Let’s Play a Game

What if I told you that I wanted to be friends? You agree, and after chatting we find that we like board games. A group of my friends play once a month and next get-together is to play Monopoly.

You agreed to come to play. However, between the time you agreed and the play date, your friends tell you that its’ really stupid. They tell you to insist on shooting games. Whether you agree or not, you decide to do what your friends say because…

You like Monopoly, that’s not the problem. You’ve just thought better of your agreement after distilling it through the filter that is your other friends.

So, when you bring this gun play idea to us, the Monopoly group, we refuse to play. We don’t want to play with guns and never did. Because we stand our ground you put forth the idea that we’re not playing fair. You leave the group, never playing Monopoly as you initially agreed, and thinking very poorly of us.

Let’s Get Real

This is similar to the subtle sleight of hand that is pervading the political scene. It’s very juvenile and sub-literate.

The argument put forth by the Republicans presupposes that they are addressing an intellectually stunted audience. And that’s a bad place to act from, one chosen by politicians who are limited. These people are not selfless in their service to the public; in fact, they’re more self-serving it seems to me.

After all, if you work for the public, and they tell you what they want you to do, and you in turn decide to do things your way—against the wishes of the people, then it stands to reason that you no longer work for me. For, I am the people.

There are those who say I hate politics. Really, it’s not the game but the players that are the larger problem. Some of them aren’t the brightest crayons in the box, but seemingly no one ever told them. Instead, they succeed because they have a drive borne of ignorance of their own limitations, of their shortcomings.

Did you ever wonder why you can have more respect for the intelligent commentary of observant, contemplative reporters? Did you ever wonder how anyone voted for certain politicians. Some elected officials can spew meandering, drivel they think passes for explanation and good rhetoric. I sometimes wonder if these politicians understand and want to confuse; or if they really don’t get it, and are just saying what they think the words sound like.

We the people stood up, across party lines, across the country, outside of traditional politics and said, NO MORE!! to the Republican way of conducting our political business.

We the people heard the fresh hope behind the words of the man who ran a stellar campaign. He wanted us to hear what he had to say, to offer us a better way. To do that he first listened to what we said we wanted, and what we demonstrated we needed.

And we the people stood together, across party lines, across the country, outside of traditional politics, and shouted, and voted, and cried for the chance to heal our country. We the people said, Yes please, and thank you!!

And They Still Don’t Get It

President Barack Obama doesn’t think that the Republicans fully get the implications of what footing they lost on November 4th, 2008. They lost the confidence of their public.

I don’t think the Rs fully get that they are the problem. On this first major piece of legislation, they stood together in R-dom, against the President, against the public, against the momentous flow of promise and change.

And they didn’t stem the tides of progress. In fact, the Rs demonstrated, acted out, illustrated to us all that they have no sense of fair play and are truly unwilling to work with the new man in charge. Unwilling to give the people what they call for. Unwilling to speak the truth of what really is at issue, they’re still smarting from the outcome of the elections. They’re willing to fall back on the same rhetorical party lines of It’s not my fault and Well, look what he did.

In any dogmatic ideology, there is the inherent danger of skipping over truths. Because, by the very nature of being qualified as a dogma, a rationale must dismiss all other possibility as invalid, and usually without evidence.

An example of a dogma is the current Republican party. They’ve long divested their responsibility to know who their constituency is. They’ve acted on their own without the public for so long until they’ve forgotten how to place their fingers to get the pulse of we the people. They made no effort to get to we the people which is why they were broadsided.

The ship that is the Obama group fitted their bow with social media technology and savvy individuals to work. They got to us where we live in the 21st century. They reached out to us, asked our thoughts, and heard our words. If the R party didn’t get it then, they did when the Obama campaign asked for our support. They received contributions large and small. I was thrilled to hit the donate button even once to send my small $10, more a show of support than anything.

You know, I take it back; Rs didn’t get it even then. R people are so entrenched in the belief that they can know for us, without our input, until it’s no wonder they react wholly inappropriately and applaud themselves.

