Vibratory Connections
The reverberations of love
jump across time and space
to another receptive heart.
The reverberations of suffering
resound around the earth
picked up by open souls in prayer.
The reverberation of aum
sacred sound of the universe
pulses through meditating mind.
Love brings the possibility of loss
suffering brings a totality of pain
Aum brings the reality of God within.
The Line is Dead
She’s finally gone
after fighting for life for
6 months of painful half-life
and multiple causes of death.
*
Gone is my last link
with Grandma and Grandpa
and happy days in Larchmont,
Grandpa playing the mandolin,
me dancing,
and Grandma cooking
unimaginable treats.
Happy days in Larchmont,
the Larchmont one weekend
Aunt Nina and I revisited
with our respective spouses
and cried tears of nostalgia.
*
Aunt Nina died Saturday,
the last of the LaMannas,
the aunt who knit the best-ever
Christmas stockings for
my brother and sister and me
which I still drag out every year.
The aunt who let me
play with her jewelry
in her blue bedroom
in Larchmont
with light that slid in
through the venetian blinds
and danced a jitterbug
atop Renoir prints,
with twin beds
covered in puff-ball bed spreads,
kept so clean by Grandma and
Aunt Nina wanting to sleep
and me pestering her to play.
*
Aunt Nina took me home once by taxi,
back to the city I hated
when I was sick.
She nursed me on the ride
And said “hang in there”
and held my hand
as I said to her a month ago
as she lay shriveled into a ghost
of her former self.
*
Gone are the days
of spaghetti and meatballs,
Arancini and sugar cookies,
wine and mandolin,
chewing gum in the desk,
watching at the windows
with Grandpa, as evening
fell all around.
Days of Big Grandma Castiglione
in her light-filled, white-tiled,
lace-curtained, one-room apartment,
with holy water font
and the smell of steam
in the yellow kitchen.
*
Gone are the days of
visiting Nina as she raised
her two “adopted angels”
as they were called,
and, who, with my uncle, she crafted
into two magnificent children
and later had four grandchildren
who adored them both.
Larchmont repeated.
*
Gone are the days of
visiting Aunt Nina in Kent, CT
and later in Danbury,
now much older and
with my husband whom
Aunt Nina and Uncle Ray
welcomed with open arms
and grew to love,
my husband of almost 24 years
who never knew this love as a child
and so does not know its loss.
*
Gone are the days
of a phone call
every few weeks,
Aunt Nina always seeming
happy to hear my voice as
she exclaimed “Ellen!”
as we talked about problems:
difficulties in the best of marriages
the downhill spiral of my Mom
after Dad died,
Nina giving support while
my husband and I cared for Mom
during her difficult path to death,
Aunt Nina listening to me recount
the downhill spiral of my brother
as he spent 3 years
dying of lung cancer.
And we talked of our
problems with anxiety
and later of her sorrow and fears
as her friends were dying
and she was fighting Parkinson’s,
bravely shouldering through every day.
*
Gone are the days
of pasta salads and olives
and prosciutto and provolone
as Aunt Nina and Uncle Ray
visited our little barn upstate,
where we laughed and laughed
in the Memorial Days sunshine.
*
Gone gone gone
my Italian heritage,
the last of my blood elders.
Aunt Nina was there
For 63 years,
All of my life
and all I can do
is cry
and try
to imitate
her admirable character.
For the Lord giveth and
the Lord taketh away
but why such pain
when he taketh away?
*
Because love grew
year by year
visit by visit
phone call by phone call.
I did thank her,
before the end began,
in a foresightful note,
telling how great an aunt she was.
God put the thought in my head,
and for that I am grateful,
for now it is too late
for now the line is dead.
Change Your Reality by a Thought.
Change Your Reality by a Thought
I just finished reading a book called happy pocket.
It was one of the most mind bending books on success and the world around us that I’ve ever read. It opened my mind up to sooo many ideas, but the main thing was we literally have complete control over every aspect of our lives.
It broke down the science of success and happiness to quantum physics… haha probably sounds a little crazy already 😉 The basic principle that It talks about though is that we are the cause of our circumstances, not the result.
What Is Energy?
