Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life
December 7, 2016

The Real Thing

My magic wand wish for today:
That I could change protest into pro-test. 

Would that not solve most of the world’s ills?
Expose misbegotten promises that bode no good? 

For a small example, take this morning:
My cheery alarm clock starts beeping on time 

My body, mind and spirit aren’t ready to be on time
Yet my cheery alarm just gets louder and louder
I am forced to turn it off and turn over 

Don’t assume I want to get up.
Don’t assume what you promise is what I need.
Don’t assume what you promise is what I will get. 

I just want to know
Are you and your promises The Real Thing?

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 7 Dec 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Protest

8 Comments
December 5, 2016

They fly, forgotten

…as a dream dies at the close of day.

This line from Isaac Watts’ well-known hymn popped into my head when I saw the prompt for today.

When I looked up all stanzas of “Our God, Our Help in Ages Past,” I was surprised to see several that aren’t included in most hymnals today. Without them, Watts’ meaning is changed ever so slightly.

To illustrate, here’s a lightening-quick look at one of the omitted stanzas, sandwiched between the last two familiar stanzas of the hymn.  First, a familiar stanza.

Time, like an ever rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.

I hear this as primarily a reference to those who serve gallantly and die in loyal service to their countries, daughters as well as sons.

Yet the very next [now omitted] stanza catches my eye. Watts had something bigger on his mind. Imagine singing this in your church or other place of meeting.

Like flowery fields the nations stand
Pleased with the morning light;
The flowers beneath the mower’s hand
Lie withering ere ‘tis night.

I hear an invitation to check false national pride at the door. False pride that believes my/our nation is intrinsically superior to other nations and thus more enduring. Some call this exceptionalism.

Isaac Watts reminds us that all nations, like human beings, are flowers of the field that wither and die. Sooner, rather than later. Hence, the comforting and sobering truth of the last familiar stanza:

Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be Thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home.

~~~

As for us, our life is like grass,
We grow and flourish like a wild flower;
then the wind blows on it, and it is gone –
No one sees it again.
Psalm 103:16 (The Good News Translation)

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 5 December 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Vanish

6 Comments
December 4, 2016

To fill a Gap —

Here a short poem from Emily Dickinson. Appropriate, I think, for the second Sunday in Advent. My personal response follows.

To fill a Gap
Insert the Thing that caused it –
Block it up
With Other – and ‘twill yawn the more –
You cannot solder an Abyss
With Air.

c. 1862

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

Irreplaceable loss. The Gap can’t be disguised, no matter how hard you try. Denial magnifies gaping emptiness, draws attention to it. The missing Thing is one of a kind, Irreplaceable.

Emily’s poem reminds me of my vain attempts to ‘make it better.’ Or worse, Read the rest of this entry »

6 Comments
December 3, 2016

Nature’s Panoply

winter-night-sky-c194e70b2bb102854731a6a4f9ff98e8

Nature’s panoply
Unfathomed spectacle
Universe greater than I
Galaxies of marvel and portent
Flung into space beyond comprehension
By One who knows my name
Each hair on my head
Each scar in my body
Each longing of my heart
My beginning and my end 

~~~ 

Our lovely musician daughter left a lasting spectacle on the ceiling of her old bedroom—now my office. When I feel lost, lonely or distressed I darken the room, lie down on the sofa, and look at the sparkling ceiling. Tiny glowing stars and dots placed there decades ago, still give off their comforting light. 

I think of this every time I hear the word ‘panoply.’ The vision our daughter created situates me in my little universe here on earth, directly in sight of the One who made and knows me best of all.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 December 2016
Response to Daily Prompt: Panoply
Image found at  wallpaperup.com

10 Comments
December 2, 2016

Constructs

Beguiling worlds

Dangled mid-air

Dazzle eyes

Dying for glory

***

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 December 2016
Response to Daily Prompt: Construct

2 Comments
November 30, 2016

…Dying to be born

autumn-morning

Autumn brilliance fades
Behind misty fog
Precursor of dreams
Conceived out of time
Dying to be born

***

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 November 2016
Response to WP Daily Prompt: Faded
Photo by Ayten Kranat, found at photofredericton.com

7 Comments
November 27, 2016

They shut me up in Prose —

bird-flying-free

In this somewhat grimly humorous poem, Emily compares her childhood as a ‘little Girl’ with the way ‘They’ treat her as an adult. My comments follow.

They shut me up in Prose –
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet –
Because they liked me “still’ –

Still! Could themselves have peeped –
And seen my Brain – go round –
They might as wise have lodged a Bird
For Treason – in the Pound –

Himself has but to will
And easy as a Star
Abolish his Captivity –
And Laugh – No more have I –

c. 1862

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

What a great word — ‘still.’ Read the rest of this entry »

7 Comments
November 26, 2016

Sub-Liminality

never-never land

of premonitions

whispers of the soul

almost precursors

imperceptible

~~~

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 November 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Liminal

 

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November 23, 2016

Waiting for God

My soul-mind-body health barometer is a nasty piece of business. Totally independent of my plans and wishes, it does its duty whether I like it or not. It won’t be bribed or bought off with promises to do better tomorrow.

And then there are those pesky paydays. Days when what I wish were true about me has to face harsh reality. Inconvenient reminders of how I’m progressing in soul, mind and body. Or not.

I seem to have arrived on this earth with a predisposition to try harder, more often, more consistently, in better form, with a better attitude. Never give up. Just keep practicing. Little by little today; giant leaps tomorrow. Yes, you can reach the sky. Just pick yourself up and try again!

This morning, however, my soul-mind-body wants something different. The kind of difference Simone Weil writes about in Waiting for God.

There are those people who try to elevate their souls
like someone who continually jumps from a standing position
in the hope that forcing oneself to jump all day—and higher every day—
they would no longer fall back down,
but rise to heaven.
Thus occupied, they no longer look to heaven.

We cannot even take one step toward heaven.
The vertical direction is forbidden to us.
But if we look to heaven long-term, God descends and lifts us up.

God lifts us up easily.
As Aeschylus says, ‘That which is divine is without effort.’
There is an ease in salvation more difficult for us than all efforts.

In one of Grimm’s accounts,
there is a competition of strength between a giant and a little tailor.
The giant throws a stone so high
that it takes a very long time before falling back down.
The little tailor throws a bird that never comes back down.
That which does not have wings always comes back down in the end. 
― Simone Weil, Waiting for God

And so I’m challenged today to wait for God. To give up jumping through hoops and trying harder, hoping for something better. I anticipate God’s descent to lift me up, and kindle quiet thanksgiving in my heart.

We cannot take a step toward the heavens. God crosses the universe and comes to us.
― Simone Weil, Waiting for God

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 23 November 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Anticipation

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November 21, 2016

It’s been an age

Here’s a poem that still makes me smile! I wrote it as a birthday poem two years ago. Today I’m reblogging it as an impromptu birthday gift to myself, and for your enjoyment.

Elouise's avatarTelling the Truth

Tree

It’s been an age since I first met you—
You there, looking back at me
Three score years plus eleven to be exact
You haven’t changed a bit, they say
You and I know better

View original post 116 more words

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