They acted out against the stimulus bill. They had conferences to tell us why we didn’t want what we wanted. They threw the bill on the floor (a truly discourteous and offensive act). They pissed and whined about not having enough time.

It didn’t matter that the majority of the public wanted the President to come through on this bill. It didn’t matter that in truth a strong country is a well-rounded country. The arts are important to any people.

I think that’s something that only truly intelligent people get. Rs don’t strike me as well-rounded but dogmatic in their tenacity to do things their way. Case in point: Bush went out never understanding that he was wrong, never showing that he got it.

Dogmatic treatment of anything is unsafe. Certainly in the workings of something as fluid and dynamic as politics. The problem is that in dogmas, like cults, it’s rarely easy to broaden the thinking of practitioners beyond what they think they know. No room for education means no room for growth and change.

What query I have now is how far into this presidency will the Rs go with their blinders of solidarity on. When will they step outside of their traditional views and see what else is surrounding them? When will they return to we the people to hear what we have to say? When will they begin to listen? Will they stop talking long enough to do so? Do they realize that Rs voted for President Barack Hussein Obama too? There must be something to this new way of seeing. Will the Rs ever fully get it that we the people can see them? That we can see they’re the ones not playing fair? We the people can only hope.

I was preparing to leave my dad’s hospital room. He was very sick with cancer and other complications. He had suffered and recovered from setbacks that required surgeries, but he couldn’t seem to shake everything. Blood clots were his problem four years earlier and he still was plagued with them. We saw him through so much, but he was leaving us.

This day was a peculiarly gentle, warm day nearing fall. It had rained and then the sun came beaming out. It hurt every time leaving my dad in the hospital because I knew how much he hated being there. It didn’t matter that he was understanding about my leaving, he complained enough for me to understand that his heart wasn’t in that. And I understood that because I knew his personality. Still, I had to keep things in perspective so that I could just keep going. This particular day, dad was not ready for me to leave, and asked for different things “before you leave.”

Light in the Middle Parts

I stayed a little longer and did a few more things for him and just sat awhile longer. I told him that I’d return tomorrow, or maybe even pass back after I finished my errands. His spirits lifted and I was content that he was satisfied. As I left the hospital, I started to feel a little lighter because with just a little more time, dad was better prepared to be without family for the evening. Driving down the street the day was shimmering and such a feeling came over me. It was a promise I could almost hear. I called my mom, I just couldn’t wait to get to her house. I told her that things were about to change for us all. Mom asked me, “Like what? What do you mean?” “I don’t know really. That’s all I got.” She said okay and that she felt that way too.

In the weeks that passed, dad started to show some improvement. And he did get a little better—enough to get home. I got some good job offers. My youngest brother came to town to see my dad before he got really sick. My family and friends kept my mind occupied and life just felt tolerable with good stuff in the middle. I was laughing and talking and appreciating good things that were coming my way, as I grieved the illness that had invaded my dad’s body.

I was talking to one friend and he asked my how I was doing. I told him I was well, and that made me pause because I didn’t know how I was well. It was amazing to me that in the face of my abject sorrow, I was still able to smile and laugh from my soul—I could still touch my joy.

Dad went back into the hospital a time or two and each time I went with him. When I could, I spent the whole day with him. We would talk about the things that I was working on, like my editing course, or learning HTML. Sometimes he would sleep, and he would apologize for not being a good host. It never mattered to me and I told him so. Sometimes we would both sleep. We just spent time at the hospital then at home. After a time, my daddy died at home.

Always Learning: Lessons are Everywhere

Looking back now over these 7 months since my dad died, and I try to track how we got through it. I wasn’t as “prepared” as I thought I’d be, and yet I survived. I appreciated all the good things that dad and I did for each other, and the time that we spent. It came to me one day when I was considering how it is that I survived:

There’s plenty of excitement in my days. Life has a way of showering down graces like mercies in difficult times. And I am drenched with reasons to be grateful.

It’s easy to be grateful for the good things that come my way, no matter how small. What was a deliberate practice years ago is now a habit of gratitude. The other part that helps me is searching for the meaning in difficult times. In my darkest times, I try not to get maudlin. But I do try to take a straight-on look at things; my goal is to take up some treasure from the muck. Writing them down helps to soothe me. The poem Life Lessons (at the end of the post, I Write for Me First) is from a sifting expedition; one that took me passed the why and straight to appreciation.

