Without physical presence, it is impossible to know what is actually happening. The nuances of body language, intuitive listening, and the simple act of observation are lost in cyber translation. For the caretaker left behind, it's a struggle to convey how troublesome some events can be to those looking beyond. Do they feel taken advantage of? I'm sure it feels that way at times. Do they feel unappreciated? How could they not...the duties are often menial and appear thankless. Instead, the far away family members get to preserve their own memories of the loved one. They won't see them as weak or scared, angry and grouchy, or downright depressed at times. Instead, they might see the grateful and happy patient who is thankful to have an infrequent visitor. But the caretaker left behind deals with the daily struggles of their loved one.
I'm the last year of the Baby Boomer generation. The Greatest Generation has mostly passed on and now we have a huge generation of aging individuals who aren't as closely connected physically with their loved ones. Seeing Florida's large population of boomer retirees who are seemingly active and happy makes me wonder who will take care of them when their bodies and minds become weak. As our society cobbles together government programs to protect the homeless, the elderly, those disadvantaged by illness or socioeconomic circumstances, it becomes ever clearer that we aren't having the conversations we need to have.
Not long ago, inflammatory pundits decried the efforts of healthcare initiatives wanting to begin the discussion of what the process of dying and DEATH means to each person. Yes, I'm saying it loudly...DEATH! By speaking up, I'm speaking forward.
Political harpies did not want to discuss it because they felt it would be the beginning of Death Squads. Their definition...purposefully ending the life of someone for the good of caretakers.
What caretakers? The government? The conglomerate health care industry? Themselves?
When I had young children, I set about learning as much as possible so that I could make informed decisions for their physical, social, and mental well being. No need to call me a helicopter parent...I was a "space shuttle" parent. Knowledge is power and I wanted to give them the tools available. By asking if they wanted me to intervene on their behalf and then hearing an adamant "NO," my two wonderful children have taken on their own struggles and are learning their own lessons. Yet I know in their upbringing, their father and I have instilled the value of KNOWLEDGE.
Now at this new stage of my life, seeing my contemporaries deal with the illness and subsequent death of loved ones, I seek knowledge. I seek power behind the facts, strength in the steps of transition, a commitment of peace after doing all that can be done to slow the drumbeat of death...if that is what the person wants. And if I hear an adamant "NO," then I'll step aside.
Death squad? Yes...a squad of helpers to assist patients in making their own decisions. Yes, a cadre of friends to help each other as events spiral out of our earthly control because I'm learning that DYING is as out of control as giving birth...nothing goes as planned. I can be a "space shuttle" parent, friend, child, and partner.
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Saturday, November 14, 2015
Refraction
My generation is experiencing loss. We are mostly at the midpoint of a centenarian life; I like to think we'll live another healthy 50 years if we want. Unfortunately, that means our parents and other family members are growing older too, passing away in greater numbers as life's cycle continues.
Watching my dear friends go through this in 2015 has been heartrending. The roller coaster of illness, hospitalizations, disability, relocation and for some, death foretells a future that I don't want to consider for my own family and yet, I know it must come to pass.
Writing helps me process what I see and feel when confronted with these painful passages. Because I've been an onlooker rather than a participant, I've observed a commonality between the ill/dying loved ones and their grief stricken family members. Each exists in an emotional/physical fog as they struggle to find a safe path through this passage.
I'm imagining the intimate connection of how two loved ones must say goodbye. Each is on their own journey...one processing their own demise, one processing the demise of their loved one. Regardless of who is around to support them, no one but themselves can walk the path and understand the passage.
They are each other's light passing through a fog, a refraction of love and a reflection of life and death.
refraction: the fact or phenomenon of light, radio waves, etc., being deflected in passing obliquely through the interface between one medium and another or through a medium of varying density
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
REFRACTION
Watching my dear friends go through this in 2015 has been heartrending. The roller coaster of illness, hospitalizations, disability, relocation and for some, death foretells a future that I don't want to consider for my own family and yet, I know it must come to pass.
Writing helps me process what I see and feel when confronted with these painful passages. Because I've been an onlooker rather than a participant, I've observed a commonality between the ill/dying loved ones and their grief stricken family members. Each exists in an emotional/physical fog as they struggle to find a safe path through this passage.
I'm imagining the intimate connection of how two loved ones must say goodbye. Each is on their own journey...one processing their own demise, one processing the demise of their loved one. Regardless of who is around to support them, no one but themselves can walk the path and understand the passage.
They are each other's light passing through a fog, a refraction of love and a reflection of life and death.
refraction: the fact or phenomenon of light, radio waves, etc., being deflected in passing obliquely through the interface between one medium and another or through a medium of varying density
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
REFRACTION
I sit alone
A chair of hard wood and straight back
I sit alone
Time rushing, unchecked
Others see life, a purpose not lost,
Harder for me, adrift more than most
I gaze alone
A cavern of dark thoughts and cold moments
I gaze alone
Thoughts seizing, now frozen
Others feel warmth, flames newly lit
Harder for me, scared I still sit
I rise alone
A rock of limestone and sand
I rise alone
Legs trembling, knees stiff
Others walk forward, time still unspent
Harder for me, not knowing my strength
I step alone
A foot dropped in great pain
I step alone
Heart broken, life stained
Others flee sadness, but it fills me whole
Harder for me, chasing dreams then my soul
I float alone
A welcome thick fog
I float alone
Grief stricken, but calm
Others call to me, beloved on each side
Harder for me, I’m saying goodbye
Thursday, November 12, 2015
When I Can't Tell You So
It's very difficult to hold back unsolicited advice to others dealing with the mentally ill. In the past, while coping with individuals whose minds took vacations from reality, I experienced great pain. Trying to have patience, empathy, and understanding while being subjected to their radical thoughts tested my limits of forgiveness. Giving up, I stepped away to preserve my own peace and health.
Letting someone go who exists physically but has disappeared mentally is a grief filled undertaking. Moments of connection cause hope but without medical intervention, it's a lost cause. No one can truly come back without help. But getting help means giving up control and I've come to accept that the need for control is all that the sick can rely on. If they control their environment and those who step in and out of their circle, they're able to convince themselves that sickness isn't within them.
Watching others encounter ill family or friends for the first time is equally frustrating. No matter our experience, our advice is useless because hope springs eternal for those newly exposed...exposed to seeing their loved ones drift away or create havoc within the relationship.
