Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

A poem I can’t get out of my mind

It doesn’t take much effort to see what’s happening daily in many if not most of our neighborhoods, towns or cities.

Nonetheless, when it comes to actively joining efforts on the field, many of us would rather stay put in the grandstands. Glued to our seats. Gasping from time to time, but not joining the fray, or putting ourselves in harm’s way.

I’m no extroverted star. I’d rather stay on the sidelines. Study what’s happening on the field. Pray. Give money. Or read more about poverty in cities and surrounding towns, and what others are doing to come alongside with help. Certainly all those good things are important and necessary.

Here’s a poem that challenges me every time I read it. G. A. Studdert Kennedy served on the ground as a World War I army chaplain to British soldiers. Many of his poems reflect realities of life in the warzone. This one, however, reflects the reality of life in the city of Birmingham.

Indifference, by G. A. Studdert Kennedy (aka Woodbine Willie)

When Jesus came to Golgotha they hanged Him on a tree.
The drave great nails through hands and feet, and made a Calvary;
They crowned Him with a crown of thorns, red were His wounds and deep,
For those were crude and cruel days, and human flesh was cheap.

When Jesus came to Birmingham they simply passed Him by.
They never hurt a hair of Him, they only let Him die;
For men had grown more tender, and they would not give Him pain,
They only just passed down the street, and left Him in the rain.

Still Jesus cried, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
And still it rained the wintry rain that drenched Him through and through;
The crowds went home and left the streets without a soul to see,
And Jesus crouched against a wall and cried for Calvary.

“drave” – drove

Indifference found on page 21 in The Unutterable Beauty – The Collected Poetry of G. A. Studdert Kennedy
First published by Hodder and Stoughton Limited, London (March 1927), reprinted June 1928
Second publication by Pendlebury Press Limited, Manchester, U.K., August 2017

There’s no end of women, children, young people and men who would welcome even a small sign of genuine interest from another human being. Maybe they’re next door, just down the street, sitting beside us in church or on a bus, or even sitting lonely in that big mansion up on the hill. In the end, Woodbine Willie was known for his commitment to being there. Not with answers, but with a listening ear and a praying heart.

Thanks for stopping by today.
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 24 February 2022
Photo found at backwatersman.wordpress

 

 

 

The greatest gift

When I began blogging, I didn’t give much thought to writing poems. I loved to write. I loved using imagery. I loved playing things out in words. And I loved reading poetry.

But writing it myself? Not since my freshman year of college, when my writing professor told me I would never write poetry. I believed her. Until I began blogging.

This morning I read the poem below. I’ve read it many times, always accompanied by tears of gratitude along with recognition that my life is in its final chapter. I hope you enjoy it and are prompted to remember things that bring joy and music into your heart and mind.

music to my ears

I love the calm cadence of your voice
and the way you make rare 
the everyday

waves rolling in on the beach
wind whispering in the willows
my husband reading to me aloud
Mendelssohn’s E Major Song Without Words
J. S. Bach’s C Major Prelude #1
doves cooing in the morning
robins singing in dusky evening
the overwhelming calm of Psalm 23

I chose the Bach rendition above because of the player’s calm approach to Bach’s Prelude in C Major. Also because it’s being played by a so-called amateur who gets the nuances just right.

Wishing you a calming Tuesday no matter what’s going on around you,
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2/22/2022
Video found on YouTube

Living in dreamland

Larger than life
Incapable of death
Colors that never fade
Every leaf and blade
Rooted in the good earth
Beneath an autumn-blue sky
What more could we want?

My computer greets me daily
With dreams of yesterday
One following another
Minus the everyday pain of
Weather out of control
Pandemic out of control
War as a chess game out of control

Strength to live into tomorrow
Fades into preferred backdrops
Of a picture-perfect world
Known only in photos and dreams

No, I haven’t gone sour on beautiful landscapes. And yes, I still love Longwood Gardens!

Nonetheless, the contrast between daily world news photos, and what pops up on my computer wallpaper each day sometimes makes me cringe.

Where am I? Where do I want to be? Where am I afraid to go? Why am I mesmerized by these lovely photos of what we call ‘the good earth’? Especially now, in a world seemingly addicted to warfare and continuing violence to ourselves and others.

The pandemic isn’t just about Covid. It’s also about what’s happening to land, forests, water, soil, air, inner cities, and isolated rural communities struggling to keep going.

Today, my prayers are for every child, teenager and adult gifted with knowledge, humility, a vision for the whole (not just isolated pieces of reality), and stamina for what lies ahead.

Thanks for stopping by and doing what you can to get involved.
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 21 February 2022
Photo found at pinterest.com

The Uses of Sorrow | Mary Oliver

Have you ever dreamed a poem? Here’s one from Mary Oliver. Short and to the point. My comments follow.

