Among the many things I am intrigued by is poetry, specifically the art of the Haiku. As defined by the Poetry Foundation, Haiku is:
A Japanese verse form most often composed, in English versions, of three un-rhymed lines of five, seven, and five syllables. A haiku often features an image, or a pair of images, meant to depict the essence of a specific moment in time.
Sounds simple, yes?
In fact it is far from it. Haiku writing involves multiple senses to interpret a thought or feeling using the verse form prescribed. You must live in the moment and look inside the moment from outside of it. Be in 2 places at once while you are trying to just...be.
And yet when inspiration strikes it is just lovely to write the words that pour forth like water flowing over rocks in a small stream.
Hmmm - those last 5 words sound like the start of a nice Haiku. 😄
I am no expert in this sacred form of poetry. Yet it is that very sacredness that draws me to it and brings the words out of the depths of me.
Well - here I am...again. Months between posts yet not time that has been lazy or blank in any way.
Months of turmoil, stress and more stress. I knew going into this new year that the first couple of months would be - filled with insanity in terms of commitments and responsibilities. Yet I had no idea the level to which the insanity would climb.
I feel like I've been chewed up, spit out and reconstituted only to start all over again.
And with this weekend it will all come to a stop. Not a standstill - I'm not delusional. But a stop, a significant pause. Space where I might be able to breathe again.
Many little & big things go into all this - church obligations that while joy-filled had become almost burdensome, work stresses that boggled my mind, the seemingly endless search for a new car for myself and some family stuff.
It's all made the first 3+ months of this year an obstacle-course of road bumps, outright blocks and blind corners.
I am thrilled to report that the last stressor - the car - has been resolved and will be finalized tomorrow. I bring home my new baby tomorrow morning. We had to journey out of state to find what I wanted - and she's worth the wait:
My as-yet-unnamed chariot.* A 2014 Infiniti Q50. Fully loaded with just about every option known to the car-buying world these days - navigation, back-up camera, 2 touchscreens, even a heated steering wheel to go with the heated leather seats (front and back). She hits all my buttons - aggressive styling, luxurious interior and power.
Oh yes - power. 328hp in a 3.7liter V6. 7-speed automatic. Goes 0-60 in less than 5 seconds. Yeah - that will suck you into the back of the seats, for sure. Let me just say that she corners flat on a wet road at 55mph - what? The sales guy told me she corners flat, how could I NOT test that theory for myself. And she'll rocket onto the highway and get you up to 80mph before you can realize you are actually moving.
Sleek. Beautiful. Fast.
Yup - all my buttons pushed in the right way.
After months of having my buttons pushed in every other way but how I want or need - it is refreshing to finally be happy about it. And once this beauty is in my driveway sometime tomorrow, the stresses of the past - oh-so-many-months - will finally start to fade away. I will enjoy my new ride - and leave the old, bumpy one behind.
* Yes, I name my cars. I'll need to drive this rocket for a bit before a name comes to me.
Strange, where you can find inspiration.
Where you find a kindred spirit whose emotional experiences mimc your
own. Odd, shadowy corners that move you down to the very fiber of your
existence.
A simple book. Taken from my local library
for a vacation week's idle reading. Viewing it as a fun puff-piece, I
clutched this humble book to myself.
Side note: this whole library thing is new-ish.
For the first time in over 25 years - I have a library card. I'm a
voracious reader and our budget in the coming year just doesn't have room for
the quantity of e-books or real books that I typically purchase. And I
can't shut off my desire to read so - hello little library card. I was so
excited to get the card, much to the amusement of the library employees.
And even funnier, when asked if we had just moved to town, we had to
confess we have lived here for 26 years. All in all, it was a fun
encounter and now I have a limitless supply of books to read that won't cost me
anything more than a 1/2 mile round-trip detour on the way home from work.
Anyway, back to my first library book borrowing
experience.
I chose "Wildflower", the new memoir of
short stories from Drew Barrymore.
