Experience of a ride
on the winds of change ~
little changes right away
unless
it is a dip into fear or
an explosion of anger,
the highs of excitement.
Unbalanced
by these private winds,
I set my own danger zone
unless
I feel the ground beneath my feet,
slow my pace,
breathe deeply of the star studded sky
and decide how my moment will be.
“To be wronged is nothing unless you continue to remember it.”
~ Confucius
Where do I go when
the argument becomes
reddened with anger?
Can I find the place
where roiling, boiling
waters have calmed?
Following the seasons, with
storms and destruction,
stepping into shelter is wise.
Shelter within my soul until
my mind can be at peace, my
words become measured and kind.
“Anger is an acid than can do more harm to the vessel in
which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.”
~ Mark Twain
Respect means
little to me tonight ~
vanished with the
flip flop of my stomach
as I contemplate the chaos of
our world gone mad.
I'm angry and frightened.
But respect
will return to me ~
respect for my family,
my neighbours,
my friends, and myself ~
choosing kindness and consideration
over money and greed.
“Show respect to all people, but grovel to none.”
~ Tecumseh
 |
| Photo from website: ecoguardpestmanagment.com |
It was probably as surprised as I was. After all the waving of a yellow flag, merely my napkin, did not make sense to the wasp. Not a flower, but annoying.
When the tip caught its little rump, it zipped past me, and on the way by, thrust its tiny dagger into my left thumb. Except for the sudden prick of pain,
I thought nothing of it until slowly, steadily my thumb blossomed red, the back of
my hand puffed up like bread rising.
I could only hope that the wasp was satisfied
with it’s little fly-by shot of venom.
“If I be waspish, best beware my sting,”
~ William Shakespeare,
The Taming of the Shrew
Carol just kept getting ready for class. There was nothing in the moment that she could do about that incident. There was no communication and absolutely no respect. Social mores - merely a philosophical idea. She straightened in her seat, opened her laptop and prepared to hear more from her professor. Carol decided to go to her professor after class to discuss that unsettling episode.
“Prejudice is a burden that confuses the past,
threatens the future, and renders the present inaccessible.”
~ Maya Angelou
**This story inspired by an actual event.
Confidence was new to Dez. At least the confidence that Em said she needed. Was this how it was supposed to feel? Looking in the mirror, she cocked her head to one side. “I’m in my 40’s! This is ridiculous.”
She was okay in her own life, but when she was around Matt, it vanished. The brash bold person she had been in her life before COVID had gone up in a puff of smoke. Finding it again had been a struggle. She felt awkward around people. Grateful to her big sister for teaching her how to apply make-up and what clothes to wear, she liked the play of it all. Her spa job had added to making this new image. But when she looked in the mirror she couldn’t see herself. Someone that resembled her hid inside the glass and she felt less than. Afraid she’d mess up her hair or her mascara would run down her face, she grew stiff and cold. How could she be grateful to her big sister and her co-workers? They had only succeeded in showing her how to cover herself up in colour and paint. Like any blank canvas she worked with. No, all that paint and makeup didn’t help. She became a shy little girl waiting for Matt to notice her. “Ugh!! Matt has seen me up close with dirt on my face and under my nails.” For a fleeting moment, she felt angry at them all, until the anger settled into her insides for listening. As a child, her dad would call her mother’s make up ‘war paint’. Well she was not going to war. Hiding herself behind a face mask was not helping. She was an artist and when a painting was going wrong she either wiped it clean or painted over it and start again. “Maybe just a bit of blush……….”
~~~~~
Working with softer colours, Dez put on the finishing touches when her doorbell rang. One more brush through her hair, a quick look at herself in the full length mirror, she went to the door. Tall and lean, Matt smiled at her and said. “You’re back!”
“How many cares one loses when one decides
not to be something but to be someone.”
~ Coco Chanel
Shifts
Dez and Emelina seem to have separated for no obvious reason. It was vanity and self esteem on Dez’s part. On Emelina’s part she had just not been paying attention. Weeks had gone by, busy with her own life, she had lost track of how often her sister had been at the estate. She had, in fact, taken for granted that her sister would always be there. That had been Emelina’s old behaviour. Always the centre of attention and if she wasn’t she felt lost. To others it just seemed arrogant and uncaring. To Emelina, she truly did feel lost and neglected. Often didn’t know how or if she could change that so just let herself drift until she felt too uncomfortable or worried about someone or something.
