Perfect Timing!

Spirits are everlasting, 
Though they leave worn-out bodies. 
They just go somewhere, 
And they wait.  And wait. 

Quite like hiding in the wings, 
And they watch.  A high watchman. 
And when all of the ingredients are ready, 
And the circumstances are all set, 

They speak.  Yes, but through the living. 
Their voices rise again and once again, 
Their names are on the lips of many. 

They probably just stand to the side 
Smiling, grinning and thinking, 
‘Aha!’ Now you hear me, 

You really, really hear me.” 
And the timing is perfect, 
As they speak even louder
And more clearly! 

Lynn M. 
June 26, 2021 

Looking at the Trees!

Muir Woods- California

Sometimes we must put aside our tribal differences and focus on what’s good for the greater whole.  Wayne Dyer often mentioned the whole enchilada in his talks for he realized that a bit here and a bit there rarely makes a meaningful force. 

We all harbor hurt feelings or disappointments but ultimately we see that (as one writer wrote), “things don’t just happen; they happen just,” or more pointedly, justly.  The Rolling Stones duly reminded us as they sang “You can’t always get what you want, but you get what you need!” 

Once we have shaken off the dust of dark, error thoughts, we thank our lucky stars that we were saved from the glittery, metallic doom that we had in view.  We could not see the thick, wooded forest because we were looking at the beauty of the trees. 

But grace reached down and scooped us up and we were saved from a greater harm.  We may have emerged from the dangers of the thickets tattered, torn and even somewhat disheveled, but we came out on the other side with clarity of purpose.  We walked out of the bush with new arms of wisdom, buckets of strength and oodles of renewed fortitude. 

We pause and give thanks.  We then delve into loads of self-care as we regather ourselves and regain our rhythm and coordinated moves. When we finally have the nerve to take a close look at our new reflections in the looking glass, we sigh, ‘Okay.  A little wear and tear but still in one piece.  Not bad.  Not too bad.” And then we think of J. Herbert Brewster’s poem, Be Proud of Your Wounds and Scars and know that we earned every wrinkle which equates the rings of the tree! 

Lynn M. 
June 19, 2021 

What is Love?

What is love? 
Love is not selective. 
It does not pick and choose. 
It is all encompassing
Like a huge circle of arms embracing
All in its sight while giving a big squeeze. 

What is love? 
It is unconditional. 
It does not pick and choose. 
It is expressed during wrongs and rights. 
It still hugs really tight. 

What is love? 
It comforts and soothes
Those who are known 
And those being met for the first time. 
It does not discriminate, 
But flows like a steady stream. 

If these qualities are not being shown
Or displayed universally, 
Well, it just isn’t love.
Period. 

Lynn M. 
June 12, 2021 

Going Through the Locks!

As I read a dear fellow writer’s book, Faring Forth Again on the Shoe (by Val Poore), I can easily compare it to life itself.  She and her skipper companion continually navigate the waterways and canals from the Netherlands in route to France. 

As in life, they cannot proceed on their journey without the skill and mercy of the people who open the locks.  If the operators of the locks are not on duty, are running late or if they even feel contrary, all advancement stops.  Period. 

If we are not shown grace by those designated angel helpers that the Creator has strategically placed, we too are stopped in our tracks. Sometimes, we simply must wait and ride out the tide until the lifts are up and we are allowed to carry on. 

Therefore, we learn to communicate, cajole, shuck and jive, so that we can get what we need from those who can delay or stymy our ability to move forth. Those who are wise, learn to talk the language of the people and acknowledge as well as respect their lifestyles, beliefs, and ways of life. 

I listen to Val and her friend, Koos, switch languages and truly deal with the temperaments of those that they encounter along the way. They know how to negotiate, banter, and recognize a good bargain when they get one. They have learned how to speed it up or slow it down with the keepers of the terrain as they maneuver their way through visiting lands. 

We, too must silently and prayerfully wait for the nod of the head or that gesture which waves us through meaning, “Come on.”  All these movements equate a green light which is what we want most as we advance on our paths.  Once we have gone through, we can let out a huge sigh of relief.  But just as we begin to rejoice, there lies another lock ahead. 

Questions begin to swirl.  Will the next crew be friendly or cordial?  Will it be easy or challenging?  We do not know.  But we do know that our confidence has grown because are no longer greenhorns. We are more seasoned. We feel more assured that we will know how to cross that next bridge or go through that next lock when we get there! 

Lynn M. 
June 5, 2021 

The Rumor Mill

Some may remember Paul Simon’s hit song,  “50 Ways to Leave your Lover,” from the 70’s.  Well here is a list of ways to attempt to diminish a black woman in modern times, even during the stresses of  Covid.

First, you circulate a rumor and say that she is really a man, though you had not heard that one.  Until, the children that you are trying to teach how to count and read ask you if it’s true?  “Are you really a man?”  You think or you don’t think.  You just try to get through the day before you let that one seep in too deeply.  Whew!

Then while in the schools, with breaks being few and far between, your co-workers have a coordinated effort in place to block all toilets before you reach the door.  Perhaps they have also heard the rumor.  If you are lucky enough to get inside the washroom, there is an incessant, earth-shattering bamming on the door as if the Walls of Jericho are falling down.

If you still are not shaking with rage or seething, how about circulating the rumor that you are a prostitute. When you take a walk or go to the athletic club, old, crinkled, wrinkled men walk up to you grinning as if they are about to make a “pick-up.”  How offensive!

Still surviving and thriving?  How about the neighbors overhead stomp throughout the apartment for hours as they go from room to room over the past years?  If you complain, there is a dismissive tone because another rumor says that you are bi-polar.  Hadn’t heard that one either! But with that one being placed on your head, nothing you say really matters. It’s like , “Ugh-huh; ugh-huh.”

Headache, yet?  Well, lastly, when you run your bath water or turn on the shower, the woman upstairs’ non-working, live-in boyfriend, who is on the property illegally, hears you.  Oops!  He immediately rushes to the bathroom and starts his shower as if you are showering with him.  A vicarious thrill to him, you suppose.  But a most sickening thought indeed.

If this exhausts you, then imagine what it is like living it day in and day out; hour after hour.  All of these well-orchestrated attempts to degrade someone that they do not know. But you whisper like Maya Angelou, “And still I rise,” and you vow, this too shall pass.

Lynn M.
June 1, 2021