light-touch oversight. Product shortages disrupt supplies and pricing, needing correction. Essential worker income inequality tests priorities. Poverty's role in survival disparities challenges fairness. Still stunned consumers staggering from brutal loss, refrain from spending. Healthcare providers seared by unrelenting stress step back to restore. The economy, missing strong participants, fails to reopen. Civic leaders caught by a partisan divide strain at consensus. Stressed social contract invites appraisal to gain a broad renewal. Unfolding events mired in deep uncertainty, straddle fear and hope.
worsened even more. Uncelebrated, even in easier times, the chain sustains us. Providers include farmers and fabricators using transporters. For optimal reach, controlling the flow of goods needs deft management. Support system strength buoys chain effectiveness, its efficiency. Respect then extends to: those giving needed support. A long list follows. Health, fuel, housing, schooling, employers, news folk, customer service. Charity pantries, mail, cashiers, homes of worship, clerks, warehouse workers. Likely I have missed links in the vast supply chain. It is that complex. All contribute to providing and consuming, hopefully in sync.
So what am I doing in coronavirus isolation? I write haiku-influenced poetry. I will keep adding more as thoughts arise. Stay safe, all.
………
A World in Lockdown
Abruptly becalmed
routine rushing and striving.
The eerie silence.
Cohabitation
thrust upon the unwilling.
An uneasy fix.
Financial levers
clanking in a spin cycle.
Threatened livelihoods.
Stark trajectory
alarming even the brave.
Menacing unknowns.
Praising the helpers:
food, health, mail, money, civic.
Together we rise. ………
The Unfathomable? This I fear deeply: an unchecked unraveling of
the social order.
Could the worst happen?
Breakdowns of support systems
portend more hardship.
In uncertain times,
despots and demagogues ply
their flawed solutions.
Group collective strength
may prevail for good or for bad
Which do we choose now?
May current choices
aid what’s good for the many
and not just a few. ……… Front Line Heroes Many come forward risking themselves to sustain strangers and loved ones. Their list now includes doctors, nurses, ship captains, paramedics too.
Present also are store clerks and mail carriers. Truckers contribute.
Civic, finance, tech, media, spiritual join with researchers.
Such heroes declare selfless giving still exists. Goodness can prevail.
I share the following poems with you as I seek a path out of sorrow and despair. The beginning and ending poems are new. The others have appeared previously on this blog and are included in my book Peace on the Journey. Grouped together, they reveal the arc of my current trajectory.
Loss
I keep working on
finding a reset button
so love can prevail.
Lasting solutions
continue evading me
as fresh trauma lands.
How I will emerge
from ruthless remorseless loss
right now is a guess.
**
I Want to Believe
Life is a blessing.
Joy reigns as a birthright gift.
Gentleness is mine.
Discord and sorrow
oppressive and enduring
can be overcome.
Love will seek a way
to salve even the deepest
open wounds of loss.
**
Love Prevails
Somewhere kindness lies
waiting to be permitted
to ply its healing.
A love-emptied world
keens with anguished cry seeking
compassion’s healing.
I want to believe
love prevails ultimately.
Grant me evidence.
**
This I Believe
I do not know how
I will manage to endure,
but I trust I shall.
I tap into roots
spiritual and grounded
My center will hold.
Faith in renewal
anchors my spirit in hope
my life will be blessed.
**
And Yet
Loss retains its sting.
Heartbreak may resist efforts
to rely on hope.
I stumble about,
steeped in despairing sorrow.
Solutions elude.
No easy answers
no uplifting messages
now present themselves.
In tragedy's wake,
grace visited us again,
sharing love's mercy.
Through the embrace of
compassion and forgiveness,
grace found expression.
What infinite love
can bestow on humankind
occasions wonder.
Adding prose to my weekly poem is a departure for me. However, after the families of those slaughtered in a Charleston church said they forgave the killer, I have reflected a great deal about what forgiveness means. And, it turns out that the issue of forgiveness has a great deal to do with coming to terms with MS.
First, let me address the Charleston event. For the South Carolina victim families, the heavy lifting required just to voice, "I forgive you," surely must have been overwhelmingly hard. Yet, that's what many did, leaving the rest of the world in awe of their graciousness; thereby, encouraging us to examine the nature of forgiveness and grace in our lives.
Inspired by the remarkable example of the families, I was led to ask myself, where have I failed to exercise forgiveness? The answer landed me squarely on MS' lap. We MSers struggle in varying ways while coming to terms with how MS has altered our lives. One's body seems to turn on itself destructively, which can feel like a vicious, random, and senseless attack. The impact may alter so comprehensively the person one used to be, some might say that person died.
But, who or what can we blame for that? Understandably, we turn MS into a villain toward which we direct our anger, resentment, and fear. Yet, as Robert Parker reminds us, MS does not exist as an entity.
The irony is we end up becoming both victim and victimizer. Certainly, one loses and likely grieves for the person one used to be. However, MS could be viewed, too, as the killer who also might need forgiveness. Because how do I separate MS from who I am physically? Am I making my emotional and perhaps physical healing more difficult by viewing MS with anger and loathing? Do I then end up hating and loathing my body? If MS can assume a separate existence at all, shouldn't it be integrated affirmatively into whatever characterization I hold of my physical body? Is it necessarily a matter of It versus Me? Is there an act of forgiveness I can embrace that will limit self-destructive behavior?
