Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life
June 3, 2017

Is it my imagination?

Competing headlines
Fly through air
Thick with alternative voices
Screaming for my attention–
Concentration on things that matter
Forced to wait breathless
As the next raw-meat morsel
Is bandied before my eyes
Each tasty morsel bait
For the lioness in me
That loves to roar
Calling further attention
To the next high drama
As precious minutes slip away
Never to be repeated

Part of me wants to know what’s happening. Now! After all, I don’t want to be an ostrich with my head in the sand. Things aren’t going well. We seem to have hit more than a rough patch for the foreseeable future. There’s a lot to think about. Now!

Another part of me warns that time spent attending to news reports quickly becomes, for me, a colossal waste of precious time.

When I give away time I lose investment opportunities. The kind that don’t arrive via headlines or monetary gain. Rather, they’re hidden in the faces, comments and stories of family, friends, neighbors and strangers.

The graphics at the top help me make choices about what I’ll spend time reading. I appreciate it. Yet in the end, I still have to choose how much time I’ll spend looking at this ‘big picture.’

The big picture that matters most for me is discerned slowly, piece by piece. One person and one conversation at a time, beginning with those closest to me—family, friends, neighbors, people I meet in the blogosphere, and strangers who live just around the corner.

My life and yours are real, not imaginary. They aren’t measured or summed up by polling information or by our participation in protest, resistance, governmental or even charitable movements.

Rather, they become real to us within the safety of face-to-face, or one-on-one listening. That’s what fires my imagination as a follower of Jesus Christ who first listened to me—long before I knew anyone cared.

I’m no Pollyanna. Not everyone wants to be noticed. But those who do, including myself, are the women, men and children I want to get to know. It can’t hurt to begin by looking up, smiling, and asking, “How are you doing today? Would you like to tell me about it?”

So how are you doing today?

Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 June 2017
Image sent to me by DAFraser, source unknown
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Imaginary

18 Comments
June 2, 2017

Longwood’s Garden Benches | Photos

The WordPress Prompt for today is Brassy, not one of my favorite words, given its history of being used in negative or derogatory ways. Nonetheless, in the photo above you see a ‘brassy’ cat! Note that she’s gorgeous, beautiful and calm. Also content and independent-minded. With a coat the color of a gleaming brass tuba or trombone. Enough said.

It’s Friday, time for more photos of Longwood’s garden benches. D took most of them over the last few years. In the top photo above, we’re sitting with one of three Garden cats, looking back at the promenade that leads to the Conservatory and Café.

Sturdy, tasteful garden benches line the promenade,
with plenty of room for wheelchairs.

Here’s another angle on the promenade and its benches,
taken in warmer weather from beneath a huge copper beech.

The Meadow Garden is a favorite during late Spring, Summer and Fall.  A handful of benches and a few covered pavilions line the edges of the meadow. Here’s an example of a rustic bench, followed by what you might see if you’re sitting on this bench, looking back across the meadow. Notice the cool, shady garden benches at the edge of a wooded area.


Here’s another set of two.
In the first we have a well-behaved gentleman named D
sitting on one of those shaded benches,
along with a photo of the view from this bench in later Spring.

There’s nothing like the café after an hour or two of walking or hiking through the meadow. Below you’ll see outside seating followed by indoor seating in one of three café dining rooms with views of the gardens. You can also be seated in the upper-priced restaurant. We almost always choose the cheaper café with its healthy and unhealthy options. Something for everyone!

The Gardens have public restrooms in three strategic areas–the Visitor’s Center, the Café and Restaurant area, and the Conservatory. Even though you may not be in dire distress, I highly recommend a visit to the Conservatory restrooms. These are by far the most spectacular public restrooms I have ever visited. Imagine restrooms so beautiful you can’t resist taking a photo. And the garden benches? They’re behind the doors, at least one behind each door, plus lots of room, a beautiful sink and mirror. You’ll think you’re royalty!

Following are other indoor options for sitting and enjoying the fragrance, sound of water, an occasional musical concert from the side hall, or happy shrieks from children exploring the Children’s Garden. You might have to look closely to spot the seats.


One last promenade photo taken on my birthday, two years ago. We’d just spent the day exploring the meadow and Conservatory, and are on our way to the Visitor’s Center (far left corner) before heading home.

I hope your weekend brings unexpected beauty and delight!

Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 June 2017
Photos taken by DAFraser, and other family members

12 Comments
June 1, 2017

An unexpected gift | Recipes

At 11:00 am yesterday I left my house and walked two short minutes to my next-door neighbor’s house for a show and tell cooking lesson. A simple Indian dish he concocted of quinoa and garbanzos. He wanted to cook something that would fit my health needs, and thought this might fit the bill.

I sat on a kitchen stool watching as he started from scratch and put it together, checking each ingredient with me as he went along.

There weren’t any mysterious ingredients or fancy maneuvers at the stove. Just water for the rinsed quinoa (2 cups dry), cooked first (about 4 cups water, no salt) and left to sit when done, covered, while he prepared the flavorings in a large frying pan.

Here’s what went into the frying pan:

  • 2 to 3 tablespoons of olive oil, heated, to which he added
  • Sliced fresh garlic – 6 or 7 cloves
  • 1 teaspoon each, cumin seed and mustard seed
  • Turmeric powder to taste
  • Chili powder to taste
  • About 1 teaspoon ground coriander

When the seed were popping and the spices fragrant, he added prepared caramelized onions and let things simmer. Next he added the drained garbanzos (a large can) and let the mixture simmer in the olive oil. Finally, he added another smaller handful of chopped coriander and one chopped yellow onion. Then it all simmered until the onions had lost their bitterness but not their crunch.

Finally, he added the flavorings and beans in the frying pan to the pot of cooked quinoa and mixed everything together.

Then the moment of truth! He served up small portions for everyone present—his twins and their nanny, and me, of course. Delicious. Nourishing. Easy to make.

This unexpected gift came because the day before he’d seen me out walking, asked about my health, and wanted to do something that would be good for me and easy to make for myself. I brought most of it home and had some for lunch today. Yummy!

For me, this was a big event. Nonetheless, it doesn’t take much to make my day. Just bits and pieces here and there. A note or email from a friend, a smile from the clerk at the grocery store, seeing friends when I’m out walking, a lovely song on the radio, a late afternoon walk with D, evening birdsong or a call from a family member. Small things that let me know I’m not alone, and that I matter.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 1 June 2017
Photo found at betazeta.com, not the dish described above, but similar
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Portion

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May 31, 2017

Disappeared

Disappeared
without a trace
comes home to haunt us

Dis-membered
lives and bodies broken
past yet present

Suppressed
roots of our
current discontent

We don’t have to accept this state of denial. It leaves traces that scream to be heard. We are a multicultural nation.

We don’t all agree that this is a proud heritage. Nonetheless, not once in my upbringing or schooling did anyone introduce me to the full history of multicultural America, the so-called United States. We seemed content with stylized stories that perhaps told part, but not nearly enough of the truth.

The seminary in which I taught and served as dean had a proudly diverse student body, faculty and staff. Yet every time there was a national racial incident (Rodney King, for example), I was reminded of how much I didn’t know or understand.

During my last year at the seminary, I was part of a small faculty group that piloted a way to work together on issues of race and multicultural differences. We took up-front time coming to agreement about how to be safe within our diverse group. Then we got to work, doing with each other the personal and group work that might be done across our campus and institutional structures.

One of the most riveting books we read was A Different Mirror: A History of Multicultural America. It’s now out in an expanded, updated edition. The author Ronald Takaki, was born and raised in the USA. His ancestors came from Japan, and he looks Japanese. And yet…he was still considered an outsider.

Takaki’s well-documented book begins with American Indians, before the so-called discovery of this country. From there, he traces the chronological history of multicultural America to the present.

This is the American History I was never taught in school. Takaki packs it with data, stories, photos, archived news articles, and astute insights into why we are diverse, and how each group was received into these United States. He also has a vision for what we might learn from this history about our future as a thriving multicultural nation.

We’ve forgotten our roots. We’ve suppressed them and found ways to cope with or rewrite the truth about our past. We’ve done this in public and private, newscasts, corporations, universities, neighborhoods, families, churches and communities of faith, and in our educational system—to name a few. Textbook wars are still fought to keep certain voices from seeing the light of day.

Sadly, this approach suppresses the truth about brave women, men and children who found and still find ways to work together against our national habit of creating insiders and outsiders.

What kind of future do we want for our country? What would it take to get from here to there?

