DeeEl's Mo Chroí Scríofa

Remembering The Good In Me

Two weeks ago tomorrow would have been my grandparents 73^rd wedding anniversary.  Today would have been my grandmother’s  92^ndbirthday.  I lost Grandmaw when I was 15 and Papaw when I was 37.  I miss both of them immensely throughout the year, but more-so right now.  These are the two I credit for raising me.  Everything good within me is there because of them, their love for each other and their love for me.  Today I am posting, first, the poem I wrote three years ago to honor their love and second, the poem I just completed for my grandmother.  I hope you will enjoy these.

Grandmaw and Papaw - 1967

A Love Like Yours

As the world was going to war
You found love
When our country was leaving depression
You found love
Though your ages differed by the number twelve
You found love
Your kin thought you’d marry others, but still
You found love

Four years of love and
You saw your first child
But you could not, nor would not
Stop with just the one
After twelve years and three girls
A boy bounced your way
Four beautiful children are
Your true love on display

In six and twenty years
Your love it would not die
A baby boy was born, as were
Grandparents with a sigh
Through the decade hence
Five girls became your glory
Six grand-ones in all became
Your very pride and joy

For three and forty years
You had love
Through four lovely children you showed
You had love
In every argument resolved, still
You had love
Within my heart you live on because
You had love

August 12, 2009

Grandmaw

Today you would have been
ninety and then the two.
This isn’t the only reason
my thoughts, they turn to you.

The color of your laughter,
a radiant blue, calm and keen.
The sound of your smile,
ever, a pitch-perfect sheen.

Proudly you wore your crown,
t’was brown than silver-gray.
Then with care you did teach me
to live; to work; to play.

Everything that is in me
resonating in tones of gold,
I know it is your influence;
being born in the family mold.

Standing close to your side,
firm upon a crate from milk,
your worn-cotton apron,
in my eye a gown of silk.

Your recipes, tried and true,
these, I learned to make.
The potatoes we would whip
while the cornbread it did bake.

The aroma of the lily
enveloped and swirled to billow;
while hanging wash in the yard
you showed me the pussy willow.

When at first it came to be
my voice heard through the rhyme,
you said you were so proud
and in your eyes I saw a shine.

To imagine you’ve been gone
thirty and one year,
my heart becomes wholly sad
and rivers fill with my tear.

Never could I ever finish,
this remains incomplete;
for you and your love
within me, will e’re repeat.

November 25, 2011

Cynicism And Pain

Losing a loved one.  Losing your life as you know it.  Pain enters when there is loss.  To truly grieve means you allow yourself to feel exuberant amounts of pain.  In essence, you swing open the flood gates and pain, hurt and anguish spew in.

I don’t remember the last time I fully grieved.  Maybe it was in 1981 when Grandmaw died.  I remember the pain when I went through it and how stifling it was.  Now I remember Grandmaw and I am sad because I still miss her, however, the memories are sweet.

There are so many that I have lost since Grandmaw, but I don’t remember fully grieving.  I remember the pain at the loss, but when I try to go further in my memories there is anger – so I stop.  I stop and bury the feelings.  Yes, I know everyone has a right to their feelings and they should be expressed, but not me.

To be the good one, I always desired, but never was.  I have, through the years, learned to repress my feelings.  When I was angry, I was punished.  When I would cry because I was unhappy, I was punished.  When I would be happy, I was turned away.  When I would show love or affection, I would be hurt.  So the easy thing to do was to repress.  The English have it right – don’t display what you feel.  This I can do.

I am neither a masochist nor a sadist.  I have virtually no tolerance for pain, nor do I enjoy inflicting pain, especially on myself.  This is reason enough for me not to grieve.  If I start, I may not stop at this point.  And then again, there is no one there to catch me as I fall.  So I repress.

Recently I have discovered a new tool to add to my repertoire –cynicism.  Although I am new to this concept I am finding it to be just another useful mechanism to keep from dealing with the hurt, pain and anger that keeps coming my way.  When posed with the age old question “is the cup half full or half empty?” I would always respond half full!  Now I retorted, “It’s not my cup.  I don’t care.”

I can cry. I do cry — when I am alone. I scream -– when I am alone.  I yell and fuss — when I am alone.  To bring my anger against me means much frustration. To bring my anger against others could mean they retaliate and well… So I remain angry and frustrated while displaying to the world that all is well. It has to be.  Debbie is always fine.  Debbie needs no one.  Debbie will always be fine. At least that is what the world will always see.

