Vulnerability | Telling the Truth

December 3, 2019

Three-ring circus

The three-ring circus
Drones on without apology
Mesmerizing the faithful
And the not-so-faithful
With thrilling chilling
Unheard-of stunts
And dare-devil moves
Designed to grab attention
And votes of confidence

The world beyond
The Great White Tent
Descends into despair
Tripping over truth
And inconvenient facts
Of now and then
Looking the other way
Refusing to breathe deeply
Hoping for something better
Though it hasn’t been
In style for ages

Meanwhile
The Hope of All the Earth
Looks on wondering
For this I came, lived
And died?

We live in an age that loves to watch deceit and cunning. Not just in The Great White Tent, but in our neighborhoods, churches, schools and businesses. This seems to hold true whether we like or dislike deceit and cunning.

It takes inner strength to live in truth these days. Especially in relationships with people we see or meet every day. Nonetheless, even on our best days we aren’t The Hope of All the Earth. Instead, we’re a company of earthlings loved by The Hope of All the Earth. Right now.

Wishing each of you Advent blessings,
Elouise♥

5 Comments

November 23, 2019

When is enough enough?

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:

Do what my doctor has been talking about for more than the last three years. Start taking a blood thinner, or try a work-around that would have a similar benefit. Would this guarantee a stroke-free life? No. Would it lower my risk of stroke? Perhaps. It would not guarantee that I would not have a brain bleed.
Alternatively, as the woman who will live with this choice, I can say No. Enough is enough. I’m willing to live with the consequences even though they may not be pretty.

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♥

10 Comments

November 21, 2019

Late autumn breezes

Sun drops quickly
Through shades of early evening
Children’s voices fade
Behind chill autumn breezes
Hearts beat steady
Determined to reach finish lines
Before ice cold winter
Chases us inside out
And back again
Clutching jackets and memories
For another day

November 19, 2019

Waiting patiently . . .

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

5 Comments

November 12, 2019

A whisper of thought

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

15 Comments

November 11, 2019

We never know how high we are – revisited

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 ♥

5 Comments

November 9, 2019

Things I wonder about

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♥

2 Comments

November 7, 2019

patches of sun

patches of sun
shifty clouds
stiff cold breezes and
autumn leaves dropping
mess with my brain

breaking waves
crash onshore
chilled warmth floats
here and there
on the beach
in the mountains
on a long walk
through my life
tears and memories
of what was
and will always be

how quickly
seasons come
and go

Yes, another morning walk. This time full of nostalgia—the good kind. Sometimes it feels like my past is flooding the present. Reminding me that I’ve lived and loved with all my heart. And still do.

Cheers to each of you today,
Elouise♥

2 Comments

November 4, 2019

When I Am Among the Trees | Mary Oliver

Here’s a Happy Monday poem for everybody. My comments follow.

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”

© 2006 by Mary Oliver
Published by Beacon Press in Thirst, p. 4

Today it’s sunny, bright, very cool, and breezy. I’m just back from a morning walk beneath and near trees, many towering toward the sky.

If I were an older tree right now, I’d be cowering close to the ground. Hoping no one would notice how many leaves I’ve lost, or how bent and even broken my branches are. And did you see those ugly thick roots protruding farther from the ground when the green grass turns brown?

On the other hand, maybe passersby will see how beautiful my remaining leaves are. Or listen to the music of the wind dancing around my chilly bones. Or notice that more light flows through and from my gnarly branches when those pesky, preening leaves are long gone.

I love this poem. Though it seems to have spring, summer and autumn in mind, it works for winter as well. Especially when the wind whips through iced branches, bouncing off fragile twigs and sturdy green needles. To say nothing of new snow covering everything in a down comforter.

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”

Happy Monday!
Elouise♥

9 Comments

October 30, 2019

hushed joy

blessings of this day
sing in silence of the night
closing in with grace
enticing me deeper still
into Your world of hushed joy

These lines came to me last night when I was writing in my journal. Tuesday was busy. For several days I spent time on the phone trying to track down a pharmacy that had the Shingrix vaccination (shingles) shot available. On my last call, I hit the jackpot! They had one dose left for this week. First come, first served.

D and I shot out of here and got there in time for me to claim the last dose! So I was pretty psyched, after days of getting nowhere.

Maybe it sounds crazy (to some of you) to get all happy about getting a vaccination shot. Well…when you’re my age, and you know you’re a candidate for shingles, it’s a blessing to receive a poke in the arm!

Cheers!
Elouise♥

1 Comment

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