“My Healer” – a quatrain

“My Healer” – a quatrain

People will fail you, leave you black and blue
Trample your heart, the very existence of you
Rise above your hurt, let God mend your pain
When everyone has left you, He’s the one who remains.
-jmf

“I Taught Myself To Live Simply” by Anna Akhmatova

I Taught Myself To Live Simply

by Anna Akhmatova

I taught myself to live simply and wisely,
to look at the sky and pray to God,
and to wander long before evening
to tire my superfluous worries.
When the burdocks rustle in the ravine
and the yellow-red rowanberry cluster droops
I compose happy verses
about life’s decay, decay and beauty.
I come back. The fluffy cat
licks my palm, purrs so sweetly
and the fire flares bright
on the saw-mill turret by the lake.
Only the cry of a stork landing on the roof
occasionally breaks the silence.
If you knock on my door
I may not even hear.

---

I was once a very busy person.  Successful, but too busy going through the motions to know if I was really enjoying life or not.  This is what I’ve learned since waking from a coma.  Life is measured in moments.  Those moments are limited.  We are at liberty to spend them any way we choose.  We can waste them on mindless activities, we can worry them away, we can rush them by.  Or we can celebrate them.  They’re going to go by anyway.

My life is much more quiet than it used to be.  I don’t own a TV.  I don’t want to give away my moments for the sake of entertainment, if that makes any sense.  Plus, since my brain injury, I prefer the quiet.  I enjoy my moments as much as I can.  I’m conscious of them.  I have this fear of getting so busy that I lose that awareness.  I’m working on that.

I know there is a balance.  I’m in the process of finding it.  I want my moments to count; to be spent celebrating so that I will have as few regrets as possible.

I think there’s wisdom in that…and this poem.

What’s really healthy in recovery??

I’ve been doing some thinking about my recovery. A lot of thinking. I know that a positive attitude is important, even vital, for progress in recovery.  Recovery from anything.

But, I am realizing that it’s also imperative to acknowledge some of the negative as well.

This is why.  Positive did not lead to what I am recovering from.  Much of my recovery has led to a change in attitude.  I’ve had to do a lot of soul searching in order to make those changes.  I’ve had to acknowledge the behavior I engaged in, the attitudes I held, as well as the people that I chose to include in my life.

That means that I have to think about the negative.

So I have condensed a top ten list for today:

Janet’s Top Ten List of UGHS:

1. Narcissists.

2. People that mistake kindness and humility for weakness and take advantage of it.

3. Controlling people.

4. People who claim and appear to be loyal only until you disagree with them.

5. My weakness for numbers 1-4.

I’m just being real today.  I’m owning my issues and what I need to mend in order to recover completely in order to be healthy.

I don’t like to talk about myself, it makes me uncomfortable.  But it’s necessary in order for me to tell my story.  And telling my story is healing.

Healing for me…and hopefully for someone else as well.

What do you do when you have a persistent guest that turns into an unwelcome roommate??

He’s been here too long and it’s time for him to leave.  He was once a welcome guest, the only one to keep me company besides my faithful and loyal Pup. He listened when I needed to say the things I could not say to any other. But I’m growing weary of him and it’s time for him to go. He’s overstayed his welcome.

You see, there was a time when I welcomed his company for several reasons.  He understood my depression and self-pity. He actually encouraged it.  In his own way, he kept me in my solid state of depression, faithfully, day and night.  All he ever wanted to talk about was the memories of the life and love that I used to live. Conversations that only served to conjure up still-there feelings.

It’s true that I’ll have to live alone, just my Pup and me.  But his absence, the hole that it leaves in my heart and home, will be the space that someone else will fill.  Someone who will cheer for my smiles, my successes and my happiness.

So, I’m helping him pack tonight.  We’re not bothering with suitcases, no.  Garbage bags are sufficient for his unending supply of stuff.  I’m visiting and revisiting every room and closet, searching for anything that remains.  I don’t want him to leave anything behind.  I don’t want anything of him left behind.

I don’t know where he’s going.  I don’t know where his next home will be.  I only know he’s leaving.  Tonight.

Goodbye, Loneliness.

You just weren’t good for me.  I hope you understand.

What do you do when you have many books and little money? Why THIS, of course!

I posted earlier about my massive collection of books being stored away for years.  Well, since they’ve returned home, I’ve struggled with what to do with them.  I live in a small apartment with no built-ins and don’t really have money to purchase bookcases to house them.  So I used some of them to build a bookcase!!

I love being surrounded by books.  I think they’re lovely to look at.  But why is that?  Is it just the aesthetic appeal?  No. It’s much more than that for me.  Books and stories within them remind me that there is a world beyond mine that I am welcome to explore anytime I want.  I can also find a world much like mine in which someone exists like me and that makes me feel less alone somehow.

