Good morning, friends. It’s a lovely sunny Sunday morning here which is so refreshing because we have had quite a bit of rain here lately. It makes me feel peaceful and hopeful. New readers, Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting– Second Half. On Sundays, I either share a poem I have written or I share a poem written by someone else. Please share your poetry with me and other readers, in the Comments section. Today’s poem is from a book of poetry by Kevin Anderson. I love his poetry because it follows the same format of adding to and thus, cleverly changing an original thought or idea, to something more profound. This poem is from the book Now is Where God Lives.
I’m a deep person. I enjoy meaningful, interesting conversations. A lot of the time, small talk annoys me and bores me. I usually get off on intensity. But honestly, lately everything just feels way too intense. Lately, all the irons in the fire feel way too hot and I can’t find tough enough gloves to avoid the heat. I’m a little raw these days. I found this poem this morning, which was cut out and pasted in one of my journals. I’m sorry, I don’t know who to attribute it to, but I found it to be very helpful and I hope that you enjoy it, too.
Never
Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you. – Proverb
Never look for something you do not need to do
Never put your trust in one on whom you can’t rely
Never try to be someone which, for you, would be a lie
Never try to control something that cannot be controlled
Never worry about aging, or the process of becoming old
Never try to run the lives of children you hold dear
Never try to live a life completely based on fear
Never try to make okay that which simply is not
Never try to cover up something you have just forgot
Never act if you are doing this life yourself
Remember you have to participate and there’s really lots of help
Never forget to remember that you can have some fun.
You don’t have to make trouble to do it, only let it come.
My grandfather loved to garden and he had a gorgeous bleeding heart plant that I can still picture to this day. Isn’t it wonderful when certain things in nature remind you of people and places and things that you have loved along the way? New readers, Fridays are devoted to the “outside pleasures” in life. Welcome to Favorite Things Friday!!! On Fridays, I typically list three favorite anythings that have added joy to my life and I strongly encourage you to add your favorites to the Comments section. You can never have too many favorites. Please see previous Friday posts for more and more favorites. Here are today’s favorites of mine:
The link above takes you to a feel-good story in the news. (Those are hard to find these days, aren’t they?) The news story talks about how a cleaning person at the hospital helped save a COVID patient’s life, by talking to him daily and by giving him hope and inspiration by talking to him about their families and about their shared faith in God. This man was so ill that a priest had even delivered his last rites. Miracles are all around us, and this story is a good reminder of that fact and also about the power and beauty of human connection.
Trip Splitter App – My friend just mentioned this awesome app yesterday. This is an app that makes it simple and organized, for people to enter their individual expenses, when on a group vacation. It then makes it easy to divvy up “who owes who what”, at the end. (Does this wording remind you of anything? Who’s on first? That’s what I said. Who? Who.) I love simple and useful apps that make life just a little bit easier. This app sounds worth its memory space on your phone, for sure.
Finally, my favorite word for the day is a Korean word. The word is “son-mat” and it “describes the specific, irreplaceable flavor of someone else’s cooking.” (NY Times) My husband’s colleague, who lives in New York, only recently got his first take-out pizza since before the coronavirus crisis began. He told my husband that the pizza was the best pizza that he had ever tasted. Ever. “Son-mat” is a word that should exist in every language, in my opinion. There is something very special about something cooked by someone else. We all bring our own uniqueness and love, to even foods as simple as peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
Sundays are devoted to words in poetry form here at Adulting – SecondHalf. I write a poem or share a poem that I have found by another author that has deeply touched me. I strongly encourage you to publish your poems in my Comments section, but if you are shy, just jot a few poems down today, in your own private journal. It’s cathartic. I promise you. Here’s my poem for the day.
THE TREES STAND TALLER
Across the lake, lies a jungle of trees.
During the day, all of the life, teeming within the trees, is deceptively quiet.
The trees put on a calm, serene front.
They are tall, green soldiers, standing at guard,
As the lake dutifully reflects the stillness, for which the forest tries to portray.
The trees shade their inner inhabitants, promising them protection,
And respite, from the harsh, depleting rays of the sun.
But when night falls, all comes alive. The sounds are roars.
And though you can’t see anything, you know that the woodland houses
Majestic, wild creatures who can no longer remain quiet nor still.
Their howls are primal. The thicket has come alive with calls and cries.
The intensity and the mystery of it all, pulsates every one of my senses.
Fear and excitement are just different words for the very same sensations,
These sensations that are electrified through me and within me,
As I stare into the darkness of nightfall,
And in my mind, I picture the trees in their usual, reliable spots,
Even though I am not really able to see them, in any shape or form.
