Never give up (haiku)

Part of a puzzle
one big piece that does not fit
That just might be me

Darkness colours grey
oceans swallow fowl beliefs
sea of lost riddles.

despair clouds the mind
shift in attitude restores.
Equilibrium.

By no means give up
tomorrow’s another day
faith, hope… reliance

© Cheryl-Lynn, 2014/02/24

The Problem With Little White Girls (and Boys): Why I Stopped Being a Voluntourist

Food for thought. In an age where we need to use all our resources sparingly and “smartly”…here is an honest account on what helps and what does not help. Those who volunteer know that it feels good to give…but it is not about you or me…is it now? It is about helping where you can truly make a difference and not soothe egos or boost our self-esteem (although that will happen anyways when you are giving from the heart…really!) Have a look-see here…this writer tells it as it is…for real! Cheryl-Lynn

philippabiddle's avatarPippa Biddle

White people aren’t told that the color of their skin is a problem very often. We sail through police check points, don’t garner sideways glances in affluent neighborhoods, and are generally understood to be predispositioned for success based on a physical characteristic (the color of our skin) we have little control over beyond sunscreen and tanning oil.

After six years of working in and traveling through a number of different countries where white people are in the numerical minority, I’ve come to realize that there is one place being white is not only a hindrance, but negative –  most of the developing world.

Removing rocks from buckets of beans in Tanzania. Removing rocks from buckets of beans in Tanzania.

In high school, I travelled to Tanzania as part of a school trip. There were 14 white girls, 1 black girl who, to her frustration, was called white by almost everyone we met in Tanzania, and a few teachers/chaperones…

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Unwelcome guest (haibun)

Photo Credits

Today is a rest day. Take care of me day.  Resting until mid afternoon in a reclining position on my pillow top mattress….ahhh! my back seemed to be behaving much better.  You see too much work, not enough sleep, rest, me time  does impact on your body too.

I started washing a few items in the kitchen sink and my mind started turning the wheels of thought and process.  I like to call this “meditating”.   I decided to take a few items out of my dishwasher…ended up taking every item and washing by hand in the tub…still thinking. I also felt good that I had saved on water and the environment by NOT wasting water and hot water by using my dishwasher this week.

My mind kept moving along on  “play” I had to find something more to do.  I call this the Mary Tyler Moore Syndrome. For older folks, you may remember when she was upset or had something to process in her mind, she would clean up her apartment. Well, I have no intention of doing any majour cleaning but I find doing it in little increments, it soothes the soul. You know, like cleaning out a closet, helps to sort things out in your mind…look at something, chuck it in the trash if it has served its purpose and set aside if there is some more sorting and “processing” to do.

I actually use that analogy a lot when counselling youths.  Counselling is a lot like cleaning out your closet. I usually take everything out and make three piles. One to give a way (it can be a learning experience you are ready to give away…process with your counsellor, then move on) , one to throw away (you look at it, talk about it and put it behind you, no longer serves any purpose…actually weighs you down) and one to sort (may not be ready to look at, talk about yet…) and put back neatly in the closet..

So I decided to clean out a corner cupboard near the sink.  It is one that is deep and difficult to get at things…so I put things in the deep part that I don`t need much and in the front part I have my rice and box of cereal.

Rewind a bit:  Bette, my loyal feline bff has been sitting near that cupboard door for quite some time. I thought perhaps there was a mouse and had checked it out before the holidays…nope, no mouse there.  Then I checked to see if there were any insects…nope…all good there.  But it is always very cold there…it is connected to my neighbor who is rarely home…in Europe somewhere but there is a buddy that stays over now and then. So basically it is not heated much and I suppose not checked out much…yep you got it, a safe haven for vermin during our cold winter months.

I decide to empty everything…I notice little calling cards…yep, you got it but do not see any owner. All is emptied and nothing…so I figured the culprit came in through the hole in the wall (around the pipes) that leads to my neighbours and went back to that huge haven of free space.  I start washing with disinfectant…then checking my box of cereal that I have never opened yet…I notice a hole in the box and I see/hear movement…OMG…little furry mini grey critter…dear me…Bette was right all along…I will never EVER second guess her.  She is the master of this house {really apartment but it sounds better}.

So much for disrupting my meditation…finished cleaning and started blogging…my mind had no more clutter for some reason…my muse revisited and stayed a while, perhaps to comfort me after my heart kept racing… {sigh}

(Haiku)

Heard pitter patter

unwelcome guest scurried fast

A mouse in my house!!!

© Cheryl-Lynn, 2014/02/12

Do you see what I feel?

PE.Harrell-Sanders_DoYouSee

Do You See What I Feel by Dana Harrell-Sanders

When I talked about you last night

it was just to write a verse.

It was fiction. No big deal! alright?

 

Why the constant striking

must there be so much throbbing

with such vengeance my way?

I was only kidding yesterday.

