the human condition | Telling the Truth

February 23, 2021

Our original sin yet again

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.

I first wrote this in November 2017. Here we are, well over three years later. Damage to our nation has sky-rocketed, and disparities have intensified. This time aided and abetted by many white churches looking for an earthly savior who will do their bidding.

No matter who is in the White House, we can’t expect miracles. This long-term unfinished business still haunts us singly and together. Especially in our churches and in our neighborhoods. Are we up to the task?
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 29 November 2017; updated and reposted 23 February 2021
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.

February 21, 2021

Life shrinks daily | Lent 2021

Is it not enough
That I have survived?
That You have never
Turned away from me?

Life shrinks daily
A wrenching letting go
Of many things

Masks and pandemic protocols
Shroud me in a deathlike dream
From which I cannot wake
Before the next stanza
Takes me down

The sun is out today, though the air is still below freezing. White mounds of snow look like small mountain tops invading the back yard. The birds are basking in chilly sun, taking their turns at the birdfeeder.

I sit in my kitchen, an onlooker to life, wondering how and when things went sour.

Then again, this is the first Sunday in Lent. My heart tells me it’s time review what I’m giving up yet again for Lent. No, it hasn’t gotten any easier to say this prayer. Especially the last line.

I let go my desire for security and survival.
I let go my desire for esteem and affection.
I let go my desire for power and control.
I let go my desire to change the situation.

Quoted by Cynthia Bourgeault in Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening, p. 147 (Cowley Publications 2004)

I wonder what Jesus of Nazareth felt and thought as he approached his coming death?

Praying for an accepting heart and a grateful spirit.
Elouise♥

8 Comments

February 19, 2021

Coming up for air

Coming up for air
Weary mind and body
Conspire

Catching me off guard
They try changing the subject
Of my latest thought

Which to be sure
I cannot remember in full
Now lost in my dreams

Clouds outside hang heavy
With bits of sleet and weary snow
Frozen and mushy

Like my brain melting
And freezing again drifting
on Shumann’s Träumerei

I’m a bit weary and giddy today. Last night we sent off the (hopefully) last version of my small book of poetry: Without a Flight Plan.

Do I need to publish a book? No. Do I want to? Yes, even though I’ve already said I’m not going to write another book.

So…What happened? 2020 happened. Covid-19. Trump. Black Lives Matter. Social Distancing. And a whole lot more. In addition, my dearly beloved husband suggested last November that I put together a book of my poetry for family members. He also offered to get it ready for printing.

My first response? No way! However, on second thought, last year was one of the most bizarre years of my life. So I decided to let some of last year’s poems speak for themselves (without commentary), along with some favorite Longwood Gardens photos taken by D.

So yes, I’m weary of proofreading. However, I’m excited about having a book this close to becoming real. Especially at this time in my life.