That moment of "I told you so" will never pass from my lips as I watch the destruction take place for others. Sadness instead as we see them struggle to comprehend their loved one's unhealthy mind and realizing that helping our friends manage their pain is more important than understanding another's madness.
Letting someone go who exists physically but has disappeared mentally is a grief filled undertaking. Moments of connection cause hope but without medical intervention, it's a lost cause. No one can truly come back without help. But getting help means giving up control and I've come to accept that the need for control is all that the sick can rely on. If they control their environment and those who step in and out of their circle, they're able to convince themselves that sickness isn't within them.
Watching others encounter ill family or friends for the first time is equally frustrating. No matter our experience, our advice is useless because hope springs eternal for those newly exposed...exposed to seeing their loved ones drift away or create havoc within the relationship.
That moment of "I told you so" will never pass from my lips as I watch the destruction take place for others. Sadness instead as we see them struggle to comprehend their loved one's unhealthy mind and realizing that helping our friends manage their pain is more important than understanding another's madness.
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
What We Permit, We Promote
It's the simplest of sayings and the hardest of truths. Our courage is challenged daily by its premise. When do we step in to protest, initiate action against injustice, or state our opinion loudly?
I was reared in the submissive culture of passive aggression. Unruly discontent was frowned upon; many in my Appalachian/Southern society learned to be disagreeable without being insufferable. In other words, if we chose to stab you in the back, we did so with a butter knife to extend the misery...much more polite that way....
The desire to keep confrontation neat and civilized, maintaining our courteous Southern facades has always smacked me as hypocritical. Why can't we be passionate and messy when we disagree? And yet, it is hard to break free of one's upbringing. I pride myself on being independent and equally castigate myself for not being more blunt when I observe appalling behavior or hear inane comments. Pride goeth before the fall....
All those ignorant or inappropriate social media posts? I don't always comment; people dig their own holes and I let them. But I don't hide others' messiness from myself by unfriending or deleting them. It's good to know where folks stand on issues and to see their how their psyches are incompatible with mine. Plus my inner psychoanalyst knows it props up my own self esteem. We humans are insufferably egotistical.
Enemies. Frenemies. We have them regardless of our good intentions to keep the peace. And so then I look at the saying and ponder:
What we permit, we promote...
Is it enough to sit behind a keyboard expressing opinions? Do my protestations fall on deaf ears during friendly debates as I encounter fixed thinkers versus fluid thinkers like myself? And in today's hyper cyber society, does it matter? The news cycle is so frenetic that absorption seems impossible. We move from tragedy to ecstasy, entertained in a hamster ball mentality that moves quickly without getting anywhere.
Philosophy versus reality tends to be my motivator. If an actual outcome can be altered by my oft unwelcome comments, then I open my mouth or tap my fingers to cry out an opinion. But I'm learning to stay quiet upon hearing a philosophical rant from someone who never alters their view. Their need to reinforce themselves doesn't translate into wasting my breath or usage of my gray matter if they're not open to hearing other ideas.
What we ponder then, can we eventually solve?
Perhaps.
I was reared in the submissive culture of passive aggression. Unruly discontent was frowned upon; many in my Appalachian/Southern society learned to be disagreeable without being insufferable. In other words, if we chose to stab you in the back, we did so with a butter knife to extend the misery...much more polite that way....
The desire to keep confrontation neat and civilized, maintaining our courteous Southern facades has always smacked me as hypocritical. Why can't we be passionate and messy when we disagree? And yet, it is hard to break free of one's upbringing. I pride myself on being independent and equally castigate myself for not being more blunt when I observe appalling behavior or hear inane comments. Pride goeth before the fall....
All those ignorant or inappropriate social media posts? I don't always comment; people dig their own holes and I let them. But I don't hide others' messiness from myself by unfriending or deleting them. It's good to know where folks stand on issues and to see their how their psyches are incompatible with mine. Plus my inner psychoanalyst knows it props up my own self esteem. We humans are insufferably egotistical.
Enemies. Frenemies. We have them regardless of our good intentions to keep the peace. And so then I look at the saying and ponder:
What we permit, we promote...
Is it enough to sit behind a keyboard expressing opinions? Do my protestations fall on deaf ears during friendly debates as I encounter fixed thinkers versus fluid thinkers like myself? And in today's hyper cyber society, does it matter? The news cycle is so frenetic that absorption seems impossible. We move from tragedy to ecstasy, entertained in a hamster ball mentality that moves quickly without getting anywhere.
Philosophy versus reality tends to be my motivator. If an actual outcome can be altered by my oft unwelcome comments, then I open my mouth or tap my fingers to cry out an opinion. But I'm learning to stay quiet upon hearing a philosophical rant from someone who never alters their view. Their need to reinforce themselves doesn't translate into wasting my breath or usage of my gray matter if they're not open to hearing other ideas.
What we ponder then, can we eventually solve?
Perhaps.
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Post Traumatic Fog Syndrome
Luxuriating in one's stable state of mind is a curious way of finding out that "stable" is practically impossible. What kind of balance is achieved?
It's easy to wax and wane away one's days believing that past hurts have disappeared. Faint scars may still be visible but we don't want to believe that scar tissue underneath can still cause problems. Yet when pressure is applied, pain reappears and so it is with the trickiness of our mind fog.
Most days, the brightness of the path before me pushes away the fog. I don't allow pessimism to steal days from my journey...most days. And then a tiny niggle of pain works it way through a crack in my joy, seeping quietly into my dreams. No rest for the weary, nor answer to why one feels adrift...just a quiet thief reminding me that scar tissue can hurt.
I suppose that I no longer believe in lifelong balance, happiness, fog free existence. It's a strange fairy tale to give up as we're told so often by "experts" that we can prepare ourselves for pain...past, present, future pain. My only preparation is recognition now. I can at least suck in and ready myself for the punch of pain when it arrives. A small gift. Preparation. Sight. Acceptance. Resolution. And then patience for it to pass.
Perhaps that stable state of mind is just what we need for the next round of fog to come upon us. It is easy to fall prey to its tempting calm...peaceful stability. Turning over during our rest, our souls pressing down on the scar tissue awakens us, pains us, reminds us that we are simply waiting to make our way through another fog.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
A Hacker Remembered
Today's "hackers" can stake claim to this new moniker but I grew up observing my grandfather perfect the art of hacking. Many among his generation might also argue that they too are the original hackers. Survivors of The Great Depression, war time rationing, etc. set about up-cycling and inventing new uses for the ordinary, transforming how we viewed everyday objects. Consumerism took a back seat to necessary reinvention and society as a whole profited from this outlook.
