Showing posts with label Path. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Path. Show all posts

Wednesday

THE PATH I FOLLOW


[Photo Source: Wednesday, 22 Dec 2010, My photo, my camera, Lincoln, California. dht]

Barriers, Signposts, Clouds
Our pathways are fraught with barriers that hinder our progress, signposts that fool us with misdirection, and muddled thoughts that cloud our footsteps.
[Dorothy Hazel Tarr]



THE PATH I FOLLOW

Over the hill and around the bend lies the path I did not take.  Circumstance, chance, and choice were the guideposts and sources of misdirection to the path I did follow.

So many of Life's experiences and memories are dependent upon the path taken.  What at one time seems of primary interest and concern, can take on a completely different significance later in Life.

The ROAD OF LIFE can be full of great hardship, grief, loss, health issues and financial difficulties for anyone -- No matter which Path is taken.  No matter the choices.  No matter the fates.

What matters the Path?  What matters the Road?  For -- The destination is the same no matter the route -- death!  Life, after all then, is about the Journey!

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr]



RELATED THEMES:


Robert Lee Frost (born 26 Mar 1874 San Francisco, CA – death 29 Jan 1963 age Boston, Massachusetts, 89) was an American poet.  He died in Boston, on January 29, 1963, of complications from prostate surgery and is buried at the Old Bennington Cemetery in Bennington, Vermont.  His epitaph quotes a line from one of his poems: "I had a lover's quarrel with the world."  He is highly regarded for his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech.  His work frequently employed settings from rural life in New England in the early twentieth century, using them to examine complex social and philosophical themes.  One of the most popular and critically respected American poets of his generation, Frost was honored frequently during his lifetime, receiving four Pulitzer Prizes for Poetry of original verse by an American author — 1924: "New Hampshire: A Poem with Notes and Grace Notes; 1931: "Collected Poems"; 1937: "A Further Range"; and 1943: "A Witness Tree".

In 1915, Robert Frost bought a farm in Franconia, New Hampshire, where he launched a career of writing, teaching, and lecturing.  This family homestead served as the Frosts' summer home until 1938.  It is maintained today as The Frost Place, a museum and poetry conference site.  During the years 1916–20, 1923–24, and 1927–1938, Frost taught English at Amherst College in Massachusetts, notably encouraging his students to account for the myriad sounds and intonations of the spoken English language in their writing.  The main library of Amherst College was named after him.  He called his colloquial approach to language "the sound of sense."  [NOTE: Amherst College in Massachusetts played an important role in the lives of Emily Elizabeth Dickinson and her immediate family.  I mention Emily, for she is my DNA Cousin and we are both direct descendants of the same great grandfather ENSIGN Moses Payne Esquire (1581-1643).] 

Robert Frost's Personal life

Robert Frost's personal life was plagued with grief and loss.  In 1885 when Frost was 11, his father died of tuberculosis, leaving the family with just eight dollars.  Frost's mother died of cancer in 1900.  In 1920, Frost had to commit his younger sister Jeanie to a mental hospital, where she died nine years later.  Mental illness apparently ran in Frost's family, as both he and his mother suffered from depression, and his daughter Irma was committed to a mental hospital in 1947.  Frost's wife, Elinor, also experienced bouts of depression.

Elinor and Robert Frost had six children: son Elliot (1896–1904, died of cholera); daughter Lesley Frost Ballantine (1899–1983); son Carol (1902–1940, committed suicide); daughter Irma (1903–1967); daughter Marjorie (1905–1934, died as a result of puerperal fever after childbirth); and daughter Elinor Bettina (died just three days after her birth in 1907).  Only Lesley and Irma outlived their father.  Frost's wife, who had heart problems throughout her life, developed breast cancer in 1937, and died of heart failure in 1938.


The Road Not Taken
(A poem by Robert Frost, published in 1916 in the collection Mountain Interval.)

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
 


SOURCE LINKS
 
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Road_Not_Taken
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Road_Not_Taken_(poem)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pulitzer_Prize_for_Poetry
http://www.sparknotes.com/poetry/frost/section7.rhtml
 

Audio and Youtube link below:
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15717
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=goc3f77bcXk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZzUm0wqhE7E


About Robert Frost below:
http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/192
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Frost


Sunday

LOVE'S OWN DREAM

            [Photo Source:  GOOGLE online images]


(5 Feb 2012  --  There is a song in my head and a melody in my heart – the verse forgotten by my Lover and unsung.  Wherever I wander, whenever I lay in slumber, the memories follow as familiar companions.  As the old patterns in my life are retraced, I relive anew those precious times with my LOVE.  They are all that I hold dear and are more precious and treasured than ever.  The past is gone, and while the loss has been devastating, there is nothing that can be done to really regain what is lost.  While I do not want to let go of my treasured memories, choosing to live in my past will never completely assuage my loss, nor completely erase the pain I feel now and the void in my life.  Day – by – day, I walk through my life retracing the worn, rocky, and difficult pathways of my memories, reliving times long gone, but made afresh from daily visits.  Ever faithful to my memories, I tend them with special care deserved of heartfelt treasures dreams in hues of LOVE.  dht)



The sweet words of LOVE –
but a melody in my memory.

