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Posts Tagged ‘gratitude’

The Ella Song on YouTube

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , on May 22, 2022| 1 Comment »

The silence often of pure innocence persuades when speaking fails. (William Shakespeare )

I wrote this song while Ella was in the neonatal intensive care unit at Children’s Hospital. Twelve years ago. At birth, she weighed three pounds and three ounces. The song created positive energy while I waited for Ella to grow and heal.

Eric Hauck, my incredible guitar teacher, provided professional backup and recorded the music on a CD. For a student in her mid 60’s. Hey, so I’m a late bloomer. Just a later-than-usual variety.

Recently, a beautiful young friend from the YMCA created a private YouTube video for me from that compact disc.

Ella loves to listen to her song. Now. As a real-life, almost-teenager. Someone I never could have envisioned from a tiny creature held together with oxygen and tubes.

Since I fractured a metacarpal in my right hand, guitar strings and I don’t get along as well anymore. However, music lives. I hope these two minutes lift your spirits.

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Painting in Color, Color in Real Life

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , on May 15, 2022| Leave a Comment »

cat on chair

Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever. (Mahatma Gandhi).

As the age of 76 appears in my too-near future, I study acrylic painting. Its layers. Its idiosyncrasies. I tend to find optical illusions without trying. See how this twig seems to come directly from the child’s arm, my teacher says.

Nope, I hadn’t seen that at all.

I take flat stripes of one color and blend them into another with or without water depending upon the stage of development.

White paint makes colors opaque.

Green should contain more than one syllable. College art courses teach about this elusive color. For an entire semester. And more.

A drop or two of black added to cobalt blue brings down its power.

I watch the May leaves on the trees with fresh enthusiasm. The power of reflective light working with shadow.

The power of light and shadow in life. Both real. A memory of intense fear strikes me. Unexpectedly. I don’t deny it, but don’t embrace it either. I add another memory.

My grandson and I are gathering rocks in a wagon. “You won’t live forever,” he says.

“That’s right. So, let’s enjoy the sun today and get some more rocks.”

“Okay. Want to go up the street and look?”

I smile. Why not?

We come back to paint our collection. My grandson blends every color in a messy experiment. Gray. I watch as he explores. Perfection is not the goal. Celebration is.

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What Is Pretty? A Long-Ago Question

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on May 5, 2022| Leave a Comment » 

When we listen, we hear someone into existence.
Laurie Buchanan, PhD

What is Pretty? A Long-Ago Question

I rewrite a scene from my own ancient history.
Not to alter its reality or change 
what has already happened. Because
I have learned a kinder way to pass on
a response to children, fresh adults.

In my past I stand before a mirror
and criticize not-styled hair on an insecure 
head until the pain erupts into panic.
My mother replies in a razor-sharp tone,
Pretty is as pretty does.

A comb. A brush. Mundane tools.
I catch what my mother is implying.
Inside I am not worthwhile either.
Ten commandments on stone.
How do I release them into real time?

Much later I learned the gift of listening.
Touch. One set of eyes aware of another
person’s experience. You see ugly? Let me
tell you what I see. Let’s discover the beautiful inside,
said with a smile. Same message. Improved delivery.

The difference between a stagnant pool and a lake.
A lake was given space to exist and move.
Perhaps I understand because
I have tried to swim in both places.
And have learned love along the way.

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Wishing For What I Already Have

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 26, 2022| Leave a Comment »

(more…)

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The Bridge Called Life

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , on April 5, 2022| Leave a Comment » 











Sometimes the questions are complicated, and the answers are simple. 
(Dr. Seuss)





The Bridge Called Life

A bridge not always named
because some know they cross it,
and others believe they own it.
The bridge called life.

One thing I suspect to be true.
The blind understands better than
the sighted. Hold my hand. And don’t let go.
We’ll learn along the way.


photo taken from a public domain pic used in a previous blog



					
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Dear Ella, What I Wish I Could Tell You

					

					Posted in inspiration, Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , ,  on March 23, 2022|
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 Some of the most wonderful people are the ones who don’t fit into boxes. Tori Amos.