To tell you how that works, I gotta break it down first.. When you look at a cell under a microscope its made up of molecules, those molecules are made up of atoms, which are made up of sub-atomic particles which aren’t made up of energy, they are energy.
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That Extra Squeeze
?
Hold your dear ones a little closer today
Give them an extra squeeze as you say goodbye
*
Rejoice in making their breakfasts
and doing their dishes
and mending their socks
or working in a job you hate
to keep them
housed, clothed and fed
For the work you do means
they are still alive
*
The horror of terror
has struck again
on our soil
What is de rigeur
in other countries
has happened here
and shaken us
out of our complacency
Terror “there”
is now terror “here”
*
Hold your dear ones a little closer today
Give them an extra squeeze as you say goodbye
For after yesterday
many cannot
*
And pray for the first responders
and their families
the unhailed heroes of our land
who face bad odds everyday
*
Hold your dear ones a little closer today
Give them your blessing as you say goodbye
For each goodbye could be the last
has always been true
but terrorism has taken that truth
and shoved it in your face
*
Hold your dear ones a little closer today
Swarms
The attack
not killer bees
nor locusts
nor hornets
nor any insect
but the contents
of the mind
Tied up in knots
not safe
not secure
not strong
not peace
Sick with
the plague of fears
negative thoughts
insidious
invidious
poison
killing joys
bringing tears
of pain
and loss
and grief
The swarms cloud the sun
taking away the Light
and all it enraptures
attacking
the very source
of life
Love
Traveling Through Violet
Light moves
silently
stealthily
surreptiously
in the dark violet
of nightfall
reflections
of phantasms
fill the windows
for I am full of fear
in the silent hum
of darkness
Through the Green Lightly…
through the pale veil of green
the tusset grasses grow
as the greening of the marsh
intensifies each longer day
while below frogs
and turtles
and fairy shrimp
dance their rite of spring
prey for the ducks,
crows, bald eagles,
ephemeral lives
we watch
nature raw
unawares
of the fragility
of us
Within Blue Prison Walls…
love happens
hugs and kisses
within the pen.
Love triumphant
over blue confinement.
Looking for the Light
In the golden hour
Spring sprouting trees
dainty with bud,
a delicate delight
devoured
by the hungry devotee.
Resurrection of the Light
Tuesday was the first day of Passover and Sunday is Easter. A holy season.
Below a holy song by Yusuf/Cat Stevens says it all — whatever denomination.
Violet Reflections
Today the sky reflects violet on the marsh
as statues stand shrouded purple in Catholic Churches.
Today my eyes weep blue tears, mirroring the sky,
at the slights, the fights, the cruelty of human nature.
Mine but pinpricks by comparison
to the persecution, execution and death
of innocents, of earth, of nature
and of He who was known as Jesus.
Mother and Child
Proud mother,
smiling unmistakable smile
as little lamb, curled up,
sleeps safely beside her,
for now.
Tomorrow
both mother and child
will cry anguished tears,
suffer a searing separation,
as they take little one away,
hopefully out of sight and sound
of mother,
to bring little lamb to slaughter
for a holiday meal.
Innocence Sacrificed
Newborn lambs
eat joyfully
and frolic freely,
with abundant abandon
and love for life,
in utter oblivion
of the upcoming holiday
for which so many will die.
A Resurrection
“Washed out” colors soon will be scintillating
and bare branches budding
with brown bush breaking out in full flowering regalia.
“Let’s Just Hold Hands”
They have been married for 52 years.
Now she is in rehab
on a feeding tube,
a phantom of her former self,
so frail.
And he is hail
for her.
He says to her:
“Let’s not talk about the past.
Let’s not talk about the future.
Let’s just sit here and hold hands.”
And so they sat for three hours
until the darkness fell.
Mid-March Reflections
What is referred to as the “washed-out” landscape
of March
is brimming with the glow of secret growth
about to burgeon forth
into a verdant folly of spring green.
No. 149
You look at me
and see hamburger,
filet mignon,
roast beef au jus.
But I am a mother/father/sister/brother.
I look at you with curiosity,
and innocence
and in the end
I will be betrayed.
But I don’t live on a factory farm
so I don’t know that yet.
