Opposing our president’s racist and gutter language this week, tho it remains unclear if he hates non-whites more than the poor. How would he act toward a poor white Norwegian? I hope his doctor can clarify his condition clearly and with helpful re
commendations.
HEART OF STONE
One day she wrote a poem
that ended, “Whose face did she
wish to see?”
She wrote that, and reading it
realized there was no face
that she longed to see. Her heart
had hardened into stone.
O she admired some folks
and pitied others, but the
bubbling warmth of the inner
fire had turned to stone and in
its place were traces of ashes.
If you ride a trolley long enough you’ll come to the end of the line. You can then remember the sights and stops, the riders that come and go. Maybe trouble on the line, cross words or banter, perchance the frozen grim look of out-of-sorts folks. Perhaps that little girl with lollipop all over her face. But search the faces–all of them–whose do you want to see?
poppinjay alights
trolley’s fare is much too high
clickety clack lack
HEART OF STONE
One day she wrote a poem
that ended, “Whose face did I
want to see?”
She wrote that, and reading it
realized there was no face
that she longed to see. Her heart
had hardened into stone.
O she admired some folks
and pitied others, but the
bubbling warmth of the inner
fire had turned to stone and in
its place were traces of ashes.
From DIGG 1/8/18
VISIT
I’d like to hear from you about the dichotomy between what we say about empathy, especially for mentally confused individuals and how much glee most everyone takes in belittling and personal name-calling back the president. Sure, he hurts people. It’s like what we do at war: dehumanize the enemy so they become a non-human being. I’m really talking about myself. I do it too, but every now and then I flip and experience what he and his family must feel about being insulted back by everyone. Don’t get me wrong; I’m a Democrat, but I just wonder how our two different behaviors and belief systems can occur together.
Increasingly, I have become painfully aware 
of the terribleness of most communication: of people talking but not saying what they mean; of the contradiction between the outward words and expressions and the inner meanings and messages; of people looking as if they were listening without any real connection or contact with one another. When I am with such persons I experience deep feelings of loneliness, and I want to break through the empty words and come into touch with the feelings; I want to go beyond the icebergs on top , and into what is really happening deep down. I have become keenly aware that individuals rarely express what really matters: the tender, shy, reluctant feelings, the sensitive, fragile, intense feelings. Too often we receive the words but not the concrete, actual messages and meanings. What has happened to us as human beings that we can be so near and yet so far, that we can be so distant from each other and never know? Where are we anyway in those hours when the human spirit cries out in despair, when the hunger for sharing and for loving comes through in disguised and devious forms? What has happened when we have become so radically cut off from our own humanity that we kill the human need for compassion and understanding, when the longing for response is not even recognized or noticed?
Clark Moustakis’ Loneliness and Love (1923–2012)
I admire your fortitude and love. Your meditation is more thorough than mine but I would like to share mine, on my page Relief-Refresh, under the photo titled Joy. Have you had to deal with anyone over your use of painkillers? There is so much that is precious in blogland.
Love, not “like,” this!
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