Category Archives: Essays

Ballon -Friday’s Word of the Day


Today’s word of the day at Dictionary.com is a French word: “ballon”. At first I wondered if it was a typo. “Shouldn’t that be ‘balloon’?” I thought. And then I looked at the definition and especially the origin of the word. It all began to make sense. From dictionary.com:

Origin of ballon
Ballon is a French term used especially in ballet, describing a dancer who appears to be floating in the air while executing a jump or other movement, like “His Airness,” Michael Jordan. Earlier English spellings of the word include balonne, baloune, and balloone as well as balloon. The original sense of the word in the early 17th century was “ball,” specifically a large, sturdy, inflated leather ball hit with the arms protected with wooden boards or kicked like a soccerball. By the late 17th century ballon and balloon had developed the meaning “a large globular glass vessel” used for chemical distillation; and by the late 18th century, balloon (thus spelled) also meant “a round, flexible, airtight bag that rises into the air when inflated with heated air or gas.” Balloon becomes the standard English spelling in the late 17th century. Ballon, as a ballet term, entered English in the 19th century.

So, ballon in ballet is about floating on air, and balloons? Well they are floaty orbs, unless they’re filled with water or made of glass. I got the impression that the original balloon was more about its shape than its floating qualities. And then I started to think of round, inflated ballerinas bursting at the seams of their leotards, tutus stretched tight and stiff around their middles, and I couldn’t help but giggle.

Which came first the ballon or the balloon? The latter, of course. Ballon, in ballet, entered the English vocabulary rather late to the dance in the 19th century. We humans had been filling animal bladders and other hollow bulbous things for centuries.

Somewhere between heaven and earth the idea of floating on air became associated with balloons and voila! We now have ballon to help us describe the amazing acrobatic, gravity-defying leaps of ballerinas. Being inflated and puffy not required!

I’m feeling silly today. I best give you my Haiku. Have a great weekend!

suspended, graceful,
the skilled ballon of dancers
defies gravity

~kat


Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 23 July 2017


Grief likes to sneak up on us when we least expect it. Or at least that’s what we tell ourselves when it taps us on the shoulder to remind us it’s still hanging around. Whatever the loss, there are consequences for having cared about someone or something.

Some of us try to outsmart this inevitable reality of life. We detach from anything that might cause us pain.

But, we lose things every day. Ask me how many times I’ve lost my car keys in the past year…more than a few! We may lose an opportunity, our place in line at the grocery store, because we forgot to grab peanut butter when we were on aisle 5, or we might lose our way when the gps isn’t working and tells us to turn right…right into a corn field. We may even lose our marbles…well…maybe that last one is for another discussion…though I do remember how distressed I was at age 5 or 6 when I lost my prized blue cat’s eye beauty…

But of course, these not the types of loss I am referring to. In order to grieve it is required to have loved. I am certain that life would not be worth living if not for love. And there’s the rub.

What do we do when we love, but the object of that love leaves us? What do we do with the “maybe if’s”, the “wonder why’s”, the “if only’s”, the remorse we feel if we never had the chance to say goodbye…and the anger. What do we do with that?

We always think we need closure, but closure is not a cure for grief. There is no closure when we have fully loved. There is only figuring out what to do with that love when there’s nowhere to put it and no one to receive it. That’s grief.

But it doesn’t answer my question. What do we do? Especially if we believe a life without love is a life not worth living. Do we stop living? That’s a bit drastic, but sadly it is what some of us choose to do.

Now I am speaking from experience. I’ve been grieving of late and this is what I’ve learned. Just because the person or thing you lost isn’t here anymore does not mean you stopped loving them. (Read that last line again. Do you see it? You are still loving.)

When I find myself engulfed by waves of grief, I remember how fortunate I am. I acknowledge the fact that I have the capacity for a love so deep and wide that it hurts. Sure I miss the object of my affection, but oh how grand it was to have loved them. In fact, I love them still. That’s precisely why I am grieving…for love’s sake.