I know - the original wild child, she of the rehab
at age 13, emancipation as a minor child at 14 and countless fun & sweet
movies since E.T. in 1982. Total puff piece...right?
Wrong.
A book of short stories of her life, Ms. Barrymore has delivered a
confection of gentleness and of a spirit that will not be silenced even
under the harshest of growing conditions.
So much of the emotions she experienced in her troubled childhood are
very similar to mine.Oh, not in any
specific, real way to be sure.But
rather in the aftermath, the impact of those experiences.
The lack of personal confidence.Poor self-esteem that is often-times more than crippling.Emotional abuse and abandonment at the hands
of people, who should at the very least, know better.Unseen scars that could (and many times have)
render a person nearly catatonic with pain and confusion.
And yet here Ms. Barrymore is – thriving, a brilliantly quirky mother to
two gorgeous children, blissfully & happily married.An enormously successful adult career in
Hollywood; which God knows is a rare occurrence for anyone let alone a once-washed-up
child star.A career she has built on
her own terms, taking advice and guidance from those who have gone before her,
never once thinking she is above it all.Allowing herself to be humbled and to learn from that experience.
Sounds like a pretty decent outcome for just about anyone.And the best part is – Ms. Barrymore knows
it.She is utterly aware of her good
fortune to have come out of such a troubled childhood relatively unscathed
(though I would like the name of her therapist - J).She
has put in the hard work, asked the difficult questions, accepted things that
just “are” and moved on.
Which is, in fact, my primary theme for this new year.To move forward – acknowledge the pain and
brokenness AND to no longer allow it to darken my life for one more second.
It’s a funny thing, this supposed puff-piece of a book.I have devoured it’s every word since I
brought it home last Wednesday. And on page 258 of 276 pages, I encountered the
gem that will help me remain in the light and refuse the darkness.
In all that has happened in my life – both in childhood and far more
recent history – I have often wondered about the idea that all of it had to
happen just as it did for me to come into the light.
The Light – at first being God’s call to me to come out of the spiritual
wilderness I had created for myself some 20 years ago.Then becoming a way of life – walking in
God’s light, following that narrow path that leads to him.
Did I need to go thru all that pain and anguish to find my place in
God’s light?To become connected to a
world of faith.To find a family of my
choosing that loves me without condition, in the spirit of Jesus Christ.Did it have to happen that way?Did I need to suffer so much, to come to the
precipice of my own existence, in order to come to God?
Perhaps.Certainly as a devout
Catholic I see the parallels of suffering and I know that God did bring me thru
it all; He did pull me back from the abyss.
Yet…
On page 258 of “Wildflower”, Ms. Barrymore says this about an experience
she had that changed her life: “If I
hadn’t read that article that day in the diner, my whole life might be
different.Or, are we set on paths we
must go on, and there are little bread crumbs out there to lure us in?”
Did my experience need to be fraught with such turmoil to be brought to
God?Or was it all part of His plan to
begin with…God’s Bread Crumbs.
Oh, and The Light?Well, that now
means so much more to me; it’s not just a place to be, a resting point on the
path of life.It is now who I wish to
be, where I wish to be, how I wish to be.
Long time...no anything. As mentioned in previous posts, life certainly was more than challenging in 2015. As the year comes to a close I have to be honest and say...
...good riddance!
I will be so very glad to see time move into 2016 that I might actually stay awake for it. I can't remember the last time I was awake for the change in year - it just hasn't mattered that much. One year moving into the next is just the passage of time; nothing particularly special about it. But the coming change...may be something I not only need to see but may take a picture of. Whatever catches my eye at that precise moment - could be a throwaway, could be profound. Either way - the artist within me will capture it in some way that resonates with me.
I'm not one to make resolutions but the coming new year may also be an exception in that regard. I've spent so long in a dark cave of depression that I have neglected my physical health. I'm seriously overweight, I'm ducking doctor appointments and in general ignoring myself to the point of danger.
