A gutter babbles
Outside my window
Steady and earnest
Sound of water’s
Erratic counterpoint
Splashes on tires
Snowflakes
Fat and sluggish
Drift from heaven
There’s a chill
In the air today
Invasive and bracing
Soaking through
Layers of clothes
And long woolen mittens
Music dances
Inside my heart
Vintage roses bloom
Happy Monday to each of you!
Elouise♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 December 2019
Vintage Roses wallpaper found at apkpure.com
The last day of November 2019
Greets morning
With peach-colored clouds
Virtually bare deciduous trees
Stalwart conifers flexing their muscles
Almost freezing temperatures
And the weary sigh of voters
Treated nonstop to the latest scoop
Or not depending on their tastes
A waking thought jolts me
Back to this present moment
Ruled by a heart once broken
Now tenderly stitched together
A stunning patchwork of colors
Plus moody longings and
Memory-driven reveries that
Nourish my soul bringing honor
To a heart long overlooked
Now my valiant heroine who
Made it through undeclared wars
And interminable neglects
To say nothing of despisements
Not of my own making
December beckons with promise
Of peace on earth and good will toward all
I want to believe.
Do you?
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 November 2019
Artwork by Tarryl Gabel found at artworkarchive.com
Graceful living meets death
With or without prying eyes
Spotlights or drum rolls
Transformed into works of art
Unseen before their time
Each twist and shadow
A hint of life to come
Visible only to travelers
Who pause to witness
The miracle of life renewed
In countless deaths
Breath tripping over wonder
The camera captures moments
Never to be repeated
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 November 2019
Photos taken by DAFraser, November 2016, while we were hiking in the hills above Glen Eyrie Conference Center in Colorado
This isn’t my favorite topic these days. Particularly after my latest visit to my heart doctor, just two days before my 76th birthday.
I’m several years older than I was when I first found out about my heart condition. In addition, I now have chronic kidney disease—though not advanced CKD.
I also have other health issues that could go south. Though I might be able to manage some of them, I can’t predict how or when they’ll collide with one another to send me downhill fast. Some are already colliding.
This isn’t news. It’s happened for years to others. Nonetheless, though I don’t feel singled out, I do feel alone. Especially when it comes to important medical decisions.
Back to my heart (which also impacts my kidneys). As I see it, I have two choices:
This isn’t because I like to gamble, but because nothing anyone does is going to extend my life forever.
Growing older is no picnic in the park. In fact, I can’t remember when I last was able to picnic in the park! My waking hours are consumed by taking care of my body, soul and spirit. Doing what I can to enjoy the time I have left.
Breaking my jaw several years ago changed everything. So did finding out decades earlier that I had IBS. Whatever eating is about, I often find myself on the margins looking in.
Nonetheless, I’m grateful my current Vitamix diet is good for my heart, my kidneys, and IBS. It also helps me eat food I can’t easily chew. In addition, I’m grateful for an outstanding integrative doctor who sees the big picture, and helps me maintain key markers for health.
As I see it, the only guarantee is that one day I will die. Given my age, it will be sooner, not later. I don’t want to muddle my life with exploratory options.
That’s how I’m seeing it today. I’m also grateful to be here today, able to enjoy family, friends, neighbors and strangers. Life is still very good indeed.
Elouise♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 23 November 2019
Quotation found at twitter.com
Night falls gently
Without fanfare
Draping earth in shadows
The night train’s whistle
Sings a lullaby
Down by the riverside
My cat comes creeping
Onto my warm lap
For a last evening cuddle
That was last night. My favorite time of day, and, as it happens, my last day of being 75 years old! I almost always spend a little time writing in my journal before I go to bed.
Last night I wrote this, among other things:
Smudge just visited me — sitting on my lap quietly, as though he needed one last cuddle. I can’t imagine the last 6 1/2 years without him. Thank you for this small reminder of how important he is in my life. Along with David and the rest of our family. Tomorrow I’ll be 76 years old — hard to believe.
So now 76 is upon me, and I feel more than a little lost. Not within the core of who I am, but out there, when I look up and around. Where do I belong in this sea of humanity?
Many markers for what’s considered good and true have morphed into something else. Sometimes this is good riddance. Still, I’m not sure what’s going on right now, especially within our nation. I feel more at sea than ever, more guarded when I talk or write about current events, and less certain how to make a difference.
One of my Emily Dickinson posts, There is a pain — so utter, has had more than 1,000 views since I posted it in February 2018. It’s about living in Trance. A state in which we in the USA seem caught in endless loops. We refuse to look at reality, choosing instead to step over and around it. Pretending all is well when the ground is shaking beneath our feet. And has been for unnumbered years.
The Good News is that we can live in Truth. Maybe not the full load all at once, but at least in small, potent doses that begin to wake us from our national Trance. The kind that blinds us to what’s happening in the present moment. Whether personal or national.
So here’s my wish for today: I want my life, including my writing, to be part of the solution, not part of perpetuating the problem.
Blessings to each of you.
Elouise♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 November 2019
Photo found at pinterest.com
Waiting patiently
On my back
Clothed in the same
Blue gown they gave me
On my last visit
I pass the time of day
Searching for the
Least medicinal
Prop in this
Antiseptic space
Adorned with trifles
Like boxes of throw-away
Vinyl/non-vinyl gloves plus
Hazardous Trash receptacles
For dangerous substances
Suddenly I see it
Off to my right side
Hanging on the wall
A hazy pastel depiction
Of a perfect summer day
Somewhere in paradise
Blue air floats above
A small tree-covered
Island in the distance
A stream flows
Past a sweetly perfect
Cottage for one or two
Flowers in light pink and yellow
Blossom in a small garden
Lush green grass invites me to
Rest on my back
Taking in the imagined
Sounds and fragrance
Of a perfect summer day
I wrote this after returning from a long day at my heart doctor’s office. A good day, in the end. And long.