For starters, you might read this book. You might find yourself in it. Or, if you’d like a shorter, equally riveting edition, there’s an edition for young people. Same title, with well-documented stories and photos. Both books are difficult to put down.

Add it to your reading list!

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 31 May 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Trace

7 Comments
May 30, 2017

House of Cards? | A Dream

A week ago I had my first coherent dream after months of nothing but bizarre images that bordered on nightmares. Here’s the dream, lightly edited for clarity.

I’m in our house. D is there. It feels smaller than it should be. Especially the kitchen.

Without warning, a woman shows up. In her 40s? She’s living in our house but I don’t remember asking her to move in, or placing an ad. But there she is. No name—quiet and tidy.

I’m just starting to ask questions about how she got here when a young man shows up. He brought lots of clothes. In fact, he’s already taking over precious space with his belongings. I can’t imagine where he came from. He’s single, seems to be in his 20s, and feels entitled to service.

I’m annoyed to find out from him that he’s renting a room in our house and has a key and a contract. His collection of clothes takes up all the hall space. Now he’s in the kitchen, asking me what’s for breakfast.

Just then a 30-something man and woman arrive with their three young children and luggage. They demand to see their living quarters. The young children, perhaps 7 to 12 years old, are running wild through the house, and the couple is on our phone, arguing about something with their relatives. They’re also complaining loudly about the services here and lack of space.

I’m at my wit’s end. Things are out of control. I look up and see to my consternation that the young woman has put on a maid’s uniform and is calmly pushing a service cart around, cleaning up. I didn’t ask her to do this. She might be a good person to have around.

The demanding young man and the couple with children are out-of-order. I want them out of our house immediately. Yet they’ve signed contracts. I don’t know when, where, or at whose direction.

I retreat to our kitchen, now a narrow galley kitchen, to investigate a loud noise. To my dismay, things have fallen from the top of the refrigerator. Broken pottery and dirt cover the floor. I pick up the plant it contained, and discover the bulb has sprouted thick, healthy leaves, some now broken. A beautiful magenta purple blossom has already begun to bloom.

What’s going on? Is this a circus gone out of control? The descent of chaos, with no time to address anything? A rollercoaster ride with moments of possibility and beauty snatched away willy-nilly?

After much thought, I got back into my dream, took a deep breath, and focused on the blossom, the quiet woman, and D. This house is my body, my home for now. Forget the intrusions. They aren’t going to stop.

Three things stand out–each saying something about who I am right now:

  • The unexpected lovely blossom is my favorite color. Just look at my Portland rose Gravatar above!
  • The quiet woman calmly steps in to help without being asked. She seems to know just what to do. Part of me?
  • D is there behind the scenes, a sign of internal stability and strength. Also part of me?

For now, this is more than enough to calm my heart and free my spirit.

Thanks for reading and listening.
Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 May 2017
Photo taken by DAFraser at the Rose Garden in Portland, Oregon

20 Comments
May 29, 2017

The Life we have is very great

Here’s a second look at Emily Dickinson’s poem about Life, Infinity, and the Human Heart. A good poem for today when we’re missing family members or friends for any reason, plus Covid-19, political standoffs, hate crimes, or the harsh reality of wildfires, avalanches and hurricanes. My comments follow.

The Life we have is very great.
The Life that we shall see
Surpasses it, we know, because
It is Infinity.
But when all Space has been beheld
And all Dominion shown
The smallest Human Heart’s extent
Reduces it to none.

c. 1870

Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
 Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995

It doesn’t matter how many worlds we discover beyond this world. It doesn’t matter how far the distance is from here to there and beyond. It doesn’t even matter that the universe is still expanding.

None of this, as surpassingly great or expansive as it may be, holds a candle to the smallest of human hearts.

According to Emily, the Life we now have is ‘very great.’ The Life we’ll have beyond this Life is even greater. Yet it’s infinitesimal compared to what our hearts can see and grasp right now.

Emily describes the heart’s capacity to love Life. Especially when we can’t see those we love. She suggests that the expansiveness of one small human heart outshines infinity itself.

Yes, it’s fascinating to explore the universe, what may lie beyond it and how it’s ordered. Yet what we discover externally will never match the capacity of one small human heart to connect with another human heart.

It doesn’t matter whether that heart is what we call dead or alive, here or there, or somewhere in between. Nor do we need to understand exactly what Space encompasses, how it is governed, or where Infinity resides.