So the first thing on the personal schedule in the new year - beyond getting back into the swing of working after a 2 week break - will be to make a series of appointments so I can get back on top of my health. Which should, in the long run, help with the depression, with general energy levels and desires to be productive.
And yes - we have been away from work for 2 weeks now. Part of it planned and part of it not. I got my every-few-years-at-the-holidays bout of bronchitis. Diagnosed 4 days before Christmas in fact; it came on fast and as part of this "New Life Resolution" thing I've got going on - I got to the doctor as fast as I felt the symptoms rising.
Drugs - are a good thing. By the day after Christmas I was starting to feel like myself again.
Of course that's quite the loaded thought these days - feeling like myself. I'm still not sure what that is exactly but I do know - unequivocally - that it has GOT to be better than the "myself" I've been feeling for years.
I lost my way a bit on the idea of allowing the artist within me to come out. Too many upheavals in the past year have been allowed to get in the way of any hope on my part of immersing myself in the sacred sounds of the piano, the spirituality of needlework, the God-given gifts of my photography.
The storminess outside of me became the tornado within me; consuming everything in its path without regard for health, well-being, mental stability or even basic happiness.
I have willed that storm to subside...and am focused on that artist within again. To the point where I am working hard on the piece above - one of Beethoven's most beautiful piano sonatas - the 2nd movement of The Pathetique.
This is significant my friends - incredibly significant in my life. Because this piece of music was once the playground of another pianist in my family - people I don't speak to or of anymore for so many reasons that have been the major part of that aforementioned storminess.
The Pathetique was this particular family member's favorite piece of music. And whenever one of my music books would fall open to the notes of it - I'd run away in fear and anguish. As if the very notes held my life's torment within them.
My friends - they don't. They hold nothing within them except whatever Beethoven put there and whatever I bring out of them for myself.
For. Myself.
It took such emotional strength to let my fingers even rest on the piano keys with this music open before me; such physical strength to tease the notes out of my very soul - to let that glorious music speak to me in my own language.
Not the language of pain or abuse; rather the language of a person slowly recovering. A person learning who she is again.
Well - haven't had much to say in the past month or so - clearly.
Except that I've had far too much to say and no desire to articulate it in any way. These have been darks times in my life, my friends. Dark times indeed. The very darkest to date.
Yet, now there is light. With constant prayer, being ever vigilant over my thoughts, my words, my every physical movement...
...I have finally reconnected with the joys in my life.
Wandering thru a dark woodland you are scared by every movement, every sound. The very shadows hold portents of negativity and fear. Each action you take is measured against the risk of a simple footstep.
It's exhausting. It wears you out like nothing else; your very breath becomes something to be welcomed and avoided in equal measure.
Frankly, my friends, I've been thru just one too many of these "dark times" in the past decade or so. I am so - over - these feelings. I just want to - be me.
To even find out what that means...a new journey at an age and time in life when most people have already answered that question - who they are.
Since I have spent the better part of 10 years fighting off darkness, demons and the expectations of others...I am delayed in finding out what I expect of myself.
No more delays will be allowed. This ship is sailing and nothing is going to make me turn back now. With God's grace, I found my joy again.
I found that part of me that can sing with abandon - on the inside. A major stress point in my life the past few months has finally resolved itself; and in so-doing as revealed a clarity and truth that I didn't expect.
You see, dearest ones, my marriage fell apart this past summer. For reasons far too complicated and personal to ever recount in any space of any kind - my 32 year marriage formed cracks that quickly turned into canyons. Divides so wide that The Oracle and I soon lost sight of each other.
If I'm to be truthful - these divides began about 6 years ago from forces outside of our relationship. We never noticed those cracks; they were small, subtle. Fissures deep in our souls that finally grew to a size that we had to notice, but choose to ignore.
Finally, the great canyons between us opened up and it seemed, for a long while, that we'd never find ourselves - or each other - again.
