Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for April, 2021

A Teaspoon of Vanilla, Bitter and Sweet

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , on April 30, 2021| Leave a Comment »

vanilla

Forever is composed of nows. (Emily Dickinson)

Back in the days when I thought childhood and eternity were synonyms, a neighbor kid and I poured vanilla into a teaspoon and tasted it. The flavor was nothing like the ice cream or cake that shared the label. The other girl and I giggled about it. And made faces exaggerating the bitterness.

Again? Yes. We did it again. My mother obviously wasn’t in the room. The taste didn’t improve. Neither did my judgment for years. In a lot of areas. Strange, Mom never did ask why she needed more vanilla so soon. Perhaps we didn’t take as much as my taste buds recall.

That old memory appears as I put a fresh bottle of vanilla in my cabinet. As my mind travels into other realities. Two funerals. One next week. Another not yet planned. The second death occurred today. A member of my church community. It doesn’t seem real. And yet, my head knows differently. I hear her voice in my head. I want to answer back.

Darkness. Light. Bitterness and sweet. This moment. Capture it now.

The holes in lace become the design. The bee, part stinger and part honey maker. A full moon against a black sky.

Childhood and forever. No longer the same.

Balance. May it find its place in more than flavors.

 

Read Full Post »

From a Dandelion, a Word to the Wise

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , on April 24, 2021| Leave a Comment »

Dandelions, like all things in nature are beautiful when you take the time to pay attention to them. (June Stoyer)

Good afternoon, human. I’ve been awake since early morning, grateful last week’s pesticide spray missed me.

Sure, I’ll pose. There are tulips on the other side of the sidewalk. Red. Yellow. I noticed you didn’t stop to admire them. You knew people in the eighteenth century preferred my ancestors to mowed grass. Nice research. I am hardy, rise early, and sleep late. I appreciate the compliment.

Wait… Don’t leave so quickly. I’d like to play mirror with a homo sapiens for a minute. Because…because you are thinking about people who are important to you. One woman was beaten when she was a child. She needed to be rescued. Yet, her spirit shines brighter than my yellow surface.  Her giving is honest.

I talked a bit fast there. But I wanted to get a lot of stuff in. Strange, isn’t it, how some creations flourish where others dissolve with the next temperature rise? Not a judgment, just what it is. An orchid is in trouble when its leaves get too dark. Can’t change that in a human either. However, the human has more sources for support. Physical. Mental.

You didn’t expect that much from a plant, a flower, this ordinary, did you? Even you have your stereotypes. I hope to see you again after the next mowing. Keep your eyes open. Thanks for the chat.

Read Full Post »

Pool Water, A Metaphor for Peace

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , on April 17, 2021| Leave a Comment »

pool_LI

Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that. (Martin Luther King Jr., A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches)

A few jumps in cool pool water and my moving body feels warmer. The water temperature hasn’t changed. I have.

Aerobics class begins. Participants exercise in rows, five to six persons in each section. Different ages and backgrounds. I chat with a woman my age about our years in similar classes. Septuagenarian status and exercise are the few bonds we share. Politically we could be on separate continents.

“She talks to us,” she says to her companion. The word us is understood without explanation. Her friend is more rigid in her position than my chatting counterpart. I don’t respond. Left and right. Why can’t we communicate? Why do labels need such sharp edges? Why can’t the pool water warm all realms of thought?

I banter with my companion. I don’t argue. I don’t throw pebbles at a brick wall and expect the wall to shatter, to transform into a mirror.

Answers. I am not sure they come in words. Love isn’t pure sweetness. It is more like dark chocolate. It needs a bitter side to be real. Unfortunately, life doesn’t come with a recipe. Show what is right rather than jabber about it. The child who never learns consequences begins life empty.

One more day. Open ears, but never an integrity compromise.

A few more jumps in the pool. I am comfortable here. The temperature of the water remains the same. It doesn’t need the same level of change as individuals who touch it. And then, perhaps, touch one another…

 

Read Full Post »

The Seasons of Envy: A Poem

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , on April 10, 2021| 1 Comment »

clean sheets

The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.  (L.P. Hartley, The Go-Between)

THE SEASONS OF ENVY

When my kids were little
another young mother
ironed sheets, handkerchiefs,

boxer shorts, and the white T-shirts
her husband wore
to repair other folks’ plumbing.

A super-heroine mom.
I don’t recall her name.
We belonged to the same circle,

but I rarely spoke to her.
I thought we were too different.
Her kids appeared photo-shoot ready,

even in the sandbox.
Before noon my kids’ shirts needed pre-soak.
My boys called dress-up clothes corpse attire,

and a shirt buttoned to the neck, a noose.
Hours bonding with an iron didn’t suit my lifestyle.
Yet, I wondered how super-mom managed.

I honored her the way some people venerate saints,
the ones who accept martyrdom over burning coals
as if it were sunburn.

I meditate as I iron. Her explanation. Life’s wrinkles transformed.
Mine remained. I recall those days 
as I change bed sheets on an ordinary Thursday afternoon.

I notice holes in fabric
that has lasted through bleach, hot water,
myriad spins, more than one washer and dryer.

I consider the decades,
the blood clot in my lung, my parents’ funerals,
and nights when I couldn’t sleep.

I rub my hand over creases
and feel the texture of old cotton,
as if I could gather the years,

hold and thank them
for loss and imperfections
that have added character to my imperfections.


















					
Read Full Post »

				

							


		
			

				

					
Like a Goldfinch: A Poem

					

					Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , ,  on April 3, 2021|
													1 Comment »											

				


				

					





You are imperfect, permanently, and inevitably flawed. And you are beautiful. (Amy Bloom)


 


Like a Goldfinch


I look for the male goldfinch each Spring,


for the bright yellow feathers that say,


I am here and so is the warmth of a new season.


 


Yet, the goldfinch visits my feeder


all winter.  He perches, dressed in drab, 


everyday browns and grays.


In each season, whether white or green,


he flies away, thistle-seed fed. 


One avian creature with 


different-mood feathers.


 


I recognize warm seasons, 


sun-colored birds, and blue skies.


And call them acceptable.


 


And yet, manure that creates roses


irritates my sensibilities.


 


Welcome, Mr. Goldfinch 


in whatever suit you wear.


I hope to embrace my grayer feathers 


with equal enthusiasm.


 


 





					
Read Full Post »