LOVE stayed but for a while –
then took flight on the wings of Time.

The bonds that would stay LOVE –  
faltered and frayed.

LOVE's voice is silent –
the story untold.

Whispered words of LOVE only a memory –
on a sea of tears.

The current of my tears –
drown my heart in the swollen waters of grief.

My salty lips have lost their smile --
my achy heart has lost its joy.

Dreams of LOVE stalk my nights –
then follow a carved path through my days.

A bond set by a prayer –
later severed by a gavel.

There is no LOVE in your eyes –
no comfort in your arms.

Through the passage of the years –
LOVE's dream follows in lonely corridors.

The tears taste bittersweet –
in my wanderer's loveless sojourn.

As I lay, I wonder --
while I watch the magic of LOVE's dream play out – again.

Time's forgetfulness awaits the dreamer –
where my lover's face shines with tenderness and comfort.

My walk is solo at the end –
without LOVE's candle, warmth, or flame.

The day grows cold and I grow old –
with only dream shadows to follow.

LOVE's remembered moments –
will not be swept away by Nature's taps.

A single note of LOVE's melody –
plays on in my Heart's embrace.

It is so much easier to LOVE the melody –
than to LOVE the withered leafless vine.

Your melody played on after I was gone –
but to another's tune.

To my heart you are no stranger –
to my LOVE you are no captive.

LOVE words spoken at an alter –
now lost on a sea of tears.

Names written on a vowel –
erased by legalese.

The melody from our LOVE song –
a forgotten verse unsung.

My final rest will not be alongside you –
your name not chiseled on my headstone.

LOVE's tendrils shroud my heart –
LOVE's ashes my monument.

LOVE's absence leaves my life raw and unfinished –
albeit the end is nearer.

All my windows and doors are open –
all my LOVE a memory.

JUST LOVE'S OWN DREAM.

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr]

Thursday

WINDS OF TIME

[Photo Source: Google online images]

(26 Jan 2012 --   So many decisions, choices, and options -- challenge every waking moment.  Each has a consequence that only Time will Tell.  Where would I BE, if another choice were made at any juncture?  Would this moment even BE for me, if another choice were elected?  What color my Path?  What reality my consequence?  dht)


Where ever will the Winds of Time may blow.
One's Path is uncertain and without governance.
Our reality a Dream of delights, and disordered nightmares.
Each step along the Path proffers a moment of decision.
Each juncture -- cause for pause and reflection.
Where both obstacles and bridges are to be crossed.
Our Faith the nave source whence strength radiates.
Where mirth and consequence converge.
Where frankincense and myrrh embalm the Spirit.
Each moment is a step in the road toward our Journey's End.
[Dorothy Hazel Tarr]

=====

 "To finish the moment, to find the journey's end in every step of the road, to live the greatest number of good hours, is wisdom.  It is not the part of men, but of fanatics, or of mathematicians, if you will, to say, that, the shortness of life considered, it is not worth caring whether for so short a duration we were sprawling in want, or sitting high.  Since our office is with moments, let us husband them." [Ralph Waldo Emerson}


"What's past and what's to come is strewed with husks
And formless ruin of oblivion;
But in this extant moment, faith and truth,
Strained purely from all hollow bias-drawing,
Bids thee, with most divine integrity,
From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome!
"
 [William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet.  Agamemnon, in Troilus and Cressida, act 4, sc. 5, l. 166-71.  Greeting Hector]


And  entering the house, they found the child with Mary his mother, and falling down they worshipped him.  And opening their treasures they offered him gifts of gold, and frankincense, and myrrh" (The Holy Bible, The Catholic Press, Chicago, Illinois, 1958 – The New Testament, Matthew 2:11).

=====

Monday

Winter's Calling – Lost Love

                    [Photo Source: Google online images]


(29 NOV 2011 – Love's bloom died on the branch – never to easily recover from Loss, Pain, and Betrayal.  When does the Pain fade – dull its sharp focus.  The price is too high.  I simply cannot see beyond the gaping maw of my fate before me, though another may.  Some say despair is paramount when one is no longer able to sustain, even for the briefest moment, the notion that all will be well in the end.  Perhaps if they understood how many pieces my heart had broken into, they would then suffer me.  dht)


Slowly – piece-by-piece – is the process of withdrawal unto self, the Spirit withering just as leaves on the tree wither in Winter's calling.
The enfolding warmth of a bright sunny day – loving spouse and Family – fall by the wayside of a troubled Path.
Reality's illusions of Familial Love -- drop away as falling leaves absent the limbs of trees.
Whispers of Lost Love rustle in the breeze, as favorite memories of days gone by -- drop away as dead leaves from barren branches.
As Times passes through Nature's Seasons, the past becomes muted as if the Years belonged to someone else – apart – just as the leaves on the ground seem to have forgotten from whence they sprang.
All Hope of a change of Season – of Heart – with renewed sprouts forthcoming of a Litany of Longing and Affection – died as the fallen leaves from barren branches.
As the last rays of Winter's light withdraws from a frozen Landscape – a cold Heart – the Season falls into Morpheus's embrace with silent tears.
Love's Mystery withered and died – when it should have grown – pushed to the deepest corner of the Heart – where no light shines and only shadows of memories linger.
A new Spring follows the Winter's solstice for some -- for others the Change of Season cannot be weathered and can no longer "move on" with Life's Journey.
Life's Journey is a lesson of survival without Love, without sunshine, without warmth -- bereft of Hope, of Happiness, Youth, Dreams --
Forever Lost – Forever! 
[Dorothy Hazel Tarr - 2011]