We fought - hard. Like warriors in trenches, we were bombarded by our own inadequacies, our own faults, our own pains flung like grenades at each other. And in between, long silences of such incredible anguish.
Darkness. Devoid of light from any source.
But fight we did - in it to win it as the saying goes today.
With God as our commander and ceaseless prayer the only rules of engagement we had, we retreated in a haze to find strength to get back in the trenches. Day after day, struggle after struggle, battle after battle. We persevered with God's enormous grace we remained committed to this relationship begun when we were just children really...making grown up decisions that would reverberate through our lives for 30+ years.
And in a moment of such exquisite harmony and gentleness, joy finally broke thru the smoke of a marriage broken in two. It's impossible to find any other source but God himself; speaking thru the all consuming darkness to tell me - Kris, be calm my child. Words spoken to me in stillness many weeks ago, their impact finally felt in the past few days.
This marriage - that has defined my life for so long now - has been brought to beyond the breaking point. And with God's love and strength to guide us, we have put those broken pieces back together. The whole of the thing looks - different now.
Like the Japanese art of Kintsugi - the practice of mending broken things with gold. The philosophy that the breakage and repair is part of the history of the thing, not something to be hidden but something to be embraced.
Like this bowl, we will never be the same whole that we once were. The canyons that we have repaired will always retain part of their own shape. The landscape of our marriage, indeed of who we are...those scars show a battle hard-fought and hard-won.
A battle born of true love, a fight waged to keep the total darkness at bay.
I am no fool; I know there will still be dark times ahead as we navigate this new way of being - getting used to the scars.
Yet joy - has been rediscovered. And it has changed, like the cracks in the tea bowl above. My joy is different - and in many ways it is far more beautiful now than it ever was.
The battles have made it beautiful. The battles have made me - beautiful.
Brilliant blue sky. Warm sunshine (not too warm...). The air is still. The birds sing and chirp. The hummingbirds continue their yearly and epic battles, those petite ninja killers.
And I sit in The Oasis...pots of herbs, veggies, flowers and grasses adorn pretty much every inch of space that we don't need to walk in.
From a beautifully overgrown pot of Basil to this luscious Hibiscus - our Oasis is just brimming with greenery and color. Since we are surrounded by wildlife that enjoys sampling anything in a traditional garden - we grow everything in pots on the deck. Deer might be willing to come up close the house to nibble on a Tomato plant but they don't come up on the deck - ever. And while we have had woodchucks eat away at a pot of Parsley...we have finally gotten rid of that particular pest by eliminating their hideaways and burrows.
We really are blessed beyond measure with our home. Built in 1978, we purchased it in 1989. It sits on one pristine acre of land that, at one time, had 68 trees on it. We are below 40 trees now - took us 15 years to get to this point! There are still a few skinny trees that could come down but that's always a rather tense discussion in the house; The Oracle would rather let it all go back to nature and while I agree with that - it's only to a point.
Anyway, I digress. The true beauty of our home - our Oasis - isn't in just the house or the property. It's what is behind us that makes this truly an island of serenity in a world growing inward.
When we moved in back in 1989 there was a large woodland area behind the house. A rambling stonewall went from one property to another, marking a property boundary that time has forgotten about. Beyond that stonewall was just - woods. We took several walks thru them in the early days of living here. Dense forest is all it was - tall Oak trees growing side by side, the forest floor littered with leaves, decaying limbs and struggling undergrowth.
We figured at some point whoever owned those many acres of land would sell it - unable to resist the filthy lucre to be gained from selling a couple hundred acres of land to a builder. Even in a town like ours - with one acre zoning for building houses - it would be a killing for a construction company to acquire.
Fast forward about 10 years and at a local annual fall fair, we encounter a booth with topographical maps of town. As would anyone, we swiftly identified where we live - eager to see what lay beyond where we used to wander in the woods.
