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Crying Towel

We all need a crying towel now and then, don't we? Life whips us, backhands us,
punches us in the guts, often unexpectedly. When do we get the chance to play out
the character we are in the best (and only) show on earth? Each and every moment
we live, I think and say.

And maybe like the song "Both sides now", I've lived long enough to see both sides.
When everything was hush hush, nothing was spoken about, not the President's private
life, not even pregnancy.... maternity clothes were supposed to *hide* the pregnancy,
(now baby bumps are a wondrous thing, and young women dress it up, like an accessory!)
and with it the act. It's come full circle, the act is ever more in your face, in just about
every thing. So is violence. We are assaulted by tv ads, tv and movies, youtube, newspapers,
magazines, blogs, face book, etc with everyone's opinions and doings. Tell all books are
a dime a dozen and verbalize many a guilty conscience.

My point? At some point, life turns around, and one is left with the small and large
consequences of one's own actions, words and behaviours. What other people have
done is not so important as the errors of omission and commission our good selves
have committed.

After all, what someone does is all about them, how we act and react is all about us.

We're left with those things we have said and done that while venting our displeasure,
anger, etc., ultimately points back to us. We could have been..... but we weren't.
And now the realization dawns that we can never take back what we said and did
in *retaliation*.

There are those, however, who have fallen in love with their own lives so deeply that
they have knowingly taken up the thankless task of reaching into another's heart to
draw strength from weakness. Love from hate. Gratitude from self-pity.

A poem from today's Panhala:

Seesaws -- Samuel Hazo

Seesaws

The bigger the tomb, the smaller the man.
The weaker the case, the thicker the brief.
The deeper the pain, the older the wound.
The graver the loss, the dryer the tears.

The truer the shot, the slower the aim.
The quicker the kiss, the sweeter the taste.
The viler the crime, the vaguer the guilt.
The louder the price, the cheaper the ring.

The higher the climb, the sheerer the slide.
The steeper the odds, the shrewder the bet.
The rarer the chance, the brasher the risk.
The colder the snow, the greener the spring.

The braver the bull, the wiser the cape.
The shorter the joke, the surer the laugh.
The sadder the tale, the dearer the joy.
The longer the life, the briefer the years.

~ Samuel Hazo ~

(A Flight to Elsewhere)

Web version: www.panhala.net/Archive/Seesaws.html

Web archive of Panhala postings: www.panhala.net/Archive/Index.html

My best to all,

~Kailashana/Anna Ruiz

Comments

– such truths here
well said
you know, I don’t want to sound like I’m harping on my son’s death…. I am well over the pain (acute at least) and have an acceptance and my own truth because of it…
but this write brings it to mind, as it is just why I relate so strongly to what you are saying here.

I had such a rude awakening when he died… I relived all the bad times – the times we fought, the times we didn’t speak… the times I didn’t do something for him when I really could’ve (even when most of the times were really for his own ‘growing up good’ – or at least at the time I thought they were)
I regretted so much.

now that might sound as if we had a really bad relationship. nothing could be futher from the truth. we had a great relationship, friends as well as parent and child – I had this with both my kids

but you know what ?.... and worse… after that, I relived all the horrible things I’ve said and done to everyone I had said or done horrible things to throughout my life … (horrible being relative here of course – not jack the ripper horrible, but in my mind the slightest upset I had given anyone became a major issue….

it has made me very aware of what I do and say every moment of every day … often bite my tongue

... and really, with virtual friendships and acquaintances, there is really no way one should be able to say they didn’t mean it … one only has to pause before hitting enter…. that’s a lot easier than biting one’s tongue I think…

and what a beautiful poem of truth there you have shared, thankyou
love judy
xxxx

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

Dear Judy, thank you for your precious comment. Losing a child is something I don't know if I could live through what you have. I know that your writing your book will be solace for the many who grieve. Grief comes and goes, doesn't it? It comes when it comes and goes when it goes. It took 10 years before I awakened in the morning without that ache in my heart after my mother died. Much of it was grief I caused her from being too head-strong
as a young woman.

You might remember I am a member of several peace groups in Cleveland, some on Middle East Peace; and I am awed at Palestinian and Jewish mothers and fathers, sitting together & speaking to end the war, the hatred that took away their children way too soon. Sorrow and grief can unite folks sometimes in mutual understanding
of profound loss.

~Anna

author comment

and im not perfect enough to believe in totality either
that burning all of one thing will cleanse
that throwing a man who thinks todays world view is
wrong (or woman) into a cell will stop an idea

as long as we can produce ourselves
we shall be human
one can say animal
one can elitist above the other species
for our mind

maybe we can alter our genes and dna
to remove feeling and improve production
through intelligence
or remove intelligence to produce production
through lower class slavery

but its interesting to note that we we just
build fast er more comple things

what is fighting today
will it matter tommorrow
people still live at the base of the pyramids
and fish still swim beside our serpent
mounds here in Ontario
corn will grow
potatoes

until then we alter
alter alter
worship worship worship

we could still b e using cuniform
and latin
and prose with commans and
periods
and not inventing bastard ways
of e pression

and we love ourselves some of us

i wrote poems and am alive
feel even

scrub floors and pick up trash
look after pets and my city
or try

live it I say and feel
its real

now I have to peel potatoes
ive alreayd said hi to my neighgours
picked up trash at the gas bar
painted a picture
had a coffee
took some digital pics for freinds

and written this

if neopoet wanted you to wear an armband
and stand together in protest to be here
because we were getting shut down
would you wear one?????

would you tear down a home of those
opposed to poets to be here or let
poetry die?

so today we have choice yet
to feel or not
to be or not
to write or not
to vote or not

what if you had to vote to write here
what if you had to agree to one
thinking ideology to belong here

birth is birth its going to happen
we cant make babies in machines
although clones are an interesting
thought
mast ering our dna code

bullying is taking a shit kicking these
days
I always wanted to say end bullying
just end the bullies but that would
not be human
we would be like lords of flies
Piggies
rather then jacks
and glasses would crack
and conchs

oh we feel

if only we could become
artificial with our intelligence
alter our dna to be what we
want
beautiful or ugly
ordinary or faulted

crying towels
I remember them

now Im going to cut up
onions
and have a good cry

thank you
this was a good blog
well written
like my Walrus Articles I love
and Ad Buster
and New Yorker
and Forbes

thank You

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