Pain, I am resolved, will always be part of my life.  My deductions for now are that I am only meant for pain; be it physical or emotional.  So, for now at least, cynicism is a means to escape the pain, anger and drudge of life.

Will this to become my sole way of dealing with things?  Probably not. Will cynicism always be in my life?  Probably not.  However, for now it is useful.  Maybe someday someone will enter my life and I will be able to trust them enough to let them be there as I open the floodgates and feel the pain. For now, the cup it isn’t mine, find the owner yourself.

Peace

To start, let me specify that I am not using this post to bash religions nor religion in general.  Neither am I trying to sway anyone to believe a certain way, nor open up to a challenge/debate on religion.  However, of the five major world religions, Buddhism, Catholicism,  Christianity, Judaism; only two are not laden with controversy.  I have written blog posts, essays and poems regarding world peace and it never fails that I receive at least two comments telling me that “only G-d can bring peace” or “there will be no true peace till Jesus comes again”.  I sit and ponder which g-d they are speaking of and what religion has to do with what I have written about peace.

In the core of each of the aforementioned religions is the stress for peace.  But with all the controversy and turmoil surrounding three of the five, I find it difficult to see their message of peace.  I am not judging and I do not aver that the actions of some make it the way of the whole.  However, when those actions are so negative, they tent to put a cloud over any good that could be done.

In the United States, especially here in the ‘Bible Belt’, it is supposed to be a good thing to say you attend church or are a christian.  I wrote an essay a while back addressing two christian groups.  One in the US and the other in the UK.  These groups protest poets and writers just because they don’t like what is written, especially when the writer writes against war.  They also go to airports and protest soldiers coming home from the war as well as protesting the funerals of five young girls killed in a car accident on a rainy night driving home from a football game.

I have personally seen church people and Christians judgmentally taunt people for their beliefs and lifestyles because they differ from their own and what they teach.I have often heard the statement made in churches that they “love the sinner, hate the sin”.  Yet they treat those they call sinners in an ill manner when they don’t conform and give up said sins.

I am trying to see the peace through the cloud.

For decades, Catholicism has dealt with its own issues.  One of the biggest issues is the allegations of sexual abuse of children by the priests.  Most recently it is alleged that the pope has known about specific allegations and buried the information.  Priests take vows of celibacy and break those vows to have sex with boys and women.  I was always taught that when you make a promise, you keep it.  Especially if you make the promise to G-d.

If the leaders are discontent, how can I see the peace?

You don’t have to go far these days or do much research to find anything negative regarding Islam.  members of Islam are ever being suspected and blamed for terrorism around the world.  All a person has to do is look the part or be seen attending a mosque and they are suspect.  Not long ago a man in the United States Army went on a shooting spree at a military base.  As soon as it was said he is a practicing Muslim the media went wild that it was an act of terrorism.  I wrote about this and had stated it appeared to be PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).  As soon as the authorities came to the same conclusion I did, the media dropped it.

The other day I watched a piece on 60 Minutes.  They profiled a woman who had been a CIA agent.  The woman, originally from Lebanon, came to the United States as a teenager.  She made no secret of her past and had to undergo many stringent background checks to be employed by the FBI and the CIA.  After many years of service she was scrutinized for her place of birth and her (dis)connection to her sister’s husband.  It was later determined that she was NOT a terrorist.  She still lost her job and all she had worked for and was even dubbed in the media as “Jihad Jane”.  I foresee a return to the McCarthy Trials.

With suspicion and a select group terrorizing the world in the name of G-d, I can’t see the peace.

Thanks to the wonderful world of the internet, I have friends of different religious views including those who are Atheist.  Many years ago I was asking friends what they truly believe and why.  One person accused me of only asking like-minded people.  I had only begun seeking, but after this gentleman made his harsh comments, I quit asking.  I just wanted to know what other peoples views were.  I wish I had kept going.  I have one friend now who kind of jokes that he has taken parts of various religions to get to what he likes.  He does always seem to be at peace.  Well, except when his computer eats his music.

I once heard (or read) where someone said, “Prayer is you talking to G-d.  Meditation is G-d talking to you”.  Most religions are about praying.  To me that translates to us making petitions and doing the talking.  When do we listen?  Before I got sick, I loved hiking and spending time in nature.  I felt closer to my creator at these times and did some good writing during and after these hikes (sometimes during long drives in the mountains, too, just listening and feeling).  These days I feel most at peace during meditation.

The veil of controversy is thick with regard to many religions and therefore I find difficulty finding the peace they claim to have and disperse.  For me, I seek and research to draw my own conclusions.  I don’t debate them, but will answer any legitimate questions asked of me.  As for world peace, I still believe it will only come by  understanding and accepting each person without bias or prejudice.