DEAR ELLA:
WHAT I WISH I COULD TELL YOU

My Dear Ella,
You lead our make-believe time
as we make a blue birthday cake for cow
and scoop chocolate ice cream for rabbit.
The birthday song needs only happy and birthday,
repeated with fervor, sung with heart.
I’ve often wondered if your tripled
twenty-first chromosome holds unique gifts,
including a sixth sense, compassion.
I recall a day before you learned to walk,
when you scooted freestyle along the floor.
A movie on television showed a violent scene,
reminiscent of an old crime,
different victim—me. I gasped.
You climbed into my lap
and blocked my view of terror.
Too young for words, your eyes said
what you could not. Don’t look at the screen.
Look at me.
Then, the past faded into
the beauty of your presence,
a reality lost to those who have not yet seen
more than a slant to your eyes and
delays in your motor skills.
Now, my attention returns to cow,
rabbit, snowman, and dog,
unequal in size, shape, and fabric,
equal in importance.
Today we pretend. The ordinary
opens to show the extraordinary,
above, below, and beyond
the surface of each moment.
My youngest granddaughter,
watching you be you
makes me a better person.

Love,
Grandma


In honor of World Down Syndrome Day
celebrated this past March 21

Third prize poetry contest winner Down & Beautiful 2017



					
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Women’s March: from Caleb’s Point of View

					

					Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,  on March 3, 2022|
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“Never believe that a few caring people can’t change the world. For, indeed, that’s all who ever have.” 
Margaret Mead


Women’s March
From Caleb’s Point of View
 
My name is Caleb. I’m ten years old.
I wear a sign that says, 
I march for my sister,
and my mom didn’t make me do it.

Great-Grandma links 
her left arm into my right. She holds a cane 
and shuffles from one foot
to the other, an offbeat rhythm
reminding me of an old-fashioned scratched CD.

Dad helps Great-Grandma from the other side.
The kind crowd gives us plenty of room.
Great-Grandma’s parents died at Auschwitz.

Our family matriarch marches 
in silence. I am only a kid, yet
the pain of her story has leaked 
into our lives. I know its depths.
Mom rushes ahead with my sister.
 
A woman nods toward my sign.
"Perhaps your sister can become president
one day." Dad and I look at one another
with the same tight-lipped understanding.

When Mom runs my sister laughs
and kicks her legs as if she could control them.
Mom pauses and waits for us to catch up.

My sister tries to rise from her wheelchair,
her legs weak as dried kindling.

She squeals with delight and flaps her arms
when she sees us.  I don’t march for my sister
to become great. I march for my sister
to be accepted for who she is.



originally publishing in For A Better World 2017
illustration made from public domain images and cut paper



					
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I’ll Get Up In A Minute

					

					Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , ,  on February 18, 2022|
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winter solstice with background


To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist. That is all. (Oscar Wilde)


 I’ll get up in a minute. 


Or two, or three, or… A minute has been redefined. It has been carved from the clock and thrown into infinity. And no longer has meaning.


A line of pink appears on the horizon. Then two more. Parallel stripes. They don’t stay. Like the existence that passes before this old body faces the day. 


I toss blankets aside. The weight of my past had been keeping me down, pressing into my dreams. 


The pink in the sky has already faded. Its beauty passes. Nevertheless, another day begins. Another chance to grab the dark, the light, and the unexpected. Then create with each possibility.  


 

					
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Gratitude, Packed Ice-thick

					

					Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , ,  on February 10, 2022|
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ice-covered branch


Being grateful does not mean that everything is necessarily good. It just means that you can accept it as a gift. (Roy T. Bennett)




 Ice and sun create art on the bare trees in our back yard. I can’t say the same thing about the street. And I live between the two. Both real. 


 One side flashes beauty, the other danger.


 One neighbor comes from close by. Another friend trudges on foot from several miles away. 


 They stab the ice and win, saving two elderly people.


 And the street waits for help. It will come. But the sun has already joined two places with a thing called love.


 I answer with a thing called gratitude.


 

					
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Should, Should, and More Should

					

					Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , ,  on February 3, 2022|
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There is no way you should feel, there is only the way you feel. 
(Akiroq Brost)



How easy it would be if life
could be explained in a word
or two, if should transferred
into reality the way words fit
on a page. In blocks. At least

my mother believed it. She
made sure I recited rules in
perfect cadence. Know the
answer without studying any
questions. Feelings had no


place outside a prayer book.
Strange. Now, I wish I could
reverse roles. Hold her hand
and tell her that I understand
why her care arrived broken.

              Mom, years before you died, 
                                             I told you I loved you.
                                                             You didn’t know what to say.
                                                                                        But you heard my voice.

And I stepped outside the rigorous
                  lines set by 
                            impossible perfection.

I look into the sky now
                        and find more colors
                                         than blue, white, and black. 

And I wish that I had found
                             rainbow memories inside you.
                                         I know they are there. Even now.



					
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