Post war times brought many back to the sales counter and my grandfather partook in the new gadgets as well. He was the first to set up a television in the backwoods of his small community and he was an active ham radio participant. I remember my grandmother railing at him for setting up huge antennas but it didn't stop him...he simply disguised them better or made sure the landscaping was up to her standards.
Many mornings I would see him walking alongside the road picking up litter that marred his property. He didn't throw it all away; he kept a collection of vintage liquor bottles in one of his sheds as well as hub caps. Long before there were "man caves," he built various sheds to hold his found treasures. Waiting for the next great financial calamity was part of his generation's psyche...they truly felt the hunger and despair. My generation has seen nothing like this and I can only hope that I nor my children ever will.
Often times, I tell people that I grew up in the area that was ground center for the "War on Poverty/Hunger" yet I did not go hungry nor want for necessities. The lessons my grandparents learned were to save, to survive, to hack enough to keep clothes, food, and shelter in abundance for their families. Even now, I tease my children that I'm headed back to the hills for an apocalypse. It is ground zero for survival and I take pleasure in my own small hack jobs.
Young hackers who spend time on YouTube learning and teaching others, keep up the good work! Past generations are counting on you to pay it forward, to survive, to persevere and hack on.
For Grandpa Clint, Happy Hacker's/Father's Day! You live on in each project I pursue.
Post war times brought many back to the sales counter and my grandfather partook in the new gadgets as well. He was the first to set up a television in the backwoods of his small community and he was an active ham radio participant. I remember my grandmother railing at him for setting up huge antennas but it didn't stop him...he simply disguised them better or made sure the landscaping was up to her standards.
Many mornings I would see him walking alongside the road picking up litter that marred his property. He didn't throw it all away; he kept a collection of vintage liquor bottles in one of his sheds as well as hub caps. Long before there were "man caves," he built various sheds to hold his found treasures. Waiting for the next great financial calamity was part of his generation's psyche...they truly felt the hunger and despair. My generation has seen nothing like this and I can only hope that I nor my children ever will.
Often times, I tell people that I grew up in the area that was ground center for the "War on Poverty/Hunger" yet I did not go hungry nor want for necessities. The lessons my grandparents learned were to save, to survive, to hack enough to keep clothes, food, and shelter in abundance for their families. Even now, I tease my children that I'm headed back to the hills for an apocalypse. It is ground zero for survival and I take pleasure in my own small hack jobs.
Young hackers who spend time on YouTube learning and teaching others, keep up the good work! Past generations are counting on you to pay it forward, to survive, to persevere and hack on.
For Grandpa Clint, Happy Hacker's/Father's Day! You live on in each project I pursue.
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Shaken, not Stirred
Ah, the complexity of a martini or a life.
Ingredients, adornments and the mix-up...shaken or stirred.
Life's transitions can rise slowly, cresting river-like and afterwards,
A mess.
To be shaken seems harsher but then,
There is no surprise at the damage. It is expected.
How then to choose, to proceed when mixing a martini or life?
What final taste will we experience? Bitter? Smooth?
A choice...
To gulp or to sip
And to melt away in its grip....
Ingredients, adornments and the mix-up...shaken or stirred.
Life's transitions can rise slowly, cresting river-like and afterwards,
A mess.
To be shaken seems harsher but then,
There is no surprise at the damage. It is expected.
How then to choose, to proceed when mixing a martini or life?
What final taste will we experience? Bitter? Smooth?
A choice...
To gulp or to sip
And to melt away in its grip....
Friday, June 12, 2015
The Destination
I don't think there is a way to effectively share my new found definition of "destination" to my children. At their stage of early adulthood, all paths are clouded with hormones and expectations. Would it be that I could go back to myself at that stage, I would advise my erratic self to seek wisdom from those outside my immediate circle...away from parents. friends, lovers and toward experienced thinkers and doers.
My confidence was not developed enough to find those individuals. I'm hopeful that my two ducklings aren't stunted with that malady. Did I do enough to inspire them to be adventurous? To trust their gut and mute the cautious naysayers...including myself at times? Hopefully.
As a young person feeling trapped in Appalachia, I coveted the experiences of others who traveled and experienced new cultures. I thought that the only way to share that was to leave behind my heritage. Funny enough, when I moved from Kentucky 25 years ago, I felt only despair. My love for novelty did not outweigh my need for HOME. That first move taught me quickly that the only way to enjoy the world was to stay tethered to my upbringing. Live and learn....
I take my Appalachian sensibilities with me everywhere. All that I see and do, all who I meet and absorb are translated through my early life experiences...adventures that I was participating in without knowing they were rare and precious. Now I know. Now I appreciate. Still I am part of my beloved Kentucky and still I am part of my beloved hills.
And so I do not have a set place to get to in life. Instead, it is a feeling of peace, safety and a need for exploration that guides me. The moves I had to participate in to keep my family together toughened my heart and challenged my soul. All of the bonding and severing that takes place when one moves consistently changes a mindset. I accept now that my life will be very fluid. What I hold on to is the knowledge that houses are just a place for me to hang my hat...home is my heart filled with love for my family near and far and friends scattered about the country.
I take joy in present time, present experiences and I don't count on being anywhere for long. I love and hate the moves simultaneously. I covet and despise the unknown. I am content in feeling my wings and roots.
The journey, NOT the destination is enough for me now.
My confidence was not developed enough to find those individuals. I'm hopeful that my two ducklings aren't stunted with that malady. Did I do enough to inspire them to be adventurous? To trust their gut and mute the cautious naysayers...including myself at times? Hopefully.
As a young person feeling trapped in Appalachia, I coveted the experiences of others who traveled and experienced new cultures. I thought that the only way to share that was to leave behind my heritage. Funny enough, when I moved from Kentucky 25 years ago, I felt only despair. My love for novelty did not outweigh my need for HOME. That first move taught me quickly that the only way to enjoy the world was to stay tethered to my upbringing. Live and learn....