I offer the following short short video by Paul McCartney for educational value. I leave the option whether you want to view it to you. It contains graphic and upsetting images but meat eaters should know how the meat comes to their plate and how factory farms operate. Taking pictures of farm animals and this video made me stop eating beef, pork and lamb– am working on eliminating chicken and fish.
“Landscape of Loss”
Sap is flowing through ice and snow
When nature awakens in late March or early April, sap starts flowing in the trees and ice changes to water marking the end of hibernation. This is the grand opening of the wetlands and the pilgrimage to the vernal pools as David M. Carroll writes in his “Swampwalker’s Journal: a Wetlands Year.” A vernal pool is a body of water which fills up in autumn and winter and is swollen in the spring but often dries up completely by the end of the summer. Carroll describes vernal pools so beautifully: “It is at snowmelt and ice-out, the last sleets, first rains, and the earliest warming breaths of spring that they beckon wood frogs, salamanders, and spring peepers from surrounding upland woods, where they have passed the winter in rotted-out trees roots [a reason not to ‘clean up’ the woods], under layers of bark and litter, in small mammal tunnels and other hibernacula in the earth.” The melting snow heralds the march of the amphibians. “Vernal pool habitats hold a galaxy of small things that come to life the instant ice and snow turn back into water.”
Carroll walks the swamps, as the title of his book suggests, in search of mating salamanders and spotted turtles, bogs, fens and all wetland flora and fauna. He tells us that there must be a certain collusion of events– several warm days in a row followed by a darkest of nights with temperatures ideally in the mid-50s with rain preferably two nights in a row. And then the magical migration begins. The salamanders begin their “annual pilgrimage” to the vernal pond to mate.
My husband and I are lucky enough to have a vernal pond on the property next door to us and when Spring comes the sound at night from that pond makes us feel as if we are camping out next to a vast wetland. The music of the spring peepers plays through the night throughout the house, often starting overeagerly in the late afternoon. This manic symphony thrills us every year. It is the first sign of Spring for us. The quality of joyousness and the affirmation of life gladdens our souls. Going to sleep with that sound makes us remember what we so often forget, to give thanks to our Creator for His magnificent creatures.
Inspired by Carroll, one year we awaited the first dark, rainy warm night after a succession of warm days. In our rain gear, armed with flashlights we set out around 11PM to look for the march of the salamanders. We walked to the nearby pond. Nothing. We walked quite aways down a nearby dirt road that has run off but is not quite a vernal pond. We shone the flashlight this way and that. Nothing. We finally headed home disappointed and dejected and my husband started towards the front door when I let out a yelp. There in the doorway was a 6 inch spotted salamander in all its glory! We never found the march of the salamanders but we were greeted by one of these fantastic amphibians right at our front door!
This story, however, does not have a happy ending. In his epilogue to the “Swampwalker’s Journal,” David Carroll explains why it took him more than 7 years to complete this book. He writes that he became involved in saving some of the wetlands in his book and says sadly nearly all of his interventions have or will become “losing battles.” He describes the plight of the wetlands, bogs and fens as a “landscape of loss.” And he scorns our human selfishness as he writes how it “reveals explicitly the extent to which we think of ourselves as owning all living things, along with the very earth, air, and water in which they live, as if we possessed some divinely mandated dominion over all creation.” He warns: “As we will learn in time none of this belongs to us.” I read these words, knowing them to be true and I think of the soon-to-be-extinct bog turtle and other creatures with the same possible fate. I think of the spotted salamander who came to our door, as did Shelley, the snapping turtle who used to return to our drive way every year to lay her eggs. I think of the spring peepers whose joyous song heralds spring next door every year, and I fear for the future of them all.
Ducks in the Morning, Ducks in the Evening…
Thought Moonside could use a little levity on this Vernal Equinox Eve with Peter Cook and Dudley Moore in their Art Gallery comedy Skit that features ducks. Ducks have now returned to the
the few ponds and lakes that have defrosted, gathering in large groups. I caught one lone duck apart from the rest– perhaps an Asperger’s duck (I think I can say that being Aspie myself with an Aspie husband). Enjoy the clip on ducks from the skit in the video below.
Two of Me?
I look down at the catalogue card on my desk. I look at the first subject heading. It says: “City planning – Zoning.” I see the word “City” and I see the word “planning” but I see them as “City – planning – Zoning,” something I’ve never seen before. I go over to Tony.