The Uses of Sorrow
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)

Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness

It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.

© 2006 by Mary Oliver
Poem found in Thirst, p. 52
Published by Beacon Press

I first read Mary’s dream poem several years ago, then hurried on to the next page. I didn’t want to think about it. How could a box full of darkness be a gift?

In German, “das Gift” means poison. In some ways this blog was my way of beginning to take ‘das Gift’ seriously. When I began blogging, I agonized over what to say and how to say it. What was in my “box full of darkness,” and who gave it to me? Or, better put, who passed it on to me so that it became My Problem?

Sorrow isn’t a throw-away event, or series of events. As Mary Oliver says in the title, sorrow has its uses.

Nonetheless, real life doesn’t usually invite us to see a box full of sorrow as a true gift. Instead, we’re supposed to play the game ‘their way’ because that’s what the box of darkness is about. Put another way: It perpetuates the angst and anger of generations, without recognizing or fighting today’s poison. Easier all round for everyone, right?

Wrong. Understanding ‘das Gift’ as a true gift to be explored was and still is dangerous. Beginning to investigate the past brings an avalanche of consternation, anger, tears, honesty and humility. It dares me to turn my so-called gift into light. The kind that illuminates truth and empowers me to be the woman I am.

At this age, I’m still finding ‘stuff’ not yet examined from the box of poison passed on to me as a child and young adult. However, when I’m willing to step back and take a deep breath, I’m also able to take one more step in the right direction. For better and for worse, being in my elderly years means I have lots of material to work with, whether I like it or not.

Thanks again for stopping by. I’m doing quite well most days. Especially when I follow my heart instead of my head or my forever-lists of things to ‘do.’

Cheers!
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 18 February 2022
Image found at pinterest.com

Old habits die hard

I’ve been thinking about this poem for several days. I wrote it two years ago, not expecting we would find ourselves in today’s mess. My comments follow.

The Resistance

Bursting dams explode
fueling unhinged tongues

Roiling water floods old landscapes
scarred beyond recognition

The end of this world collides
with the untimely birth
of a new world ruled by
winners of a rigged lottery

How shall we then live
with death-dealing word-bombs
hanging over our heads
seeking to silence the resistance?

I posted this poem in February 2020. That was after Mr. Trump’s loss to President Biden, and after the attack on both houses of Congress by followers of Mr. Trump. I considered myself then, as now, part of the resistance — not part of those who hoped to change the outcome of the 2020 Election.

We’re still living in the aftermath of this attack. We’ve become a country at war with itself. The war is about more than Covid masks and vaccinations, or even who won the 2020 Presidential Election.

It’s about what it means to be a law-abiding citizen of the United States, who gets to decide whether to obey the laws and requirements of citizenship, and how to deal with centuries of unequal justice.

In the end, it’s about perks that come or don’t come with money–gobs, a lot, some, or virtually none. Or what kind of attention your voice gets or does not get. Or what color your skin is, your gender, where and how you live, and whether you’re considered dispensable or not.

I don’t have answers. When I wrote this poem, I wasn’t thinking about the mess we’re in today. However, now as then, it’s still time to take risks on behalf of truth and justice. Like some of you, I was brought up in a family, religious organizations, and workplaces that expected me to sit down and keep my poor white female mouth shut.

Thanks for reading and doing what you can on behalf of truth and justice for All.
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 15 February 2022
“The Resistance” was first published on 6 February 2020
Photo of bursting dam found at pinterest.com

all things considered

Olympic National Park, Ozette Triangle Trail

all things considered
I’d rather be a giant
with scars and deep roots

paths through dense forests
age quickly minus upkeep
or handrails for guests

lush green and daylight
create a silent backdrop
alive with birdsong

I’m captivated regularly by photos that document the beauty (and sometimes conundrums) of nature and our way of relating to it. I also wonder what these beautiful photos represent at this real-time moment in our Climate and Pandemic Change Journey as inhabitants of Planet Earth.

I’m heartened by simple photos like the one above. Small markers and reminders of what we might still become: students of trees, mountains, rivers, oceans, and wildlife. Each trying to tell us something about ourselves and our relationships with Mother Earth, with our histories, and with each other.

Today the sun is out, and we’re promised mild temperatures this afternoon. Maybe the last remnants of snow will finally melt!

Happy Thursday and thank you for stopping by.
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 10 February 2022
Photo of Olympic National Park found at pinterest.com

noisy silence

noisy silence
invades the old woman’s ears
cars cruise past her sleeping house
on their way to nowhere

darkness falls heavy
over her weary body
aching for mercy
and lovely songs that linger
through long nights
of farewell

Yesterday was a spectacular day. A grand mix of icy cold, beautiful sun, and a hint that we might be on a warming trend. My various body parts cooperated quite well so that I felt almost normal. Until late evening.

