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Posts Tagged ‘positive attitudes’

One Too Many Shoulds

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , on December 3, 2021| 2 Comments »

(photo of me sometime in grade school)

There is no way you should feel, there is only the way you feel. (Akiroq Brost)

Good and bad,
bad and good, 

right and wrong
the way of the church and the way of the doomed

fit into safe defined boxes when I went to school.
Black and white garbed nuns, rosary beads the size 
of dried lima beads attached to their waists like holy chains,

explained life. All these symbols 
spoke of heaven and hell,
with absolute certainty and no smiles.

My teacher sold eternity at fifty cents 
a Gregorian chant book.
I lost at least three one year,
then found another book the same size and gray color,

and faked the intonations with soft whispers,
never turning my head and exposing the lie.
Me, this girl who couldn’t keep track of anything.

I did well enough when asked to reach for something in the clouds.
Yet tripped-over shadows on the ground,
a stranger on the practical path where everyone else lived.

The shy girl, the different girl,
who secretly played Mozart on old 78’s,
or hummed arias or show tunes

while the other kids screamed over Elvis.
I could never understand how hound dogs plus hips equaled ecstasy.
Already good and bad wouldn’t stay defined within the lines I’d learned.

One path for everything; who should decide?
One path for music or sexuality.
One path for heaven or hell or happiness.

I suspected that myopia led nowhere, 
made the course narrow, constrictive, dull, unthinking.
It bound the spirit.

Even now, any unsolicited advice after, you should,
slips away from me, garbled, unheard.
No. Look into my eyes and see who I am.

I promise to do the same for you.
Perhaps together we can find
 a new truth.

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Short-Sighted Wish, a Poem

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 11, 2021| Leave a Comment » 











Wish not so much to live long as to live well.  Benjamin Franklin

How good it would be
to live without pain,
to live without anger or foe,
to languish in riches,
frolic in health,
and miss every effort to grow.

***





I look at my blog for this week and want to add more, tell stories. The tales move with rocks, twigs, and drop-offs along the way. Each tale has a slightly different shape and edge. It belongs to the course. Maybe someday I will understand how.


cliff


 





					
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Run Between the Raindrops

					

					Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , ,  on August 21, 2021|
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sun




There's a lot of difference between listening and hearing. (G. K. Chesterton)

As I drive, rain splatters on my car windshield. Fresh fat circles followed by long and hard streaks. I remember an old saying from my childhood, Run between the drops. Never a realistic expectation. More a fantasy notion.

I want to dry rain and tears, to change the diagnosis a friend recently heard. Cancer. And not an early stage. I want to run between the drops and take people who need healing with me.

A raincoat is the best tool for now. Live through all that happens. My friend’s laundry is in the spin cycle now. Clean wash soon to be dried. I will do what I can. And wait for the sun to shine again. It always does.



					
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Flashlight, a Poem

					

					Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , ,  on August 14, 2021|
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flashlights




Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.  (Jonathan Swift)

Flashlight

She stirs artificial sweetener into her coffee
as my husband shares one oldie recording after another.
Creedence Clearwater Revival, Jefferson Airplane,
The Supremes. The 1960’s scene.

Folk artists. One-time hits. I listen.
And watch as my friend moves her head
with the drumbeat. She is blind. She won’t look 
for bookshelf dust or carpet lint. We welcome 

few guests during pandemic time. She celebrates
learned pathways through my house and moves 
between our couch and dining room table.
We share places where disability dissolves.

Or so I imagine until she reaches for coffee
and touches another cylindrical object instead.
“What is this?” I answer, “flashlight,” 
as if she knew about the object the way

she understands the feel of our leather couch,
the last Elvis Presley song, or a groaner-pun.
“Oh,” she answers. Yet, I don’t see the un-seeable
 until I return the artificial light to a desk drawer.

She would fathom flash-light 
the way any sighted person grasps a concept like infinity. 
I have a lot to learn about my friend’s life. 
I am grateful she is willing to teach me.


published in For A Better World 2021








					
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A Word from an Almost Dead Plant

					

					Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , ,  on August 6, 2021|
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living flower


One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple. (Jack Kerouac)


 I hate to admit it. My thumb isn’t green. Gangrene? More like it. I have destroyed succulents. Never on purpose.  My everyday world is too crowded. I never finish enough tasks to remember plant care.


 Simplicity. My goal on more than one level.


 A super-special person gave me this plant. In time it gave up. Too much water one day and then none for weeks. I placed the pot on the front porch. The leaves remained a sad, dull brown despite sun and rain.


 I declared it dead, but it missed garbage day. Twice. My best excuse is guilt. I felt as if I had ignored the goodness of the giver. Then, one day I saw a dry, weak green appear on one side. Nah! A fresh sprout would be a miracle. I didn’t deserve one. However, the flower was worthy. I let the green fight through.




 Now, bright-pink springs through our old blue railing. Life, one word. 


Persistent and beautiful. 


 

					
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Fog, Sun, and Hope: A Poem

					

					Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , ,  on September 15, 2020|
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You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I hope someday you’ll join us. And the world will live as one. ( John Lennon)


Fog, Sun, and Hope


 


Bare, black trees stand out inside a low cloud. Fog.