I feel wondrous bewilderment and almost reckless abandonment,
Frozen in wonder of the mysteriousness of it all.
When I wake in the morning, and walk into the dewy grass and stare at the trees
Far across the lake, I smile in perplexity. The trees are statues again.
The day sounds are gentle chirps and the whispering of breezes through the leaves,
I half expect a maiden with seven small men to appear, in whistling cheer.
Was my experience with the night, all in my imagination?
Was it all just a vision from the deepest recesses and caverns of my sleepy mind?
Does the night really change everything? Is darkness required to really come alive?
The forest is the same. It is deeply rooted and entwined,
I know that under the dark shade of night, the trees still stand their guard,
In their place of solid sentry, held for centuries.
So why does the forest seem to be such a different place, in the light of day?
My guess is that the trees delight in the aliveness of their inhabitants,
Who only feel safe to come out and play,
Under the cloak of the darkness of shadowy midnight.
Which state of being do the trees prefer? Do they like the stillness of the day?
Or do they prefer the humming, restless mystery of the night?
I think that the forest intrinsically understands that both lightness and dark,
Are necessary for the fullest expression of life.
The trees stay still enough, and quiet enough, and strongly rooted enough,
To fully appreciate and bathe in this intrinsic wisdom,
To just be themselves and to experience all of the complicated states of being,
For their tenure of life on Earth, in their very own spots, in the forest of other trees.
And no matter the time of day or of night,
The trees stand taller, reaching for the Heavens, grateful for the wisdom of this truth.
I’ve neglected to mention that we have added a new member to our immediate family. During these unusually tough times, we’ve enjoyed such comfort and distraction and amusement from our current fur babies, Ralph, our Labrador retriever, and Josie, our rough collie, that we decided we needed another fur friend, to make our family complete. Well, I should say, the kids and I, decided that getting a new puppy would be a wonderful, uplifting experience, while having to remain so “holed up.” My husband was a very reluctant member of the puppy band wagon. Nonetheless, knowing me and loving me for decades now, my husband knows that I love “a lot” of my favorite things. We have four kids, and we have always had a menagerie to go along with the quartet of kids. So with my husband’s grudging blessing, about two weeks ago, we brought “Trip” (as in “third dog”, or in the spirit of this year of the 2020 quarantine, “instead of a . . .”) into our home and into our hearts. Trip lives up to his name. This little Boykin spaniel is quite the Trip! And as what always happens, with all of our dogs, Trip is quite besotted with my husband, which is something that Trip and I totally share.
Happy Friday, friends!! On Fridays, we keep it very light and on the surface, here at Adulting – Second Half. I call it “Favorite Things Friday” and I typically list three favorite items, books, songs, websites, etc. that make the material girl in me, just a little giddy. Please check out previous Friday postings for more favorites. I strongly encourage you to list your favorites in the Comments section. We could all use a few little pick me uppers during these tough times, and good ideas are appreciated by all.
My first favorite for today is what is going to be happening in the Sunday papers, this very Sunday. Make a point of buying the Sunday paper, if you don’t already get it. Over 70 syndicated cartoons are going to put six hidden symbols in their columns to honor our teachers, medical workers, delivery people, grocery store personnel, medical researchers and food service workers. What fun! Read about this cool little hunt, here:
My second favorite was brought to my attention yesterday by a friend who plans to buy this shirt. You can find all variations of them on Etsy. This way, by wearing this shirt, you can say how you feel, without having to always “say what you feel.” Here is one example:
And my third favorite is this dumb little joke that I saw earlier this week, on the internet. My family all thinks that this is a very stupid joke, but I think that the joke is so stupid, that it’s hilariously funny. Plus, it’s short and those are the only kinds of jokes which I can tell to people, with any kind of success. Here’s the joke:
Two ducks were swimming along. One duck said, “Quack!” The other duck said, “OMG! I was just going to say that!”
Groan! I know. Have a great weekend friends!! Remember, the best is yet to come!!!! A little birdie told me to tell you that, so I repeat, “The best is yet to come!!!”