Tuesday

FROM HERE TO TOMORROW
















[Photo Source: Google online images]

 
(22 NOV 2011 -  The Holidays and special remembered occasions bring their own weighted burden to one's Heart – a Birthday, a Wedding, an Anniversary, a Death, a Divorce, a Thanksgiving, a Christmas, a Valentine, a ...   At such Times, all of one's resources are needed, and lots of tissues, to pass through those potent memories so laden with Love and Pain. dht )



All too often, my thoughts turn backwards in Time – to where the memories assail.

Every time I come to a turn in the Pathways in my Life or a Time when the daily routine leaves my mind free to wander – my thoughts drift over the Past like a frequent visitor. 

I wonder anew where my Life's Journey would have taken me if I had made different choices.

Where is the Path to Peace and Happiness?  It surely cannot lie in Tomorrow, although it had its roots in Yesterday – that Path is overgrown now with the weeds of despair, pain, regrets, grief, and tears.

Surviving a prolonged state of depression causes one to shift their thinking and straddle emotional distress.

The weight of my past, my memories – is an overwhelming burden that buries my feelings in despair, pain, regrets, grief, and tears.

There is nothing like the holidays to bring back old memories of days gone by, lost loves, families estranged, loneliness, and the bittersweet memories of former Times – all past now leaving an emptiness in the Path.

The Last Chapter –
the last part of my Life's Journey.
HOW will it be written?  With despair, pain, regrets, grief, and tears, with an unending –
never-ending sameness –
From Here-To-Tomorrow?

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr - 2011]

Thursday

(SO) SORRY WALTZ

[Photo Credit:  Google online images – abstract of dance waltz]

(10 NOV 2011 – Have you ever arrived at a crossroads in your Life, in a relationship, in a career, or in a situation – where you have just had it 'up to here"?  Well, I have and wrote this shorty as a tribute to all those who have caused me injury in the past, now, and whoever in future that dare! 

SHALL WE DANCE, you ask? 
I reply, NO THANKS -- I've had enough of your (SO) Sorry Waltz!  
Enjoy!  Comments welcome!  dht)





People say they are so sorry – such empty, hollow words –  for more often than NOT, people just turn right around and do their "sorry business" again and again.  "Repeat Offenders" you might call them – with habits and attitudes that don't change for better as their "sorry" might suggest!

From experience – I've learned to stay out of the Path of their "sorry business" – for if I don't, then I'm just begging to be "sorry'd" or worse.

But then there are those who don't even say "So Sorry" for the hurt they inflict, and the pain from those times is even worse.

I have known some "Sorry Card Carriers" who – after coming down from the high of doing an injury – figuratively whip out their "So Sorry Card"!!

If one looks closely at those cards, one can see the rolled edges of their worn "So Sorry Cards"!!

There is a reason for Ole Sayings -- and this one seems to fit:

Burn me Once    --   Shame on You!
Burn me Twice   --  Shame on Me !

Well, sometimes there are just some lessons in Life that have to be repeated until they are "Learned"!

So I say NOW to those "So Sorry Card Carriers" – I have (finally) learned this lesson! 

Therefore, I am giving you all Notice – starting from this moment of enlightenment – I will NOT "Sign" your "SO SORRY WALTZ DANCE CARD" ANY MORE!  Once was quite enough!

Moreover, I will try to avoid you whenever I hear you have requested the "Band" play your "So Sorry Waltz"!!

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr - 2011] 

Saturday

THE WHEEL OF LIFE -- of TIME

                              [Photo Source : Google online images]


(5 NOV 2011 --  I've been betrayed so many Times in my Life – now it seems the "norm" for any relationship I'm in.  So, I withdraw from any contact  --  to avoid any further suffering, falsehood, and betrayal. Even while the Wheels of Time turn, I exist in the shallows and shadows behind protective masks. Even the Mirror does NOT see the depth in me.    dht)



The Wheel of Life turns –
as I hover in the shadows –
ever wading through the shoals of Time.

Another turn of the Wheel –
an essence changed –
as Time and Age blends the patterns.

How shallow the sigh –
How deep the wounds –
How superficial the mind –
How deep the emotion.

The blush of the bloom – faded –
The vessel of the bouquet – weighted –
The trivial confounds the profound –
The thoughtful masks the perception.

Another Turn of the Wheel –
Another Step on the path –
Another Year on the rung –
Another Tear on the lash.

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr – 2011]