Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: the human condition

To fill a Gap —

Here a short poem from Emily Dickinson. Appropriate, I think, for the second Sunday in Advent. My personal response follows.

To fill a Gap
Insert the Thing that caused it –
Block it up
With Other – and ‘twill yawn the more –
You cannot solder an Abyss
With Air.

c. 1862

Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995

Irreplaceable loss. The Gap can’t be disguised, no matter how hard you try. Denial magnifies gaping emptiness, draws attention to it. The missing Thing is one of a kind, Irreplaceable.

Emily’s poem reminds me of my vain attempts to ‘make it better.’ Or worse, Read the rest of this entry »

Nature’s Panoply

winter-night-sky-c194e70b2bb102854731a6a4f9ff98e8

Nature’s panoply
Unfathomed spectacle
Universe greater than I
Galaxies of marvel and portent
Flung into space beyond comprehension
By One who knows my name
Each hair on my head
Each scar in my body
Each longing of my heart
My beginning and my end 

~~~ 

Our lovely musician daughter left a lasting spectacle on the ceiling of her old bedroom—now my office. When I feel lost, lonely or distressed I darken the room, lie down on the sofa, and look at the sparkling ceiling. Tiny glowing stars and dots placed there decades ago, still give off their comforting light. 

I think of this every time I hear the word ‘panoply.’ The vision our daughter created situates me in my little universe here on earth, directly in sight of the One who made and knows me best of all.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 December 2016
Response to Daily Prompt: Panoply

Image found at  wallpaperup.com

Constructs

Beguiling worlds

Dangled mid-air

Dazzle eyes

Dying for glory

***

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 December 2016
Response to Daily Prompt: Construct

…Dying to be born

autumn-morning

Autumn brilliance fades
Behind misty fog
Precursor of dreams
Conceived out of time
Dying to be born

***

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 November 2016
Response to WP Daily Prompt: Faded
Photo by Ayten Kranat, found at photofredericton.com

They shut me up in Prose —

bird-flying-free

In this somewhat grimly humorous poem, Emily compares her childhood as a ‘little Girl’ with the way ‘They’ treat her as an adult. My comments follow.

They shut me up in Prose –
As when a little Girl
They put me in the Closet –
Because they liked me “still’ –

Still! Could themselves have peeped –
And seen my Brain – go round –
They might as wise have lodged a Bird
For Treason – in the Pound –

Himself has but to will
And easy as a Star
Abolish his Captivity –
And Laugh – No more have I –

c. 1862

Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995

What a great word — ‘still.’ Read the rest of this entry »

Sub-Liminality

never-never land

of premonitions

whispers of the soul

almost precursors

imperceptible

~~~

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 November 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Liminal

 

Waiting for God

My soul-mind-body health barometer is a nasty piece of business. Totally independent of my plans and wishes, it does its duty whether I like it or not. It won’t be bribed or bought off with promises to do better tomorrow.

And then there are those pesky paydays. Days when what I wish were true about me has to face harsh reality. Inconvenient reminders of how I’m progressing in soul, mind and body. Or not.

I seem to have arrived on this earth with a predisposition to try harder, more often, more consistently, in better form, with a better attitude. Never give up. Just keep practicing. Little by little today; giant leaps tomorrow. Yes, you can reach the sky. Just pick yourself up and try again!

This morning, however, my soul-mind-body wants something different. The kind of difference Simone Weil writes about in Waiting for God.

There are those people who try to elevate their souls
like someone who continually jumps from a standing position
in the hope that forcing oneself to jump all day—and higher every day—
they would no longer fall back down,
but rise to heaven.
Thus occupied, they no longer look to heaven.

We cannot even take one step toward heaven.
The vertical direction is forbidden to us.
But if we look to heaven long-term, God descends and lifts us up.

God lifts us up easily.
As Aeschylus says, ‘That which is divine is without effort.’
There is an ease in salvation more difficult for us than all efforts.

In one of Grimm’s accounts,
there is a competition of strength between a giant and a little tailor.
The giant throws a stone so high
that it takes a very long time before falling back down.
The little tailor throws a bird that never comes back down.
That which does not have wings always comes back down in the end. 
― Simone Weil, Waiting for God

And so I’m challenged today to wait for God. To give up jumping through hoops and trying harder, hoping for something better. I anticipate God’s descent to lift me up, and kindle quiet thanksgiving in my heart.

We cannot take a step toward the heavens. God crosses the universe and comes to us.
― Simone Weil, Waiting for God

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 23 November 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Anticipation

Teach us to number our days

teach-us-to-number-our-days

One year ago I celebrated a birthday. Today I’m celebrating birthday #73, yet it feels as though decades have passed since 20 November 2015.

I’m writing this on Saturday evening. A cold front is moving in, and a strong, cold gusty wind is already whirling around in the dark. Read the rest of this entry »

Ostentatious Leaders

Ostentatious Leaders
preen before Desperate Adoring Citizens
clothing each other in superlatives
one flimsy piece at a time.

Has it become impolitic to tell the truth?
Or is it fear?

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 19 November 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Ostentatious

Lassitude percolates

Lassitude

percolates

pore by pore

disarms

body spirit

induces

slumber

of denial

***

I know this feeling. The desire to escape into dreamland–literally and figuratively. I thought I’d tamed this beast. I have my short list of things to do today. They’re small, I admit it. Yet they’re forward-looking and constructive. Not in the world’s eyes, but for me personally.

Still, I find myself fighting it again. Putting things off until later. Pretending my days aren’t numbered, or that my contributions don’t matter. Allowing this way of thinking to seep into every pore of my body and spirit. . . . . . . . . .a life-numbing, bitter, death-dealing brew.

This is my wake-up call.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 17 November 2016
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Percolate