My two youngest children were watching Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, the other night. We’ve all seen this movie several times, but out of inertia and boredom and a little weariness of trying to find something else to do, I plopped down on the couch, to watch the film with them, yet again. This particular scene (shown below) with Jennifer Grey and Charlie Sheen really got to me during this particular viewing. I was honestly riveted, in a self awareness moment. It’s amazing that with any good creative work, whether it be a movie, a book, or a piece of art, you glean something new from it, every time you experience it. I have to admit, it kind of bothered me to realize that I was getting schooled in wisdom, from Charlie Sheen (who in the movie, kind of prophetically plays the younger version of his future self), but truthfully, my experience in life has shown me that our greatest wisdom often comes from the most unlikely of sources. Maybe the Universe designed it that way, so that the lesson would remain fresh in our minds, due to the unusual circumstances and irony of it all. Charlie’s wisdom that he imparts to Jennifer Grey’s character in Ferris Bueller, really applies to how I have been feeling lately. The crazier the world is acting and reacting in relation to all our united upheaval lately, has gotten me more and more into my “control freak” mode. I seem to only feel safe and secure when everyone sees things exactly how I see them. I have wasted too much of my precious time, lately, lamenting and groaning, when others don’t see things and do things “my way.” And who does that really hurt? As Charlie says, the problem is with me.
I do not condone the violence, destruction and the looting that has accompanied the protests this week. However, I absolutely support the cause of stopping the undue violence that has been perpetuated on the black community in America by the police. Therefore, this is my peaceful stand. See you tomorrow. I share my prayers for peace for all, and a loving, fair solution to this sad state of affairs, without further escalation of pain for anyone.
It is poetry workshop day, here at Adulting – Second Half. Yesterday was a day of highs and lows. I was thrilled with the successful launch of the space shuttle! Such a nerve-wracking yet exciting, prideful event to watch! Still, my heart felt very heavy with all of the pain our country is going through with these horrible, unjustified killings. I wrote today’s poem, yesterday, from a very emotional place. Please fill my Comments with your poems. It is great release.
For the Love of our Sons
To my sisters who are “mamas” of big, strong, handsome, young black men,
We share the “mama” part, we mamas of sons, but your burdens are greater than mine.
You and I worry about our boys’ health, and opportunities and decisions and loves,
But you also worry that the people who are supposed to protect our boys, might instead
Destroy them.
You have to teach your boys a lesson, I would never even conceive of,
You must teach your sons that they are often considered guilty suspects by their very appearance, and you must teach your sons to be wary of the people who I have casually taught my sons to mostly trust.
Dear mama, my sister in motherhood, my heart aches for you. Being a mother is such a vulnerable position to be in, from the minute we feel our babies growing inside of us,
we love them intensely . . . with everything we have.
You and I are no different in that regard. I know this with my whole, bare heart. Your heart beats for your children, as my heart beats for mine. Do our unveiled hearts look very much the same? I imagine that they do. Love is love.
A mother’s heart brims with Love. An overflowing Love is what a mother’s heart is made of.
But I have less worry, less burden than which you must carry with you every day.
You hold yourself with such dignity and pride and strength and a serene knowing-ness, which I so admire,
Yet I know that I could probably never, ever replicate your beautiful countenance.
Mostly because I’ve never had to try.
You must need that beautiful, intense, impenetrable armor of yours, to shield your heart. But honestly, how much distress can a heart hold before it breaks and shatters and bursts, the lovely, steely container that holds it?
I don’t carry your burdens. I understand that. I know that neither of us should have to carry anything. Our hearts should be light of load, as we carry out the request of the Universe, to nurture our precious sons into manhood.
I don’t carry your burdens. I can never fully understand. I won’t disrespect you, by pretending I know how you feel.
But I can offer you my heart and my hand and my arms to rest in. I can offer you my prayers. I can offer you my careful consideration in all of the choices that I make and the lessons I impart, which help to form this Life which we are all living in. Together.
We are co-creating this world together, all of us, and I want all of our sons to experience the complete fullness that their lives have to offer. This is what uplifts the world. When your son benefits, so does mine. When your heart is light, so is mine.
When your daughters have baby sons, I want your daughters to feel as nonchalant as I do, when teaching her boys about authority figures. I want that lesson to be a minor footnote and not of much concern. I want the beautiful wonderment of life to be the focus of her teachings. Mamas shouldn’t have to teach fear and defensiveness and undue submissiveness to their beloved children.
This outpouring is my long way of saying, please don’t think that I don’t care. I do care. I care very much. I want this sadness, despair and anger and travesty to end. I want this racism to be over now. I want all of our children to experience a life free of racism. I want racism to be thing of dusty history books, an account that is so shocking to our grandchildren, that they can barely comprehend how these injustices existed.
Dear sister in motherhood,
Tell me what I can do to help unload the burden of your pain.
Sincerely signed, a mama of big, strong, handsome, young white men
