Health and Wellbeing | Telling the Truth

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♥

8 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.

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 19, 2017

Is this a poem?

I’m not sure.
But this is what happened
just as I was wondering
whether I have a life….

Taking the long walk this evening
we turned left at the intersection
and headed downhill around a curve.

The narrow road stretches between houses
silent with stately lawns that lounge
before, around and behind them—
beautifully landscaped and green.

Well-kept trees rustle in cool downdrafts
from the sky overcast and heavy with
misty air and the still-warm remains of this day.

We come up over a slight rise
and see her—a doe standing downhill
frozen at full attention on the road–
tentative and alert as if to inquire
after our intentions or take our measure.

Behind us, a car approaches in the distance.

In a flash the doe bounds into the bushes
turns and looks back across the road–
waiting.

A second doe leaps across the road,
then turns to look back expectantly.

After a long pause a fawn stumbles noisily
across the road followed by a second fawn
and then silence as the little family dashes
into the trees and shrubs with their
white tails flashing….

I’m pretty sure I have a life.
It’s just that many days it isn’t as planned.
Predictability has flown into the woods
and left me playing life by ear.

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 19 September 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Tentative

11 Comments

September 15, 2017

before the sun goes down

unexpected tears sting my eyes
as I walk through the churchyard
my spirit inhales the bittersweet taste of home
beneath this sanctuary of towering trees
standing watch over silent gravestones

parents hurry past me
toward the grade school open house
across the street
oblivious to the invitation to stop
and rest a while before the sun goes down

yesterday evening, on my way home

7 Comments

September 12, 2017

We never know how high we are

Dear Emily,
I have one small suggestion to make about your poem below. Please add ‘or queen’ to your last line. Just in case that’s not possible, I’m going to do it for you every time I read it. You’ll find my comments below your lovely poem.
Respectfully,
Elouise

We never know how high we are
Till we are called to rise;
And then, if we are true to plan,
Our statures touch the skies –

The heroism we recite
Would be a daily thing
Did not ourselves the cubits warp
For fear to be a king –

Poem #1176, written about 1870
Found on Poets.org

Dear Friend of this World,
I’m sending you this little poem today from Emily Dickinson. Maybe you never heard of her. I think she was a bit shy and bashful. You know, like many of us who don’t want to become a public ‘thing,’ even though we do enjoy being noticed and appreciated.

I think that deep down, Emily wanted us to know about her little poem. Or at least to notice it. So please read it over, and over again. Once is good, five times is better.

Do you know how important your words and deeds are? Perhaps you’re tempted to water them down by over-thinking. Or you get stuck in fear. Especially fear of failure, or fear of going against expectations–your own or those of others. I do.

Sometimes I wonder whether Emily understood her own queenly power.

If you have any doubt about yourself, look and listen to what you already do every day. Just getting up in the morning is a big deal. Or smiling and offering to help a friend or stranger. Or doing what you know will honor your body and spirit or someone else’s.

The way I see it, God gave us our selves, each other, and this world with its unnumbered inhabitants as our earthly home. We’re the only caretakers God has on this earth. We’re a big deal, individually and together.

In fact, God loves nothing more than watching us step up to our full kingly and queenly stature. Especially despite our worst fears, and without expectation of payment, reward or even a ‘thank you.’ Sometimes it takes an emergency to jumpstart our royal blood. But we don’t want to wait for that, do we?

Thank you most kindly for visiting and reading.
Elouise ♥

12 Comments

September 1, 2017

What’s on my heart today

Self-contempt feeds on every critique
positive or negative,
savors and loathes it simultaneously,
then dishes it up in return
or swallows it
disguised as something I deserve or need.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I see us as a society increasingly filled with self-loathing. One give-away is contempt for others. So easy to deliver, even though every dose administered to someone else could be a sign of self-contempt.

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? I don’t know. I do know we seem increasingly addicted to harsh criticism. Sometimes it’s blatant. Often, however, it’s disguised as humor.

Perhaps humor is our favored remedy for damage done to us every time we’ve been treated with contempt. Especially by people with greater authority, power, stature or privileges than our own.

Sometimes it seems my entire life is about recovery from self-contempt. One thing I know: I won’t solve the ache in me by holding others in contempt. The only thing that helps is to look in the mirror when I feel contemptuous, or give contempt free rein with my sharp tongue.

Where did that come from?
Why does it seem to give me satisfaction?
Whose voice is that, anyway?
Where have I heard those words before?
What does my wounded spirit need from me right now?

The temptation to be contemptuous of others is powerful. Make a snider remark than he or she did! Get known as someone great who commands the stage of contemptuous put-downs! Alternatively, learn to deliver contempt thinly disguised as ‘constructive criticism’ or ‘feedback.’

Well, that’s not the best thing about today. But it’s what’s on my heart right now. The best thing would be the sun shining outside, the too-early fall respite from hot weather, and you showing up today! Thanks for reading.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 1 September 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Critical

6 Comments

August 30, 2017

Besotted with Strangers?

