A very long time ago I wrote what I considered prose or maybe it was poetry; I’m not very good at identifying genres. Be this as it may, I will share with you (over time) my own genre entitled: Thoughts.
OLD SWEATER: Her aged hands hold knitting needles as if in a fencing duel. Skeins of yarn wend their way out of her basket. Click/click/click… Fabric is woven into a meshwork of color. Her stitches conjoin threads for the creation. A whittled form emerges from her needled skill. Her love is its texture.
BURYING: Street faces serve as sentinels for the funeral procession. Darkly clothed mourners stand in sorrow-laden silence. A warm breeze carries religious rites to my wintery soul. Painful emotions kill my heart as the knife they drew from yours. Your tomb awaits and I throw dirt instead of a blanket over you.
TRUTH – the word means fact, reality, honesty and loyalty… Words that live inside me as part of who I was, where I came from, who I loved, why I loved and who I am. Those who came before me set the stage I was to step out on in what is known as LIFE.
But these days I wonder whom to trust with my understanding of Humankind on Mother Earth. The Power Brokers: Governments, Media, Movies, Social Media, Prejudice, Education, Killing Fields etc. all vie for My Voice.
So, I don’t know if I’m right about this for you, but for me, like when the swollen rivers rise, I head for higher ground; a place where I remember the sound of My Own Voice.
Story is a word that means chronicle, narrative, legend, fable etc. But Story Itself, well that’s different. How do I know? My clients taught me. What my clients continue to teach is that each voice is a powerful tool. And, that each human being has a unique memory voice that does not change over time. It just rests in the ether of silence; that is, unless someone inquires.
The ITSELF cadence of a STORY looks something like this…
At the beginning of an interview client voices are quiet, unsure and falter between thoughts. But once they trust their individual cadence they never waiver.
The pace of how a client breathes between words discloses their unique speaking voice.
The easiest disclosures are about what they love, who they love and why they love.
How they love is revealed in a pause between words or a subtle deep breath.
I feel their disappointments that rest in the tone of their voice and the pace of their telling.
Their choice of word informs me that they are happy, afraid, joyous or sorrowful.
When quieting their speaking voice they are about to reveal a secret.
To laugh aloud at their own words means they just learned something about themselves.
Regrets are never given freely; but, a long-held breath or a deep sigh says it all.
Hope, on the other hand, is expressed fully and genuinely.
I’ve learned to listen closely to inflections and word choice. These reveal intention.
During transcription there are deep sighs, long pauses and even dead space. Sometimes I can garner a meaning; but most often the space is for their remembering.
All clients say: “…my life was just so ordinary.” But, their intonation in speaking these words begins, maybe for the first time ever, to cause them to wonder what ordinary really means.
The 14th Amendment, ratified in 1868, grants to “…all persons born or naturalized in the U.S. and subject to the jurisdiction thereof… In other words, all babies born in America are automatically Americans; granted ALL of our hard-fought rights. Currently the practice is middle-class women from China; in droves. This, well, I can’t imagine China turns its powerful head and says… “Oh do whatever you want.” Nope! Maybe, instead, without ever drawing a Dao Sword (in English often called a broadsword) these babies, as they mature can bring any parental representative into America. Oh, how about when their old enough to vote?
I wanna know what love is. I want you to show me.
It didn’t pass – the results in the U.S. Senate: 61 against and 38 to ratify a United Nations Convention on the rights of Persons with Disabilities. The treaty would have surrendered U.S. sovereignty to unelected UN bureaucrats and would threaten parental control over children with disabilities. Our nation already has laws to protect disabled Americans. Still, how did this even make it out of Senate Committee let alone 38 U.S. senators voting for it. Wasn’t it Hitler who quantified a certain sect of peoples who didn’t mesh with what he coined his master race.
My computer’s English Thesaurus has no less than seventeen synonyms for the word LOVE. But, surprisingly it has only one antonym—HATE. Does this irony interest you as much as me?
The American singer Tina Turner sang it best: “Oh what’s love got to do got to do with it… Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken?”
Tina asked the right questions—especially now in our world that at its outer rims seems to be disintegrating into a chaos of greed and its counterpart—hatred. I look into my heartfelt place from time-to-time and am I surprised at what I find there: absolutely! So, as Tina sings… “I’ve been taking on a new direction. But I have to say: I’ve been thinking about my own protection. It scares me to feel this way.”
Love is scary because it exposes our deepest selves; may be rejected; may be used against us, and in fact not be seen at all.
So my sisters and brothers of our planet, whether or not we are free to express our love for one another openly, we are always free to feel that love. And in this case, God sees your intent. Can there be any bigger blessing?
Mother Earth, I presume, is like mother’s everywhere: kind; angry; unhappy; wise; devoted; uncertain; loving; mean; confused; scared, sober and addicted—like all of us really.
Mother Earth expresses her power and weakness as do we. But she is additionally afflicted with earth’s junk: the man-created kind that orbits just above our breathing atmosphere. Junk that is intended to learn from or to spy on others and is said to be threatening Mother Earth’s orbital environment.
I didn’t want to go there, Mother Earth, because it humbles me to think of that power being toyed with. I’m just not that brave. Yet here I am and here is what I see in the space junk…
Jihad – a relentless campaign against somebody or something – like all the religious conflicts throughout Mother Earth’s orbit.
Greed – insatiability, materialism and craving – where I want something I didn’t earn.
Hatred – extreme dislike – where I rage against something I’m not willing to learn about.
Prejudice – narrow-mindedness – how can I broaden the narrowness that is, at this moment, my certainty?
Love – feel affection for – yes there are people I love, but what about Mother Earth? She that literally keeps me grounded and gives me the air I breathe.
I think we are asking all the wrong questions because our questions are asked inside the prism of each of the above prejudices. I think the question to ask is: Mother Earth, you are now physically erupting on each continent in your flight path and I ask: “Might this be our Global Warning!”