~~~A woman free of her heavy load, trusting.
I can’t stop thinking about my dream, Life Rearranged. Especially the part about that awkward load I was carrying around. It wasn’t even in a bag. I was carrying it in my hands and over my arm. The way I carry folded and unfolded laundry upstairs to put it away. Read the rest of this entry »
Over the years I’ve accumulated piles of building blocks. Like old Legos. Pieces of my life. Some dusty and forgotten. Some I wish I could forget. Others I want to treasure forever.
Maybe someday I’ll discover Read the rest of this entry »
I hate the word ‘banned’
My father was the King of Bans
My life as a child was ruled by Bans
My father’s list of Thou shalt Nots
conveniently fenced me in
and robbed evil of its hate-filled power
Wrong!
A thousand times wrong!
The wrong on the tip of my tongue
The wrong in the imaginations of my heart
The wrong in my never-delivered tirades
The wrong my father, and then I did to my body and soul
Haunts me seven decades later
I’m a Queen
though not by succession
I sometimes proclaim myself Queen
Crown myself and decide for myself
What I will and will not do or say
In the secret places of my mind and heart
from which I banned my father
I hereby proclaim myself Queen for a Day
And designate my personal bans for this day–
The 103rd anniversary of my deceased father’s birth
I hereby ban
self-neglect of my female body and soul
that minimizes its need to be respected and cared for
as a gift entrusted to me by God
I hereby ban
All assumptions about my father
Including whether he would or would not
accept my forgiveness
Finally, I hereby ban
Any shred of fear or self-righteousness
That keeps me from opening my heart
to God’s overwhelming love and acceptance of me.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 October 2016
Photo of my father, maternal grandfather, mother and me, 1943/44
WordPress Daily Prompt: Banned
Stars over Lake Irene, Rocky Mountain National Park, Erik Stensland Photo
For over a month I’ve been going back to this poem from Emily Dickinson, trying to figure it out. Sometimes I think I get it. Other times I feel like giving up. My comments follow.
The Outer – from the Inner
Derives its Magnitude –
‘Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according
As is the Central Mood –The fine – unvarying Axis
That regulates the Wheel –
Though Spokes – spin – more conspicuous
And fling a dust – the while.The Inner – paints the Outer –
The Brush without the Hand –
Its Picture publishes – precise –
As is the inner Brand –On fine – Arterial Canvas –
A Cheek – perchance a Brow –
The Star’s whole Secret – in the Lake –
Eyes were not meant to know.c. 1862
Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995
The first few times I read this poem I wanted it to say something like this: Read the rest of this entry »
For over two months I’ve listened to and sung along with the old hymn below. I’m a teary person. It doesn’t take much to open the floodgates. Even so, I’m taken aback by how deeply this particular old hymn moves me.
Here are the lyrics. My comments follow.
King of glory, King of peace,
I will love thee;
and, that love may never cease,
I will move thee.
Thou has granted my request,
thou has heard me;
thou didst note my working breast,
thou hast spared me. Read the rest of this entry »
Events I didn’t expect
No end in sight save each passing day
Restless nights invite anxious tears
Looking for something –
A sign that all will be or end well?
The reason I’m still here, not elsewhere?
My mind races Read the rest of this entry »
The Lost Drachma, by James Tissot (French, 1836-1902), Brooklyn Museum
Spiritual formation is an up and down journey for me. An unrecorded map of possibilities, choices, decisions, practices, good intentions, getting lost and forgetfulness.
I’m a fairly organized person, though not allergic to clutter. When it comes to spiritual practices, however, Read the rest of this entry »
What will I do with the rest of my life?
Weeks ago my pastor preached a sermon on this. The topic was both amusing and serious. Amusing because there isn’t that much left of ‘the rest of my life.’ Read the rest of this entry »
~~~~~Floating blossoms in an urn at Chanticleer Gardens, Sept 2016
After reading my dream, a friend asked this question: “What has already been keeping you afloat?”
I’m not drowning in the dream, though I fear some monster lurking beneath the surface might make a meal of me. Instead, it seems I’ve been floating on the Yangtze River for a while, perhaps more than 70 years. Read the rest of this entry »
For several weeks I’ve been drawn to Emily Dickinson’s poem below. I wonder where it might find you today. My comments and personal reflection follow the poem. Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth 