Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Hope

January 1, 2018

sun rises

sun rises
climbs cloudless sky –
fiery hot

***

fierce brilliance of this morning’s sun
meets frigid breathless air of
harsh unyielding stony resistance –
stand-ins for rising discontent of the many
exploited in permutations unlimited
thinly veiled interests of the few
packaged in chocolate-covered poison

I believe
there is a Sun/Son of Righteousness
already rising with healing wings
invading this world with Truth, Justice and Courage
freeing as many Uppity Women, Men and Children as it takes
to bring healing in Real Time and Real Places
with Real Solutions that work from and in our hearts
not from greed or lust for power
or the misplaced desire to be what we humans will never be –
The Greatest and Most Beautiful of All

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 1 January 2018
Photo found at wayofsunshine.com

7 Comments
December 31, 2017

facing east

facing east
the red cardinal shines
in sun-kissed feathers

No, this isn’t the cardinal I saw this morning outside my kitchen window. But it’s close enough. One of the most beautiful sights ever on a cold winter day in the Northeast. Though not a discreet disguise for the faint of heart. Nonetheless, looking ahead to the New Year, I want to be counted in the red cardinal category. Bold, beautiful and facing into the rising sun.

Here’s wishing you a Happy New Year of unexpected joy and peace.

Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 31 December 2017
Photo taken by Mary Anne Borge, found at thenaturalweb.org

5 Comments
December 14, 2017

bleak winter knocks

bleak winter
knocks on the door –
my heart leaps

We’re in the middle of an unusually cold, windy December. Too cold to do my normal outside walking. Gusts of wind rattle our old house, toss garbage cans around in the driveway. Our cat Smudge goes on high alert.

It’s also Advent, time to prepare for the coming of the Messiah. I can’t help making the connection between our bleak winter and one of my favorite Christmas carols, “In the Bleak Midwinter,” words by Christina Georgina Rossetti.

The last verse is my favorite. I memorized it when I was a child.

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am? —
If I were a Shepherd
I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man
I would do my part, —
Yet what I can I give Him, —
Give my heart.

As a child I didn’t understand what it meant to give my heart. Today I understand more, but not everything. It’s comforting to give my heart to the One who knows me best. Especially when bleak winter comes knocking at the door in the midst of uncertainty and change. Perhaps my small heart will warm and comfort this Child who is so like and unlike I am.

Advent blessings to each of you, from my heart to yours.♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 14 December 2017
Photo by David Byrne, found at http://www.85mm.co.uk
“Bleak Winter,” Scotland

9 Comments
November 29, 2017

Our original sin

I wonder…
Does each nation
Each country
Have an original sin
The seed of its
Particular ignominy
Running through veins
Shot full of raging
Hormones escalating
Into tragedies
Of historic proportions
Played out in
Unnumbered permutations
Of seduction and flattery
Designed to deceive
And subdue?

It isn’t just the daily revelation of predatory behavior by public figures and officials. It’s the reality that various permutations of predatory behavior undergird the earliest foundations of our nation.

I’d describe it this way: The subduing and disappearing of some in order to pursue the welfare of a select group that viewed and still view themselves as more entitled than others.

Layer upon layer. Decade after decade. And now we’ve come to this juncture in our history without a clear understanding of how we got here, and how many were and still are subdued and disappeared. Buried beneath mountains of inspiring proclamations, and promises not kept.

So what am I doing about it? Besides writing, I’m reading. Today I’m focused on books that invite me to open my mind and my heart. Not simply to what happened when our country was founded, but what’s still happening today. Unrecorded, unexamined, and unacknowledged.

My newest book is Sing, Unburied, Sing, written by Jesmyn Ward. I’m also reading Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. One painful chapter at a time.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 29 November 2017
Photo of Great Dismal Swamp found at smithsonianmag.com
The swamp, located in Virginia and North Carolina, once served as a refuge for Native Americans and fugitive slaves.

8 Comments
November 28, 2017

clouds of dust

clouds of dust
drift through cracks
in thirsty soil

distant thunder
rumbles
above savannas

a world wearied
by winds of war
hopes against hope

We humans aren’t the only species watching and waiting. We are, however, the only species charged with care of this planet. Much of the natural beauty and diversity we’ve taken for granted is endangered. From within and without.

Do we have the courage and stamina to change our ways? Do our politicians have the courage and stamina to do what’s right when it comes to funding environmental studies? The outlook so far is bleak. Not surprising, given our addiction to the present moment.

But could we not learn to look up, the way we look strangers in the eye, and greet these environments with more than apathy or callous disregard?

I don’t pretend to know all about it. Yet I witness what’s happening in our national politics. Or better, what’s not happening. That is, what is now being (or has already been) defunded, under-supported and written off in favor of grandiose indulgences of the present moment and ‘important’ people.

For every wealthy person who supports and funds climate change research and solutions for the future, I am deeply grateful. They do us the courtesy and favor of demonstrating solutions that can be put into practice.

In the meantime, too many of our politicians are intent on saving their own skin or turf without regard for the larger picture.

