LIFE and LOVE

                           [PHOTO SOURCE - GOOGLE online images]

(27 APR 2011  --To me LOVE is unconditional -- accepting everything about another  - both what is in their Heart and what is not;  LOVE is Timeless – crossing boundaries of age and decades; and LOVE is infinite – deeper than any ocean -- its depth reaching to the core of one's Heart.  

I found the short story below on the Internet and it touched my heart and made me tear up.  If it touches your Heart, share it with someone you care about – a nurse, doctor, caregiver, mother, father, sibling, or friend.  dht-2011)

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I Still Know Who She Is

It was a busy morning, about 8:30, when an elderly gentleman in his 80's arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb.  He said he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00.

The Nurse took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would be able to see him.  The Nurse saw him looking at his watch and, since the Nurse was not busy with another patient, decided to evaluate his wound.  On examining it, the Nurse saw it was well healed and talked to one of the other Nurses and got the needed supplies to remove the sutures and redress the wound.

While taking care of the wound, the Nurse asked the elderly gentleman if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, since he was in such a hurry.  The gentleman said, no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife.  The Nurse inquired as to her health and the gentleman told him that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's disease.  As they talked, the Nurse asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late.  The gentleman replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him for five years now.

The Nurse was surprised and asked him, 'And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?'  The elderly gentlemen smiled as he patted the Nurse's hand and said, 'She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is.'  The Nurse had to hold back tears, and had goose bumps, and thought, 'That is the kind of love I want in my life'.
[-Author Unknown]

JUST A CANDLE'S AURA

                                  [PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images - flames]

(I wrote this, 15 Jul 2011, thinking about how bright the Future's venue from my youth's portal.  The visions of hope from my girlhood, were tarnished and faded by the reality of Life with all its challenges, disappointments, and distractions.  Now, in the winter years, the bright aura of my youth does not burn as blue a hue. dht-2011)

The brilliant Aura of Youth –

now harnessed by Life's Distractions

and Time's Passage –

fades until No More.

The Ending of the Day --  

has mellowed to a fine Hue –

the sharpness of a stormy Passage.

There's a momentary madness

burning high in Youth's Abode –

Now extinguished in Elder Days

of unrealized Wishes, Hopes, and Dreams.

The moment –

Nothing more remains –

Just A Candle's Aura !

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr - 2011]

WHERE ONLY SHADOWS DANCE

                                                        [PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images]

(I wrote this, 13 Jul 2011, in a gray frame of mind, all too frequently occurring.  The "good times" in my life so far removed and their memory fading, seemed to go by too quickly.  Only now as I re-play those favorites, do I feel I was not prepared to savor the precious few bright and clear moments.  With misty eyes and wet checks, I try to recall happier times, despairing at the barriers that the 'bad times" cloud with melancholy. dht-2011)

The days at times are shrouded

in unremitting shades of gray.

Dark shadows obscure

the corners of my life.

MELANCHOLY is as a shroud

that allows only gray scales of color –

NEVER the rainbow rues

of LOVE, JOY, HOPE, BELONGING...

The edges of memories blur –

their shape and texture mute –

with a blink of the mind's eye –

they recede.

How strange it seems they happened

Just As Quick in their Time.

Now replaying those moments over-and-over,

thoughts drift through Barriers

NOT even Time's Gate Keeper can Deny.

The vast darkness so dense at times,

the light cannot invade the Expanse

WHERE ONLY SHADOWS DANCE!

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr - 2011]

DAY DREAMING

                  [PHOTO SOURCE: Google online images – see web link on photo]

(Inspiration and itchy fingers [for I always write in a tablet by hand] had me writing these unrhymed prosey words on 11 July 2011.  So here is a TWO-FOR-ONE offering. dht-2011)

JUST DAY DREAMING

Some days are just easy and
made for lazy-ing around and
JUST DAY DREAMING
about your Life, Yesterday, Today, and
pondering Tomorrow!

My life is a river that flows, I know not where –

With eddies for reflecting  --  
And swift currents gone too quick –

Past the 'Shores' of my life.

Yesterday's youthful dreams,
Today's hopeful goals,
Float on the water without anchor,
Toward Tomorrow's Destiny.
[Dorothy Hazel Tarr - 2011]

A DAY DREAMING TRAVELER!

The skyline is a Mocking reflection of my Day Dreamer's Passage.

My thoughts wander chasing butterflies in the Garden of my mind.

Graceful waves of ferns emote a welcome greeting on my Sojourn.

Glimmers of blue and green sparkle at the edges of my Dream off the cool waters catching the sunlight.

My Day Dreamer's thoughts feather to nothing, burdens of the day, easing the Signs of worry from my brow.

A brilliant smile lit from within, hints of the whimsical fancies that dance to a tune only this Day Dreamer hears.

Mysterious thoughts challenge and inspire and excite my Day Dreamer's Nature.

Lack of coherent order releases the Bonds that shroud the Boundary of my senses.