 

I didn’t mean anything by the poetry.

Please remove the heavy artillery!

Lower the mega equipment

Please take out the iron fists

that push, pound and torment,

beating incessantly

invoking indignation

imposing impatiently

seeking retribution

but for what?!

 

Have some compassion

let’s call it a truce

give me a meagre portion

of amnesty

please believe

I’ll never complain…

grant me some reprieve

to relieve this pain.

cease this unremitting beating

nonstop on this poor form of ail

it hurts just to breathe

I wince when I inhale

my plea is humble and pure

Please, please, JUST stop!

© Cheryl-Lynn 2014/02/10

Carpe Diem #393, Kumadaniji (Temple 8)

A lovely history of bodhisattva of compassion and 2 touching poems (haiku and tanka)

Georgia's avatarBastet and Sekhmet's Library

Logo CD February

I usually don’t copy but link to the Carpe Diem stories which inspire the haiku I write for this blog, but this one particularly interested me because recently I happened to speak to a good friend of mine of the bodhisattva of compassion.

Guanyin or Senju Kannon in Japanese is the bodhisattva associated with compassion as venerated by East Asian Buddhists, usually as a female. The name Guanyin is short for Guanshiyin, which means “Observing the Sounds (or Cries) of the World”. She is also sometimes referred to as Guanyin. Some Buddhists believe that when one of their adherents departs from this world, they are placed by Guanyin in the heart of a lotus, and then sent to the western pure land of Sukhāvatī.”

Haiku

compassionate heart
listening – understanding
stopping the stigma

Tanka

along your pathway
where to turn in troubled times
she is waiting there
a calm compassionate…

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Chocolate Cream Cups : Friday Night Party! Do you want to join the wagon?

I love this blog soooooooo much. She not only gives recipes, she makes it “dummy proof” with the photos to make sure we can actually succeed!! Love love love her blog…check it out and her photography as well!!

Slumber’s Guest

Angels-13

Can’t wait to get to sleep
dream, dream and unwind
this time when I wake up
will look forward, try to find
in the middle of the night
I won’t reach for my phone
checking time left for rest
rather write down a few words
try recalling at my best
conjure up from my dreams
slumber’s much delightful guest,
stories telling what I deem
excellent stories…fantasies
just amazing tales to keep
every night in my sleep…

Yep, can’t wait to slip away
and see the stories unfold
all night long imagining
stories needing to be told.

I adore some of my dreams
love to wander, float away…
on a dreamlike getaway
like a nomad that will stray
journeys most internally
learning more just how …to be,
letting go finally
finding space to just… BE.

© Cheryl-Lynn, 2014/01/31

Wonders of my life

Photo: Cheryl-Lynn Dec 2013, Montreal
Photo: Cheryl-Lynn Dec 2013, Montreal

The first snowfall
every year
brings the child
in me so near.

When a rainbow
tails the rain
makes me gasp
just can’t refrain.

My first crush
I still remember
and it still
gives me a rush;

My first kiss
from my true love
memories of erotic bliss
how I fail to forget,
my first pleasures
of the flesh
warms my skin
as I still blush.

The first stirrings
in my womb
makes my heart
flip and flop
feeling joy
wrapped with wonder;
baby boy
in my arms
suckling on my breast,
baby girl
in my embrace
next to my son
who’s grown so much
such a wonder…all of this!

soaking up those first smiles,
first words, first steps,
sheer wonder all of this
absolutely total bliss!

Rediscovering nature
in its delight
through the eyes
of my children
giving me a second chance
to embrace life again,
showing reverence
to Mother Earth.

Then the splendor
music offers
making magic
my son plays
on those bronze
copper strings;
watch in wonder;
when daughter
sings soprano
like an angle
in her choir
feel in awe
every  hour.

Watch the birth
of my grandson
cut the cord of life as well
how my heart OH! did it swell!
wept with joy
to see this boy.

Every sunset…
every dawn
brings such wonder
so serene
I’ve been blessed
ten thousand times
and still counting
I’m so thankful
such sheer wonders
I have seen.

 

© Cheryl-Lynn, January 27, 2014

Prompt 40, Sheer Wonder

Wolf Girl (haibun)

My contribution to this great prompt at Free Write Friday. Thank you Kellie.

trust[4]

A short Narrative

Wolf Girl

Erik Boone Art

They called her the Wolf girl at the hospital on the psych ward. No one had been able to approach her …much. She was like a wild animal. If you came too close to her, she would howl; if she was hungry she would stand at your table, looking at your tray with the most appealing eyes, no one could refuse her. The staff was curious about her but all, without exception, fell in love with her especially when she would curl up into a ball in the fetus position on the centre of her bed…thumb in mouth, lights ON. If ever a staff member felt pity for anyone sleeping with those bright neon lights and turned it off in her room, she would sit up, howling, eyes wide-eyed holding on to her blanket for dear life.