Here’s my personal take on our situation today:

Neglect and violence heaped on our planet’s ecosystems
reflects and is connected to
neglect and violence heaped on the most vulnerable among us–
citizens, immigrants, countries, religions, and those we most fear.

The shape of our national tax structure
reflects and is connected to the way we treat
our planet’s ecosystems and the most vulnerable among us.

I want to have more than memories to pass on to the next generation. Don’t you?

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 November 2017
Photo found at ThoughtCo.com – Savanna in the Masai Mara, Kenya, Africa

6 Comments
November 15, 2017

Working on My Nightmare

This morning I poured creative energy into rewriting a nightmare I had over a week ago. In the dream I was in charge, and found myself suddenly in a situation of growing danger. Yet I couldn’t speak directly and clearly to the danger. Not just danger to me, but to others.

This inability to speak clearly and directly in situations of danger is the most difficult damage I carried into my adult life. I don’t like the physical, spiritual and health fallout from being abused in body and spirit, but I can handle it.

Yet when it comes to my voice, whether written or spoken, I sometimes flinch when dealing with difficult issues. Or I speak out, followed too often by loss of confidence and the urge to sit down and shut up. Or stop being so emotional.

We live in a shrinking world tormented by personal, familial, national and global horror. It stares us in the face every day. Almost like a nightmarish taunt that won’t go away.

So I had this nightmare that began badly, became even worse, and finally woke me with my heart pounding, afraid for my life. It was all about threatening men, or so it seemed.

Since then, I’ve thought about a nightmare I had back in the 1990s, after I’d begun working with my psychotherapist. In it I’m running for my life from two or three men carrying loaded rifles, determined to silence me. I’m carrying a large umbrella. Hardly a match for loaded rifles.

I run into a room with an exit door at the top of concrete steps. The men are close behind me. There’s no way I can fight them off or stop them physically. I race up the stairs to exit the room and discover to my horror that the door is locked.

Of course I wake up with my heart pounding, afraid for my life.

Back then (as now), my psychotherapist encouraged me to rewrite the nightmare. Creatively, using only the material I have in the nightmare. Which includes my voice.

I’ll never forget how excited I was when I figured out what to do. I was at the top of the steps. Suddenly I turned around and pressed the button on my large umbrella. It flew open immediately, and I danced and, as I recall, sang my way back down the stairs and into the small room. The more I danced, the happier I was. I even invited my pursuers to dance with me!

The men were so flabbergasted they didn’t know what to do next, and I was suddenly in charge of my voice and the situation.

That’s the kind of ending I want for this nightmare. And I think I’ve got it! Which is for another post.

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 15 November 2017
Image found at bgartshop.com

3 Comments
November 8, 2017

shades of dusk

cleansing water sweeps
sands of time with burning gold
dust dropped from heaven

***

I was just looking through some photos, getting ready to shut down for the night, and this haiku happened. I love dusk, when everything holds its breath, and the sky comes close to earth with no sound but waves washing onto the beach. The photo reminds me of my childhood and teenage years in Savannah, Georgia, and the old wooden pier at the Tybee Island Beach–though this one is a bit more substantial.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 8 November 2017
Photo found at pixabay.com

13 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
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 ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 August 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Enamored

7 Comments
July 28, 2017

hanging on for dear life

P1040831

hanging on for dear life
gnarled roots exposed
soil sifts away with
each new flash flood
no rock bottom in sight
turbulence guaranteed
in more than the air
reeking with harbingers
of hard times ahead
soil ill-prepared
for these upheavals
brittle dry sinews of our
vulnerability on display
slow motion relentless
yesterday disappearing
before our eyes can adjust
in this foreboding present

Every day my eyes are pulled to headlines and news articles that sometimes offer more than they can deliver. Instead, they leave me without comfort or enlightenment. Sometimes they destroy any iota of clarity I thought I’d achieved. It isn’t laughable; it’s tragic. Not because of the news industry, but because of what passes these days as news.

So here’s the news I’m counting on these days–good for me, good for you and good for the animals and mother earth!

Your love, Lord, reaches to the heavens,
Your faithfulness to the skies.
Your righteousness is like the highest mountains,
Your justice like the great deep.
You, Lord, preserve both people and animals.
How priceless is your unfailing love, O God!
People take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
They feast on the abundance of your house;
You give them drink from your river of delights.
For with you is the fountain of life;
In your light we see light.

Psalm 36: 5-9 (New International Version)

Psalm 36 was written during politically troubled times filled with those who flattered themselves “too much to detect or hate their sin.” So-called leaders were failing to “act wisely or do good” and did not reject what was wrong.

The only antidote to evil and falsehood is truth. Speaking it, yes. Even more potent, living it. Daring to live each day in the light of our Maker—the only light in which we see light, whether we live and whether we die. The unseen source and goal of our dear lives.

Praying this day will bring moments of deep calm and clarity.

Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 July 2017
Photo credit: DAFraser, October 2012, Hoyt Arboretum, Portland, Oregon
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Shallow

7 Comments