I take my Appalachian sensibilities with me everywhere. All that I see and do, all who I meet and absorb are translated through my early life experiences...adventures that I was participating in without knowing they were rare and precious. Now I know. Now I appreciate. Still I am part of my beloved Kentucky and still I am part of my beloved hills.
And so I do not have a set place to get to in life. Instead, it is a feeling of peace, safety and a need for exploration that guides me. The moves I had to participate in to keep my family together toughened my heart and challenged my soul. All of the bonding and severing that takes place when one moves consistently changes a mindset. I accept now that my life will be very fluid. What I hold on to is the knowledge that houses are just a place for me to hang my hat...home is my heart filled with love for my family near and far and friends scattered about the country.
I take joy in present time, present experiences and I don't count on being anywhere for long. I love and hate the moves simultaneously. I covet and despise the unknown. I am content in feeling my wings and roots.
The journey, NOT the destination is enough for me now.
Friday, May 29, 2015
Sisters of Pain
The old saying that "worrying about tomorrow takes the pleasure from today" perturbs me. Truth stings. One would think that my skin would be thick enough at this age to bounce away pain yet it isn't...it absorbs the impact well but I find that the cuts are still deep enough to leave scars.
Is it possible to inoculate oneself from past pain? Can believing in the modicum that "time heals all wounds" keep one forward thinking and still able to grasp life's pleasures?
Perhaps time heals all wounds because eventually, we run out of time. Our finite supply is haunting as it can be extinguished quickly without reason. The wound then disappears because the body and soul no longer exist.
For those of us lucky enough to escape the perils of modern day living, we pay for our good fortune by living a purposeful life...or we're told we must live that way to honor those who've passed. Guilt-shaming runs rampant in today's social media, from self-help gurus and from our own conscience. We're the ones who have the gift of life, therefore, our duty is to make the most of it.
Saying goodbye to those we have loved, living or not, is extremely difficult. It takes time and rushing serves no good. I found this song captures what so many of us deal with...saying goodbye and willing to follow someone "down" in our pain yet in the end, carrying on with the hope of healing without worry and guilt.
I'll Follow You Down
Worry and Guilt
Worry and Guilt
The pairful prayerful sisters
Of Pain share it
Share the shame
Today's not tomorrow
Reminds us the same
is constant...is blame
Share the shame
Worry and Guilt
The saddening happening children
Of Pain know it
Know it's a game
Life's puzzle pieces
Fitting askance
Solving no problems
Know it's a game
Worry and Guilt
Playing again
With life's treasured promise
Breaking with pain
Is it possible to inoculate oneself from past pain? Can believing in the modicum that "time heals all wounds" keep one forward thinking and still able to grasp life's pleasures?
Perhaps time heals all wounds because eventually, we run out of time. Our finite supply is haunting as it can be extinguished quickly without reason. The wound then disappears because the body and soul no longer exist.
For those of us lucky enough to escape the perils of modern day living, we pay for our good fortune by living a purposeful life...or we're told we must live that way to honor those who've passed. Guilt-shaming runs rampant in today's social media, from self-help gurus and from our own conscience. We're the ones who have the gift of life, therefore, our duty is to make the most of it.
Saying goodbye to those we have loved, living or not, is extremely difficult. It takes time and rushing serves no good. I found this song captures what so many of us deal with...saying goodbye and willing to follow someone "down" in our pain yet in the end, carrying on with the hope of healing without worry and guilt.
I'll Follow You Down
Worry and Guilt
Worry and Guilt
The pairful prayerful sisters
Of Pain share it
Share the shame
Today's not tomorrow
Reminds us the same
is constant...is blame
Share the shame
Worry and Guilt
The saddening happening children
Of Pain know it
Know it's a game
Life's puzzle pieces
Fitting askance
Solving no problems
Know it's a game
Worry and Guilt
Playing again
With life's treasured promise
Breaking with pain
Monday, May 11, 2015
Dear Lover
Dear Lover
You don't complete me...
You enhance me.
You don't make my dreams come true...
You encourage me to have them.
I'm often at odds with myself...
And you're enchanted with my oddities.
When fear overtakes me...
It's comfort that you offer rather than rescue.
Dear Lover
When courage overtakes me...
It's celebration that you offer rather than envy.
I'm often at peace with myself now...
And you're happy with my peacefulness.
You don't make my heart beat faster...
You give it a reason to thump deeper.
You don't absorb me...
You let me wash over you.
Dear Lover
Dear
Love
No err
You don't complete me...
You enhance me.
You don't make my dreams come true...
You encourage me to have them.
I'm often at odds with myself...
And you're enchanted with my oddities.
When fear overtakes me...
It's comfort that you offer rather than rescue.
Dear Lover
When courage overtakes me...
It's celebration that you offer rather than envy.
I'm often at peace with myself now...
And you're happy with my peacefulness.
You don't make my heart beat faster...
You give it a reason to thump deeper.
You don't absorb me...
You let me wash over you.
Dear Lover
Dear
Love
No err
Monday, May 4, 2015
Take Your Time: Life Speaks
I'm sure that the word patience appears in my writing countless times. It must. My mantra falls back to it each time I feel restless with life. And that happens daily.
Restlessness isn't new to me nor is patience. They're oddly compatible. I like to get things done yet defining things is becoming more difficult. Clarity is the treasure I seek. How laughable! And so I get aggravated with the rhythm of life and its disregard for my urgency.
Take Your Time
I've given you this treasure, Life says.
Wrapped with the comics, I observe.
Time is funny.
It passes too quickly, no...too slowly.
It passes.
All day l-o-n-g.
You don't like my gift? Life asks.
I can't understand it, I sigh.
So many want this treasure.
I feel guilty because I have it.
No one begrudges you this time, Life remarks.
I have so much of it now...I'm lost in it.
Do you remember when it was rare?
I do.
You wished for more and all of it yours.
And you have given it to me.
A treasure you have dipped in guilt?
A pleasure I don't deserve?
Take Your Time
Where? Why? How?
On your journey. Because you earned it. Carry it in your heart.
Time is heavy.
Only if you wrap it in guilt. Unwrap your gift.
Thank you.
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Earned It
Do we have another soul inside us?
As I learn about connecting to one's soul, one's own spirituality, I'm curious about our competing desires. Science gives us much information about our impulsive nature...hormones, psychological secrets, our personal interactions with others that guide and sometimes wreck our best intentions.
