Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life
September 30, 2017

A gaping void

In the beginning
there was before–
now there is after–
nothing between

A jagged rift
runs through me
marking me for life
despite all things beautiful
that whisper of something better

No path however enticing
takes me back to before
Nor can my fingers find
notes adequate
to mourn the loss
or soothe my aching soul

Yesterday’s maps
fade in dying light

I wake,
longing to shed this dusty self
and be born—
yet again

About 4:15 this morning I couldn’t get back to sleep. I wasn’t restless; I was sad about the distance that lies between my life before and after trauma.

I began this blog nearly 4 years ago. It was my first attempt to write openly about my childhood trauma. As a preacher’s daughter, oldest of four daughters, I always put on my happy face.

After beginning the blog, I discovered Emily Dickinson’s poetry. I love reading it, puzzling over it, making connections between her cryptic words and images, and life as I know it.

Yesterday I read an article sent by a friend who follows this blog. The author, a medical doctor who understands trauma, confirms and gives evidence for the strong possibility that Emily was a survivor of childhood trauma. I found her convincing. If you’d like to read the article, here’s a link.

I don’t know all the secrets hidden within Emily’s cryptic poetry. Yet I understand the need to cloak my language so that truth is told slant. Told in ways that don’t implicate others or me, yet invite us to think about ourselves and the worlds in which we live.

The author of the article suggests that writing poetry was Emily’s way of talking about the unspeakable—whatever it was. A way to stay connected to herself when there was no one around to help her, and possibly, no other way out.

The trauma done to me began before I have memories of it. I don’t remember life without it. Writing poetry has become a lifeline to creative sanity instead of depression. It helps me know and accept myself, just the way I am. Hence the poem above, jotted down in its first version at 4:30am this morning.

Thanks, as always, for reading and listening.
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 September 2017
Photo found at pixabay.com

8 Comments
September 29, 2017

My ‘quick and inventive verbal humor’

Sorry WordPress, but my ‘quick and inventive verbal humor’ (thank you, Google) went missing this week. Which is one way of saying it hasn’t been a stellar week. Not in the news, not in my heart, not in my body.

About the middle of this week I began a downslide, following several days of feeling on a fairly steady upswing.

One of the most discouraging things these days is overhearing or reading comments about “the American people.” Granted, as a nation we’re not looking so great these days. And what happens here makes things less safe around the world. Yet some fallout from Mr. Trump’s presidency is beginning to wear thin.

I fully understand questions about Mr. Trump and about our national election process. I do not, however, understand the need to view us in one lump sum as “the American people” who have, according to some, brought this on ourselves.

True, we aren’t considered the most upstanding people in the world, in large part due to overweening national pride and ignorance about the rest of the world–even though many of our citizens are from ‘the rest of the world.’

Yet when it comes to politics and national pride, the sad, painful truth is this: We are not “the American people.” Rather, we are a multicultural mix of citizens who identify proudly as ‘American,’ plus uncounted others who are citizens yet not certain where we stand in the eyes of our neighbors.

Nor are we the saviors of this country, now being led by a white man who claims to be a Christian yet seems not to know or care how to tell the truth, listen to the truth or live in the bright light of truth about himself , about those whom he supposedly serves, or about the world in which we find ourselves today.

We the people are, however, part of the solution in its daily human manifestations—in our homes, our schools, our churches, our neighborhoods, our schools and businesses, and our prisons. That’s what most of us are called to address. This, I would suggest, is our true history—untold for the most part in all its horror and its glory.

Even so, until we deal with the truth about our racial and cultural history, we will not make major headway as a nation. For this we need a leader who will make the history of multicultural America a top priority. I fear Mr. Trump is not up to the task.

Other noteworthy events in my week:
• I signed up for an Open Mic Night at my church on October 15. I’m going to read 2 or 3 of my poems. The first time ever! It’s a benefit for our Deacon’s Fund.
• On the down side, I found out I have a small but nasty pre-cancerous skin lesion that’s going to need a torture and torment method to ensure its demise. But not until after Open Mic Night!

