PowerPoint Presentation

EarthWindFireAir

A Hearts Life Laid Bare

byMarsha Jane Orr, MS, MA, MED

My Hands

They were old hands even at seventeen,Wisdom Womens hands, one had shared generously.They were dry, hard, cracked and wrinkled ,Not from work or play, not even from life,All of which would have lent their dignity.No, they were just that way:Old even then.Some 50 years later they seem as if they have grown into themselves,More attached now to an equally old body.Strange though they still seem as if they belong to another.Who was the one who held these hands?How did they get so withered and dry and still live toTell their story to me?

Heavens Refuge

Old fears rattled through the night Claiming their charm, their price and their loss.The house sounds added orchestrated chorus:A rumbling furnace: the cajoling father;The chiming clock, a witty aunt;A toilet flushing, a crying friend.And near dawn, A small stream of light took up residence,Through blinds, determined to shine.Breaking dark, growing beam upon beam,Until day was all there wasAnd night had vanished itself.

Bobby?

He was older then I remembered himIn fact, I hardly recognized himEven so, I took a double takeNice looking manAnd then again,Bobby?Hi, how are you?He straightened his shirt and stood taller,Sucking in his gut.How long you here for?A few days, back from almost 5 years away.Im 12 years older at least; hes probably 50 to my 62.The gap doesnt keep my heart from fluttering.Its always been that way.He never notices.All the sameHearts have a mind of their own,And I give mine its due.

The Vineyard

The gurgling refrigerator,The highway traffic whiz,The dog barking,The lights buzzing,Noise,Background OM,Modern silence when alone.Sounds drown heart poundThat I might be foundHere among the vineyards,Stripped of their last harvest,Fruit absconded,Bare branches tied,Skeletons to wires.Who might guess that here,In the winter of life,Spring might burst forth again?

A Life Journey

She said, Whats up?Youre over thinking things, he thought.Im fine, he relayed.I dont want you to feel obligated, she said.He went on to share all his preparations.Im learning how to receive, she said.Oh, no, shes not coming, he thought.Never even crossed my mind, she said.Whats your family say about what youre doing?They are fine. They are excited for me. I just say we are having funCome what may. They are protective of me and want me to safeguard my heart.My own thought of this is that to love is worth the risk of loss.Well, this is different for both of us, he said.Travel together is like this. You get to say,Look at that and the other sees and shares it too.

The seasons change,Rain today, winds tomorrow.Life takes its Way,Even without us looking.We plan, we scheme, we hope, we prayWe cry, we laughAnd finally we agree,Had we actually been left To craft it ourselves,And maybe, truly we are,It couldnt have been more Perfect,With its twists and turns,Its hilarities and sorrows,We are carved into ourselves,Magnificent sculptures,True grit, muddy quick sand,Hard as granite, soft as clay.We are what we are todaySimply because we lived it.

Lies at the heart,Even in simple matters,Even to perpetuate a joke,Are still lies that threaten and aim to undermine the esteem of the one lied to or about.Integrity involves what is said about another,As much as one says about oneself.To allow another to lie about something that involves me;Involves me in a lie,And thereby impugns my integrity.

Eyes seeing eyes,Clouded streams of light against blankets of dust.How could I have been so blind?Why is it I allowed myselfTo creep into the black,As if I might escape the voyeurism untouched?Arrogance againCrowds humility,Dust to dust,As if nothing is learned,No hierarchy of goodness,Only this and that; that and this,An endless chain of eventsThat clarify or elude The truth.One eye wary,The other sad,Knowing what is supposedIs just a blink away.

After shadows blast against once pure wallsWhat is left?A deeper compassion?A more integrated wisdom?A greater love?Or just broken illusions?And if we walk through even thisAssuaging fear to stand downIs it ignorance or strength?Enlightenment or enslavement?Chaos or bliss?What am I to make it my mastery?Claiming choice as if I command its fruit,Instead surrendering self to whats so,Then picking up pieces,Crafting meaning,To make it mine.Or perhaps,Ultimately,Over riding whats so,To declare whats ideal,And stepping there,Towards that.Balance beam of reality,Found or lost?

I once had a dog,Loved her to bits,She went to anotherWhen family illness made her stay with usUntenable.She thrived there, loved and loving.She died there.Was her loss to us even felt or recognized?Perhaps she found a mended heart,That with another she would have missed in us,Despite our dearest hopeTo make it right for her.Expedience won out,An ever-ready battery approach:Keep on kicking,Just to stay alive.No luxuryEven to grieve.

When all seems lost,Even gratitude escapes us,Especially or perhaps.Who can actually sayThey welcome loss,Despite its glossy magazine page lessonsThat follow later,When mind reasserts its rationale;The heart bled dry?I make myself see light.Black bullets everywhere,Eyes closed.

Enough wordsNo more wordsStop the words!BombardingHeart sabersCut to wound and sliceLeaving bare blood upon our tables.There you see it.Finally you hear me.Had a quiet repose worked,Then fire would never have lit.Smoldering cinders insteadWould lay low and awaitA later day to ignite explosive soul.At least this wayWhats bare and rawIs known and exposed.

It was too much to hope, Really,Though I strove to allow it.Nothing escapes its underbelly:Light and dark,Dark and Light,A tuck there,A release here,Creating life out of clay.Air resides only where its allowed,Folded in pockets,Covered up passages ofPresence and escape.

Fortunately thats not true!Air is everywhere,And its very hard to contain.

Baptism fontWater washed clean.Aching soul handsBecome a childs glee.Pontius took freedomThat was not his to giveAnd left legacy that agesLater, Beyond all that was,Lived,Pure and free,To beLove.

If I listen,I can hear sparrows chirping,Hawks calling,Geese honking--All sounds of Life around me--If I will only, Always,open my ears.The roosters crow awakens in meThree timesA new day