Wandering from our roots
We forget the manner of our lives
Those who took us in
When we were strangers
To ourselves and others

We drown in a wilderness
Of our calculated making
Locking doors and barring windows
Buying and carrying weapons
Determined to remain standing

Waves of anger and cries for mercy
Go unheeded in this dry land
Now inundated with people
Desperate for affirmation
A threat to our ways of life

I wonder. Is it time to become besotted with Strangers?

Perhaps we could begin with the Strangers we’ve become to ourselves and others. We might even use Strangerhood as the defining description of our ‘neighborhoods’ including towns, governing bodies, reservations, prisons, churches, schools, businesses, families and cities.

A childhood Christmas carol came to mind this morning. It celebrates a dear little stranger born in a manger. The Christ child. Helpless, unknown, without rank or title, an at-risk baby, poor in wealth and status.

At every turn he welcomed and received strangers into his life. Including religious leaders who often sought to entrap him, officials and citizens who criminalized him, and his motley crew of fearful disciples who abandoned him at the end.

We aren’t the Christ child. We can, however, ask for grace and courage to reflect the truth of his life. Not for our own health and wealth, but because it offers a way to become neighbors to ourselves and others. Especially those we now see as strangers in ‘our’ land, or strangers to ‘our’ way of life or beliefs or political alignments.

Every human disaster is a reminder that we need each other. Especially those others who threaten or disrupt our tidy ways of seeing ourselves and them.

Your thoughts and comments are most welcome. Thanks for listening!
Elouise ♥

7 Comments

August 23, 2017

a pretty sure life

The rights and responsibilities
Of a pretty sure life
Hang weightless around her neck

She glides fairly easily
From one scene into the next
Wearing privilege on her skin

Without effort she blends in
Sometimes anxious but rarely for her life
Mature, sweet and polite she passes easily

A charming married woman with children
She meets the gold standard
Against which womanhood is weighed

No need to check her credentials
Her language or demeanor
No need to run a background check

She’s one of us
Sometimes unruly and annoying
Yet harmless
Because her heart beats white

I’ve been the beneficiary of many opportunities. Not strictly because of who I am, but because I’m a white woman. And because I’m not a rabble-rouser or revolutionary. I’m just a steady, dependable, meticulous, relationally gifted white woman who gets along with just about everyone. What more is there?

I don’t regret the opportunity to be part of an academic faculty and administration. I do, however, regret how oblivious I was to my white privilege even though I was part of an unusually diverse community of students, staff and faculty. Only with the Rodney King event and its aftermath at our seminary did I begin to scratch the surface of my white privilege.

I’m reminded daily of how easily our country ignores, suppresses and tries to bury our history. Mr. Trump has made visible what’s been there all along. No secrets here. Just inconvenient truth, and an opportunity to seize the moment.

My heart beats white. I’m still unpacking what this means for me.

Thanks for listening!
Elouise ♥

20 Comments

August 22, 2017

A Special Day

~~~Mom hugging a happy tree in Hoyt Arboretum, Portland, Oregon 2012

Today is our son’s birthday. I won’t say which birthday, except that it’s one year from being one of those Very Big 0-Years!

The photo above is in honor of our son Scott. I owe much of my current adventuresome spirit to him. No, he isn’t a tree hugger, but he’s definitely an outdoorsy guy. Always on the lookout with his nature-loving, camera-toting family for new or rare birds, small and large animals, adventure and excitement, the thrill of the hunt and pushing the limits. Anywhere, anytime.

A good balance, I think, for his almost-but-not-quite nerdy love of computers and all things connected with computer languages, information technology, and whatever it takes to make huge data systems work for the good of humanity. Especially in the areas of medical data and devices.

I honor him for his lifelong pursuit of happiness, sanity and serenity. He’s gifted with a mind that works quickly, efficiently, and intently on problem-solving. A great gift. But the greater gift is his ability to get along with just about anyone he meets. Friend, stranger, it doesn’t matter. He’s a consummate people-person, a faithful mentor and a devoted if sometimes over-the-top Dad and husband.

Yesterday, as I was about to take off for my restless walk, he called. Just to ask how I was doing. Needless to say, a heart to heart conversation followed. Of all the things I might wish for in a son, his interest in me and in D and how each of us is doing means far more than his exciting adventures or accomplishments.

And lest I forget, he loves music. My kind as well as his kind. Which moves him immediately to the top of my Favorite Son List!

Here he is, about one week old, just waking up, yawning and getting ready to exercise his considerably strong lungs.

Happy birthday, Scott, from Mom! ♥

27 Comments

Telling the Truth

Tag: Health and Wellbeing

September 30, 2017

A gaping void

September 23, 2017

Caught in a near nightmare

September 22, 2017

Happy Weekend Photos from Longwood

September 19, 2017

Is this a poem?

September 15, 2017

before the sun goes down

September 12, 2017

We never know how high we are

September 1, 2017

What’s on my heart today

August 30, 2017

Besotted with Strangers?

August 23, 2017

a pretty sure life

August 22, 2017

A Special Day

Tag: Health and Wellbeing

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