Thanks for listening, especially today. If you’re interested in the highs and lows of our multicultural history, I highly recommend the title pictured above.
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 29 September 2017
Image found at amazon.com
Daily Prompt: Witty

10 Comments
September 28, 2017

Leave your shoes at the door

Please, leave your shoes right here at the door—

  • Worn shreds of poverty and thrift
  • No-nonsense purveyors of roomy comfort
  • Ubiquitous symbols of status or station
  • Spiky towers of fashionable daring
  • Flashy billboards of wealthy pride
  • Rugged boots of ill-fated warfare
  • Proud symbols of ill-gotten gains
  • Hole-riddled soles of life gone sour
  • Toe-pinching restrictions of freedom and joy

Leave them all at the door just for today
and come, rest your aching and world-weary feet
on this dusty shared ground we call Mother Earth

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 September 2017
Photo of artwork found at etsy.com

2 Comments
September 27, 2017

A Child’s Prayer Revisited

Near to me,
not far away,
lies a world
where we can be
all that we
were meant to be.
Won’t you come
and go with me?

I wrote this prayer over two years ago. It gave voice to the little girl in me who wanted nothing more than to find a new beginning. To be all that I was meant to be.

I’m still that little girl. Changed on the inside and the outside, yet still Elouise.

And then there’s the world in which we live and die. Also changed, it seems, into an arena of avalanching disasters. Some beyond our control; others the consequences of our internal choices, overt actions, apathy or fear.

And so I hear this prayer differently today. It’s more pointed and demanding, though not in contradiction to my prayer back then. In fact, I’d say its truth is clear to me now in a way it wasn’t in February 2015.

It’s never a coincidence when the desires of our hearts are also the desires of our Creator’s heart. And so this little prayer isn’t really mine. I hear it today as our Creator’s prayer to us, offered and summed up in the earthly life and work of Jesus.

I imagine Jesus inviting all children everywhere to come close to him. It doesn’t matter how young or old we are. What matters is our willingness to stay close to Jesus.

Not our sweetness and light images of Jesus, but Jesus who makes his way through the pages of the Gospels. On his way to a world not far away. Engaged in one interruptive teaching and activity after another. Some verbal, some enacted and some lethal.

Yes, it’s costly. Jesus never promises it will be all sweetness and light. He does, however, promise to stand by us through thick and thin. Are we up to it?

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 27 September 2017
Daily Prompt: Coincidence

6 Comments
September 26, 2017

kneeling for justice

hot sun focuses
with laser-beam precision
on one fallen leaf
illuminating darkness
barely hidden beneath rot

I’m a white woman with a history of being beaten and humiliated. A history I can pretend to ignore if I so choose. In fact, many people I’ve met in my adult life would prefer it that way. It’s easier for everyone if I’m an exception to the rule.

The rule, of course, would be that good girls are rewarded. I don’t buy it. In my experience, good girls rarely find their voices or their strength. They’re too busy trying to please or appease whoever is just above them on the food chain. Or the love chain. Or the work chain. Or the social chain. Need I go on?

Fallen leaves. We love to sing their praises, especially in autumn.

Yesterday evening I went out for my evening walk. The air was exceedingly hot, dry and heavy. Not a cool downdraft anywhere. Walking my favorite paths was like pushing through desert heat. Beautiful in its way, yet almost unbearable.

The search for justice is like slogging through a wasteland of dry leaves falling prematurely from still-green trees. They’re just dead leaves. No problem. A dime a dozen. There must be something wrong with them.

The analogy isn’t perfect. Yet my hat goes off to brothers and sisters who dare kneel for justice denied.

Kneeling wasn’t a safe action in my girlhood, unless it was to pray alone before God who never abandoned me. As an adult white woman I choose to kneel today with those who focus light yet again on what has long been barely hidden beneath rot. Wherever it resides.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 September 2017
Daily Prompt: Focused

19 Comments
September 25, 2017

Showing up on Monday morning

Hello God,

It’s me again
Showing up as usual
Listening and hoping for brilliance
To come sailing into the atmosphere
Of this newborn Monday morning

Another week–
What’s it about?
Do I really want to know?
The news headlines aren’t promising
They say where there’s no vision
The people perish

Is it too late to move
To another planet?
Just wondering
No, I don’t expect an answer
Even though I know
You’re listening

The men from the Salvation Army
Just stopped by to pick up
Boxes of things we don’t need anymore
They call it sizing down
I call it saying goodbye
And Godspeed to memories
And dreams of a time
When I thought I knew where I was
And what to do today

When you get this
Would you please give me a call?
Or at least send a postcard?