In trying to make sense of my next 50 years, I find it hard to understand how my past self is the same one who will carry me forward. The term "reinvention" irks me. As a catch all phrase for life's foibles, it bears more weight with magazine covers and catchy social media tags than how reality works.
We can't reinvent the core of who we are without destroying our identity. Maybe that's the goal for some, to escape their own identity. I'd be more comfortable with reading the headline of "Woman Explores Herself" or "Mid-lifers Confronting Their Own Evolution."
I remember reading the novel Sybil as a middle school student. At the time, many of us fantasized about being ruled by another presence inside us, manipulating our thoughts and actions. As most trends go, it gained media traction for a while and it became popular to jokingly blame our other personality for mistakes. Increasingly, multiple personalities appeared in court cases and medical claims until pure science fell on the side of their rarity. And we masses were back to confronting our motivations and desires as belonging to just ourselves...just our own error pocked selves.
Merriam-Webster defines "soul." The corresponding comments ponder how the soul differs from the spirit, etc.
Soul. Sole. I think I just answered my own question. The soul is sole. It is wholly within myself and I, I am just one but a mosaic of my life.
And I've earned it. Now to become comfortable with the evolution of my soul.
Monday, March 9, 2015
Pain Killer
I've been reading a lot about pain management and most of it doesn't involve physical distress. Mental and emotional pain can be direct offshoots of body malaise and vice versa. As a symbiotic trio, it seems we're constantly chasing a cure for the pains that ail us.
My head aches. I grew up observing a grandmother get "sick" headaches...modern terminology=migraines. It astounds me that she was able to get through life with this malady. Minus medication, they are life sapping beasts! Even with its numbing power, I'm able to feel the drum beat of pain.
It seems the genesis of our being is to avoid pain...hungering for more, loneliness, heartbreak, physical deterioration...all inevitable so why not learn to coexist rather than to fight its existence?
We run from it;
We covet its power.
Our fear of pain transcends
Our other needs.
Hurting hearts and
Insane gripping thoughts
Keep us transfixed,
Keep us chasing
A cure.
Why not adapt? Why not accept?
Pain always happens with mind, body, and heart.
Living within it, sharing its confines...
Why not survive? Why not start?
Writhing among us,
The broken in pain,
Beating a drum,
Escaping in vain
It's ongoing.
We run toward it;
We covet its strength.
Our embrace transports us
Our agony becomes sane.
Pain killer is us.
My head aches. I grew up observing a grandmother get "sick" headaches...modern terminology=migraines. It astounds me that she was able to get through life with this malady. Minus medication, they are life sapping beasts! Even with its numbing power, I'm able to feel the drum beat of pain.
It seems the genesis of our being is to avoid pain...hungering for more, loneliness, heartbreak, physical deterioration...all inevitable so why not learn to coexist rather than to fight its existence?
We run from it;
We covet its power.
Our fear of pain transcends
Our other needs.
Hurting hearts and
Insane gripping thoughts
Keep us transfixed,
Keep us chasing
A cure.
Why not adapt? Why not accept?
Pain always happens with mind, body, and heart.
Living within it, sharing its confines...
Why not survive? Why not start?
Writhing among us,
The broken in pain,
Beating a drum,
Escaping in vain
It's ongoing.
We run toward it;
We covet its strength.
Our embrace transports us
Our agony becomes sane.
Pain killer is us.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Seasonal Isolation
Winter causes isolation. Our fantasies include everyone with a warm mug huddling near a fireplace but reality is more like dreary days spent by oneself in front of a television or computer screen.
Sociologists are keen to warn us about the detriments of being alone. How Isolation Can Kill You Many would argue that our move to social media rather than person to person contact has contributed to it and yet, historians also chime in with how isolation wasn't always considered so foul. How would the populace of the world have expanded if humankind wasn't wired to branch out alone and conquer new kingdoms?
It seems then that each generation faces the dilemma of how to be alone but not be lonely, how to be sociable yet not annoying, and how to withstand outward pressures that catapult us into unwanted isolation.
Cabin fever during cold winters isn't a myth. Lethargy with summer heat is real. Prolonged wet weather spawns depression. Could all this mean that autumn is the perfect season with its crisp days and bright sunshine? Maybe for some....
I'm yearning for springlike days and hot summer heat and feel selfish about it! My Florida winter is nirvana for many enduring cold and snowy days. But it's still my winter and has settled unwanted....
Sociologists are keen to warn us about the detriments of being alone. How Isolation Can Kill You Many would argue that our move to social media rather than person to person contact has contributed to it and yet, historians also chime in with how isolation wasn't always considered so foul. How would the populace of the world have expanded if humankind wasn't wired to branch out alone and conquer new kingdoms?
It seems then that each generation faces the dilemma of how to be alone but not be lonely, how to be sociable yet not annoying, and how to withstand outward pressures that catapult us into unwanted isolation.
Cabin fever during cold winters isn't a myth. Lethargy with summer heat is real. Prolonged wet weather spawns depression. Could all this mean that autumn is the perfect season with its crisp days and bright sunshine? Maybe for some....
I'm yearning for springlike days and hot summer heat and feel selfish about it! My Florida winter is nirvana for many enduring cold and snowy days. But it's still my winter and has settled unwanted....
Friday, February 20, 2015
Siberian Express
Being cold in Central Florida is strange. The sun shines brightly but the thermometer stubbornly stays below 50 degrees. Cold! My body and mind have stiffened in rejection of it and I've avowed that never again will I move north and live a winter in it.
This surprises me. I love my home state of Kentucky and enjoy the changing of seasons and yet, I'm absolutely sure that northern winters will exist as memories rather than reality. Existence in cold is now painful. Most MS patients cannot sustain long periods of time in the heat...apparently, I'm an anomaly with that as with most summations of my malady. Cold is my nemesis. My brain feels foggy, my legs aren't listening well and this in turn gives me a bad case of grouchiness.
Staying in bed resisting this until heat arrives has been most tempting. Hibernation is appealing and assuredly what my body's instincts are calling me to do BUT intellect reminds me that rebellion is an unparalleled remedy.
Make the brain operate. Move the body. Adjust the attitude.
It's part of the metaphor I live daily as my life transition continues. Half a century passed and I'm coming to terms with answers to many questions about my next half.
Where should I live? I now know that I must live in warmth for my health...physical, mental, and emotional. The warmth of other's love is also necessary and being close to that is imperative for my happiness.