The gentleman manning the booth watched us and then approached - "Do you live there?", he asked. "Why yes, we do.", we replied. He looked at the map, then us and his expression was one of - envy mixed with joy.
"The man who owns the land behind your house once thought to sell it to a builder", our man informed us. Even confirmed something we suspected for many years - that there is a variance road that leads deep into the woods from the road we live off of. Then he revealed the reason for his envy and joy - "He had a change of heart and when he dies he has deeded the property to the town for open space."
Open. Space. Stipulated in the man's Will...unbreakable.
I recall we simply stood there rooted to that spot. Staring, slack-jawed, at our man. I think one of us might have squeaked out a "Really?"...beyond that, my memory is frozen at the moment we learned that for however long we lived here - the land behind us would remain a lush, untouched forest.
No neighbors - ever. No disruption to the serenity of our backyard - ever.
Even now, 15 years later - as I look out at that dense green space, grown thicker over the years with undergrowth and big green ferns as far as you can see - I am struck silent by the grace of our good fortune.
On the busiest day in this neighborhood - when people have guests over, music blaring - we can retreat to this glorious space and let all that hubbub just...fade away.
As I get older, I am less inclined to travel; thankfully The Oracle feels the same way. And while we will take trips to that most excellent, magical home-of-friends in VT; and every so often head south to the pristine beaches of the west coast of Florida - we are becoming more and more apt to stay home for our times off from work. Even in the wintertime, there is a cold, clear beauty to the forest behind us, to the silence of our Oasis.
True - there are foreign places on my Bucket List - the Highlands of Scotland, the cosmopolitan thrum of London, the vast beauty of Tuscany. And maybe someday we'll get there.
In the meantime, I live out the majority of my Bucket List right here at home - where I have an Oasis to escape to, I have a piano indoors to soothe me and I have The Oracle by my side, with his quiet strength and gentle ways.
It's an ephemeral concept; fleeting yet slow all in the same breath.
There are days when you feel as if you've counted every minute on the clock. I find those days usually happen...at work.
***le sigh***
Then there are the days that go so fast it's as if they finished before they even started.
This past Friday was such a day. For we went to a wedding Friday evening - an event so romantic that it brings tears to my eyes just thinking about the experience.
The bride - a very dear and close friend from work - spent the past 13 months planning the wedding she had been dreaming of since she was 7 years old (she's now 31). I'm fairly certain that the time of those months, to her, definitely felt like they finished before they started.
She worked so hard on this wedding to create the perfect memories for her, her new husband and her family & friends.
She exceeded even her own, wildest expectations.
From the ceremony to the cocktail hour to the meal to the music - and every possible detail in between, this really was a wedding to be put in the spotlight.
The bride, never a conformist - walked down the aisle on her beloved father's arm to this song. Knowing the story of the bridge & groom, this song is the epitome of their meeting, their courtship and their wedding.
And, I suspect, their entire marriage will play out this way every single day. Because the love they hold in their hearts for each other eclipses everything around them - but at the same time welcomes you into that precious inner circle of beauty and truth.
And as they wing their way to their romantic (of course) honeymoon in a tropical paradise, my heart fills with gratitude that this beautiful young woman - inside and out - is my friend.
No - that's not quite enough.
She is a friend - we laugh, share stories, tell each other deep dark secrets. And yet she is more - like a daughter I think - she holds a special place in my heart. One that has never been filled before.
Like a friend - when she got engaged I was giddy with happiness for her. But like a daughter - I was so pleased that she found a man who would cherish her and treat her like the princess she deserves to be in his life.
Like a friend - I ooh'd and aah'd over the wedding plans as she revealed them to me. But like a daughter - she made me so proud of her attitude about marriage, about her maturity and commitment to her childhood dreams to make this wedding the fairytale of her dreams.
Like a friend - I grinned from ear-to-ear to see her walk down the aisle. But like a daughter - she made me burst with joy at her happiness.