Learning The Heart

I started writing more than 30 years ago when I was in the 7th grade in junior high.  I wrote a blog post a while back about how I got my start writing and being able to communicate my heart to others through poetry.  I had been writing for nearly five years when I graduated from high school.  Each year at the time of graduations our congregation would honor the graduates during a service and then present them with a gift, usually a book to offer guidance as they set out on a new and wonderful adventure.  On June 5, 1983 I was one of six in the congregation graduating.  We were presented a book of poetry and verse.  I was told that when they were deciding what to present, I was the one who came to mind.  They chose that particular book because I have a way of “reading between the lines”.  I was a stupid 17 year old kid and, while I felt honored, I didn’t have the slightest idea what was meant by these words.

It wasn’t till more than twenty years later that I would be able to really feel the honor that was bestowed that day.  I had heard the term reading between the lines before, but I don’t think I actually understood it to its fullest meaning.  I have never set out to be special or try to do things that are different from everyone else.   I think it is just that I see things from my hearts point of view and thus find different meanings in the way things are spoken and written.  After my book was released, I had a friend come to my house and ask me to sign a few copies so she and her mama could give them as gifts.  I sat looking at her and the books pondering what to write.  They wanted me to address them to certain people, write something and then sign the book.  I didn’t want to be like everyone else.  I have received autographed books and had a few signed personally as well.  I either get just a signature or “Best wishes” and a signature.  Then my mind went back to the person who told me I have a way of reading between the lines.  I had my autograph.

It made sense to me to do it this way.  There is so much to be learned when you go outside the box or in this case read between the lines.  So often we go through the motions of everything we do.  Our lives are so routine that we can drive our cars from point A to point B and sometimes wonder what happened in between.  We read the paper (or the on-line news) and it is all the same unless something really juts out and is different.  Try taking a breath and look at things from a different point of view.  Go outside the box, read between the lines and there you will find pleasure.

FIND PLEASURE BETWEEN THE LINES!!

Jazz Says It All

Last night I watched the Kennedy Center Honors program on CBS.  All five honorees were well deserving and well honored.  I found myself laughing and crying as they revisited the past achievements and even a couple bombs of the ones being honored.  There was so much history in that balcony as well as on the stage as I watched in awe and amazement with every detail and every utterance.  One thing struck me as they were honoring Dave Brubeck for his work in jazz, everyone was affected by this presentation.  Yes, it seemed that The Boss received more accolades and folks standing and swaying to his music as it was performed at the end.  Then there were those whose faces lit up with the wonderful tunes once performed by Grace Bumbry.  Rousing laughter nearly took the roof off the building when Robert De Niro and Mel Brooks were honored.  However, Dave Brubek’s music moved me more than I thought possible.

I have loved jazz for a long time.  Jazz and blues are very closely related so I am a fan of each.  Seems everyone knows my favorite is Louis Armstrong.  It is often said that jazz is the black man’s music and white men have tried to take it for their own.  I have also heard it called African Music.  I honestly do not believe any of this.  Jazz is the music of peace.  It transcends race, gender and age to bring everyone together for a meeting of the heart, mind and soul.  President and Mrs. Obama were seated in the balcony with the honorees.  Secret Service were there as well.  The agents assigned to protect the president are to be alert and always focused on what is around them.  I usually think of Royal guards who aren’t allow to move at all while they are standing guard when I think of the Secret Service agents.  While the cameras were capturing the faces of those in attendance during the performances I watched.  During Dave Brubeck’s presentation I noted the faces and posture of those the cameras caught.  When they were focused on the First Couple I noticed the Agent seated behind them.  His eyes were focused and watching everything around them, but his head was moving to the beat of the music.

Wide shots throughout caught everyone with heads bopping, feet tapping and fingers drumming to the fine jazz music being played.  Black, white, Hispanic, male, female, actor, musician, president.  It didn’t matter who they were, they felt the heartbeat of the music that is jazz.  If it moves your body, even your toe to tap, then it has reached your soul.  And that is JAZZ.

My Heart

My Heart

I sit here
all alone
within the sanctum
I call my soul
It is here,
among the memories,
I sit…
I watch…
I ponder on.
To the painful thoughts
I bid farewell
the nightmares
they vanish
as misty, moonlit dew.
Scars, which seem
centuries old,
blur and fade
into the seams
of the fortress strong.

