What if?

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Life is a tragedy until you make it a comedy. –Me

I love storytelling and dance and the creativeness of being. There is purpose in art. There is a reason we have an imagination.

But ever more, I feel squeamish at the way we are being manipulated in our thoughts by the shimmer of fame and the fortune of a few. I cry because there is a huge disconnect in Hollywood and the fortress built. I fear community adrift in a stranger’s dreams.

Perhaps we lack courage to live. Perhaps our obsession to be entertained leaves us morally weak. Fame abandons. When their story ends, what is left? Lights out and doors shut. We are left wandering and wondering what the purpose of Hollywood is all about. Hollywood feels so empty.

I say this having always wanting to be a dancer. It is in my soul to create. There is exhilaration being on a stage. Being loved for the love you create. Oh, but fleeting love.

I agree with Shakespeare that all of life is a stage. Perhaps we should admire our neighbor. Listen to their stories and be mesmerized by their dance. What if we do? What if we too share our dreams and hopes and make art?

One of the many reasons I love online blogging. We can participate in one of life’s magic elixirs, words! Cheers! J🌱

Winter Garden

sordid gazing globe
friends gather round
high noon hours
now gone

reflecting pools, moon aglow
Mad King Ludwig
starts the ball, whirling
gowns, curtsy and bow.

Wagner’s Faust resounds
sounds of mythic status
suicide pacts
dangerous acts

pertaining to the devil
who but shows
along with God
a gavel.

Rose petals
shower the floor
Marguerite
steps ever so

gently, is what she wants
reminds him
who she is
doesn’t have to be all.

God, so assured
alone, He waits
for a knock at the door
never sleeps, evermore.

footsteps creep
ever closer, she approaches
with trepidation
fear rests in her throat

winter garden
friend us now
give us faith to trust
forgiveness, reconciliation
bring forth good
gifts to bring my lover
shower him with grace.

ekphrasis poem explained

Security

Life-wrenching
mind-sucking
dream-crushing
world of good intentions
void of convictions

deeply wounded
resting in Grace’s chair

God molding me
the potter and mending clay,

faith muscles
stretch to forgive

home bound -secure
traveling towards space.

(An older poem from a different mindset. Hopefully not too mind-crushing or numbing for the second day of 2020! Keep positive✨🕯! Life has a way of changing course.)

And that’s what it’s about, isn’t it? Love? Love’s about making it last, making it stick, making it count – even when it hurts, when times are hard, when people change, when life changes them. If you love someone, then you have to want to love them, whoever they are.” –Rowan Coleman We Are All Made of Stars

Love is a Game for One

You never invite
I sit tight
cherish my dreams
with chocolate and creams
and wonder why I am crying.

So this year
I promise
to spend my hope
with rum and a rope
and fish for creatures silent.

(Posting another round of nonsensical words floating in my head. I jotted them down and thought to blow all my readers plenty of New Year Wishes and baskets of stars ✨ for good luck 😉 . J🙂🙃)

Have you ever?

When you face challenges, you naturally search for answers.

Have you, like me, ever fallen under a woven world’s wordspell? Some of Anthony’s poems on Hands in the Garden appear sensible and others completely obscure. For most of Sink to Surface, you enter another dimension. And even then you may never comprehend the road map.

Anthony Gorman’s first book may be the last place you think to look when in need. But perhaps it should be the first. And not necessarily to find answers, to solve problems. Rather to take a reprieve from life itself. Wander in wonderlands and eat chocolate and dream visions of peace.

©️Jeanne

Anthony’s work is never the ordinary. Do not expect truths to be spelled out in black and white. Expect to sift through technicolor visions and wade in waist deep, until you are ready to drown.

Sink to Surface: Poems by Anthony Gorman to purchase in US.

Sink to Surface: Poems by Anthony Gorman I believe the Canadian link.

“My portion of proceeds will be going directly to an ethically sound and creative cause called The Art for Aid Project, which aims to bring art supplies to indigenous communities to assist in the process of internal healing. To find out more about their mission, click below.

https://www.artforaid.ca/

Thank you for your time and support and thanks for sharing in the journey

Love and Blessings to you.

GG”

Visit Hands in the Garden blog for more poems by Anthony Gorman.

madly in love

wicked words of speech
drooling down her cheek
the atrocities of war
never quite compare to the way she dyes her hair

and she chases me
through a mirrored maze
neither knows enough to care
about the tragedies happening up there

we run and run and run
while the rivers turn red
until she pulls up a chair
tells me we should help the lads with prayer

down on my knees
she towers over me
strokes my face so fair
hands me a ripened pear

her love so juicy

Writers are Readers

Regurgitate. As social animals, we do this regularly. We eat words and spit them out for others to swallow. Recycle what everyone else has already said numerous times by bulimic practices. Twice daily, for good measure. Then proceed to wonder why we historically never truly change.

Revolution. In order to avoid this social practice, I am gathering books off my shelves, wiping off the accumulated dust, and placing the thirty-two chosen books in a prominent place to catch my attention. Yesterday, Anne Sexton drew me in and spoke wisdom. She reminded me how once I was blind and buried in a casket, allowing myself to be lowered into the ground. I did not object. Not one ounce of energy was released while cozy in the casket, to invoke my rights to breathe. I held every whisper close to my chest, lest someone hear my plea.

And today? Who shimmers in the window? A faint image of spring graces my eyes and I open Kathleen Norris’s “Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith”. I enjoy the practice of opening a book to a random page and let it speak on its own merit. I enter the hollowed pages of every book with no expectation, without searching for meaning or definitions or wisdom, but rather allow the mystery of reader’s faith to be trusted. This is always a good personal practice if you possess as little confidence as I do in anyone’s ability to love or guide me in holiness.

And then I open to page 177 and Jeffrey Dahmer shimmers. Kathleen Norris explains how she can understand his crimes all too well. Huh? I remember watching the Green Mile and Shawshank Redemption, and recalling they were innocent, likeable, and punished people, for inescapable reasons. But Jeffrey Dahmer? Please explain Kathleen! And then I get Norris’s thesis. “He (Jeffrey) seemed bewildered, exhausted, a lost soul.” she explains. I am seeing Dahmer through a second set of eyes. Like yesterday, I was, and am seeing in a light that once was shadows.

The chapter “Good and Evil”, where she discusses Dahmer, reflects back to the reader, the easiness of black and white thinking while pointing out the grey spectrum fogs our vision. The grayness noticeably makes us uncomfortable and often fearful. We resist taking time to weed through disturbed society’s murky waters. This defiance allows us to declare that we are good. And they are evil. We lazily separate humanity by merits without even counting the score or trying to understand the reasoning behind what caused us to fear another from the beginning.

The other current phenomenon, Norris rightly points out, is to discredit religion and its ability to heal. The need has never been greater for those who “struggle with ordinary but dangerous temptations to anger and revenge, to pride and greed, the fool’s gold of vainglory, and the improper manipulation of other people to further (their) own ends.” (p. 179). Currently, we rely on psychology to mend spiritual deficiencies, which is incapable of reaching the buried soul, protected by the mind’s easy route to not introspect our own evil, in declaring ourselves good.

“Jeffrey Dahmer shows us what the fear of abandonment can do to the human spirit.” Let us not abandon all roads to what feels easier to manuever. Let us strive to fully understand ourselves spiritually, emotionally, intellectually and mentally. Not solely by science or psychology but equally welcome a rigorous religious practice. What we do not understand is too easy to ignore.

There are no uninteresting things, only uninterested people. –G.K. Chesterton

https://youtu.be/4ZTTmjeANlQ