Death and why
don’t sit together in me for long.
It makes me feel too inept.
Because without exception,
I come back to accepting that
it happens
just
because.

This past Mother’s Day weekend, I met up with my mother in New Orleans, Louisiana. She was there to celebrate with her Dillard University graduating class, their 50th Reunion. It is a big deal to the University as it may be at other universities as well. And it was special to classmates. You see, their Dillard University class studied and lived and grew as a community. They were part of each others’ lives. Some had matriculated from as far back as grade school together. It was very special to me too, for different reasons.

My mom introduced me to the man who sang at her and daddy’s wedding. She introduced me to a lady who was stunned by how much I look like my daddy. And Aromenta’s familiar face that was part of my growing up years.

I watched my mom enjoy herself. And I paid attention to her appreciation for the life she lived and how she lived it. Even though they didn’t keep in touch regularly, these friends seemed to delight in their time togetherr. Mom introduced me to one man, and I moved to shake his hand. He held out his arms and said, “Mackie’s daughter? I have to hug you.” People made it a point to tell me how highly they thought of my dad. There’s so much I took away from the two days that I spent with mom and her classmates, so much feeling and appreciating.

It seems I watch my mom a lot more closely since my dad died. And, I watched her spend time with her friends, talking and catching up before they go their separate ways. She and they seemed to take full advantage of the time that they had. No matter how often I watch them spend time with their friends, the fundamental lessons I take from them are lived out before my eyes. And my mom reinforced them once again:

1. First, carry on
2. Second, cherish my history
3. Third, never underestimate the power of friendship

Appreciating Where I’m From

My mom, Helen, is on the left
and her dear friend Roxy on the right.
They’re smiling together
posing for the photo,
chatting,
reveling in the moment.

I shot the picture
remembering Roxy dancing
in my parents’ bedroom on Annette Street.
She’d come by to see our new baby;
probably it was my brother Damon.

I remember how I was enthralled by her dancing.
I’d managed to stay in the room
as the grown-ups chatted.
Her energy filled the room
the hem of her mini skirt shimmied
her necklace almost touching it
swaying as she and my mom laughed
and shared girl talk and friendship.

Time has passed and geography separates them.
My daddy always nearby
is now passed away almost seven months.
What I see watching mom and her friends,
their expressions as they talk together
the bonds forged in their youth
is only more seasoned, a given,
unmoved by the distance between them.

It was a lovely day, warm with a nice breeze
blowing silently through the majestic oaks,
clear enough for my cameras to
capture what I wanted to keep.
My dad almost made it
but my mom’s still here to celebrate it.
In me is enough of both of them
to attend, appreciate and enjoy
the friendships they forged
and be back in time for work on Monday.
I was able to send pictures
and details to my family
who couldn’t be in attendance.
In all of this I am thankful.

And I continue.
Life is good with all that’s gone from me.
I’m grateful for all I have
and events and time and stuff left to do.
Whatever will be my future,
at these events, I glimpse insights of
parts and people that impacted my parents
who in turn shaped me.
I like knowing.

© 2008 by Shari Lynne Smothers

You see, April is National Poetry Month. It’s a time when poetry is pushed to the forefront in many arenas to increase attention to the genre. I didn’t take the time to do all that I wanted to; so I’m posting some of my poems for my participation.

Writing poetry is a pleasure for me because it requires me to sit longer with my thoughts. It relaxes me. With all the other writing I do lately at work and at home, I don’t write poems as much as I used to.

For this project, I’ve decided to revisit and share several of my poems, some from my book Pebbles in My Shoes, ©2004. Some of the poems have a little of their back-stories. And some I’ve posted with pictures which I’d not done before.

Pictures can be very powerful and I think they infuse the words. If you’re not careful, though, they can limit the full breadth of what can be experienced. So, enjoy the images but don’t let them stop you from going all the places the words can take you.