Subsumed by darkness
trying to find
memories past,
thoughts fleeting through;
pleasant,
sweet,
pretty, genteel
Did they ever exist?
Have I known them at all?
Searching the boundaries
seeking the words
receiving a hollow knell.

The acropolis is strong, READ MORE

We ARE At War!!!

A year ago I came to learn of a song.  It isn’t a new song by any means.  The song “War Is Over” was written by John Lennon and his wife, Yoko Ono, in 1971.  With the US in the midst of the Vietnam War, John Lennon was very vocal in his anti-war beliefs.  At a time of war it is usually construed that Anti-war is the same as Pro-peace.  Pro-peace is so much, much more than just being against war and violence.  Some say that true peace can only come from Yeshua.  Others believe good Karma and meditation are the path to real peace.  All of this is good and so many other things as well.

I came to know this Lennon song after losing my hearing.  I knew I liked the music but didn’t know what the words were saying.  I did know it was played in the course of a Christmas segment of some sort.  I had a conversation with a friend who loves music and is a wonderful DJ in Second Life™.  I told him some of the words and finally he said it sounded like I was talking about John Lennon’s Happy Xmas.  I promptly went to Google and found myself listening to the song streaming on YouTube with the lyrics showing on the screen.  I listened and read for about 3 hours.  Yes, the same song for three short hours.  I cried so hard as my heart listened to the words as I read them.

War Is Over speaks of reaching out to others; other races, cultures, ages.  As humans we pride ourselves in 20/20 vision.  Perhaps if the entire world population were blind and deaf we would stand a better chance for peace.  We learn to disapprove and even hate those who are different from us.  We are so intent on revising and editing each other to chisel out a world-wide society that is identical to us.  We are alike.  Every human-being all over the world.  We all have bones and blood beneath the skin and hair that holds us together.  We all have hearts that beat and pump the blood through our veins.  We breath air into our lungs.

Where we differ is in our appearances, our beliefs, the way we think.  Yes, some of the ideas we hold are in error (i.e.: thinking ourselves better than everyone else), but not all of them.  It should be out differences that bring us closer together and give us the opportunity to learn from each other.  Perhaps I don’t like to eat pig, does this make those who do evil for doing so?  My skin is pale and I have green eyes.  Does this mean that a person with olive complexion and dark eyes can’t be a good person or my friend?

There is a war that we are all involved in.  It doesn’t matter our age, race, religion, sex or sexual orientation.  WE ARE ALL AT WAR.  The war is for peace.  I will post later regarding fighting.  But when we say we are a peaceful people, we should live it.  Thanks to the wonderful world of Second Life™, I have made friends with people all over the world.  They are of different races, cultures, religions and even sexual orientations.  We met on a different plain and got to know each other and accept each other as human-beings without adding prejudice and bias.  On this last day of  Chanukah, I hope those who celebrate it each received a set of blinders.  I hope those who keep Xmas will also receive some and then for Kwanzaa the same.  Put on your blinders and use ear plugs to fight this war.  Use your heart to get to know other people who are not like you in the way you think and believe.  No one says you have to change your ways and believe as they do.  Education, understanding and acceptance will be our weapons.

Listen and watch John Lennon and do so with your heart.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fvNRHrKyaX4

Only From My Heart

Since I was 13 years old and sitting in my Seventh grade English class learning the art of poetry, I have been writing it. I was painfully shy in junior high and found it difficult to say what I wanted to say. When Mr. Leggore led us through the poetry course I found the way to express my heart. Since then I have written what is in my heart. Whether it be poetry, song, essay, short story, article or novel; my heart (and the tornadoes that control my pen) dictates what goes on the empty page.

I quit writing in July of this year. Too many things were happening and I couldn’t keep with it all. Being without a job and not being able to find anything in the writing field. My health and dealing with the residual effects of Meniere’s Disease. People being more critical of my work than requested (i.e.: telling me my book is technically not published due to the publisher). Just too many things pressing on me that I quit. However, John Lennon would not allow it to remain so. I was having sleepless nights and nights of tossing and turning due to dreams that occupied my sleep and waking hours. Then the end of July I read a quote by John Lennon and he related about song writing and I equated it to my writing. He said it’s not a song til it invades even your sleeping dreams and keeps you awake. Then you know it has a life.

Well, Mr. Lennon was actually briefer in his quote, but that is what I got from it and started paying attention to what was going on. I told my friends about this and they wagged their fingers at me and said “Told you so!!” I am meant to write. It fills my being from my heart and soul outward. It encompasses me. Writing is the breath in my lungs, the blood in my veins ~ Writing IS who I am.