How shall I feel? This cold snap reminds me that I can CHOOSE my thought process by rebelling. I don't have to give in to instincts and hunker down to wait out the misery of the transition. I can think and move which will cause the attitude to alter. My mother once said, "I am. I will. I do." It's a powerful statement of forward thinking and has guided me ever since.
What shall I do? Answers to this must still be buzzing about the cosmos. I continue to look upward, outward, inward for clarity. Accepting my personality trait of the need to do rather than wait for it to organically appear means I turn over many rocks while seeking purposeful living. Purposeful life existence is necessary to keep hibernation at bay.
I am. I will. I do...said the mother.
I am willing to do...said the daughter.
FOR SALE: 1 ticket on the Siberian Express
This surprises me. I love my home state of Kentucky and enjoy the changing of seasons and yet, I'm absolutely sure that northern winters will exist as memories rather than reality. Existence in cold is now painful. Most MS patients cannot sustain long periods of time in the heat...apparently, I'm an anomaly with that as with most summations of my malady. Cold is my nemesis. My brain feels foggy, my legs aren't listening well and this in turn gives me a bad case of grouchiness.
Staying in bed resisting this until heat arrives has been most tempting. Hibernation is appealing and assuredly what my body's instincts are calling me to do BUT intellect reminds me that rebellion is an unparalleled remedy.
Make the brain operate. Move the body. Adjust the attitude.
It's part of the metaphor I live daily as my life transition continues. Half a century passed and I'm coming to terms with answers to many questions about my next half.
Where should I live? I now know that I must live in warmth for my health...physical, mental, and emotional. The warmth of other's love is also necessary and being close to that is imperative for my happiness.
How shall I feel? This cold snap reminds me that I can CHOOSE my thought process by rebelling. I don't have to give in to instincts and hunker down to wait out the misery of the transition. I can think and move which will cause the attitude to alter. My mother once said, "I am. I will. I do." It's a powerful statement of forward thinking and has guided me ever since.
What shall I do? Answers to this must still be buzzing about the cosmos. I continue to look upward, outward, inward for clarity. Accepting my personality trait of the need to do rather than wait for it to organically appear means I turn over many rocks while seeking purposeful living. Purposeful life existence is necessary to keep hibernation at bay.
I am. I will. I do...said the mother.
I am willing to do...said the daughter.
FOR SALE: 1 ticket on the Siberian Express
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Falling Slowly
Magical life experiences are my dearest possessions in life. A photo cannot do them justice nor a text or tweet. Society tells us that they will come at prescribed times such as weddings, births, deaths or pivotal life transitions but mine are unexpected surprises. I don't have to revisit Facebook to remember them. I don't need to reread a journal entry. These moments are carried so tightly within me that they have become me and I am part of them.
As a child, they were comprised of visual flashes or physical reactions...an adult's comment, exposure to a book or TV show, or interaction with a friend brought forth these magical enlightened moments. The memory of them is still crystal clear and encourages me to be ready for more.
As an adult, they have become rare and I ponder if it's because I have lost my childlike wonder. It seems that now I tend to share this magic with others. The first moment I met my personal trainer, I literally looked into his face and heard music. How did that happen? Rather than delve into an answer, I'm simply grateful that I didn't run, instead endured and have become a healthy woman owed greatly to his guidance. We are a friendship that was simply meant to be.
When I took my first trip to Europe, I experienced two special events. One after reaching deep within myself to overcome a physical obstacle while hiking and the second, following an unseen pathway that led my partner and I to one of his lifelong passions; being with someone as they experience a moment is just as good as having one. It is a communal gift that can be life altering for both individuals.
I write about this today as I had one of those exceedingly rare moments last night. There was no extraordinary event that brought it forth but rather, a confluence of choices that caused magic to occur. And I emphasize the word magic because of its whimsical nature and childlike wonder....
A simple re-telling of my special magical moment:
I heard a young artist, Taylor John Williams on a musical reality show perform a song that moved me. I became a fan that night and his song replayed itself over and over in my mind.
Ten days later, I met a very special man and as life is apt to unfold, we began sharing our interests. A few nights ago, we watched a movie that he felt was special, ONCE-released in 2006 and then made into a musical on Broadway. The main actor/singer performed the song "Falling Slowly," the same song that I had fell in love with sung by young Taylor. Knowing that I was moved so deeply by the song and that my special man was moved so deeply by the movie would be magical enough and yet, there was more....
Today's technology gives us information instantaneously...we researched the actor/singer, Glen Hansard, and magic unfolded...Glen Hansard would be performing within two days in our city!
We went to the performance last night and completed the circle. My discovery of a song and new artist, his discovery of a powerful movie, and our discovery together of an Irish troubadour who inspires with each performance. Magical gift. Grateful. Be ready for yours. It's time that you won.
"FALLING SLOWLY"
Lyrics
As a child, they were comprised of visual flashes or physical reactions...an adult's comment, exposure to a book or TV show, or interaction with a friend brought forth these magical enlightened moments. The memory of them is still crystal clear and encourages me to be ready for more.
As an adult, they have become rare and I ponder if it's because I have lost my childlike wonder. It seems that now I tend to share this magic with others. The first moment I met my personal trainer, I literally looked into his face and heard music. How did that happen? Rather than delve into an answer, I'm simply grateful that I didn't run, instead endured and have become a healthy woman owed greatly to his guidance. We are a friendship that was simply meant to be.
When I took my first trip to Europe, I experienced two special events. One after reaching deep within myself to overcome a physical obstacle while hiking and the second, following an unseen pathway that led my partner and I to one of his lifelong passions; being with someone as they experience a moment is just as good as having one. It is a communal gift that can be life altering for both individuals.
I write about this today as I had one of those exceedingly rare moments last night. There was no extraordinary event that brought it forth but rather, a confluence of choices that caused magic to occur. And I emphasize the word magic because of its whimsical nature and childlike wonder....
A simple re-telling of my special magical moment:
I heard a young artist, Taylor John Williams on a musical reality show perform a song that moved me. I became a fan that night and his song replayed itself over and over in my mind.
Ten days later, I met a very special man and as life is apt to unfold, we began sharing our interests. A few nights ago, we watched a movie that he felt was special, ONCE-released in 2006 and then made into a musical on Broadway. The main actor/singer performed the song "Falling Slowly," the same song that I had fell in love with sung by young Taylor. Knowing that I was moved so deeply by the song and that my special man was moved so deeply by the movie would be magical enough and yet, there was more....
