in times like these, when good
and evil clash, when fingers
point and bleating sycophants cry
foul to sway their witless
devotees…I find it wise to bite
my tongue from adding
to the mad cacophony…
to pause
selah
…and squint through swelling
tears on bended knees, perchance
to glimpse one single bloom
amidst the weeds.
kat ~ 21june15
when the end of all ends besets
us and we are called to
account for the treasure we
spent, let it not
be thus…
that we pledged our allegiance
to purveyors of faux
religiosity, abandoning those
least among us and the infirm, hording
our riches tight to our chests…taking
up arms against imagined
enemies, defending liberty and
life for some, not all, condemning
as pariah those fallen from
lock-step and grace of
the chosen, infallible herd, pressing
for the silent annihilation of
those other than, telegraphing
our righteous deeds from center squares.
but let it be that…
we allowed our hearts to
open again and again, to
breaking…that we gave not
merely of our plenty, but
our all, that we forgave, nurtured,
healed, welcomed, fed, clothed,
visited and embraced every
soul that providence led to
us, our prayers like incense wafting
aloft from our private cells. let it
be that when called
to account, our account will
be empty…our treasure dribbling
like honey from the comb.
kat ~ 18 June 2015
Every now and then I scroll through the profiles of the people Facebook thinks I ought to know. Be it through mutual friends or employment or school or events…our personal profiles provide all sorts of juicy data for social media engines to search and analyze. Part of me feels violated by this scrutiny but another part of me secretly hopes to connect with an old friend or a distant long-lost relative. So I engage in this ever churning game of cyber hide and seek. It’s a virtual hunt for something we all treasure. Relationships and meaningful connections with those familiar faces who knew us once upon a time.
This evening I found myself flipping through the latest offering of happy faces, pet portraits, silly selfies and artistic still life’s. We’re a creative species and some of us put a lot of effort into creating profile pictures that represent our true nature. Or at least how we’d like to be seen by the world.
And then I happened upon a photograph of a silly big beaked yard ornament bird looking at what appeared to be the first buds of spring sprouting from a barren spot in a flower bed. And her name. It was one I knew well. One of my very best friends from high school. And yes, she had posted the perfect profile picture. It was totally HER!
In fact I had connected with her last fall when our 40th reunion was being planned. Unable to attend I promised myself a trip home in the next year so we could connect face to face. I never knew she had a social media account, which explained why she showed up on my “you should be friends” list. But a quick jump to her page revealed that the posts ended late the following spring. Of course I already knew why. My dear friend, who I never got back home to see, had passed away.
And yet here she was. Her profile had continued to live on in cyberspace. I was tempted to “friend” her. It was comforting to think that it might be possible to connect with her one last time. And sad to realize that my friend request would ultimately not be accepted. Though I am certain if things were different she would friend me back. We were tight like that.
I have other friends on my account who were my social media friends before they passed from this life to the next. I like to check in on them. Others visit them too. I know because they post little messages. The chatter always escalates around anniversaries, birthdays and holidays. It’s a bizarre practice, but one that seems to bring comfort and healing to those, like me who cannot bear the thought of “unfriending” our loved one. Not yet. Social media is magical place where eternity is real.
I miss my friend and am saddened even more that time robbed us of a chance for one last hug and to lose ourselves in one of our epic giggle-fests. To see that familiar sparkle in her eyes. When sorrow gets the best of me I know that I can always find her here. A snapshot in time. A profile pic that captured the essence of a life fully lived. Her essence. And I will probably linger a while. And smile softly, enfolded by memories. The very best visits among friends after all, are spent in silent knowing where words are optional.
Kat~ June 2015 (photo credit~MLC 1956-2015)
at the core of my deepest
longing i need to
know that there are
reasons and answers
to the why’s.
i need to feel
connected to the
swelling segregated
swarms of other lost
souls seeking.
if only i had realized
sooner than later that
reason is highly
overrated…for that
which i seek can
only be found by tracing
a path to my heart.
kat ~ 17 june 2015
At first blush, a lovely arrangement of cut flowers is lush and beautiful. In our longing to surround ourselves with the beauty of nature, we bring them inside to where we are. But cut from their roots, denied the sun’s kisses, and separated from their beds of nourishing soil is not how flowers are meant to spend their glory days. Like a hospice for plants, we plop them in vases of water, perhaps with a bit of sugar to sweeten their fading moments. And they, without even a thought of retribution, bless us with their sweet scents and stunning beauty, giving all until they can give no more, perchance to catch a glance from us, when we happen to think about noticing.
When I think about cut flowers, I think about life itself. How quickly we humans wilt and fade when not living in the truth of our own roots. When we try to thrive as someone we are not, hoping that others will give us a glance. We give it our all, blushing and blooming, but it is a pale second best attempt to fit in and a very far cry from our truest destiny.
I much prefer to visit flowers where they thrive. To catch their fragrant aroma on the tip of a breeze rather than shoving my nose into their fragile petals to get a whiff. To lie with them in shade or under the warm rays of the sun. To delight in their symbiotic relationship with the bees, birds and butterflies, each playing their own roles in the cycle of life. And I realize…
That we too, when we allow ourselves to thrive where we are rooted, to be who we are meant to be, will draw those who matter most to where we are. We need not strive to fit in. We will be noticed if we are true to our truest nature, and we will find our place with those who love and accept us for who we are!
A moment of silence then for my sad vase of cut flowers. For a life too short, but a valuable lesson gained. For teaching me that my vain attempts to be who I am not, merely causes me to live a life less than. Dear cut flowers…even your faded, falling blooms have touched my heart and changed me. Namaste’.
like mercury colliding... 