Sincerely and truly Yours,
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 25 September 2017
Photo and historical information found at mynelsonnow.com
Phone booth in Salmo, British Columbia
Daily Prompt: Planet

10 Comments
September 23, 2017

Caught in a near nightmare

This morning I woke up feeling strangely empty. And weeping. Partly because of a near-nightmare and partly because we’re living, it seems, in a near-nightmare.

In the dream, I’m alone in a small room, just getting ready to exit. I’ve decided this small room isn’t going to work for me. Suddenly a man I don’t know and have never seen before walks into the room. He isn’t impressive in stature or looks, yet I know in my gut that he’s potentially bad news. He immediately flops down on the single bed near the door.

As I walk toward the door to exit, he reaches out and grabs my hand. His face clouds over with contempt and a sneer. I know I’m done for if I don’t take charge. I feel small and defenseless. Caught in a nightmare not of my making. I feel his grip tightening on my hand.

I wake up not knowing what to say or do next.

The man’s eyes, the sneer on his face, and the totally invasive nature of his presence and behavior communicated his firm belief that I was totally irrelevant. In his eyes my life mattered not a whit.

It’s sometimes difficult these days, especially since I’m on the older end of the age spectrum, to maintain a sense of relevance. But this was bigger than that. It was about the invader’s power and willingness to exercise it no matter who I might have been. Though I’ll admit it didn’t help to be female.

This tired old world is in a season of growing visible and present chaos. The kind this world has seen before, though not with so many growing warehouses of nuclear arms and an over-supply of trigger-happy leaders ready to prove their supposed virility. Ordinary people seem to have become irrelevant. Except as props on a political stage.

I don’t fixate on this every day. Nonetheless, it’s always in the air begging for my addictive attention. If I remain fixated, I’m a goner, dead or alive.

Instead of playing along with the ‘dream’ man’s agenda for me, I relax, ignore his eyes and disgusting speech, and pray out loud and in a strong voice these challenging words from Mary Oliver’s poem, “Six Recognitions of the Lord.”

Oh feed me this day, Holy Spirit, with
The fragrance of the fields and the
Freshness of the oceans which you have
Made, and help me to hear and to hold
In all dearness those exacting and wonderful
Words of our Lord Christ Jesus, saying:
Follow me.

Mary Oliver, Thirst, stanza 5 from “Six Recognitions of the Lord”
Beacon Press 2006

Which is my prayer for all of you as well. No matter what comes next.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 23 September 2017
Image found at givaudan.com
Daily Prompt: Irrelevant

17 Comments
September 22, 2017

Happy Weekend Photos from Longwood

Have you ever seen leaves like those above? They’re in the sun garden just at the beginning of the flower walk. This time it’s all about late summer madness–a riot of color and texture and lush vegetation. No hiding. Just masses of color having their last fling before autumn begins in earnest.

Here’s the setting for the leaves shown above. I don’t know the name of the plant. All I know is that it thrives in the hot sun, and I could hardly tear my eyes away from the graceful folds and colors of the leaves.

Leaving this area we began the flower walk. Always the same basic color layout–cool colors on the first half, warmer colors on the second half, set off by a fountain in the middle, with a small detour to the right, overlooking a sunken garden. Today the golden warm colors reigned.

Here’s the central fountain, and a quick peek into the sunken garden. Don’t miss the chrysanthemums around the pond, getting ready for their turn to bloom.

Back on the flower walk now, here are several more gorgeous blossoms. We saw tons of dahlias, and various kinds of sunflowers. Below is a rare dahlia followed by an unusual sunflower and another dahlia. No, I did not take notes on names of flowers. I was too busy looking!