Something about evening can bring out pain and tears. True to form, last night my body reminded me that it’s still there and it isn’t getting any younger. Even so, it was a beautiful day–the kind that felt almost normal.

When it was time to sleep and my body objected, I went into my office, opened a notebook, and wrote whatever came to mind, including the first version of the poem above. Then I went to bed and promptly fell asleep.

Today isn’t nearly as spectacular as yesterday. Nonetheless, I’m grateful for another day on this earth with family members, friends, D, Smudge, and each of you, of course. Thanks for stopping by!

Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 7 February 2022
Photo found at wallpaperaccess.com

Good News and three choice photos

Good News! I am not a candidate for the health challenge no one wants to face: hypogammaglobulinemia.

So I’m back to floor exercises to help ease pain in my legs and feet, walking, playing the piano, writing, resting as needed, and eating mostly vegan food on behalf of my heart and kidneys. Peripheral neuropathy and osteoarthritis in my lower spine are more than enough for now. That, plus the reality that the end of my life keeps approaching, one day and night after another.

Just for fun, above and below are three recent photos of Christmas cheer and Smudge. D took the photo at the top; I took the rest with my iPad. Am I besotted with Smudge? Yes, indeed! Especially when he’s behaving well.

Checking out the Costco box

Drowsy on our heated waterbed

Cheers to each of you!
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 February 2022
Top photo taken by DAFraser; photos of Smudge taken by ERFraser

yesterday’s gifts

Each new morning
I wake and bid farewell
To yesterday’s gifts

What was tomorrow
Stretches like infinity
Beyond human scope

Imagination
Feasts on luscious dreams rising
Only to vanish

How quickly life ebbs
Leaving poignant reminders
Of yesterday’s gifts

These days I’m keenly aware of my age and how quickly my health is changing. This week I’ll get a report from my hematologist on my most recent blood tests. D is going with me. I don’t know whether the news will be positive or negative. I only know it’s related to my newly diagnosed nondiabetic peripheral neuropathy.

In the meantime, I’m consciously practicing what doesn’t come easily for me: living one day at a time. The relief has been great, especially when it comes to obsessing about outcomes.

Several days ago I came to the end of the day without having played one note on the piano. It was time to be on my way to bed. I was in the kitchen, exhausted, and about to turn off the lights and go upstairs when I realized I had a choice. I went into the living room, turned on the lights, got out a favorite hymnal, and played my heart out. Then I packed it in for the day, more than a bit teary.

No, it didn’t solve everything. The next day had its own challenges. But just making that unplanned decision flipped a switch in me that I’ve rarely used. The switch called Do What You Want to Do. Right Now. You may not have another opportunity.

Praying you’ll find courage and strength to take care of yourself today.
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 31 January 2022
Image found at medium.com

unwelcome truths

Protests are never enough
Banners prod but don’t produce solutions
Anger spills from hot microphones
Releasing age-old frustrations
Captured in picture-perfect news clips

What-next moments reveal unwelcome truths
Weary eyes beg for sleep
So little energy today
Dreams are easier to entertain
Than cruel realities on the ground

As a white woman, I often find myself at a loss. What to do? What not to do? Do ‘they’ (whoever ‘they’ happen to be on any given day) really want my input or partnership? Maybe I’m barking up the wrong tree. Perhaps I should take care of my own unexamined business as the white woman I am.

Right from the top, I’d say taking care of my own business isn’t just a ‘good’ thing to do. It’s a radically necessary part of becoming human regardless of my color, upbringing, beliefs, privileges, or trauma.

Nonetheless, the challenge brings up deeper issues of race, class, color, creed, privilege, political inclinations, and a lot more.

I can’t be everyone. I can only be myself. Which is a crazy thing to acknowledge, given my nearly life-long obsession with being the woman someone else thought I should be. Making you happy about me would somehow make me happy about myself. As though I’d finally ‘found’ myself.

However, I began finding myself only after I stopped trying to be the polite human female others thought I should be. Retirement and old age (78 and counting) have been tough taskmasters. My options for helping change the world are diminishing.

Given the options, I’ve chosen global climate change as a way of bringing together multiple issues. Or, to put it another way, without global climate change, other social and global issues won’t have a chance of being addressed. This includes Race, Gender, Refugees, War, Poverty, Crop Survival, Water Rights, Hoarding of Riches, Gun Violence, Voting Rights, Pandemics and more.

What does this mean for me? It means doing what I can to acknowledge the high price climate change has imposed on those with the least resources. More on that in another post. Right now it’s time to get this baby in the pipeline and eat lunch!

Cheers!
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 January 2022
Photo found at nationalgeographic.com