Reflections of a secret romantic, flicker as patterns of mist and fog, smoke and shadow, sun and moonbeams, and fall across my Day Dreamer's imaginary Landscape.

Warmth, laughter, and LOVE -- all welcome ingredients for Today's Illusions and Tomorrows Hopes.

And, the polly wogs in the Pond all turn into Princes, as the Day Dreamer's interludes slip by-the-by.

The drab sparrow drops its cloak, revealing beneath its brightly feathered finery in a Peacock's plumage; But, Beware the hidden heart of a Hawk!

A profusion of flowers array in drooping sleepy splendor along the Day Dreamer's Path.

Candle flames dance merrily into the evensong of the Sunset.

Flickers of moonlight beckon the Day Dreamer to witness its play on the garden Steps.

Overhead the stars in the night lit heavens, shine as celestial beacons, softly guiding this Nocturnal Traveler.

Whispers of a soft summer evening drift on a gentle breeze, ruffling the rhythms of my Flight.

Such are the Meanderings of my mind.

I am – A DAY DREAMING TRAVELER!

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr - 2011]

JUST DREAMS -- Emily

                     [Photo Source: Google online images]

(11 Jul 2011 -- WELL, like most of my maternal Cousin Emily's poems, this is short, but rich in depth of meaning, as she describes that 'perfect dream' that upon waking, we do NOT want to END.  I have had many of these and recall pushing aside the call of revelry to AWAKE in pursuit of just a few more moments of that 'perfect dream'.  dht-2011) 

  

Let me not mar that perfect Dream

By an Auroral stain

But so adjust my daily Night

That it will come again.

Not when we know, the Power accosts --

The Garment of Surprise

Was all our timid Mother wore

At Home -- in Paradise.

[Poem #1335 by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson ]

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(I always have to have a dictionary handy when I read Cousin Emily's poetry and writings. Emily was truly a gifted writer and always had a dictionary at hand when she wrote. She loved weaving thoughts into the written word.  Below is a brief definition of one of the words she used in the above poem, that I had to look up to check on the meaning as she used it in this poem.   dht-2011)

Def: Auroral
Adj.

1.  auroral -

     of or relating to the atmospheric

     phenomenon auroras;          

     a prominent green line in the spectrum
     of the auroras is called the `auroral line'.

2. auroral -

    characteristic of the dawn; "a dim auroral glow".)

 

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EVERYDAY WORDS - EVERYDAY THOUGHTS

[PHOTO CREDIT: Google online images]

(On Friday, 8 July 2011, I wrote about one of my Maternal Cousin Emily Elizabeth Dickinson's poems. This poem has NO TITLE (for she did not title her writings), but it is listed in the book of her poems that I have, by just the first line. The poem is below; and I added some comments below it.  

ENJOY the poem!!  And if you have never read any of her writings, you are in for a Journey of Heart and Thought. dht-2011)

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Your thoughts don't have words every day

They come a single time

Like signal esoteric sips

Of the communion Wine

Which while you taste so native seems

So easy so to be

You cannot comprehend its price

Nor its infrequency

[#1452 - A Poem by --  Emily Elizabeth Dickinson]

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Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886) was an American poet (and my maternal Cousin).  Born in Amherst, Massachusetts.

WEB SITE

[ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emily_Dickinson ]

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DEF: "esoteric" Adjective: Intended for or likely to be understood by only a small number of people with a specialized knowledge or interest.

In this poem, my Cousin EMILY says to ME that there are NOT words enough to describe every feeling and emotion that float through my mind every day. Moreover, that the meaning of some thoughts is confusing to some who do not know my circumstance or me. In addition, some 'words' when said or written have a 'price' that is a toll paid by the author for their effect on the emotions and attitude of self and others.

EMILY did not follow the typical path of a woman of her time for she never married. She lived a solitary life in her parent's home taking care of the household and her parents during their lifetime and illness and after their deaths and living alone in the homestead in Amherst, Massachusetts. She spent many hours conjugating the mental processes and writing down some of her feelings and thoughts about her life, nature, faith, love, death, and other topics. In over 1700 poems and writings, that are known about, she recorded on paper (by hand -- no computers or MSWord) her thoughts in 'words'. Today she is considered a genius with the use of words, and there are college courses, books, museums, and historical societies that are dedicated to reading her 'words' and analyzing each punctuation, phrase, topic, and nuance.

The EMILY DICKINSON MUSEUM comprises two historic houses in the center of Amherst, Massachusetts associated with the poet Emily Dickinson and members of her family during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The Homestead was the birthplace and home of the poet Emily Dickinson. The Evergreens, next-door, was home to her brother Austin, his wife Susan, and their three children. The Museum was created in 2003 when the two houses merged under the ownership of Amherst College. Its mission is to educate diverse audiences about Emily Dickinson’s life, family, creative work, times, and enduring relevance, and to preserve and interpret the Homestead and The Evergreens as historical resources for the benefit of scholars and the general public.