Thanks for stopping by today.
Elouise♥

15 Comments

February 16, 2021

thick roots revisited

P1040831

thick roots tangled knots
barely hanging onto bank
drink deep waters

The last several days have been unpredictable and sometimes discouraging. I keep reminding myself that I’m not in charge of things. The news these days isn’t great. Even so, every day offers an opportunity to look up, look back, look ahead, and take another step. I wrote the following comments in April 2017.

~~~

This haiku was my third post to this blog, published on 3 January 2014. It still haunts me, though not in the same way.

I first saw these roots when D and I were walking with our daughter and her husband through Hoyt Arboretum in Portland, Oregon. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The tangled roots were beautiful and foreboding.

It was a bit like blogging, which I’ve experienced as a formidable venture into unknown territory. Like being born and surviving. Sometimes against all odds.

Writing lets my exposed roots show, often whether I realize they’re showing or not. Writing also stakes my claim to a tiny, precarious plot of land that sits open, vulnerable and visible to passersby.

I’ve traveled a long way since my early posts, yet my roots are still my roots. Bare, and barely hanging onto precious ground that’s stronger, deeper, and more nourishing than I could have imagined.

Deep waters aren’t visible, and they don’t untangle all the knots in my life. Sometimes I wonder whether they’re drying up.

Yet even in dire circumstances, I discover more than enough to get me through each day. Sometimes with tears of sorrow and disbelief. More often with joy and sheer gratitude for the privilege of being human. Able to thrive in the forest next to redwood giants, with miniscule ferns growing around and from my feet.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 April 2017, and 16 February 2021
Photo credit: DAFraser, October 2012, Hoyt Arboretum, Portland, Oregon

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February 12, 2021

Sometimes I want to give up

I want to turn into a bird and
join the community at the birdfeeder
A sometimes raucous group and yet
they manage to fly in and out
without mayhem or madness
taking them down bird by bird

This little poem was in the middle of a long list of things bothering me yesterday. They included personal health issues, life with our dear cat Smudge who vomits every now and then, the mess that passes as my desk, and our national mayhem and madness.

Early yesterday morning I was watching birds at the feeders outside our kitchen window. Even though it was freezing cold with ice and snow on the ground, I suddenly got all teary. I wanted to be a bird! Free to come and go without fear.

Thankfully, a telephone conversation with a longtime friend helped get me back on track.

There’s a reason I felt like packing it in. The real problem isn’t what’s out there, or even my health challenges. It’s my voice. My writing voice. Put simply: Writing on WordPress is about as safe as it can get. Visitors don’t have to agree with me, and I have the privilege of speaking my mind.

For several years I’ve wondered about publishing some of my writing, and have said No. I’ve already published as an academic; I don’t need to publish anything else.

And yet…I wrote my two published books while I was a professor and my father was still alive. I hedged my language, thinking he might read them. They included memories about my childhood, but not about the way things really were for me at home.

Blogging gave me an opportunity to describe my childhood and youth, come to terms with them, and move on as a writer. So here I am today wondering why, with a manuscript nearly ready to publish, I’m nervous and even fearful.

Yet the truth is simple: Though I don’t write to please or appease my father, I still have a whisper of fear in me. This may sound crazy. Still, I need to do this for myself, my mother and sisters, our children and grandchildren, and women and men who have encouraged me as the writer I now am.

More later about the book. Right now I’m back to proofreading.

Happy Friday, and a prayer that we’ll find our way through these troubled days.
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 12 February 2021
Photo found at news.wisc.edu

13 Comments

February 9, 2021

Now read this, if you dare

Yesterday my longtime blogging friend in Australia posted a thought-provoking piece about Australia and the USA. John is now a retired history teacher, and a superb writer. His mind wanders back and forth, here and there, before coming to the end of it all. This short piece is about where our two countries find ourselves today. Read it, if you dare.

I’ll start you off with the opening paragraph, followed by a link to his piece.

Lebanon, Kansas, USA

There is a small stone pyramid about two miles northwest of Lebanon, Kansas. Lebanon has a population of something a little over two hundred people. It is on the crossroad of highway 36 and highway 281. Highway 36 runs in an almost straight line about 1400 miles or 2200 kilometres from Ohio to Colorado. In the middle, near where the town of Lebanon lies the country is flat wheat fields and looks a lot like much of Australia – small towns with few people and huge grain silos. And the highway isn’t a big highway. As in much of wheat farming Australia, the road is two lanes and narrow.

None of this is relevant but it does add to the poetry that is to come. . . .

Thanks for visiting. Yesterday’s post raised a number of questions. We like to talk about our ‘exceptionalism’ here in the USA. I’m grateful for another viewpoint from the other side of the globe.

Elouise♥

2 Comments

February 8, 2021

Disputed and Forbidden Words

“Boundaries”—
Demolished by DT & Friends

“Truth”—
It’s all relevant, right?

“Justice”–
Just for me and mine and those who support me

“Facts”—
What I wanted to see or think I saw, or what I wrote/read on Twitter

“Incitement to Riot”—
Who, me?

We’ve arrived at DT’s second Impeachment Trial
However, it isn’t only about DT
But about every Senator casting a vote
And, most importantly, about us

How did we arrive at this moment?
It isn’t as though we couldn’t see it coming
What sickness unto death infects our nation?

Denial comes to mind

We’ve become experts at our own forms of group denial.
We go along to get along. We feel helpless.
We look the other way. We roll our eyes.
