Posts from the ‘Ponderable’ Category

Turmoil

Turmoil – Great confusion; extreme agitation. (American Heritage Dictionary)

 

Sometimes, it takes turmoil in life to be able to live as intended. It takes confusion and agitation to wake up a soul, to appreciate the little things and to understand what is meaningful in life. To slow down to the speed of now, and realize that now is all there is. To understand the fragility of everything else and its immensity, as well as its simplicity. To understand divine connection between all and between one moment and the next.

Sometimes, it takes turmoil to shake us to the core so we can center our being once more. So we can forget about purpose and become purpose, so we can indulge in being for the sake of being, and listen to the poem of life whispering its verses as we are and we become.

Sometimes it takes turmoil to realize that divinity is just a veil away, and that veil is always wrapped around us, and within us. Sometimes turmoil is all it takes.

The Tree of Life

Sometime ago, my husband and I were sitting on the porch conversing and looking at our new surroundings. He said, “Trees are funny.” I asked, “How come?” He answered, “They go around each other and bend around to continue.”

I looked at the trees he was talking about and I was mesmerized by what I saw. Many branches giving way to other branches of other trees, twisting and bending just right so there was room for every tree to continue to grow and expand. Unlike ivy, climbers, and other plants and bushes that choke one another to overpower and survive. I said to my husband, “We humans should be more like trees.” He smiled.

Sweet Familiarity

As much as we plan our lives, unpredictability may knock at our doors at any time and we are forced to answer. Life is happening every day; life is every millisecond that unravels and it is continuity whether we understand it at the moment or not. Whether we measure life in heartbeats, brain function, hours, years, or the moment we open our eyes in the morning to mark another day, life goes on, and is, all the time. We may hope for better days but we are constantly living; we cannot hope to start living.

We take many things for granted – jobs, material things, water, electricity, a home, food, and unfortunately, even people. It is in the absence of any of these things (or all at once) when we realize their value. Have you ever thought of the possibility of losing any or all of these? How would you react? If the safety of your everyday routine were to be shaken and threatened, would you appreciate life more, however you measure life? Think of these things for a couple of minutes – from your basic needs to your more sophisticated needs or wants, and the people who make up your life circle.

To quote Forest Gump – “Life is like a box of chocolates … .” However,  we don’t expect to find the box empty. Our challenges in life determine our level of strength. Our perception of these determine our level of sweetness many times, but it is up to us to add the sugar. Maybe tomorrow may start and be similar to today, but it is when this sweet familiarity disappears that we miss it the most.

Sanctum

SanctumA sacred or holy place. A private room or study. (American Heritage Dictionary)

As writers, we tend to be protective of our space, our writing space and writing time. We view interruptions as muse killings. We need our focus and total concentration on the piece at hand. Our space, whether a corner, office or other, is our sanctum. It is where we retire to create.

There is another type of sanctum, an emotional and psychological one, where we retire to recharge or survive when things are not going as expected or life brings on a new challenge. It is in that very private space in the heart and mind that we thrive, and because of it, we are able to come back, stronger and wiser.

Every person has a sanctum and the ability to access it depends in part of our vision of the now (the present events), and our vision of the future. Our vision is important, especially in times of duress and calamity, because from it depends if we have the courage to open the door to our sanctum. Opening that door means safety, in a way, and also that we give ourselves permission to rest before we fight back with all our strength and wisdom. Instead of hiding in plain view, we retreat to become stronger, wiser; we enter the safety and warmth of our holy place, our private space, in order to survive, be, and become.

A Fictional Life

The lines between reality and fiction become blurry when life turns out a series of unfortunate events. I know; I’ve been there. Whether you are a writer or not, when life becomes a challenge, you cannot help it when the feeling of being a character in your own novel, sitcom, or even comic book, starts to creep in. Sometimes, life does not make any sense at all or it may seem unfair. In those circumstances, one tries to find meaning or purpose in everything that goes on; however, sometimes there seems to be no purpose or light at the end of the tunnel. I know; I’ve been there too.