Time for a quick look at the late summer/early autumn meadow. It’s also decked out in yellow, orange and rusty colors. First a look as we came up over the crest and looked downhill from the forest toward the meadow. Then a look from above at one of several walking/hiking paths through the meadow. The sight was stunning–gold everywhere!

Next we have close-up shots that give more detail. The weather was warm, though there was a nice breeze and it wasn’t too humid. Just right.

 

Just to prove I was there….We took the central path up to the forest line, before walking around the perimeter toward the formal exit.


Here we are at the formal exit, looking back across the meadow to the old farm-house, now an historical museum.

Just putting this together was an exercise in craziness! D takes way too many gorgeous photos, don’t you think? Actually, putting this together was a relaxing, enjoyable way to end this week. Hoping you find beauty in small things this weekend.

Thanks for coming along!

Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 22 September 2017
Photos taken by DAFraser, 11 September 2017 at Longwood Gardens
Daily Prompt: Leaf

11 Comments
September 21, 2017

Dear Mr. Trump,

I woke up today wanting you to know that I’m praying for you, and how I’m praying for you. Hence this open letter.

As I see it, we have two kinds of leaders in the USA: those elected to office, and those who elect them. Clearly, given your electoral college votes, you won the vote, and were duly sworn in last January as President of the United States.

We, as unelected citizens, are also leaders. Did we not go to the polls and exercise our guaranteed right to lead by casting our votes? No matter who wins the election, we citizens lose if we vote carelessly or not at all, assuming we’re given a fair opportunity. We also lose if we fall back into apathy or cynicism and wait things out. Or try to take things into our own hands.

As a follower of Jesus, I am exhorted to pray you as the President of the USA. I can’t say ‘my’ President, because you serve all of us.

As our President, you have visible power and office. That means you have access to your executive pen, the bully and praise pulpit, the power to hire and fire designated people, and a stage that magnifies your voice far beyond what it would be if you were not President of the USA.

As President, you might be tempted to think you’re in control, or that you can change or ignore situations to your liking. Or at least do what you can to make things more comfortable for you and yours. You might also want people to like you. Especially the people to whom you made promises. You might even hope for some to hate and fear you.

And so I pray for you the way I pray for myself as a citizen leader. I pray you and I will let go of our desires for power and control, esteem and affection, safety and survival, and especially the desire to change situations not in our control. The most important thing you can do is lead well, as the follower of Jesus you say you are. Which would be the most important thing I can do, as well.

Right now, even though it’s stormy, you’re a mighty visible oak. Still, tree rot often begins on the inside. Then one day, often without warning, the mighty visible oak crashes to the ground, often taking with it trees close to the mighty oak.

Gone. Not with a whimper, but with a resounding earthquake that travels to the other side of the world and back, creating tsunamis and chaos in its wake.

I like to think of us citizens and residents of the USA as tiny acorns that survive. Not all of us will make it. But the future does lie with us, doesn’t it? Which is why I can’t pray for you alone.

Please know that we’re trying to make as much sense of life as we can, hoping and praying you will grow into your office one day at a time, one step at a time. No matter the cost to your personal comfort or reputation. Which is what it means to follow Jesus.

Respectfully,

Elouise Renich Fraser

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 21 September 2017
Photo taken by DAFraser, 11 September 2017, Longwood Gardens Meadow
Response to Daily Prompt: Mighty

16 Comments
September 20, 2017

Invitation to a feast

So much anguish
In the world tonight—
Fear and uncertainty
on one side
Belligerent bravado
on the other

Death a daily reality
not to be held back
including death of hope
and relationships

Injustice flourishes–
A parasite eating its sick ways
into our shared psyches
and places of meeting

Yet there You are in our midst—
Showing us how to dance on injustice
instead of trying to ferret it out
from its beguiling masks
of self-righteousness

How difficult it must be
to prepare a table before all of us
around which we might together
take a faltering step or two
following You—
The lord of the only dance in town
that matters

Proverbs 17:1 (The Good News Bible):
Better to eat a dry crust of bread with peace of mind
than have a banquet in a house full of trouble.

***

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 September 2017
Image found at mein-brot-bracken.de
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Crumb

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