Today's technology gives us information instantaneously...we researched the actor/singer, Glen Hansard, and magic unfolded...Glen Hansard would be performing within two days in our city!
We went to the performance last night and completed the circle. My discovery of a song and new artist, his discovery of a powerful movie, and our discovery together of an Irish troubadour who inspires with each performance. Magical gift. Grateful. Be ready for yours. It's time that you won.
"FALLING SLOWLY"
Lyrics
I don't know you
But I want you
All the more for that
Words fall through me
And always fool me
And I can't react
And games that never amount
To more than they're meant
Will play themselves out
But I want you
All the more for that
Words fall through me
And always fool me
And I can't react
And games that never amount
To more than they're meant
Will play themselves out
Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice
You'll make it now
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice
You'll make it now
Falling slowly, eyes that know me
And I can't go back
Moods that take me and erase me
And I'm painted black
You have suffered enough
And warred with yourself
And I can't go back
Moods that take me and erase me
And I'm painted black
You have suffered enough
And warred with yourself
It's time that you won
Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice
You'll make it now
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice
You'll make it now
Falling slowly sing your melody
I'll sing along
I'll sing along
Monday, January 26, 2015
Will to Power
"I learned that what people do to you is oftentimes what you've asked them to do." Susan Sung
Approaching the topic of relationship power struggles is daunting. Humanity's legends, history, existence are based upon our struggles with one another in religion, war, and love. Power. At points, all these and more converge and it becomes a world war. And regardless of convergence, it is always a personal war.
How then does one make sense of our need to be in control and exert power over another? Rather than argue its existence, accepting that it happens tends to be the first rule to observe. Survival is based upon maintaining power over oneself, over another, over a situation. Ensuring that our offspring survives and thrives is a power move...we catapult our DNA into the future.
Dr. David McAnulty questions our choice to impose our "will to power" as parlaying our devotion to God, upholding a standard through powerful choices that seem to contradict religious teachings. He uses Mother Teresa's example of "surrender to God's plan" in her mission work while also suffering her "dark holes" as she confesses being lost to her faith.
Undeniably, she is one of our greatest icons of charitable love and yet, she struggled against the powerful hold of her faith. She wanted to submit wholeheartedly to Christ and she also wanted some control, some power over her own heart, her own mind.
Knowing that a Dark Saint (her words) had power issues is reassurance that it's okay to feel contradiction as we struggle with love in our personal relationships. We struggle with self imposed confines as accepting another's love means accepting their boundaries, their cages and letting ourselves become entangled with their heartstrings.
Regarding Susan Sung's quote that I led with...yes, I believe that it's time to admit that we allow others the power to treat us a certain way...we've asked them to do so. Revolution then may have more to do with ourselves than with them.
Approaching the topic of relationship power struggles is daunting. Humanity's legends, history, existence are based upon our struggles with one another in religion, war, and love. Power. At points, all these and more converge and it becomes a world war. And regardless of convergence, it is always a personal war.
How then does one make sense of our need to be in control and exert power over another? Rather than argue its existence, accepting that it happens tends to be the first rule to observe. Survival is based upon maintaining power over oneself, over another, over a situation. Ensuring that our offspring survives and thrives is a power move...we catapult our DNA into the future.
Dr. David McAnulty questions our choice to impose our "will to power" as parlaying our devotion to God, upholding a standard through powerful choices that seem to contradict religious teachings. He uses Mother Teresa's example of "surrender to God's plan" in her mission work while also suffering her "dark holes" as she confesses being lost to her faith.
Undeniably, she is one of our greatest icons of charitable love and yet, she struggled against the powerful hold of her faith. She wanted to submit wholeheartedly to Christ and she also wanted some control, some power over her own heart, her own mind.
Knowing that a Dark Saint (her words) had power issues is reassurance that it's okay to feel contradiction as we struggle with love in our personal relationships. We struggle with self imposed confines as accepting another's love means accepting their boundaries, their cages and letting ourselves become entangled with their heartstrings.
Regarding Susan Sung's quote that I led with...yes, I believe that it's time to admit that we allow others the power to treat us a certain way...we've asked them to do so. Revolution then may have more to do with ourselves than with them.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Summertime Life
Gershwin had the genius for placing pitch perfect words into a semblance of rhythm that musicians then alter to fit their own style. Listening to this perfection of song including lyric, melody, and a songstress whose performance was heartfelt motivates me to find my words, my inner aching beauty, and my "Summertime" whenever I choose.
Often, I refer to midlife as a transition into the autumn of life. Hearing art such as this though reminds me that "Summertime" does not have to depart. I can choose to fly away from it, above it, around it, and beyond it at my whim. It is true freedom when we can choose to transcend our medium...either in the reality of art or the promise of escaping life through art.
Summertime Life
My sighs and woes
My highs and lows
A turn to dark
A turn to glow
Forever thoughts?
Forever moans?
A mystery sought
A mystery grown
My dark and light
My heart and sight
Forever lost?
Forever found?
My sighs and woes
My breaths and moans
A turn made right
A turn to flight
Sunday, January 11, 2015
The Heart Wants What it Wants
Young Selena Gomez relates the ache of having a heart that launches itself painfully toward a dead end love. Disdainful critics cast aside the importance of these pop culture icons yet the masses are moved by their messages.
Modern Fairy Tale Listen to her brief monologue before the song.
Mothering teenagers took me back to the days of my angst filled youth...days that seemed interminably long when my heart was broken...days that passed in a blur when I was ecstatic. What a surprise to find out that it remains the same in midlife regardless of my so called maturity! The books and articles that we read and write may reflect adult lessons but observing the pop culture of youth shows we don't truly change our approach too much.
Music is our solace, flipping from fad to fad is our habit, and speaking out loudly against society's expectations is part of our psyche. I often tell my children that we seem to be in the same stage of life, on the cusp of a great adventure that we can't predict but are excited to undertake. The gift and curse of our modern age is that the internet has allowed immediate interaction with our present and our past. Because of its immediacy, we no longer have the luxury of reflection. The lure of instantaneous fulfillment bypasses a much needed rest stop on life's path.