Headlights hide the vehicles they guide




 


until the cars arrive close enough to be


seen by other drivers.


 


In political fogs fact and factoid blur. Alternative facts,


lies that wear well-constructed masks. Fear wins.


 


Each lie repeats often enough to be used as beams for


followers. The mask asks people to scoff non-believers.


 


And the non-believers respond with taunts, point out stupidity,


lack of logic, inconsistency. A no-win war begins.


 


In the natural world, sun, blue, and clouds reappear.


Dead trees remain leafless. Headlights become optional,


 


a choice. Drivers can now see without them. Can eyes open


and human roots join for change? Must fog live in all seasons?


 


Or can sun live despite fog? As headlights point out need,


can drivers carry hope and respond with an ear instead of censure?


 


Yes, I hear where you stand, those who would


destroy the poor and give to the rich, but I disagree.


 


Peace for the world.


 Eventually. Please.


 


originally published in For A Better World


 


 

					
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A Red Car and Metaphors for Us and Them

					

					Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , ,  on September 8, 2020|
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There is no us and them; it’s an illusion. We are all human beings, and we all have a responsibility to support one another and to discover ways of wresting the power from the very, very few people who control all the cash and all the property. (Roger Waters.)


Amazing how lost I can feel even though I know exactly where I’m turning left and right. Three errands. Each simple and specific. And yet my thoughts travel as if my brain synapses have no connections. I want to save the world. It isn’t going to happen.


A red car turns ahead of me into the parking lot as a small boy sticks his head out the window. He is a handsome child. Mocha skin. Hair shaved to reveal a perfectly shaped skull. He returns inside immediately. I imagine the voice of the driver, probably a parent. “Get your seatbelt on right now, young man.”


Then I see the identical shaved hairstyle of a smaller boy. He is seated in the middle of the back seat. The red car is no longer a vehicle in a line of traffic. It is its own world. A mini-community that turns toward another part of the shopping center.


I don’t know the family. And yet a scene hits me. The earth from a distance. Made from easily delineated parts. Water. Land. And everything is blurred as if it had no mountain, valley, creatures, or specks of dust.


When one group of people has never interacted with another, notions develop without dimension, fact, or touch.


“I’m not prejudiced,” an unnamed white woman announces. “I just think all lives matter.” The rebuttal comes, “But is your life being threatened? Has it ever been threatened because your pale-peaches skin has too many freckles?” And the response is a cold stare.


Us and them. May these words become pronouns again and stay out of the judgmental realm. They are too easily used as weapons. 


A wider worldview. It may be the only solution. Yet not an easy one.


 

					
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Facing the Darkness Under the Bed: a Poem

					

					Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , ,  on September 1, 2020|
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True forgiveness is when you can say, “Thank you for that experience.” (Oprah Winfrey)


What can’t be accomplished in reality, sometimes can be faced through poetry.


 


Facing the Darkness Under the Bed


 


As I sweep under my bed and touch


the darkness below the frame


I imagine going back into time


 


and watch my mom as her mother lies


on another bed. Twelve-year-old Mary Ann


cooks then washes dishes.


 


Her history textbook is opened


on the kitchen table. Ancient war dates fade,


battles with human losses,


 


each its own variation


of an untold Pyrrhic victory.


She hears a different kind of battle.


 


My mother as a young girl




longs to soothe the endless




cries of her mother


 


in labor for forty-eight hours.


Mama survives but delivers a




second dead baby. Mary Ann learns


 


to bury hurts as well, cover them


inside forgotten dreams. She leaves


the darkness under her bed


 


with the dust. Imagination, 


it may be physically impossible.


Yet, I reach for the hand


 


of the twelve-year-old girl who will one day


give birth to me, and allow her


the gift of forbidden tears.


 


Perhaps then I can give


me full permission for


releasing mine.


 


 


 

					
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Cracks, Imperfections, or the Moments that Take Our Breath Away

					

					Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , ,  on August 25, 2020|
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Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.  (Maya Angelou)


 For when you experience more crack than sidewalk. And the news inside and outside your house could depress a saint. For the times when you explode over a request that overloads your already sinking-ship schedule. For the moments when the basement floods and you find a dry milk carton in the refrigerator…


 


May joy and laughter return in simple moments. A sunny day when rain was predicted. A call from a friend. A call to a friend. A smile from a stranger. A smile extended to a stranger. The realization that you have value no circumstance can erase. 


 


Peace despite and through all the ugliness.


 

					
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Contrast: a Poem

					

					Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , ,  on August 18, 2020|
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It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop. (Confucius)


 


CONTRAST


The news broadcasts the story in an infinite loop.


Nine people killed, one an unborn baby.


Boy or girl, identity as unknown


as the reason for the bullets that stopped them.


I listen to commentary


about hate and racism while a wren


travels from tree to wire, the place where


larger birds claim territory.  


 


Perhaps, there is no genuine connection.


Only a brief metaphor. And yet 


I wonder if change can begin


with subtle movements.


 


first published in Piker Press


illustration made from recent colored penciled drawings

					
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