Tam Lin Neville

I just read this poem by Tam Lin Neville -- I love it.

I Study the Sky

how it changes,
a cloud, bursting, its colors,
fierce at first, fast disappearing.
Another brushes in, this whisper I can hear
forming and reforming,
silken mesh dissolving,
unraveled, rewoven.
My self is kin to this cloth,
these shades of pink, purple,
lavender, gray.
Then night sinks over
my cigarette's ember.
Its ash glows red in the wind.

Helping a Broken Bone to Heal

https://mail.google.com/mail/#inbox/1475679f6d09a744

Integrity

Living with integrity means: Not settling for less than what you know you deserve in your relationships. Asking for what you want and need from others. Speaking your truth, even though it might create conflict or tension. Behaving in ways that are in harmony with your personal values. Making choices based on what you believe, and not what others believe.”

― Barbara De Angelis 

What I Have to be Grateful For

The focus is once again on gratitude.  Looking back over my first summer in Durham, I'm grateful:

1.  For fun -- the Festival on the Eno, the American Dance Festival, Carolina Theater, free movies, the Full Frame -- all very up-lifting and enjoyable.
2.  The abundance of wellness meetings
3.  Much improved health care over Tarboro
4.  My church
5.  Doing my best
6.  Signing up for a water color course
7.  Having my first grandchild
8.  Finding a doctor and a dentist
9.  Finding a potential place to rehab after my surgery
10. Seeing a ladybug on my desk just now
11. It's quiet now.
12.  I thought of 3 things I like about my upstairs neighbor - she's nice, she wants to be a physical therapist, and she let me borrow 2 eggs recently
13.  My church -- did I already say that?
14. The Y at Chapel Hill
15. The awesome library system here.
16.  Isabella
17.  The Vision for You Group
18.  So much help for my move, especially brother
19,  Hoping a trip to see my granddaughter will work out
20.  Healthy food to eat
21.  The Aldi store nearby
22.  No refined sugar in 2 years
23.  Martha Joy and Ed in Boston
24.  Forgiveness

Juneteenth

    The Five Blind Boys of Mississippi sang their hearts out this year at the Gospel by the Sea Concert in Galveston.  There was a beauty pageant, barbecues...strawberry soda

Two and a half years is a long time for news to travel.  That's how it was in Texas in 1863.  Negroes were free everywhere but here.  Slaves were freed on January 1, 1863.

"We never celebrated the Fourth of July.  Our celebration was in June, Juneteenth."

Negroes in Texas had to wait for their freedom.  Why?
Because a messenger never made it with news of the Emancipation?
Or because a messenger never made it with news of the Emancipation Proclamation?
Or because slave owners withheld the information?
Or because Union troops decided to let plantations reap one last harvest of cotton?

Whatever the reason, slaves of Texas got screwed.

"The people of Galveston are informed that in accordance with Proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free."

Many left at once for Louisiana, Arkansas, and Oklahoma.

Encouragement, picnics, barbecue pit is the center of attention.

State holiday in Texas.

Thought for Today

"That's the thing about human life.  There's no control group, no way to ever know how any of us would have turned out if any variables had been changed."  Elizabeth Gilbert

"The what if's and should have's can impact us negatively if we let them.  Let's focus on today.  It's all we have and it's pretty great.  If it's not great, we can do what we can to change it, and let go of the rest."   Shannon Byrne

How I Learned to Forgive

I hadn't expected to see his image

on Facebook last night.

Or to read about his cross country trips,

his wife,

his wonderful life,

how everything is going so well.

I had only intended to see some photographs

of my granddaughter

born one month ago.

But instead I saw

his face, now middle-aged

with grey hair, like mine.

I once loved this man.

Had a child with him,

who became the father of

my granddaughter.

What is it that keeps me transfixed

in front of the screen,

where I see Ron's body looming large,

his once slender form now bloated

from too many beers,

and years
of rich food, and 

living large.

I thought back to that day when our son

was one month old,

and Ron told me:

"well, it looks like we'll be raising him

from separate households."

No. I couldn't imagine raising a child alone.

But that is what happened.

This was the man who told me during

my pregnancy that I looked fat, 

and that he just wasn't attracted to fat people.

Oh, the pain

of that and so many other insults as well.

like his indifference and coldness.

I had already forgiven Rod once, over

ten years ago.

So why do I cringe when 

I see him now?

It's only a photograph.

And what happened was so

long ago.

I go to
to the Archbishop.

"Forgive often and completely.
No matter what's been done to you,"
he advises.

I know I must,

I must forgive, not now, but soon.

I must see the humanity in his eyes,

and understand that he, too,

cried.

So forgive I must.

It is required, if I want to remain

inspired.

And if I want to go on living.

How many times?

Seventy times seven?

(But I can't forget!)

It doesn't matter, you must go on

forgiving.

The unforgiveness is only

hurting you.

And I try to forgive

in order to set him free,

and to heal myself.

(But he left me without
a phone, or money, or transportation.  My
baby was sick and I had no way to call, or
to get him to a doctor.)

But I did it.  I raised a son who is now a man
and a father and a husband.
A son who is close to me and caring.

I feel the pain of that time and fear rises.
The Archbishop tells me:
These feelings are not your enemy.
They are your teacher.

I decide to call Ron and tell him
how seeing his photograph brought up painful memories. 

(But what if he insults me?  Or blames me?)
I follow the Archbishop's advice:
Imagine Ron as a baby, innocent, before he hurt you.
Think of three attributes you admire in him, and of what you need from him.
(An apology.  He needs to say he's sorry.)

I call him:  425-844-0323.
I plan to say "don't we have a beautiful granddaughter?"
I get a recorded message from a voice I don't recognize.

I look through databases with his name and find the heading:
DECEASED,
then realize I misspelled his last name.

I locate his address:  P. O. Box 710,
Maple Valley, WA  98038.

Then I write the letter,
And decide whether I should send it.