I’m always interested in art work hanging in doctor’s offices. Most often it’s a beautiful nature scene chosen to engender a peaceful, relaxed state of mind and body. No, the image above is not what I saw in my doctor’s office. Definitely a cut or two above it. Nonetheless….
I got home rather late, took a lovely walk in cold drizzly air, and then wrote the above. Not to be sentimental, but this time I took the medicinal art work as an invitation to practice deep breathing and relaxation. A handy skill, especially when I’m lying on my back, unable to jump up and leave, no matter who walks through the door!
Now it’s Tuesday, so I bid you Happy Tuesday, and hope it’s even better than your Monday turned out to be!
Elouise♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 19 November 2019
Pastel Painting of Cottage Garden by Kathleen Kalanowski found at pinterest.com
Mary Oliver makes it simple, true and easy. My comments follow.
Dear Lord, I have swept and I have washed but
still nothing is as shining as it should be
for you. Under the sink, for example, is an
uproar of mice—it is the season of their
many children. What shall I do? And under the eaves
and through the walls the squirrels
have gnawed their ragged entrances—but it is the season
when they need shelter, so what shall I do? And
the raccoon limps into the kitchen and opens the cupboard
while the dog snores, the cat hugs the pillow;
what shall I do? Beautiful is the new snow falling
in the yard and the fox who is staring boldly
up the path, to the door. And still I believe you will
come, Lord: you will, when I speak to the fox,
the sparrow, the lost dog, the shivering sea-goose, know
that really I am speaking to you whenever I say,
as I do all morning and afternoon: Come in, Come in.
© Mary Oliver 2006
Published by Beacon Press in Thirst, p. 13
Yesterday I was bemoaning wisps of cat hair floating in every corner; cardboard boxes piled high, waiting for old give-away books; kitchen gadgets and pots looking for a new home or sitting in the sink waiting to be cleaned.
Not that I expect the Lord to visit–though that isn’t an impossibility. This is about regular people who come to our door unannounced. Why shouldn’t things be neat and tidy? After all, I’m retired, and have all the time in the world to keep up appearances!
Mary Oliver’s poem makes me laugh at myself. I’m not a collector of vagabond mice, squirrels or lost dogs. However, for years I’ve collected books, kitchen gadgets and small bits and pieces of arty stuff. Which collects its own stuff called dust.
Unannounced visitors put me to the test. Am I ready to receive the Lord? Maybe this is stretching it, but if I’m not ready to receive the Lord just as I am, I’m probably not consciously ready to receive anyone just as I am.
Even so, truth be told, I’m always ready, whether I think I am or not. In fact, when the Lord or any one of you arrives and comes into my house, it will be ready. Living proof of my priorities, my weaknesses, my loves, my memories and my hopes. All of me. What more could you, or the Lord, ask for?
Cheers!
Elouise♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 November 2019
Photo by JSLeesPhotography found at Flickr.com
Red Fox, Alonquin, Canada
A whisper of thought
Floats into my heart
Like a rare butterfly
Once plentiful
Now expendable
Noisy hyped techno-life
Crowds public spaces
And church pews
Threatens to drown out
Your still small voice
Waiting for a hearing
In the halls of today’s
Fiery whirlwinds
And icy avalanches of
Self-righteousness
What will You say
When we approach the bench
Seeking justice and mercy
In this land starving for
Ears to hear whispers
And cries in the night
So fearful have we become
Of our neighbors sitting
Standing sleeping living
Dying in virtual prisons
In full view
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 12 November 2019
Photo found at abstract.desktopnexus.com
These few words from Emily Dickinson still bring tears to my eyes. Given current events, we could use some kingly and queenly risk-taking right now. No matter how small or fear-filled our steps may be. Happy Monday!
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 ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 12 September 2017, reposted 11 November 2019
Image found at pinterest
How much and how often should I tell my story?
Or is it time to be the strong woman I was and am
Say directly what I’m thinking
rather than dropping a thousand hints, suggestions
or thinly veiled leading questions
in the vain hope of miraculous intervention
that won’t require me to take risks
or pay prices I don’t want to pay
Since when was I afraid to take risks?
My female life has always been about risk-taking
With due deference to powers higher than I
Or so I thought back then
What is deference anyway?
Maybe it’s my masquerade for fear
My easy way out of what’s looking like
A fraught, uncomfortable collision
Of what?
And at what cost?
Does everyone have a yearning to go back
and begin again, without apology or kissing up
to the so-called powers that be?
When something is blatantly wrong,
why doesn’t someone else step forward who has
credibility and guts to take the first step?
Do I have guts?
If not, have I lost my credibility?
I’m a late learner, not without reason. Even so, what am I to do now? I could rehearse my life story. It was worth writing. Reading it today strengthens and softens me.
I’ve learned the hard way what it means to tell the truth. In person. Face to face. Today, as back then, I don’t deserve to be shamed, humiliated or silenced. By anyone.
So what’s happening now? Not just in Washington, DC, but in our backyards, churches and places of worship, private and public spaces. Do I have the guts to speak up now, and refuse to sit down? I’ll let you know when I find out.
As always, thanks for visiting and reading.
Elouise♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 9 November 2019
George Orwell quote found at maura4u.com
Telling the Truth 