Finding Verses

If you haven’t written a poem yet this month, you should try it. I find reading poetry stimulating. They sometimes offer fodder for my own writing.

Words Beget Words – My friend Kirk sent me a brilliant poem entitled The Same as Gold by Alice Walker, from her book, Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth ©2003. He sent it to me after my last grandmother died. I read it over and over and over and then I wrote. And I included this in my book.

Broke
by Shari Lynne Smothers

A friend sent me
a poem by
Alice Walker
in which
she tells us
that grief
is comparable to gold.

My wealth knows
no limits.
It’s boundless
and never
is fully spent.
For when it’s low
when I’m almost out
something
occurs
to replenish it.

I’ll never be
completely broke
in this life.
But one day
I will leave
all this wealth
behind me.
I’ll move
to another place
penniless
certainly
without my gold.

No purchasing power;
no list will I have
I will rejoice in my
broke-ness
and be fully
glad of it.

Words from Photographs – Catching up on my blog reading today, returned to Sharp Words. There, I came across a nice poem entitled Holes in the World by Catherine of Sharp Words. It’s a very nice response to a picture that she saw of the New York skyline.

There are several ways to get to verses. Fundamentally, though, it requires you to look through to the marrow of a thing and yourself. The poem is the record of your interaction. And translating that to others is where the artistry shows.

If you want to write a poem, try some of these approaches and see what you come up with. And by all means, feel free to share with me the fruits of your labor.

Partly Cloudy

Overcast without a cloud
no external indication
save for the
sarcastic tones
of address
and heavy sighs
of discontent.

Always the sense
of having fallen short
of the mark
expected for me to reach.

I took time to regain my balance. Returning to my center was going to take some doing. I didn’t have time to just sit with it because there was so much going on. The first chance I got to think and to meditate and be, I was too upset to focus.

It’s always intrigues me how God put things and people and messages in our paths at just the right time. It’s because of Morning B.R.E.W. sessions that I can step outside of most things quickly. And even closer to the event, the day before, the church sermon was for me. Pastor Edwards’ message was to ask for mercy that fits my case. Figure out what I need according to me and tell it to God.

My soul cried out in anguish. And I sent up prayers of thanks because I knew that I didn’t have to stay in this way. Watching, praying, grateful that I just trusted that better was moments away.

At home, I checked my email and found the message I needed in my BREW series newsletter, the Monday Morning Inspiration.

Date : 2008-04-07

BREW MONDAY INSPIRATION

Dear God,
Help me to be
still enough
long enough
to know that there is a place within
on the other side of silence

where love lives.
Amen

©2008 by Kirk Byron Jones

My prayers were a guide for what I needed. I learned that my efforts were not appreciated or even seen. And I had to accept that but I needed to know that I am enough. My focus was then on what could make me whole again, make me want to continue to try. This prayer/poem was the perfect message for me, from God through Kirk Byron Jones.

Once again, I am granted what I asked for, peace of mind. In this and many instances besides, I attest to the power of prayer and meditation and Morning B.R.E.W. time.

Partly Cloudy is from my poetry collection called Pebbles in My Shoes, published by Author House in 2004. It’s where the feelings took me for a while.

Obama 2008

Isn’t hope the foundation from which we all move forward no matter what we’re undertaking?

It never occurred to me that anyone could find it effective to take a hardline stance against HOPE. What makes a person run for office if not hope? What makes a citizen vote if not hope? Explain to me again what is the matter with fostering, encouraging, pronouncing the good in hope. . . I must be slow. . . or, it must just be Hillary!

Still, the performance without peer for me was “Rhapsody in Blue” performed by stellar musicians. The piano performances of Lang Lang and Herbie Hancock…I have no words even today more than 24 hours later. Each time I hear that song performed well, it takes me to another place.

The blend of the old and new was masterfully choreographed. I was delighted to see Patty Austin and so many others in the audience. The footage of the honorees is always fun. It would have been great for me if they’d showed more footage of Max Roach. I’ll be hanging out on YouTube until I’m content.

Max Roach on YouTube

I’m not sure I follow the mass appeal of “Rehab,” but hell, I’m old.

