Heather
Dagobah Resident
Hi all.
I introduced myself in late October, and have visited here a number of times since, though hopefully now I will be here more frequently. I've been catching up with some of the newer Cassiopaea transcripts, and am purchasing some of Laura's books finally to add to the reading I've already done. I was happy to read in the last session I think it was that even individuals who are not "there" yet with the work [I, alas, would be included in such category] would still benefit once things take off if they have been doing the work in earnest. Actually, if I was to ask the C's a question that would have been the subject since I know I am a long way off from where I'd like to be. My "issue" right now is to become more disciplined, more organized, and less scattered feeling. I am working diligently on the novel I'm writing, yet still I feel each day is getting away from me with not enough to show for it, not just in relation to the novel, but in other areas as well. Of course, if I did the EE breathing exercises [as I do have the DVD's] this would probably be a good place to start (!)
Anyway, I wanted to contribute something here, and as I've been writing poetry for quite a number of years now I thought I'd post a poem. My father had been diagnosed with terminal cancer immediately after 9/11, and so this poem pertains to that time. The photo is mine as well.
Okay, be well, everyone.
Kinship of Loss
We keep vigil with my father
whose life is not just alone and tried,
but also what we show him
through our eyes and hearts
these days too dark
to mention. Still, all around us
are the signs.
A country that hangs with its own hubris,
its flags draped in fits of defiance.
They’re all smugly full with that –– or else
the chaos, the fear.
But in our home this tumor doesn’t know to lie,
the cancer that sits so close to his heart, so close to
ours, so close to what history may have
in mind. Yes,
simple flowers
are lost on us now, that ordinary dream
of yards and dogs and bittersweet
remembrances.
late September, 2001
I introduced myself in late October, and have visited here a number of times since, though hopefully now I will be here more frequently. I've been catching up with some of the newer Cassiopaea transcripts, and am purchasing some of Laura's books finally to add to the reading I've already done. I was happy to read in the last session I think it was that even individuals who are not "there" yet with the work [I, alas, would be included in such category] would still benefit once things take off if they have been doing the work in earnest. Actually, if I was to ask the C's a question that would have been the subject since I know I am a long way off from where I'd like to be. My "issue" right now is to become more disciplined, more organized, and less scattered feeling. I am working diligently on the novel I'm writing, yet still I feel each day is getting away from me with not enough to show for it, not just in relation to the novel, but in other areas as well. Of course, if I did the EE breathing exercises [as I do have the DVD's] this would probably be a good place to start (!)
Anyway, I wanted to contribute something here, and as I've been writing poetry for quite a number of years now I thought I'd post a poem. My father had been diagnosed with terminal cancer immediately after 9/11, and so this poem pertains to that time. The photo is mine as well.
Okay, be well, everyone.
Kinship of Loss
We keep vigil with my father
whose life is not just alone and tried,
but also what we show him
through our eyes and hearts
these days too dark
to mention. Still, all around us
are the signs.
A country that hangs with its own hubris,
its flags draped in fits of defiance.
They’re all smugly full with that –– or else
the chaos, the fear.
But in our home this tumor doesn’t know to lie,
the cancer that sits so close to his heart, so close to
ours, so close to what history may have
in mind. Yes,
simple flowers
are lost on us now, that ordinary dream
of yards and dogs and bittersweet
remembrances.
late September, 2001