For Dez, she had always been more a tomboy than what her dad called a girlie-girl. She also preferred her independence even as a teenager. In their class year book, she was voted ‘Girl most likely to start a Do It Yourself business.’ So when she realized that she was uncomfortable at the Estate with her reliance on her sister’s well-heeled situation, she had to disappear. She didn’t know she would disappear into her sister’s world of hairdoes and haute couture. The haute couture part was not quite on board, but she did have a few new things in her wardrobe. That was only so she could be presentable at the spa where she worked.
~~~~~
Dez was frustrated. Slamming her fist on the arm of her sofa, she said to no one in particular “If only Samuel hadn’t seen me! He even called out to me. Maybe he thinks I didn’t hear him.” She started to pace. “It was my car! There’s lots of red cars like mine out there - maybe not. Except……my cracked windshield. He keeps telling me to get it fixed.”
Her phone rang. ‘I hope it’s not Em again. I can’t keep avoiding her.” But it wasn’t. Matt Hamilton’s name popped up on the call display. Breathing a sigh of relief, she answered it before it could go to voice mail. “Matt! Hi! Where have you been? How have you been?” A smile wreathed her face. Hearing his low gravely voice always turned her insides over. Her worries about her sister and Samuel vanished “I’ve been off on a fishing trip with some guys. Only a week and didn’t catch much but had a good time. You’ll have to come on the next one. It will be couples this time and I don’t want to feel left out.” Dez’s heart plummeted. So she’d only be a tag-a-long?
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Matt had heard Dez’s sharp intake of breath. “I mean I want you to be with me.” Silence “Can we drop that? I’m digging myself a hole that I’m not sure I could get out of, Dez. And I’m sorry.”
Dez hesitated. “Okay, we can change the subject. What did you call about, anyway?” She heard Matt clear his throat. “Your sister. She left a message on my phone to call her. Said she couldn’t find you and needed to know you were ok. I was going to call her but decided to call you first. I thought you needed to know.”
Dez wanted to get angry. With Matt for his insensitivity about the fishing trip; with Em for tracking her down like she was her parent. An angry outburst would do no good. That’s what her mother would have told her. “Thank you Matt. I’ll call Em right away.” She was about to end the call. “And Matt, if that invitation to the fishing trip is still open, I accept.
~~~~~
Dez didn’t call her sister. She didn’t change her hair or cut off her gaudy fingernails. She called the kitchen. “Cook? It’s Dez. Don’t say anything. Is my sister out there right now?”
Cook was good at thinking on her feet. This one was no different than any other. Miss Dez and Miss Em needed her. “Yes, sir. The delivery is here for you to pick up. But you’ll need to be here soon or there will be no one here to help you.”
Dez threw on a jacket, finger combed her hair, grabbed her keys and hurried to her old red car with the cracked windshield. A phone call wouldn’t do. She needed to see and hug her sister. They had been separated once and for ten years. Pride, fear, vanity……whatever she might want to call it……were banished. Like an angry outburst, they would do no good either.
“Shift your attention, and your emotion shifts.
Shift your emotion, and your attention shifts.”
~ Frederick Dodson, Parallel Universes of Self
Air seems clearer…..
Landing gently…….
Measured steps…….
“Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated.”
~ Confucius
After a month of trying to write about Anger, I found that I really had little to say. Two years of pandemic restrictions did foster regular periods of anger. Struggling against the unfamiliar bonds, it was a pretty normal response. Then the world exploded with a frightening and unfair war in Europe. Both have given me time to think about where my feet are, what my responsibilities truly are. Compassion for those outside of my sphere of life has never left me. The surprising feeling of calm rejuvenates my life. For today……and hopefully tomorrow…..
Summer time fur faded
to winter white early last year.
A sign:
2021’s coming winter would be cold and long!
Winter white is just now
darkening with patchy brown.
A sign:
2022’s warming spring will be
here before long!
“Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.”