In saying, "We have no room for hate. We have to forgive," what can the South Carolina families teach me? If they were able to respond so magnanimously to an act of such horror, how can I embrace their forgiving nature with respect to my MS?
I say that, thinking that following their example surely seems laudable. Yet, in a practical sense, what difference does it make for me to forgive the "entity" which destroyed my life as I knew it? What real impact does forgiving MS or the process of MS or simply my body's physical breakdown have on my life? This is especially challenging since MS will likely cause a never-ending cascade of losses and grieving. How can I forgive and move on if the process of loss seems endless?
Or is the act of forgiveness encapsulated in the following haiku, which I removed from the above poem because I wasn't sure I wholly accepted its meaning?
Remaining open
to grace's bountiful gifts
ensures renewal.
I would like to rise to such a noble sentiment. Yet, in a practical sense, I am not sure what it means. I want to avoid the hazards of what some have called "cheap grace." I am assuming those commentators were alluding to the need to keep forgiveness from being an empty act, and that forgiveness can, and perhaps should, require emotional, spiritual, and psychological hard work.
Yet, again, I am led back to the question, what does that mean for me in a practical sense?
I'm hoping you will illuminate me.
*****
I sought your counsel, and you did not disappoint. Your comments have illuminated
me. Forgiving MS is a slippery concept, both in understanding it and in
applying it. Several among you have said they could not forgive MS.
Some have said that through their anger they gain strength in their
ability to live with MS. Others have said that perhaps it is peace we
seek, rather than forgiveness. Some believed that it is really the human
condition we need to forgive, that condition which opens us to
experiencing both joy and pain.
I'm afraid that figuring this out
may be above my pay grade. Perhaps some noticed that out of my post's
42 sentences, more than a third were questions. Even after your input, I
still have mostly questions. I remain, though, grateful for the deep
reflection this issue has generated for me and for others. I suspect
for me it will remain an open question, generating ongoing thought.
The
issue, though, perhaps boils down to, who is in control? It may seem
laughable to some that I invoke control in dealing with MS. Isn't MS,
after all, an illness over which we currently have little control other
than delaying the process of decline? True, but we have ways of
finessing that lack of control; indeed, of wresting total control from
MS or any similarly dire circumstance.
I have been fond of citing
Holocaust aurvivor Viktor Frankl's concept of the ultimate freedom,
which is the ability to choose one's attitude regardless of
circumstance. Since he developed this concept in light of the Holocaust,
I feel safe in assuming that he thought the concept applied even in
extreme circumstances, where one's life is at stake.
In the
particular case of the Charleston families, someone shared with me an
unusual take on how forgiveness possibly applied in that circumstance.
He suggested that with their apparently noble act of forgiveness, the
families (unwittingly perhaps) acted with passive-aggressive hostility
in saying to the killer that they forgave him. That is, by expressing
their forgiveness so publicly, the families essentially neutered the
killer's intention to create public pain and mayhem. Whether their
forgiveness was a passive-aggressive act or not, the point is that the
families took control of their story. They took away his power to
control their lives any more. They decided how they were going to feel,
what their attitude would be. It was their choice, not the killer's.
So
the issue of MS and forgiveness may boil down to, how does one take
control of one's story? Would forgiveness do that? Would anger?
Depression maybe? Even, as several friends have done, ending one's life?
It could be all of the above. Or none. Forgiveness, for example, could
be dismissed in favor of seeking peace or some other goal. My belief,
though, is that each person can choose freely what the attitudinal
response will be.
Hi, I’m Judy. Welcome to my blog where I present verses influenced by the haiku form, which permits me to distill my thoughts into very few words. These often nontraditional haikus acknowledge life challenges with honesty while also embracing hope and joy. My challenges include caregiving for a spouse and adjusting to my own MS. Sometimes, these experiences on my journey can be gifts of wisdom about life in general.
Now Available
The poems of Peace on the Journey explore the theme of renewal in the face of adversity.
Many of you check in frequently. Some have called my poems inspiring, which has taught me a new meaning for the word. I had always thought being inspiring meant making someone feel enthusiastic and confident. Instead, in referring to my poems, you cite my honesty and feel inspired by it. I seem to express truths you welcome hearing and which help you. I am simply honored that my words could do such a thing. You have transformed what originally was a self-directed activity into one which benefits others. How often does one have the opportunity to do that? Truly I am blessed by your presence in my life. This motivates me to keep writing these poems and to keep expressing with honesty my feelings and thoughts. My heartfelt thanks to you for sharing my journey.
Thumbnail images are sourced from Wikimedia, Microsoft Clip Art or personal photos. Clicking on an image will bring up its attribution. Or please check the Comments following the poem.
The Haiku Form
I sometimes wonder if calling my work haiku offends the masters.
I never intend to lay claim my poems are great classical gems.
I am a poet who uses haiku meter. That is all it is.