Her name was Torey.  Child services brought her in 3 months ago to Emergency for a check up and after examination by doctors as well as the psycho-educator in chief, they assumed she would get her discharge no later than 3 days (which was customary in “those” cases). But she never got that release and Dr. Shelley, the Psycho-Educator in chief would not release her. She had a different reason at each court hearing…this last one was selective mutism, and that this youth was sexually assaulted multiple times for years. Torey was 11 by now but what the hell did  “multiple times for years”even mean?  Dr. Shelley just knew that this child should NOT be placed in foster care without guarantees she would be safe.   The system had failed her in the past when this child had put her trust in adults who should have kept her safe.  Dr. Shelley knew there are NO such guarantees.  She  took it upon herself to make sure she remain the ward of the court and in the children’s psychiatric ward indefinitely.  She had hope that some day soon, she just may make a breakthrough. Torey may decide to talk.

It was December 24th, 3 and a half months since Torey’s admission, and she was in her daily interview with Dr. Shelley. This therapist had a unique approach with youths, those with selective mutism.  Her past 10 years experience working solely with teens who had autism spectrum had given her a new skill…EEP.  Her colleagues, mostly professors at the local university scoffed at her when she said it was actually a skill that had to be learned with working with “exceptional” youths.  EEL stands for Exceptional Empathetic Listening skills.  Dr. Shelley had a knack of drawing out the most difficult and resistant child into trusting her enough to start talking…even if it was one hour a day, that was a miracle in many cases she had worked on.

Torey was different. She was brilliant. She had a way of knowing what adults were thinking and what they needed. This is how they discovered her exceptional talent or sixth sense.

One day, Nurse Grant, who had worked on the pediatric ward on the psychiatric section for 20 years,  walked on the floor with a limp wearing tinted glasses.  Staff all inquired with sympathy what had happened to her over the weekend and she just  brushed them off with a, “Ah just clumsy old me bumped into the glass bus shelter. With the darn sleet and snow mingled, I could not see an inch in front of me and I banged the corner of my left eye and slipped and sprained my ankle. Enough said, no need for pity from anyone, so I got these glasses to avoid your mushy sad looks. Now ya’ll get to work!”  She did have a bit of a bark and everyone went back to work. No one asked her again and most avoided looking at her in the eye…or rather, glasses…except for Torey.  She looked at her suspiciously, sucking her thumb. She circled around her looking up at her and raised her eyebrow.

Then she followed Nurse Grant into the nurse’s lobby and sat right next to her on the couch while she sipped her coffee. Torey looked up and did the most surreal thing…she spoke! “He gave it to you, didn’t he?” she said  in a raspy voice. Nurse Grant almost spilled her coffee and looked at Torey wide eye, in shock.

“What you talkin’ about young lady?!” and Torey did not balk…did not feel intimidated one bit. She just looked up at her this time with compassion, and puppy dog eyes and gave Nurse Grant a hug, whispering in her ear, “I know what them do to you.”

Nurse Grant just savoured this moment because she had a feeling that Torey did, in fact, know.

Later that afternoon, Dr. Shelley was advised about Torey’s first spoken words in private by Dr. Shelley who had to come clean of her own personal circumstances.  Dr. Shelley, called in Torey and asked her, “Well, now, Torey. You certainly gave us a bit of a surprise today and I have to say a very nice surprise. I want to thank you.”  Torey had arrived arms crossed, ready to keep her silence but was cut off guard when Dr. Shelley was thanking her.  She dropped her arms to her side and raised an eyebrow and waited…she was the prize of detectives…she had to know for sure…

Trust no one ever!
Exceptional listening.
Suitable moments.

Dr. Shelley continued, “Torey, Nurse Grant has been in a dratted abusive relationship for years and no one but no one has ever had the courage to confront her and plead with her to get out and to safer environment. Today, Nurse Grant came up to me asking to live in the nurses quarters for the night staff temporarily until she found a new apartment. So I want to thank you for doing something not one counsellor, nurse, doctor or psychologist was able to do until you did.”

Torey stared at her sizing what he had just heard, and took her usual seat in front of Dr. Shelly’s arm chair and said, “Yeah, well, it’s about time she left that f…..g loser. She deserves better.”

That was the first session Torey felt she could trust Dr. Shelley and started disclosing the sexual abuse she was exposed to by her father from the age of 7 to 10 and the abuse in foster car the months following her removal from her home.

Trust has to be earned…Torey was not fool enough to trust just anyone…she knew who could be trusted and she chose to speak to Nurse Grant because she saw peer…a soldier in the fight against abuse  in her…as for Dr. Shelley, well, gosh, Torey, knew she had EEL, she was just waiting for the right moment to feel she could actually trust her.

© Cheryl-Lynn, January 27, 2014

I don’t believe in the word “regret”

Learning by doing is how I learn best and sometimes I just done wrong but I still learned.