Sitting in front of the t.v. screen, she flips from one video to the next and finds nothing to capture her attention. It has been a long day. Day two of busyNESS, Day two of SadNESS, Day two of various fires to try and put out and yet…the day feels unfulfilled. There is the person who hung up too soon because someone walked in on them; there’s the person whose phone died and you never had a chance to see if he’s safe and the list goes on. All in a day’s work, some say…who the hell says that anyway?
Switching to music seems more healing…starting with Satie Song by Alanna-Marie Boudreau, then Kimbra’s Cameo Lover and Sara Bareilles’s Gravity. Lastly, she listens to one of her favourites, Damien Rice’s Accidental Babies…aww, total bliss! It is amazing how music can truly transform you.
She is reminded of a youth now who is a musician playing classical and jazz. How fortunate she is to do the work she does do. How blessed she is to hear their stories and to be the ear that hears those secrets they disclose for the first time…they actually dared to say “out loud”. Such courage they have had to gather to reach out for support.
Before the end of her evening, she listens to one more song, Damien’s Rootless Tree…
thinking of those classical notes
cut at her heartstrings
recalling her soft voice
vulnerable and frayed
thinking of those classical notes
only ivory keys can articulate
cut at her heartstrings
images of doom and gloom
unearthed and naked
As a child August meant school was around the corner. With mixed feelings she anticipated a new school year, that smell of fresh ink on new books, her best handwriting on that first page of her scribbler and so much promise to fill her mind…learning anew. Of course there were new students arriving in her little town and new relationships forming opening her heart she smiles, waiting with anticipation. And yet, as months progress death looms in the air as leaves fall and grounds reek of decay…
Her grandchild is tucked in, after an evening laughing playing cards and watching Netflix; he’s resting up for a tournament tomorrow morning. How silent the place feels all of a sudden. She had not realized just how quiet her home was…lacking life without her children. One gets used to the quiet not realizing what one is missing sometimes.
[…] “Last evening I was looking out from my balcony and saw a sparrow perch on a branch. All of a sudden, with a quick jerk, she ruffles her feathers and spreads out her wings – her bodyline on an upward curve, about to take off.” […] Kala Ramesh
clouds make way end of a long quest heaven opens up
clouds make way
sparrow takes flight
first fallen leaf
end of a long quest
scent of Givenchy
Sometimes it is best not to know what some people think about you especially if it will only break your heart. It is so much easier seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses even if there is suffering in the world, why not let the good outweigh the bad?
ignorant of any misgivings
joyous to a fault
Getting on to the bus, she shuffled with her cane and asked the young man behind the bus driver for his seat. It is a seat designated for visually impaired or those with limited movement. She would have taken a seat further but her backpack was heavy and there is a shelf to place bags next to that seat. The young man had his ear buds on, on and looked at her and barked, “there are plenty of other seats!” with a smug look on his face. She noticed a seat further down so she took her bag off her shoulders and placed it next to the man and shuffled off to another seat. An older woman looked at her with a look of fear in her eyes. Now that really irked her for she felt that some older and more frail men and women felt intimidated by this behaviour.
society rendering vulnerable – exposed
She sat down and took out her beaded bracelet and decided to chant her mantra silently. All the while trying to “let it go”. It was not easy at first for responses like “What would your mother think about your behaviour? Would you treat your grandmother like that?” But then she was thinking he came from a bad place emotionally and was perhaps hurting…maybe angry at the world. After completing her mantra she could gradually feel a sense of relief, she then chanted in her mind a mantra wishing happiness to the world, thinking of this angry, rude young man.
Om, Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti
When she stepped off the bus the young man was behind her and had to pause so she could hold on to the side of the bus to avoid stumbling (like she did last year and fell flat on her face). She noticed he had very fashionable and expensive clothes on and shook her head in dismay at his lack of education and consideration for others.
Getting on the Métro, she was saddened looking at the inside of the train…
monikers scream claiming territory with a vengeance
Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity. Kahlil Gibran
In her youth she had many plants in her home. Begonias, African violets, dieffenbachias, spider plants, cactus and ivies. Oh! how she loved them! Those years trying to have children, she treated each one like her baby. Each plant had different needs… watered once a week, some twice, some once a month. All had their special personality, some shied from the sun, others rose with the sun and her prayer plant that folded at night reminding her always to say her prayers before going to sleep. Now she had her mother and this plant to remind her.
One year she adopted a beautiful fern that she kept in her bedroom where it was cooler and visitors might not rub on it. And then, she had babies which took up all her attention. Most of her plants left for foster homes.
Her family moved to a home in the country, where there was room to run and play and plant a huge vegetable garden. She planted marigolds around the vegetables to protect them from unwanted visitors and petunias and begonias in the front flower bed.
That was long ago. She’s moved since then; the children grew up and left. She and her cat look out at her humble herb garden and a mother-in-law tongue sits in the dining room. Now the plant serves her, wagging its tongue and purifies the air.
flowers blossom, spread their leaves – then, the sun sets
I was so fascinated by Chiyo-Ni’s haiku, that I had check to see if I could find an ebook this morning and found a lovely collection of 44 selected Haiku composed during the entire life of Chiyo-ni. The Snow Woman :Selected Haiku by Fukuda Chiyo-Ni. Haiku selected and translated by Luca Cenisi, President of the Italian Haiku Association (AIH)
There are so many great haiku, it was not easy choosing…I think I may start a little booklet working on some of her haiku and trying to write in that tone this fall.