Her wedding was a fairytale and she was the princess of every little girls' dreams. The force of her personality brought it all about - and it will ensure that her life with her new husband will be filled with the richness of their love, respect and adoration for each other.
And me? I get to be caught up in their magic. And just thinking about that makes me cry again - in joyousness for their new life together.
And...as time goes by my only wish for this wonderfully special young woman is that her marriage is half as happy as mine is.
Because that is the true gift I could give her - the example of my own marriage to my beloved Oracle; the happiness we share, the compromises we make and the joining of two people into one life together.
Because 30 years from now, my beautiful friend will still be married to the man of her dreams and she will look back in wonder at how time...
A single-syllable word that is one of the most difficult to define. In Christianity about the most perfect definition can be found in the Book of Hebrews, 11:1:
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
For the other extreme, Atheists (and to a certain extent - Agnostics), that sentence is the crux of all that is wrong with religion in general - and Christianity specifically.
But we won't be concerning ourselves with the unbelievers or semi-believers, or even non-Christians. This is to be a conversation - a sharing - of my faith journey. A journey that I continue on as we speak - growing, changing, expanding.
It is one that began in 1963 when I was born. Yes...revealing my age here and I'm OK with that. It's just a number anyway.
I grew up in a Christian family - a devout, faithful Christian family. My parents choose a fringe faith - nothing you've likely ever heard of.
The link above is to the Wiki on this faith and it's about as accurate as you'll find without the mumbo-jumbo of the faith's particular belief system. It is historically correct and represents the faith's tenets with clarity.
If you Google the name - you'll find references to a cult. And that's not too far off to be honest. It has much in common with the Jehovah's Witnesses...and any Christadelphian worth their salt would vehemently disagree with you on that point.
Christadelphians are a tiny sect in Christianity with very small worldwide numbers - 70,000 total in 120 countries.
Very small.
And for my entire childhood I dealt with the stares, derision and skepticism of my classmates when the subject of religion would come up.
In fact, it grew so onerous to deal with that I just started saying we were "Christians" and left it at that. Tone and body language can go a long way to get your point across, even if you are only 12 years old.
As with most children, I followed my parents in their faith without question or comment. Even in my teen years - when you would expect rebellious behavior - I largely never objected to going to church on Sundays, lectures on Sunday evenings and other related events.
In short - I believed. I believed in God, in his son Jesus Christ. I believed in the sacrifice made by Jesus for my salvation.
Christadelphians teach a very narrow view of Christianity. They don't believe in an immortal soul, they don't believe in a Trinitarian system, they don't believe in Satan as a physical being and it follows that they don't believe in Hell as a physical place and they don't believe in christening infants. Baptism is reserved for someone old enough to discern their faith and answer questions during an Examination after a lengthy period of study and mentorship.
What they DO believe is astounding - they believe that the Bible - all of it...Noah, Moses, Abraham, King David, Jesus, the Apostles, etc...was written only for them.
Like I said - astounding.
Christadelphians truly believe that salvation belongs to them - and them alone. And to go further, if you are a non-Christadelphian exposed to the faith and you fail to learn about it and follow it, you will have to answer to that at the time of Judgement.
Yes.
I believed all that to be true - until I turned 32. My beloved dad died at age 63 and for the first time in my sheltered, pampered life - I started to question the meaning of, well, everything. Including my faith - specifically the Christadelphian faith.
How could it all be just for them? For 50,000 people in a world with 6+ million - the only ones to be saved would be the Christadelphians? It made no sense.
It rang hollow - devoid of depth, acceptance, tolerance - all those things that Jesus himself taught us were so very important.
And so, 18 months after daddy died, I left the only faith I had ever known. I walked away with a heavy heart because my dad was a man of deep faith; he truly believed in all of it. And I knew that if he was alive, his disappointment in me would be catastrophic.
Yet - I began the first leg of my independent journey of faith; a trip that would take 15 years to complete.
