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Posts Tagged ‘integrity’





"A family is a risky venture, because the greater the love, the greater the loss... That's the trade-off. But I'll take it all." — Brad Pitt

FAMILY VALUES

Nephew flinches as Uncle drops a fork 
onto a china plate. It responds with a quick high-pitched cry. 
Uncle grumbles, There’s dried dog food on these tines.

The waiter steps away from an adjoining table
where a young woman feeds
a girl in a wheelchair.

No excuse for this, Uncle says.
The waiter offers to get him fresh silverware. 
Nephew sends the waiter a silent eye-rolling apology.

He cuts his salad into small bites,
his focus on beans and rice while
Uncle speaks about how the nation has lost

family values, allowing abortion clinics, 
gay marriage, welfare for fools. Uncle slices filet mignon
and complains about the quality of his chardonnay.

Uncle leaves a two-dollar tip.
Nephew drops a twenty on top of it. Uncle smirks. Insane.
You don’t have the funds to support a hamster.

Nephew nods toward the adjoining table. 
Meet the waiter’s wife and daughter.
They live in the apartment behind mine.

"See you at the next town hall meeting, Lyle,"
he calls to the waiter. 
"Family values," he whispers to Uncle.
 


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The narcissist mentioned in the following poem is obvious.  However, it could refer to many dangerous historical figures. The following quote presents a massive challenge.

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.” ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

 Bag of Wind

 

Wind lifts a white plastic bag

and carries it with

bat-swift gusts from the street

to the base of a tree.

 

The bag appears to be

moving on its own, breathing,

mimicking a

living creature.

 

An illusion. I think

about people fed

hot, even dangerous air,

led to follow the whims

 

of a narcissist who claims,

“I will be there,” words made of

vague promises. A breeze arrives

and lifts the bag to a sharp branch.

 

Misled followers leak air.

They blame enemy design.

I pray the truth saves all.

Before the tree dies.

 

 

previously published in For A Better World

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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…

 

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Truth alone will endure. All the rest will be swept away before the tide of time. (Mahatma Gandhi)

The bedroom clock is off. Ten minutes slow. I rely on those large bright digits. However, a clock can be forgiven, adjusted. It may be faulty but doesn’t have motives.

Recently I found myself forgiving someone—before I had come to terms with my own feelings about a simple incident. Yes, I believe in forgiveness, but truth needs to be faced first. I can’t begin with the second, higher flight of stairs. I need perspective. How I wish it came naturally.

That pause. That time to breathe and allow myself to recognize this moment, the next, and then the whole. Sure, I’m grateful not to be the hothead who begins with a lash-out. There is less repair later. However, I forget that as a tool for the greater good, rust spots in the mind ruin effectiveness.

Truth. Pure in its definition. Harassed in real life.

The world scene. The government in my own county. The greed, hate, horror, ignorance. People dismissed inside a prejudicial label. Never touched so that they can be viewed without names and lives. Left versus right when the two need to work in the same body.

I watch the injustice and fight despair, give what I can and let truth endure. Eventually. The world’s clock is off as toxic waste is dumped into the earth’s water. The less people have the more they pay. Yet many conned, poor, uneducated individuals honor a man who leads them into further destruction.

Somehow, with the help of hands willing to join, truth endures. I pray not to give up. A fight doesn’t need fists to be real.  The world doesn’t need debate, an I’m-right attitude. It needs integrity.

 

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At the end of the day, tell yourself gently: “I love you, you did the best you could today, and even if you didn’t accomplish all you had planned, I love you anyway. (Francois)

Turn on the news. Try not to scream, or worse, cry in despair. Integrity has been attacked. The legal system in the United States has been destroyed. Untrue statements repeat as valid, creating powerful weapons against justice. Absurdity and hate reach a crescendo.

And the notion that an honest tomorrow is promised, falls short.

So, why try to fight evil? Because I have value. You have value. The folk who have been misled have value. I remember a picture I took in County Clare in Ireland a year and a half ago. During a drought. A plant was growing through a hole in a rock. The growth didn’t happen quickly. It did happen after persistence.

To remain capable of giving even as the world seems to crumble. To smile, honestly, at a critic. Not easy. And no, I haven’t earned a halo. I have done the best I could today. May the rock break open just a little bit more. With the counter-weapon of compassion, while continuing to speak truth.

 

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If you have integrity, nothing else matters. If you don’t have integrity, nothing else matters. (Harvey Mackay)


When people learn I had two books published, The Curse Under the Freckles and Stinky, Rotten Threats, they often ask if I get writer’s block. Uh, yeah, plenty of times. Especially when I try to write sunshine when I have mud in my shoes, socks, and brain. Heart and head, mind and pen need to be connected first. Somehow.

I tread water on a Sunday afternoon as dark skies invade the blue. The dark wins for now. I know blue lives on the other side, but for how long? I heard news earlier about someone who was accused of a crime. From what I’d understood about the situation, it seems to be a setup. Why? I don’t know.

Save the world—if only I could. Law. Three letters in one word is nowhere near enough. My paper remains blank. No answers.

One hug for a friend. Hope. Many prayers.

In the meantime, I swim through water or through injustice. Giving up is not an option. Peace and integrity are. May they win.

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The probability that we may fail in the struggle ought not to deter us from the support of a cause we believe to be just. (Abraham Lincoln)

My grandson and I raked leaves last week—not long after an ice storm. Not only did he want to help, he was eager to do it. We acted as if we were an equal team.

One problem. My back is a lot older than his is. He provided the strength and flexibility of an active seven-year-old. My strength gave out within the lifespan of a mayfly. Twenty-four hours later I could barely move. May steroids and physical therapy repair the damage. Eventually.

Sometimes I feel that my eagerness to combat human injustice is too much for a team of human creatures with integrity. The word, lie, has been shouted and repeated through the air until it has become useless. Set up sides! Prepare labels! Never discuss. Never listen. Have accusations ready whether they apply or not. Divide without thinking about the division.

And yet, I have friends who disagree with my political views. They participate in humanitarian programs. Is there any chance we can begin here? Can we agree to care that law is made for the population, not population for the law.

Maybe, just maybe.

 

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One’s destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things. (Henry Miller)

Sunday begins with a new look at death. Since most of the members of our church group have passed the mystical, magical, well-lined age of 65, we know we are no longer middle-aged. Mary Grace Manera from Home Funeral Alliance, comes to talk to us about saying our final goodbyes at home. Not a new concept. Before funerals became an industry, final goodbyes were held at home. No concrete linings. No embalming. In another century Grandma could be buried in the backyard next to the marigolds.

Burial without a funeral director is possible in most states except Indiana. The Art of Natural Death Care, a vimeo, shows how this can legally be accomplished.

My husband and I already have faced our mortality. We sealed the green burial deal over pizza at Spring Grove Cemetery.

This afternoon I bury my plans to write for hours. Family is in town. My granddaughters want me to join the party. I realize the headache I had this morning has disappeared. And I am grateful for this moment. Gray. Rain in the air. Wash spinning in the dryer. Blood running through my veins. I am alive and appreciated by people I love.

Life is far from perfect. I fear for the current government, for the tolerance of greed, dishonesty, cruelty to people from other races and nations, especially the children. I can’t run from what is wrong; I fight against it. Yet, I continue to care for the people who see the world differently—far more difficult than facing mortality.

How do I see reality? What do I choose to focus upon and study with a magnifying class? What must I avoid? Reactions like hatred and retaliation become like gasoline thrown on a forest fire. Another form of war.

I pray for peace, one step at a time. One simple vision found inside a complicated world, followed by another step. Then another… May the ending close a worthwhile story.

 

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