But there is the aesthetic appeal.  I love browsing the spines of books.  Yes, I removed the dust covers (I think cloth covered books are much more appealing without them anyway), but I saved them.  I actually opened them and organized them in order of size for storage.  It’s really interesting to browse those too…kind of like reading a book of assorted titles and interests.

Books invite me to think and dream.  They remind me that there is so much beyond my world.  The stories they hold put things into perspective.  I need to be reminded of that often these days.

This is only the beginning.  So I unpacked a few tubs?  There are many more.  I’m careful to not use any of my sentimental, favorite author or first editions for decorative purposes.  But they can’t live in boxes or tubs.  That just seems wrong to me.

Oh, and there’s another stack under my desk.  I was like a child rediscovering lost toys.

My reading list just grew.

I like that too.

“The Invitation” – Oriah Mountain Dreamer

 

I have just discovered this poet and…Oh, this poem! I love it because it is naked and authentic!  Particularly, the last stanza.  I don’t even have words…

The Invitation

By Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesnt interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon…
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

“Phenomenal Woman” – Happy Birthday Maya Angelou!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VeFfhH83_RE

Phenomenal Woman

BY MAYA ANGELOU

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size

But when I start to tell them,

They think I’m telling lies.

I say,

It’s in the reach of my arms,

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

The curl of my lips.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.

I say,

It’s the fire in my eyes,

And the flash of my teeth,

The swing in my waist,

And the joy in my feet.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can’t touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,

They say they still can’t see.

I say,

It’s in the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Now you understand

Just why my head’s not bowed.

I don’t shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing,

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It’s in the click of my heels,

The bend of my hair,

the palm of my hand,

The need for my care.

’Cause I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Happy 87th Birthday Maya Angelou! Thank you for being such a phenomenal woman, poet, inspiration and human being.

You are missed!!

❤

“Mirage” – Amy Lowell

Mirage

by Amy Lowell

How is it that, being gone, you fill my days,
And all the long nights are made glad by thee?
No loneliness is this, nor misery,
But great content that these should be the ways
Whereby the Fancy, dreaming as she strays,
Makes bright and present what she would would be.
And who shall say if the reality
Is not with dreams so pregnant. For delays
And hindrances may bar the wished-for end;
A thousand misconceptions may prevent
Our souls from coming near enough to blend;
Let me but think we have the same intent,
That each one needs to call the other, “friend!”
It may be vain illusion. I’m content.

Amy Lowell was a student of poetry.  She studied it.  Both her own work and that of others.  The volume of poems that she penned is incredible and her use of sensuous language unmatched, in my opinion.

But what I enjoy most is the connection that I feel when I read her poetry.  You see, I think she knew something of grief and heartbreak.

How could she write with such passion if she didn’t??

Have I said how much I’m enjoying National Poetry Month??

🙂

“In Myself” – Louisa May Alcott

In Myself

by Louisa May Alcott

I do not ask for any crown
But that which all may win;
Nor try to conquer any world
Except the one within.
Be thou my guide until I find
Led by a tender hand,
The happy kingdom in myself
And dare to take command.

I love this poem because it’s so simple yet so profound.

I think the poet is truly onto something.

Peace and acceptance of others, situations and circumstances in general, begins with acceptance of self.

That is where we learn to sail how to sail our ship.

“To A Stranger” – Walt Whitman

Just who was Walt Whitman??

Teacher, journalist, voracious reader and poet.  An optimist.  A literary enthusiast.

In learning about his life I realize that I have much in common with him.  I’ve always delved into books and stories for escape both literally and figuratively, much in the same way as he.  I studied journalism and education in college only to drop out after my junior year.  When I married at 21 my life took on a new meaning with starting a family.  My love of reading remained.  I returned to college and education after 20 years.  My career in teaching is currently in limbo as a result of a brain injury.  Mr. Whitman’s life and career was changed when he suffered a stroke.

What impresses me most about this poet is his tenacity and commitment.  He worked on his most famous work Leaves of Grass, through seven editions, until his death.

He never stopped working.  That encourages me.

His poem To A Stranger is a favorite.

To A Stranger

by Walt  Whitman   (1819 – 1892)

Passing stranger! you do not know
How longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking,
Or she I was seeking
(It comes to me as a dream)

I have somewhere surely
Lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall’d as we flit by each other,
Fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,

You grew up with me,
Were a boy with me or a girl with me,
I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become
not yours only nor left my body mine only,

You give me the pleasure of your eyes,
face, flesh as we pass,
You take of my beard, breast, hands,
in return,

I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you
when I sit alone or wake at night, alone
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.