WEB SITES

[ http://www.emilydickinsonmuseum.org/ ]

[ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emily_Dickinson_Museum ]

For myself, I believe EMILY'S 'words' and her poetry and writings can be best enjoyed when applied to my own life and experiences. In this way, I am internalizing her whispered words that murmur to my heart and that put a 'period' to my feelings and thoughts. Sometimes, I find that by reading something she has written, I am better able to gain clarity on a point in my life. Clarity helps remove the confusion and shadows that intrude and hinder the 'walk of life'. There are enough 'boulders' and 'rough seas' that make the Journey difficult!

I am reminded of a time that a DEAR FRIEND of mine, helped me to reach clarity at a time, a couple of years ago, when I was baffled and confused. My friend listened to me describe my status and said that it sounded like I was experiencing DEEP GRIEF. This was a welcome realization and helped me put into perspective the many confusing feelings and thoughts that floated through my mind and heart and fell softly on to my wet cheeks. Grief is a personal process that no 'words' can explain, but 'words' in a Poem, a Prayer, or from a DEAR FRIEND can help the healing process through the solitary feelings from loss of loved ones.

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr - 2011]

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DANCING DANDELIONS

[Photo Source: My photo, my camera, my neighborhood.]


(On 6 July 2011, I took a walk down a dirt path in the wild life preserve in my neighborhood.  There was a soft breeze and as I walked along.  I watched in fascination as the dandelion flowers waved with the breeze.  I picked a flower that had turned into a white feathery sphere, and held it to my breath and to make a WISH!  Nature is full of moments of delight and inspiration! dht)

(DANDELIONS: Old French word meaning "Lion's Tooth" for the shape of the leaf)

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Yellow Dandelions border the trail, their blossoms dancing merrily to a tune only Nature plays.  Suddenly Day's Passage changes the blooms to white seeded spheres.  Be QUICK to make a WISH and use your BREATH as the feathery seeds fill the air.  Watch in wonder as the seeds take flight and drift far and wide on a summer breeze.
[Dorothy Hazel Tarr - 2011]

BLESSINGS of a New Day

[PHOTO SOURCE: My camera, My backyard at dawn]


(This is a tribute I wrote on 5 July 2011 to welcome the sunrise.  Each morning I count my BLESSINGS that I am witness to a New Day. And more, I am grateful for my home and the view of the sunrise over the Sierra Redwood Trees that I planted in my backyard. dht)

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My heart is weightless, like a cloud floating in a bright blue summer sky, drifting in a warm breeze. The sounds of the (bird's) Dawn Chorus fill my hearing. The scent of flowers saturates the air with their soft fragrance. I feel BLESSED to be alive to share this morning as the SUNRISE anoints the day with Promise and Peace and Hope.
[Dorothy Hazel Tarr - 2011]

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DUST Motes - Dancing a JIG

[PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images - wooden dustpan on top of small chair]

(WELL NOW, who do you know that is inspired by DUST MOTES and writes a tribute. That's just what I did on 3 July 2011. dht)


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The bright sun sits high in a hot cloudless sky. The breeze is noticeably absent. The shadows are short at noon's zenith.

Then afternoon sun pours through my window, illuminating the dust motes that dance in the air, as the ceiling fan stirs them to a JIG.

I GUESS it's time to DUST AGAIN!

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr - 2011]

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[PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images]

DREAMING -- Soap Bubbles

                   [PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images -- Soap Bubbles]

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(I wrote this today (3 Jul 2011) as I was thinking some introspective thoughts about life, time, and circumstance; and the soap bubble seemed the perfect symbol to 'pair' with the bubbles.  LIKE moments in time, in our lives --  Just Thoughts that Come and Go! dht)

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WHERE has the time gone?  How fast the years have come and gone!

The PRESENT has no more substance than SOAP BUBBLES blown from a soap bubbler.

TOMORROW is a dream, a promise, a hope for the nether.

I believed in my DREAM (fool that I am) and my heart sang with HAPPY thoughts.

Now, shadows intrude where the joy and sunlight have withdrawn.

Sometimes life takes a different course than what we plan or expect.

YES, I had been a DREAMER, full of hope and plans. NOW, such dreams are faded, never to be realized, and only live as wispy thoughts that float on the air as soap bubbles, and then burst.

In my mind, pictures flash of days long passed and flow over me in quick waves (NOT in any sequence of time).

I wish at times (all the time really) for a second chance with all I have learned--to turn back the clock, and...

I cling to the GOOD pictures and try to push away the BAD pictures--but it seems they are one and the same.

HOW does that ole saying go?

"You have to take the GOOD with the BAD."  (or something like that)

SO, the soap bubbles drift -- each capturing a moment of time in my life, each a good and bad 'picture' of a time in my life.

Soap bubbles as transient as my next breath!

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr - 2011]

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[PHOTO SOURCE: GOOGLE online images -- Soap Bubbles Bursting]