And yet, the outcrop of art coming from our youth shows they are reflecting...they are absorbing...they are evolving. I don't believe that today's generation is LESS than previous great generations. We've given them the tools to become civilization's best example of what humanity can become. Naysayers will come back with ruminations of our crumbling social fabric. Instead, our youth may be the first wave of weavers who are forming a new and better social fabric.
Let me end with a throwback response to Selena from a past pop icon.
Ronstadt's Lesson
Don't feel alone, Selena because you too will learn the lesson and meet better men. And one day, maybe you will be considered a national treasure just like my era's Linda Ronstadt.
Modern Fairy Tale Listen to her brief monologue before the song.
Mothering teenagers took me back to the days of my angst filled youth...days that seemed interminably long when my heart was broken...days that passed in a blur when I was ecstatic. What a surprise to find out that it remains the same in midlife regardless of my so called maturity! The books and articles that we read and write may reflect adult lessons but observing the pop culture of youth shows we don't truly change our approach too much.
Music is our solace, flipping from fad to fad is our habit, and speaking out loudly against society's expectations is part of our psyche. I often tell my children that we seem to be in the same stage of life, on the cusp of a great adventure that we can't predict but are excited to undertake. The gift and curse of our modern age is that the internet has allowed immediate interaction with our present and our past. Because of its immediacy, we no longer have the luxury of reflection. The lure of instantaneous fulfillment bypasses a much needed rest stop on life's path.
And yet, the outcrop of art coming from our youth shows they are reflecting...they are absorbing...they are evolving. I don't believe that today's generation is LESS than previous great generations. We've given them the tools to become civilization's best example of what humanity can become. Naysayers will come back with ruminations of our crumbling social fabric. Instead, our youth may be the first wave of weavers who are forming a new and better social fabric.
Let me end with a throwback response to Selena from a past pop icon.
Ronstadt's Lesson
Don't feel alone, Selena because you too will learn the lesson and meet better men. And one day, maybe you will be considered a national treasure just like my era's Linda Ronstadt.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Rubber Bands and Mallets
S T R E T C H I N G
M Y S E L F
Without breaking.
A rubber band-my life-
Forsaking
The fears giving in
To tugs-giving in
To stretching, not breaking.
P O U N D I N G
M Y S E L F
Into submission.
A rubber mallet-my penance-
Permission
The emotions of love
To tears-giving in
To intentions, not fears.
R E L E A S I N G
M Y S E L F
For exploring.
A rubber-filled talent, not boring.
Freedom
The stirring of words
To moments-giving in
To be heard, not silence.
M Y S E L F
Without breaking.
A rubber band-my life-
Forsaking
The fears giving in
To tugs-giving in
To stretching, not breaking.
P O U N D I N G
M Y S E L F
Into submission.
A rubber mallet-my penance-
Permission
The emotions of love
To tears-giving in
To intentions, not fears.
R E L E A S I N G
M Y S E L F
For exploring.
A rubber-filled talent, not boring.
Freedom
The stirring of words
To moments-giving in
To be heard, not silence.
Friday, January 2, 2015
Do You Know Me
We seek them, those people who seem so familiar upon introduction that our coupling has no awkwardness. It's as if we had simply been separated across time and knew that our moment to reunite would undoubtedly arrive.
Our conversations are a tangled mass of weeds...fast growing, riotous, random and yet, there is form to the madness. Because our psyches have reconnected, the outcrop of union appears haphazard but like weeds, a purpose evolves.
My own connection to our dear Earth urges me to continue planting in my fields of life. Circumstance has caused them to lie fallow for a while now...stripped bare of those carefully tended gardens that I pruned and petted into perfection. But perfection left them vulnerable and far too fragile for my future needs. Nature knows this and regardless of my own desires, takes control of the weather of discontent and scours those fields down to the naked soil.
I can remember my grandfather and father burning fields down to the bare ground. Bright green shoots reappeared and were more vibrant because the sun had been allowed to touch them, free of the heaviness of overgrowth....
Do You Know Me?
Down to the ground,
My life is down to the ground,
Storms toss my soul, my soil
With devil winds of discontent.
Fallow, empty and exposed
I feel every droplet of rain
Boring into my depths
Creating pain.
It's a muddy mess for anyone
Who walks my field.
Their feet become weighted
With my clay, my soul, my soil.
How can one ask another to
Walk these fields?
Entreaty, open hand, outstretched
Do You Know Me?
And yet, hope prevails.
A pathway through the slog opens.
The field dries, the mud dissipates
And bright green shoots grow quickly
In the sun....
Weeds racing along the path
In riotous growth, covering, protecting
Serving their purpose...beauty unparalleled.
Our conversations are a tangled mass of weeds...fast growing, riotous, random and yet, there is form to the madness. Because our psyches have reconnected, the outcrop of union appears haphazard but like weeds, a purpose evolves.
We need to understand that weeds serve a purpose. That purpose isn’t to cost farmers more money or increase the amount of gray hair on our heads. It isn’t to keep us up at night. Mother Nature has a more practical purpose in mind, and that is simple ground cover. Exposed soil erodes from water and wind. That’s why after some calamity strips the soil clear of residue, weeds are often the first plants to grow back. Like nature’s own cover crops, they are holding precious topsoil in place. Curt Arens
My own connection to our dear Earth urges me to continue planting in my fields of life. Circumstance has caused them to lie fallow for a while now...stripped bare of those carefully tended gardens that I pruned and petted into perfection. But perfection left them vulnerable and far too fragile for my future needs. Nature knows this and regardless of my own desires, takes control of the weather of discontent and scours those fields down to the naked soil.
I can remember my grandfather and father burning fields down to the bare ground. Bright green shoots reappeared and were more vibrant because the sun had been allowed to touch them, free of the heaviness of overgrowth....
Do You Know Me?
Down to the ground,
My life is down to the ground,
Storms toss my soul, my soil
With devil winds of discontent.
Fallow, empty and exposed
I feel every droplet of rain
Boring into my depths
Creating pain.
It's a muddy mess for anyone
Who walks my field.
Their feet become weighted
With my clay, my soul, my soil.
How can one ask another to
Walk these fields?
Entreaty, open hand, outstretched
Do You Know Me?
And yet, hope prevails.
A pathway through the slog opens.
The field dries, the mud dissipates
And bright green shoots grow quickly
In the sun....
Weeds racing along the path
In riotous growth, covering, protecting
Serving their purpose...beauty unparalleled.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)