This isn’t about measuring or mapping Life beyond our present Life. Or discovering where those we love now reside.

It’s about connections. All it takes is one small human heart to leap beyond unmapped, immeasurable boundaries, expanding outward in a heartbeat to enfold the hearts of those we love. No matter where they or we may be.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, first posted 28 May 2017, lightly edited and reposted 10 December 2020
Image taken from Hubble Spacecraft, found at nasa.gov

9 Comments
May 27, 2017

early Spring splendor

early Spring splendor
fills chilled air with blossoms–
garden seat beckons

***

For one of my followers who wants to know where the garden seats are in Longwood Gardens. There are many–which I’m now collecting from my photo albums. This particular bench has always been one of my favorites–at the end of the flower walk, often in the shade, always off the beaten path.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 27 May 2017
Photo credit: DAFraser, March 2016 at Longwood Gardens
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Infuse

10 Comments
May 25, 2017

Letting go my desire for survival

I’m missing the routines
that keep me steady
and grounded.

Living moment to moment—
So happy to be with her again,
my daughter.

A little off-balance in my daily life—
Grateful for a quiet mid-day
so I can write, eat, be with myself and rest.

The rain has stopped and the sky is brighter.
Still feeling the edge of cold damp air
on my hands, legs and torso—
Wore my wool undershirt today
and flannel-lined jeans.

I want to mother her—
The thought of end-of-life stuff
gives extra meaning and urgency to our visits.

Have I been faithful to her?
Always such a distance to travel
for such a small bit of time.

Is it time to practice letting go—for good?
Whatever that means—
I’m not sure.

I’ve never done this before.
Neither has she—
So many unknowns.

It’s hard to see through tears.

Just being alone for a few hours in this house
feels sad—too empty,
too quiet.

What will it be when she isn’t here—
Or when I’m not here?….

***

I wrote this journal entry during a recent week-long visit with our daughter and her husband. Our first visit with them since I learned I have Chronic Kidney Disease. Surprisingly, the words sing to me–sweetly and sadly. No rushed or distressed cadence. Just the leading edge of a reality unknown to me as a mother.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 25 May 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Survive

15 Comments
May 24, 2017

impressions of yesterday

1963 Aug Elouise Double Exposure flipped

impressions of yesterday
captured by accident
a remarkable mistake
turned into a keepsake
hopes and dreams
yet to be realized
outer signs of internal graces
made strong through
the tempering heat
of life lived wide awake
in person and together
the beauty of two souls
bound together in one image

The photo was taken by a friend. We were at Tybee Island Beach near Savannah, Georgia. D had just taken the photo of me with the old roller rink in the background. He forgot to advance the film before our friend took a photo of us together. So we ended up with this dream-like double exposure.

The day was momentous. This was only minutes before D proposed to me as we walked down the beach. If it had been today, I might have proposed to him many months earlier. But that was then—August 1963, weeks before D left for the West Coast, and a year before I graduated from college. I was almost 20 years old.

Don’t miss the prices on the side of the pavilion. You can have a good laugh at how ‘cheap’ things were back then. The pavilion, with its roller rink, is long gone—doomed because of building code upgrades. A good thing, yet looking at this double exposure makes me long a bit for the good old days.

Impressions only? I don’t think so. Memories are dear, and now make up the majority of my lived world. They also capture reality—along with a healthy dose of nostalgia.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 24 May 2017
Double exposure taken by DAF and a friend, Aug 1963
Response to Daily Prompt: Impression

15 Comments
May 23, 2017

Tension mounts

Tension mounts
Beneath the surface
Begging for relief

Tendons tighten
Their nervous grip
On control mechanisms

The outer world shrinks
Lost in a cacophony
Of competing systems

Internal air congregates
Propels itself outward
In one long sigh of relief

Tension drains
Tendons relax
Outer world returns

***

Today’s Daily Prompt, catapult, calls to mind military weapons. Devices that deliver death and destruction. I prefer the catapult of my own deep breathing. It delivers life and relaxation, as many times a day as needed.

This more life-giving image seems appropriate at this time in history. It seems we have too many catapulting machines and tongues out there, and too few deep global, regional or community breaths to bring us back to our senses.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 23 May 2017
Image found at quora.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Catapult

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