~ Albert Einstein
Boys Again
It was early evening. Samuel was home getting cleaned up. New shirt and jeans. He’d been to town earlier for a haircut, treating himself to a shave too. He hadn’t told Elizabeth. She’d been on him for years to get a professional shave and haircut. He’d always put her off, told her it was a waste of time and money. Now and then he even cut his own hair, or just tied it up. Not this time though. Not with Thom Digby coming home for a visit. Last time he’d seen him was the day he left to go off on his adventures. Thought he’d heard him say he’d only be gone for a couple of years at the most. Here it’d been over forty years!
As he was locking his front door, he heard two cars come into the yard. Samuel was especially proud of being able to tell cars from vans, vans from trucks; even how many. He recognized James car, but not the other. It must be his old pal, Thom.
~~~~~
“Martha, do you think Elizabeth will have everything ready for us? For Thom and Sonja? Is Samuel coming over to eat with us?” To an outsider, James would appear relaxed behind the wheel. Martha knew otherwise. He gripped to steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were white, flexing his fingers now and then to ease them. And then asking if Elizabeth would have anything ready?! “Really James. Elizabeth? Not ready when one of her meals is at stake? Of course she’ll have everything ready. She’s probably tapping her foot wondering how late we’re going to be.” Martha laughed at her normally orderly and calm husband. “You’re right, as usual, Martha. I’m just so glad to have Thom home.”
~~~~~
“Well, Sonja, what do you think of my brother and his wife? You’ve been awfully quiet this trip.” Thom had noticed and just assumed that she was taking in all the new green, so different from the snow covered mountains she was used to. She and Martha seemed to get along, even in the short time they had met. As much as he loved the mountains and the life they had together, when he drove onto the estate, youthful memories flooded his mind. His sight strayed across the yard, almost expecting to see his father waving him in. But it was more than that. He actually could see a familiar figure waving. It couldn’t be. Samuel’s father? No it couldn’t be. Samuel? It was Samuel. Thom rolled down his window and waved back. He laughed at the same time - the three boys were just not boys anymore.
~~~~~
Elizabeth did have their suppers ready, the table all set with the good dishes and silver from upstairs. Even flowers and a table cloth. It made the kitchen quite festive. She tidied her hair and hung up her apron. She wanted to do it all up right for James, knowing that he’d been tied in knots since his brother told him he’d be coming. Expecting Samuel at any time, she put her sweater on and went out the back door just as the two cars parked. Samuel came up to the house at the same time. Car doors opened and shut. Walking past James, Samuel gripped Thom’s hand, looking at him hard in disbelief. They pulled each other into a hug. James joined then and they just looked at each other. Not a word was spoken.
“Sonja,” Martha whispered. “Sonja, let’s go in the house. I’ll introduce you to Elizabeth, a good friend and the estate cook. The three of us can get to know each other while these three boys get reacquainted.”
Sonja had been feeling quite out of place now that Thom was home. Like a second left shoe. She still had a lump in her heart, but knew she could do nothing for her family in the Ukraine except send them money. She didn’t know if she could be the sociable partner that Thom needed. Or that she would even like these women. Martha seemed very nice, kind, but what about this Elizabeth. She should have stayed home. Thom could have come here himself. When she heard Martha whisper her name, she steeled herself, took a small breath and smiled. Whispering her reply she said “Yes, Martha I would love to meet your friend and leave these three to themselves. I suspect we’ll be eating before they will.” The three men had moved off, walking toward the orchard. James turned back and called out. “Tell Elizabeth we’ll be in soon. There’s just something we need to do first. If you ladies are hungry, please start without us.”
“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains
unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.”
~ Nelson Mandela
 |
| The Funeral Procession Painting by Ellis Wilson |
Through the ages
They have come ~
Always moving steadily forward
Bearing and keeping their children close
Despite bonds of slavery that chained their ancestors.
“Lord, I’m going to hold steady on to You and You’ve got to see me through.”
~ Harriet Tubman
This poem was from a Victoria Writers Group Exercise: write from a choice of paintings. We were sent a selection of famous paintings by one of our members. The painting I chose was: The Funeral Procession by Ellis Wilson.
I had it scribbled down on a piece of paper I found the other day. No date. However it was a Zoom group, so I believe it was sometime in 2020