We entertain gossip instead of hanging up the phone,
turning off the TV, or leaving the room.
Or we try to explain away what just happened
as though it weren’t important.

I’m as impacted by all this as the next person. Writing about it isn’t the same as taking a stand. Though I’ll admit it helps me focus.

Bottom line: We need more than Covid-19 vaccinations. I pray there’s still time to begin telling our national truth and seeking national justice for those we’ve harmed, ignored, or belittled. Plus those to whom we’ve cozied up because they had power we thought we needed or deserved.

Elouise♥

13 Comments

February 5, 2021

A great reckoning

Covid-19 Memorial

A great reckoning is upon us
With or without our approval

Hundreds of thousands
Lie cold in the earth
From which they came
Tiny bits of joy and wonder

Beautiful even when
Deemed worthless
By those who prize
Color or male genitalia
over heart and soul
Wealth over a fair income
Red lining over fair access
Gerrymandering over truth
Control over empowerment

Now cold in the ground
Or present with the Creator
The dead cry out for justice
Which will surely come
At great loss to the living
Rich or poor or in-between
Democrat or Republican
Independent or Green Party
Or no party at all

As we keep saying,
We’re all in this together–
the high cost of living in the USA
whether we like it or not

I’m always taken aback by the fate of some prophets in Hebrew and Christian scriptures. Though some survive the ordeal of telling the truth to kings and religious leaders, others share the fate of their nation. Like Jesus of Nazareth, they, too end up being killed.

I’m not a champion of martyrdom. Nor do I believe everything will necessarily turn out ‘right.’ At the same time, I believe our smallest actions, seen or unseen, tell the truth about us. Individually and together.

Right now we seem to be sending mixed messages to ourselves and to the world. Messages not just from some of our politicians, but from our churches and religious institutions. Especially, but not only, those filled with or supported by white patrons.

We the people aren’t up for sale to the highest bidder. Not now, not ever. And yes, there’s a cost involved.

Praying each of us will find a way to make a truth-filled difference in this pain-ridden country dying of grief.
Elouise♥

6 Comments

February 2, 2021

Trapped in an iceberg

Male Cardinal hunkering down after last night’s snow storm

Trapped in an iceberg
Called social distancing
Just when we need
Each other more than ever

Rankles my soul while
Day and night I ponder
My options for becoming
A real human woman

I exist on the internet
I exist in my email
I exist at great distances
On a phone or through a window

Grateful, Angry, Grieving,
Lethargic, Energetic,
Engaged, Disengaged,
Where and Who am I?

The mantra goes through
My weary brain daily
‘We’re all in this together’
Though I know we are not

Like an unexpected tsunami
The pandemic exposes us
In vivid colors and attitudes
Mirrors of our own making

It’s been nearly a year since we embarked on an experiment for which we still have no map. I’m grateful to be alive. I’m grateful I can read, write, enjoy Smudge, watch birds in our back yard, and walk with D in the neighborhood.

Nonetheless, none of that takes the place of regular interaction with regular human beings who don’t live in my house. It doesn’t matter who they are, or whether I like them a lot or a little. There’s something life-giving in these encounters that’s irreplaceable. Even for introverts.

Imagine that we find a cure, or the perfect vaccination for Covid-19. We’ll still need each other. Not to go back to our old ways, but to get on with the tough work of becoming a nation in which black lives matter as much as white lives. And those without great financial riches matter as much as those with giant incomes.

If that’s too far a reach, how about learning again to be neighbors? Or how to welcome strangers into our lives?

Elouise♥

5 Comments

January 31, 2021

Psalm 1 | Zephania Kameeta

Bishop Zephania Kameeta wrote this version of Psalm 1 during Namibia’s struggle for human rights. Born in 1945, Bishop Kameeta’s life work has revolved around the fight to end apartheid in Namibia.

It seems we here in the USA are still trapped in our own USA-style apartheid system, with no end in sight.

Psalm 1 introduces the entire collection of 150 Hebrew Psalms. It describes two ways we can live. The way of wisdom, or the way of folly. Which will we individually, and as a nation, choose to take? Here’s how Reverend Kameeta saw these two ways or paths of life playing out in Namibia.

Psalm 1

Happy are those who reject the evil advice of tyrants,
who do not follow the example of sell-outs
and are not resigned to live as slaves.

Instead they find joy to be in God’s commission
for the liberation of the oppressed,
and they work day and night without rest.

They are like trees that grow beside a stream,
that bear fruit at the right time,
and whose leaves do not dry up.
They succeed in everything they do.

But the traitors of the liberation cause are not
like this;
they are like straw that the wind blows away.
Puppets in the hands of the oppressors
will be condemned by God.
They will have no share in the blessings of the Lord.

Those in God’s service for the liberation of the downtrodden
are guided and protected by God.
But those who are instruments in the hands of the oppressors
are on the way to their doom.

Psalm 1 interpreted by Zephania Kameeta
Published in Why O Lord? Psalms and sermons from Namibia, p. 24
No. 28 in The Risk Book Series, pub. by World Council Publications
In collaboration with the Lutheran World Federation of Churches
© 1986 World Council of Churches, Geneva, Switzerland

Psalm 1 offers us two choices. God’s way of wisdom and truth, or the oppressor’s way of folly. Each Psalm is about one or both of these ways. Over and over, they show us what it looks like to take one way or the other.

I’m caught by the third line: “Happy are those who…are not resigned to live as slaves.” Though I’ve never been called a slave, I know how easy it is to hunker down and make myself small or silent, when I should be speaking up or raising a ruckus. No matter what color my skin is.

Then again, if I’m living as a slave to the evil advice of tyrants, perhaps I need to listen more and make less ruckus.

Elouise♥

4 Comments

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