Finally, here’s the thing. Though it may sound a bit pie-in-the-sky delusional (I admit it); all this grateful, positive self-talk I’m gushing, there is one more thing I do when grief catches me by surprise. I let go and have a good cry. Sometimes I even rant and scream and get mad. And that’s okay. I let the pain wash over me. Then I remind myself why it hurts so much. Love. It’s worth it you know. Love is always worth living for.

Peace and Love everyone! Yes Love, with a capital L! “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” ❤️

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 23 July 2017

baring her raw sweetness
…oh shit!
dancing with death, like lovers,
roots never mingling,
wishes fade like ash…
so get me that beer
al desko gourmets
echo from her pearl pink pith
withering on the vine
rhapsody in muted blue
then let me be
to offer sweet
relief from
summer’s bitter
stillness

~kat

A shi sai or ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the shi sai features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Al Desko – Friday’s Word of the Day Haibun

al desko

Today’s Dictionary.com word of the day…Al Desko…is patterned after al fresco and was first used in the 1980’s. Its facetious meaning alludes to eating a meal at one’s desk in an office: always snacking al desko; having an al desko lunch.

aldesko

Here’s a look at my al desko lunch today, as a matter of fact. It’s not much different any other week day, though the menu changes slightly. I get 30 minutes of unpaid time for lunch. But most days, the lunch hour is exactly the time when my boss needs me to write notes from the morning’s meetings or prepare presentations for the afternoon meetings. It is a rare thing for me to even leave me desk in the course of an 8-1/2 to 9 hour day; rarer still to actually finish my soup while it is still warm. But today is a good day. The boss is flying as I type somewhere over the Rockies, so I am enjoying an uninterrupted break.

We are work-a-holics here in the US. The sad truth is we are encouraged to work long hours, and do, with the hopes of gaining the boss’s attention. Positive notice is what it takes to ace an evaluation which translates into a favorable raise, not the minimum pittance required for breathing, and positions one for future opportunities as a person who “works hard and gets the job done”. Sadly, though loyalty is a thing oft cited in great reviews, companies are loath to return the favor.

I’m exhausted just thinking about it. And yet I acquiesce to”the man” hoping that I might one day be able to afford to retire. It is highly unlikely that I ever will, but I like saying the word retire and thinking that I might have a shot at it. Especially now that I’ve passed the 60’s mark.

I’m sorry. I’m afraid I have digressed a bit. The word of the day al desko has nothing to do with retiring. But here I sit, eating my healthy store-bought soup, heated in the office breakroom, with my little bag of goldfish and a cup of ice water. Dining al desko, catching up on Facebook and WordPress. Checking the news and the weather; glad that I brought my umbrella in from my car this morning. It’s going to rain this afternoon.

I’ll leave this desk around 5:30 or so, squinting as I emerge from the building at seeing the light of day outside for the first time in hours. A quick 15-20 minute trip in traffic will deposit me home where I will feed my pets, grab a bit of grub myself and then settle in for the night. All to start again at 6 am next morning when I will get up…feed the pets…and pack another al desko lunch to tide me over mid-day.

I’m shaking my head as I read this back to myself. I really do need to step away from my desk at least once during the day. It occurs to me…I need a life! 😉 At least I have words and writing to sooth the lunacy. Blogging has saved me. 🙂

Have a great week. Step away from the keyboard every now and again. You deserve it. (I say this, hoping that I’ll remember to take my own advice!)

work-a-holics dine
on bagged lunches and take-out
al desko gourmets

~kat


Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 16 July 2017


I think of loss when I think of 2017. Loss of friends and family to the great chasm forged by the US election. Loss of safety in a land whose people feel emboldened to hate, discriminate and dismiss others not white, privileged or born here. Loss of the ideals that once bound us all; things like truth, honor, common decency, compassion, empathy and kindness. Loss of hope that I will have security in retirement…scratch that…I am resigned to the fact that I shall likely need to work for some company who cares only about profit margins and synergy savings and downsizing, until I die.