It was a great night for me right here at home. From talking with friends and family, I’m not the only one who enjoyed it. None of us was happy with everything, but we enjoyed most of it. I figured it had to be good if it kept my attention.

From the doorway, I could see pieces of what used to be the BIG flower pot now scattered across the floor reaching toward the door, flowers strewn outward, slammed down like the end of the statement, or a pleading. I was stunned and so was my mother who was just behind me at the door. Mom immediately turned away, walking through the noise-makers who were trying to see. She went to get sweeping tools and I got the kitchen garbage can. I was picking up the big pieces and the plant when mom returned with her tools.

The noise makers pontificated about how it could possibly have happened and trailed back into the kitchen leaving mom and me to clean up. Quietly mom commented to me as she swept up rich, dark potting soil, “It is rather strange that this fell over and broke so completely, don’t you think?”

“It is,” I said. “It shouldn’t have fallen according to its positioning. It’s as if the smashing was meant to signify “Enough!” to the raucous everybody was making.” Mom replied, “I think it’s right.”

A few things I must make clear. First, I said that my dad made me know things. I didn’t say “he told me” because it’s a different way of communicating when it’s out of body. The reason I was frustrated and stressed was because I was trying to make people move to help me with dad’s funeral program. You see he had died two days before.

Anyway, I took his advice, calmed down and had some ice cream. It turned out that he was right and everything worked out even better than I thought it would. My mom was pleased. According to my own assessment, I believe that my dad would have liked the way things went as well. So, really, holding onto my stress would not have done me any good. Most probably, it would have impeded my progress.

All the lessons I learned in my life are made manifest time and again throughout my experiences. Everything happens for a reason. Every thing in its own time. And really, whatever the hurdle, there is a blessing in the mix, if you sift and wait and let it rise to the top. Attending to life gives profoundly real and realized meaning to “It’s all good.” Look a little closer, even in the midst of turmoil, try to be empty of stress and worry, sit with an open heart and a receptive spirit. If you do it right, you’ll see them too, gifts of insight and assurance.

I’d been running around trying to get things done, fretting over stuff not in my control and generally giving myself a pain in my spirit. Funny thing is the faster I went the behinder I got until there was hardly any discernible forward movement. To begin this particular day, I did my morning B.R.E.W. with considerable effort to Be Still, the first step.

I went to my favorite spot of trees in my mind, with the fat trunks and thick foliage. My thick trunk with the curve of my back worn into it was empty waiting for me. The air was crisp and the sound of the waters around me were soothing. I was in My Place. And I was sad, burdened even here, heavy laden with a rucksack of my current worries and fears and hopes I hesitated to have. I needed help.

It was easy to put down my worries a few months ago. Now I wasn’t even sure how to set them down. Then a waterfall appeared off to my left, a little ways away from where I sat. Just at my feet there appeared a push broom. I managed to set down some troubles briefly only to reach to get a few back, to hold onto them for a bit longer. And then my help came in the form of a stronger me.

One by one I’d set down my burdens and then took back a few until I had most in hand once again with little room to hold the push broom and very few things to push away. Putting them down made me feel a great sense of abandonment; it seemed like my burdens and I needed each other—obviously I was confused.

My alter ego watched with pity and thoughtfulness. She took from me the burdens that I’d re-collected from the pile and replaced them on the ground. She took the push broom from my reluctant hands and hushed my protesting movements. She pushed the burdens over the waterfall in one strong push of the broom; they made no sound nor flailing for salvation and I sat in the curve of my tree stunned.

My alter ego sat next to me and told me—made me know what we did was right. I hadn’t abandon anything really. This was my back-of-the-boat time. She did one thing more for me; she took off my back, the rucksack chocked full of issues. She had to be careful because part of it was fused to my back. She cut it away, brought it to the edge and flung it over the waterfall. I fell back against my tree, nothing between my back and it, and that comfort was new again. I closed my eyes.

It was the closest I’d been to a rested spirit in a long time. She returned and sat next to me again and said, “There.” She raised an arm and I laid down my head in her lap and wept. And I felt better. Then there was room for step two—Receive God’s Love . . .