How does one survive life’s strongest blow so far? So far, because what we may think is the strongest blow, may not even be a whisper of what life will try to teach us. Sometimes, one has to stay with the process – show up every day, be there, follow through, and go on without making sense of it all, and without finding a purpose to it. One goes on because that is the only thing that makes sense at that moment. Sometimes, without a reason, without a why. What does not kill you makes you stronger. The adage is truth. In the midst of pain, disappointment, ruin, and many out of control emotions, the human soul must find a way to go on, to keep on being. Months become weeks, weeks become days, days turn into seconds, and the first blink of an eye in the morning. Another day; the nightmare continues. It was not a dream. One wishes consciousness away. However, somewhere very deep inside, one manages to find a weak fiber of strength to take on another second, hour, day, week, month… . To live through the next second becomes something to shoot for. The why, the purpose becomes secondary, reduced to poetry dust. At that moment, one may switch between feeling the most alive ever or feeling the numbest of deaths. A hurting reality can make you feel alive or dead. It becomes a thin blurry veil. Time is the process and through it another reality is crafted each millisecond. As long as one exists in time and space, whether the real or fictional you, life will go on – with or without meaning/purpose. Once one has been through the chapters, might as well stick around till the ending. After the experience, purpose is not so important after all, being is. To be or not to be; that is the purpose.

On Faith and Doing

The cloud

Photo by M.A.D.

 

Faith – Confident belief. Trust. (American Heritage Dictionary)

Doing – To perform or execute. To fulfill; complete. To bring about. To put into action. (American Heritage Dictionary)

 

Our faith is tested many times. We come out stronger or confused, in doubt, and/or unable to advance. When we want or need to do something  we’ve planned, and we proceed with confident caution, that is the easy way. However, many times we have to proceed by faith, not knowing if the best plan that we made will work; that is, if the circumstances permitted planning. Otherwise, we must push through confusion, doubt, and even chaos, with only a little light ahead of us, barely visible – our bit of faith illuminating the way. We must do by faith.

Becoming petrified by the fear that confusion and chaos bring will hinder advance and growth. We may become stuck or a situation will turn worse. It is best to do by faith than succumb to fear. In any case life goes on, for better or for worse. When in doubt, act in faith.

On Death

I am fascinated by Death, as a character. I like Death as a neutral being, for lack of a better fitting word. Death has been misrepresented, or ill-presented. Death is the elephant in the room; no one wants to think or talk about it. When we think of Death, we do it in a negative way. Death is unfair, scary, sad, a punishment, evil … . We try to cheat Death; we want to live as long as we can. We become healthier, exercise, eat well, take vitamins … just to live longer, to avoid meeting with Death. We cling to youth in many ways (creams, Botox, plastic surgery …) because by growing old we think we become closer to Death, and that scares us.

In movies, the hero cheats Death, saves others, and beats Death. We dream of vampires, eternal life, and we rather turn into a werewolf than face Death. It is only when the Vampire or the Werewolf (or any other creature) represents the threat of death that we destroy it, and we cheer – ah, we are safe. We put people on Death row for a long time, as if the wait prolongs the suffering.  Death doesn’t even have a face; it is represented as the ripper covered in a black-gray tunic who appears unexpected, uninvited, carrying its weapon of destruction. Even in suicide, the person does not embrace Death; instead, the person escapes life. However, Death doesn’t destroy at will (but we do); it doesn’t seem to have one. Death doesn’t take lives by choice (we do), and it doesn’t seem to enjoy its duty. Death only is, and it is always on time.

So this morning, as I pondered on this character who is so misunderstood and hated, I wrote Death a poem. Here it is, and I hope you enjoy it or at least that it gives you a different perspective.

Requiem
I do not belong
Nor do I seek.
Nor Heaven nor Hell
I wander the Earth.

Who am I?
Human at best?
Hint of divine?
Of evil a speck?

Of grace and humankind
The Earth is tired.
The ice a blanket throws
Blue hearts, frozen desires.

Divine, Evil, Human, morass.
Tired Earth Dooms Day awakes.
Melting core, frozen bones, at last
The apocalyptic boom, the end.

Nor who, nor what
Serving the times, perpetual task.
No will, no cry
Angel of Death, on time I am.