It all feels pretty grim. And yet I resist. I fight for what I believe is right and good and true. I extend a reed from the sharp edges of my bleeding heart, hoping to bridge the divide between me and those I never stopped loving. I dream of a day when religion is not used as a weapon and laws are not written to discriminate and exclude, but to serve all and protect. I tread lightly on the precious soil beneath my feet, leaving tiny footprints, though others may trample our mother’s green places, spewing poison in her waterways. I try to be good. To repay malice with kindness; avarice with generosity. To be a flicker of light in the growing darkness. To love and not hate.

I wonder how much more I can lose and still survive. And yet, I am still here living and breathing through things I was certain would break me.

But I am not broken. I have a heart that beats, and a conscience that sings me to sleep each night. I have an inner light that stirs me every day to press on. And so I do.

There is comfort in knowing that I am not alone. That there are others like me who wrestle with darkness. Who speak the truth. Who love unconditionally. Who care for the least of us. When I start to feel weary I remember the good and goodness that exists.

Sometimes losing everything helps us realize what is most important. It helps us let go of the things that were never ours to hold, bringing us to our truest self. It lightens our load for the long journey home.

While I’m not home yet, I think I know the way. Following the light is all it takes. Just follow the light. Just follow the light.

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 16 July 2017

remember the good
maybe
purr in rhapsody, the muse
filled to brim longing
most comes to mind, not amusing
when the tree bough breaks
dressed in eerie blue
welcome us in death
like diamonds
and dragons…
you are from eden
tiny gift
to the day

~kat

A shi sai or ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the shi sai features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Fête -Friday’s Word of the Day


I know it’s Saturday. It took sleeping on Friday’s Word of the Day to come up with a Haiku considering the bitter irony of its timing.

Fête is defined at dictionary.com as:
In noun form: a festive celebration or entertainment; a day of celebration; holiday; a religious feast or festival; a fete lasting several days in honor of a saint; and as a verb: to entertain at or honor with a fete: to fete a visiting celebrity.

It came to us from the French, according to The Online Etymology Dictionary, in 1754, from French fête “festival, feast,” from Old French feste “feast, celebration” (see feast (n.)). If the date is right, first used in English by Horace Walpole (1717-1797). fete (v.) 1819, from fete (n.). Related: Feted; fetes; feting.

So the timing of the word makes perfect sense! France? Bastille Day? Ah hah! I get it! Of course!

Except…on Thursday, in my world, I was graveside at the funeral of the beloved husband of a friend and Friday? Well, Friday found me at the veterinary office saying goodbye to my 17 and a half year old rescue dog, Lucy.

So you can imagine I was in no mood for fetes of any kind on Friday, or so I thought at first glance. But then I began to embrace the word and found comfort in it.


I thought about the happy reunions that happened in clusters at the graveside on Thursday as family members and friends, separated by distance and time, embraced. And there were sermons and songs that promised the joy to be found by the departed in the beyond; a Fete of heavenly proportions and happy reunions with those who had passed before and would be waiting to greet him. Whether one is a believer in heaven or not, the comfort it gives those who do believe is lovely to witness.


Then on Friday, I considered how the joyous memories of happier, healthier times held me as I helped my little dog take her final trip “across the rainbow”, as they say, in peace and dignity. A life well lived is much to be feted! And Lucy was a diva and a queen while she lived. I smile to think of her, a 10 pound shitzu bossing around her 180 pound mastiff brother! She was a force! Her life was a fête!

So, this is your Haiku, a day late, for Friday’s Word of the Day. Maybe not what you were expecting, given it’s definition, but every bit as relevant to me given the circumstances of my real life week, kissed by irony.

mourners imagine
joyous fêtes beyond the veil
welcome us in death

~kat