“Tony, is this a new subject heading? I’ve never seen the two together before.”
Dr. Lencek is standing by, listening and he says, “Ah, indirect communication.”
I hold the words in my mind. “Indirect communication.” What does he mean?
Tony answers gently, “Ellen, that’s not a new subject heading— we’ve used it before.”
I look down at the card. Of course, it isn’t a new heading. Now the words look normal. “City planning – Zoning.” My face burns hot and red. How stupid! I’ve used the heading for years. I slink back to my desk in embarrassment.
“It will get easier,” Dr. Lencek says.
“INDIRECT COMMUNICATION.” DR. LENCEK SAID THAT AFTER YOU SAID YOU HAD NEVER SEEN THE TWO TOGETHER BEFORE. YOU MEANT THE TWO PERSONALITIES INSIDE YOU. YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN THEM BEFORE. YOU WERE DESCRIBING YOUR MENTAL STATE IN INDIRECT COMMUNICATION. THAT’S WHAT DR. LENCEK MEANT. THAT’S WHY DR. LENCEK IS ALWAYS TELLING YOU TO FREEZE ONE PARTICULAR MOMENT IN TIME AND KEEP IT IN THE MEMORY. “HOLD IT IN YOUR MIND,” HE ALWAYS SAYS. HE IS TRYING TO GET YOU TO BE ONE MIND— ONE PERSON. YOU’RE SPLIT IN TWO.
I feel weaker than ever now, though I am sitting. I look over at Dr. Lencek who is standing nearby Tony’s desk working. I want to hug him. All the times I was so nasty to him when he was trying to communicate with me . . .
IT’S THE PLAN. IT’S THE PLAN YOU OVERHEARD DANIELLE DISCUSSING WITH CAROLINE. YOU OVERHEARD DANIELLE SAY HOW SURPRISED SHE WAS THAT THE PERSONNEL HEAD WOULD ALLOW THEM TO GO THROUGH WITH THE PLAN. DANIELLE HAD THOUGHT THE HEAD WOULD HAVE SAID NO. THEY WERE PLANNING TO SHOW YOU HAD TWO PERSONALITIES.
But why would they bother helping me in this way? Why would they bother helping me at all after all my moodiness and fits of anger?
I am shaking now. I try to get up from my desk to look up the call number for the book. Dr. Lencek is standing by. Tony and Danielle are standing to the side watching me as I try to get up. I try to put one foot in front of the other. It is as if I have forgotten how to walk. My legs and feet don’t move the right way. I look up at Danielle. She probably overheard most of the conversation between Tony and me from this morning. She knows what is wrong with me. This is why she has kept away. She is watching me with an expression so dramatic that it is easy for me to see worry and compassion. There are tears in her eyes. For once I can feel the love. I want to run into her arms and cry. But I cannot walk. It is as if I am a big baby and when I finally do manage to walk slowly past them to the back of the room, I am unable to respond when Eva passes by and says hello. It is taking all my power and concentration just to walk to get where I am going. I suddenly am so exposed. Like a baby walking down the aisle. But, no, it is like I am being wheeled down the aisle. Something is moving me down the aisle and it is not my feet. I am in a big, dark, round cave. And in one corner of the cave is a small opening where the light shines in.
From Chapter 11 of my memoir on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Eye-locks-Other-Fearsome-Things-ebook/dp/B007TOOF56/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1345051643&sr=1-1&keywords=eye-locks Also available on Barnes & Noble Nook, iBooks and Smashwords.
Fleeting Filigree
Winter is dying
and dead trees
are coming to life.
Your sap is starting to flow
bringing forth birthing buds
of spring as
people clammer
for the greenery of summer.
But I love you most
when you are naked, nude, and vulnerable,
stripped bare of beautiful-to-be sure
spring/summer finery.
I mourn your fleeting filigree
on this snow-showery day
of comforting gloom and grey
and feel kinship with you
as you stand staunch against the cold
and stark against the feathery flakes of white.
I think you most beautiful
in your bare-arm-intricacy,
and lace-like, linear patterns
drawn against a back-drop of sky,
as you reach for the Almighty.
MOONSIDE 
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