How This Blog Got Its Peace Name
The mystery solved
I now know the reason why
this blog got its name.
My dad liked to say,
“The peace of God be with you.”
I had forgotten.
The phrase came to me.
I used it unconsciously.
Then friends let me know.
There is only so much one can say in 51 syllables so I was not able to add the following. My late father’s church did an oral history of his life. As I read the results of the interviews, I was struck by how often people remembered that his favorite expression was “The peace of God be with you.” I had forgotten that and have been wondering why on earth I named my blog as I did. I even thought of changing it more than once. Now I realize I was subsconsciously remembering my father’s expression. So the blog name remains.
How I Get Through This
There are times when I look up and say, how did this happen to me? Asking why usually doesn’t get me anywhere, except depression. My present reality really does not allow me to indulge in such questions. I have to cope instead with adjusting to my currently diminished physical capacity and to the appalling possibility, nay, probability that this can get much, much worse. How do I then maintain my spirit? Who is the Me who remains when so much of what defined me has been stripped away? Can I transmute this reality into something with meaning and value? Sometimes I find little victories that sustain me. Sometimes I find someone like Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl to help me navigate these questions. At other times I feel that I am in a boat without a paddle in a raging sea. Mostly I am a work in progress living an unexpected life where most of the rules I thought applied don’t, and I am left to rely on whatever inner strength, character, and personal faith I can call on to get me through. But sometimes even inner strength, character, and personal faith do not seem like they are enough. This is just tough. Or theater of the absurd.
The Role of Hope
Research shows that, “in all cultures, the conviction that one’s predicament is hopeless may cause or hasten disintegration and death.” [Jerome and Julia Frank, Persuasion and Healing] The tools available to me to fight this disease are limited. Could it be that keeping hope alive is the strongest weapon in my arsenal?
Success Redefined
I have had to adjust my model for defining success, and it often now includes those tiny steps forward that occur after giant leaps backward. It even includes accepting that no steps forward, tiny or otherwise, may occur. The rules of the game got tossed, and I have had to find a path to serenity and integration which could even include that I might never reach such a goal.
May You ...
Have light shine away
the darkness of your valley
so you can reach home.
Meet along the way
strangers who treat you kindly
and with a full smile.
Feel deep in your heart
the warmth of those beside you
who also love you.
Nelson Mandela's Words
“… during all my years in prison hope never left me … I did not doubt that I would someday be a free man.”
“The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers fear.”
The following poem generated the most comments and blog links of any of the poems I have written. My response to all the comments is provided below. I now call it My Manifesto.
Here is a pet peeve.
When people say they are glad
that they got MS.
They are pleased because
it made them better persons.
My blood just curdles.
Are you kidding me?
Was there no better method
to accomplish growth?
Judging by the number of comments, this poem obviously resonated, and I can understand why. I also want to share what triggered my writing it. I had watched a recently diagnosed person stand up in front of an audience and say, “I am glad I got MS. I am a much better person as a result.”
He is not the only MSer I have heard say that. What I have discovered is that those who say such a thing tend to fall into two camps. They are either recently diagnosed and/or they are not suffering from loss of mobility or some other dastardly manifestation of this scourge of a disease.
My position on this? As I said in one of my poems,
I can be grateful
for gifts this challenge gave me
and still hate MS.
I have no doubt that I am a more compassionate, generous, less shallow person now than I was before coming down with MS. Would I still have reached this more enlightened place as a result of normal maturation? I don’t know and can’t ever know. I only have the life I have. But I will NEVER say that I am glad I have MS. On the contrary, as I said in one of my other poems,
Full recovery.
That will be my intention
until my last breath.
Whatever accommodation I achieve with this disease will always be one in which I am, only out of necessity, cohabiting with an enemy. If calling it an enemy is too strong, then I can at least say that MS will never be my friend. I am sure psychologists would have a field day with my position. With my own therapist, we’ve declared a truce in which I say I acknowledge, instead of accept, that I have MS. I will never accept, though, that this is what my life should be like. As I said in another of my poems,
I will not allow
MS to appear normal.
Absolutely not.
And I am glad I still have some fight left in me so I can feel this way. There are enough days when I feel quite defeated by this disease. Then another day comes when a glimmer of light helps me remember the Judy I want to be and not just the MS-Judy, and I go on to fight again. That’s when I can say,
I don’t want to hear
the odds are impossible.
I aim to beat them.
And, knowing that days will come when I will again feel oppressed by the enormous challenge I face, I keep these poems on display so that I can remember who I want to be at my best.
As for finding the peace that is the title of this blog, I can only say that, variable though it might be, I find peace in knowing that I can control my attitude about my life.
Thanks for letting me share my thoughts with you. You make this journey so much easier because of it.
To read all the comments, go to: http://lapazconvos.blogspot.com/2011/01/pet-peeve.html
Dan and Jennifer Digmann, a married couple, both with MS, have written this book of essays about living with Multiple Sclerosis and overcoming its challenges. They have honored my poems by using six to reflect the theme of each chapter. A valuable contribution to MS literature, this book is above all else a love story. Click on the image for more information or to purchase.
