BeverlyJRaffaele's Open Salon Blog

My Garden May 28, 2012

Tue, 29 May 2012 15:05:29 -0400

The flowers in the photos of my doorstep garden, are "knock out" roses which are disease resistant hardy floribundas. Snap dragon, hosta, wave petunia, starts of sunflowers for my back yard, delphinium, lavendar, some succulents and ornamental grass. Later in the summer the dalias will be in bloom too. I am waiting for blooms to appear on the peonies now and I just spied the start of blooms on the hydrangea that I am nursing. I some more garden spots that are almost ready to protograph.

My Letter to a Stranger

Thu, 12 Jan 2012 17:01:20 -0500

Dear Neighbor,

Although we have never met, I silently watch your struggles.
My heart lurched when you screamed at your twelve year old son.
I saw you clutch your stomach, your brow furrowed, the words profane,
saying things to the boy that can’t be undone.

He had a box of matches and we all talked to the police.
We stood there in the street listening as your ex- husband told us
that you caught him smoking and stealing and then he said,
“The police told me to beat his ass.” That’s when I dropped my head.
"My boy told me"... 'I smoke, because you aren’t here Dad.'
"I have a big house and she,” he said, pointing at the rental,
“has to live here, I know... it’s sad.”

The next day, I saw you hesitate, before you slowly pulled away.
You stared at your front door for the longest time,
frumpy in jeans and shirt, your short curly hair astray.
You have let yourself go and you don't care if it shows,
I wish there was something I could do.
I have felt your kind of heartache and believe me I know,
that sometimes they don’t have a clue.

If I get involved would you see me as nosey? The empathy I feel has my stomach hurting, what if I approached you before you are ready,
would it seem intrusive or disconcerting? … I fear so.

When I was a young Mommy he left me with four little children.
If it wasn’t for them, I would have folded. Branded on welfare, feeling sick yet emboldened, my dad helped and bought me an old car. Dug in and angry with a stubborn resolve, I fought my personal war.

By the grace of God I finished school and through prayer and faith, I made it through and because I know how it feels, it makes me want to rush over to you and bandage your permanent wounds.

But instead, I watch from my window, forcing myself to stay away.
You have to find strength from inside, your pain is not about my life.
Way back then, when I was approached by well meaning people
I knew their inquiries were all about them not for me.
Most were curious and clumsy; some came with a cake
or an awkward smile. Social workers and Preachers came,
I let them help for awhile... however... I had to reach way down deep to survive, then analyze and prioritize and for the sake of your beautiful son,
you have to love him enough, to do the same.

I am praying for the appropriate time and if I can help I will, but not now, its all too raw for you and when you are angry, you are not receptive.

What to do?

Wed, 28 Sep 2011 17:09:17 -0400

Sorting the clutter out in one's psyche, can be both joyful and painful. Our relatively peaceful existence can be overshadowed by uncertainty, a lack of trust and fear. I have always said, “never make a major decision if emotions are high or if something unforeseen has happened that throws you off track…Sometimes we are going along fine and them bam, a punch from life comes out of nowhere. Think things through carefully, dwell for awhile on potential consequences and then listen to the advice of one who is wise and more importantly, unbiased.

As we think about truth, lies, fantasy and reality; we need complete candor with ourselves even if it causes raw emotions, weakness and the realization of sins. We will inevitably look at what hurts us first because we are so egocentric. For most of us, humility is a work of a lifetime. We also need to search our character for our good attributes too, like character, compassion for others- and the big one- whether or not we have a conscience.

Last night, I lay on my back on my family room floor feeling faint and nauseated. My husband had to hold me up for awhile, then gently laid me down. I had received news of things so incredibly painful that I had to step back to contemplate and stop the circle my own thoughts were running in. These were things not of my doing but my heart strings are hundreds in number and reach very very far…I went to bed early and tried to read. Too much dwelled in the back of my mind and the words were not registering. I couldn’t tell where I had started and where I stopped. I gave up and allowed a sleeping pill to let me rest.

Now, today, I am redirecting my thoughts to babysit and thoroughly enjoy my great grandson. Then, after I am alone- I will turn to the clutter in my head, start sorting through it, cut out misconceptions and half truths so what results will be unadulterated truth as I know it. I am cutting myself no slack, facing it all, admitting it all with courage and without a crutch. It is incredibly hard, but I will do it. ONLY then will I consider what to do with that truth. My decision can effect those I love and would gladly die for. In general, denial is a poison and it drags a person through life instead of allowing them to move on and then fly free. To those who drag others over their jagged paths, We must always remember that “man is not an island.” What we do does effect others and there are almost always unintended consequences too. Think! Just think!

“ No man is an Island.” (A metaphor worth studying.)

Written by John Donne (1572-1631) a Jacobean poet and minister

No man is an island, entire of itself, every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main -if a clod be washed away by the sea.
Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory (peninsula) were, as well as if a manor (home) of thy friends- or of thine own were.
Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind and therefore, never send to know for whom the bell tolls,
it tolls for thee.

Some of my paintings

Mon, 18 Apr 2011 11:04:38 -0400

http://www.artspoetry.com/artgallery.html

samples:

The most dangerous bridge on Earth

Wed, 30 Mar 2011 12:03:55 -0400

The most dangerous bridge on earth is called the "ratline" that crosses the river of gossip. It's a place where tongues, like little rudders on a leaky skiff, manuever their way through murky water. The bridge that too many go out of their way to cross.

Blocking an existing bridge reminds me of New Orleans and the death that occured in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. The police, with guns drawn, blocked a bridge that was a crucial path to safety. Block a bridge that after years of cracks and patches, has crumbled and collapsed from shoddy repair. A collapsed bridge is only worth rebuilding when what's on the otherside is worth reaching.

It's up to me to cross a bridge however I can, even if I hitch a ride on a tailgate.