The Heart of a Writer

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

my heart

broken

my heart

stolen

taken by gremlins that reside in the underbelly of society's hunger

a hunger that demands money

more and more of it

derailing me from my direction inward and skyward

my heart - the heart of a writer

knowing nothing about spreadsheets, balance sheets, financial strategy, business plans

taxed - in various ways

taxed, taken, stolen, pulled upon, pummeled, trounced, drowned

wanting only enough oxygen to be able to surrender into the soft down pillow of the creative

not resting there, not relaxing there - just being

pure

without the pull and push

without the mail that delivers another hit

taking one hit after the other, like the chin of a boxer who knows not defense

my heart

my hurting heart

pure beneath, longing within, striving to cry, voice, sing

a song grasped from that which originates inward and skyward

from my heart

free

open

the heart of a writer

Detox

Detox

Sediments of sickness

Ill feelings, grudges, resentment

Caked onto the brain

Weighing down the free flow of thoughts and emotions

Detox

Flushing out toxins

Flushing down the drain

Releasing, exiting, freeing thoughts and emotions

Fear runs into hiding

Sadness wipes tears away

Anger bellows out the cry of the night

Detox

The blockage in arteries

The caked on gunk and junk

Found in unnatural food

And your intestines and bowels

The damned-up bronchial tubes that long for oxygen flow

The tobacco stench that violates the esophagus

The physical aches and pains that originate

From the original pain found in hidden thoughts and feelings

Gone astray, gone awry

Without the wings of flight

Or the wisdom to detach, denounce, deconstruct

Detox

Are You A Communication Coward?

A "communication coward." That is the term that came to me today.

Pretty harsh word huh?  

The term has arisen from a ton of life situations I've shared with the humans on planet Earth over the last, say, 30 years. It also arose yesterday from a recent experience.

I was driving a carpool with a couple of pals. Since I was driving a considerable distance to a meeting, I asked for a favor of a few bucks to help with gas. (My tank has not been runneth over of late.) So, one of the men, privately, handed me a $5 bill, and I was plenty fine with that. I appreciated the gesture and the cash. The other gentleman, when posed the request in the car on the way home, went silent for a few moments. His next remark was a non-sequitur that was unrelated to my request. He talked about missing the carpools he shared with another pal of his.

Huh? What did that have to do with my request for some gas money?

I rode this ride out to see if he would ever bring it up again, but after we arrived back to his car, he appeared fine with just letting my request hang out there. My parting remark referenced him driving in the future, pointing to another example of compensation that would work in this situation. He mumbled something about "you know where I live" and was gone. What sort of communication was that?

In my estimation, it was just another example of what I would term the communication of a coward.

Harsh? Sure, why not? We have to do something to curb the avoidance of true communication. 

You see these "cowards" all the time now. (Or maybe you don't since their aim is to go under the radar.) They come in many forms, but each is a person who tries to communicate something by remaining mum or elusive. Instead of respectfully addressing the human being putting themselves out there, the silence is supposed to say something. And what does it say, beneath the surface? 

"I don't know what to say?" "It's awkward for me." "I'm afraid." "Listening to my fear is more important than listening to you." 

The forms taken by today's "Communication Coward" are as follows:

THE AVOIDER - This is the person who simply doesn't comment when someone has spoken, in hopes the person will no longer bring up a tough subject, as in the parting of a measly 5 bucks.

THE SELECTIVE RESPONDER - This is the person who cherry picks which e-mail, voicemail or snail mail he or she will respond to based on his or her own selfish needs. These are the types who read your e-mail with the three questions, and then only comment on the ones that serve their needs and their needs only.

THE HIDER - Similar to the "avoider," this one isn't seen at all, and basically hides out completely so as not to ever be heard from over a long period of time. This one hopes "out of sight and out of mind." The next time you see these people, the hope is that it's been so long that the subject has been forgotten. You hear these people say phrases such as "what e-mail?" and "what voicemail?" and "Are you sure that was me?"

THE SUBJECT CHANGER - Pretty self-explanatory, this person does whatever it takes to maneuver the conversation onto another topic.

THE SPINNER - This person spins the conversation so there is something wrong with you for bringing up a subject they don't want to address. Google "mindfuck."

THE BUSH BEATER - This one doesn't just come out and say it, but would rather, as the saying goes, "beat around the bush." Why not just beat the bush directly? How bad can it be?

THE CRYPTICATER - These folks cloak their conversation with odd clues and statements that are to subtly give a message ... that no one but themselves will understand.

There are countless other forms, but in the end it all comes down to the fact that these folks are cowards, afraid of being accountable, being responsible, of being at their best for the good of whatever relationship they find themselves. They actually may be most afraid of the glorious call to be in complete integrity with their true selves - a connected, honorable and centered presence of human grace. That's a tall order I imagine. But I bet they can do it. 

The cowards also may not be aware that there are other types of people out there: those who can't stand communication overlooked and discounted. Though I too have been a "communication coward" in many instances, and still falter at times, I'm more and more speaking up for respectful and direct communication.

So my next move?

Oh yeah - I will approach the gent who bypassed my earlier communication about gas money with a simple, "I noticed you didn't answer my request for gas money before. I was wondering what was going on with you." 

Cowards hate it when you do that. They count on you being a similar coward and not broach subjects that are uncomfortable. The result of such further explorations could be:

1. He breaks down and admits his fears and barriers to direct communication.
2. He just pays 3 or 5 bucks, whatever.
3. He runs away.

As a person who desires the end of "communication cowards," I would win in either case.

Diving Into Faith

Faith.

I want to dive into faith.

Into the cool, blue water that embraces me like a womb.

Safe.

Assured.

Peaceful, restful.

Originating all from faith.

Faith.

That link to something higher – pure. Like cool, blue water. 

Beyond the fear.

Beyond the stress.

Beyond the doubt.

That dreaded doubt that would laugh at my failures, even the most minute of mishaps, exclaiming, “This is the real you. This is how it will continue. This has just begun.”

Those terror remarks that rattle my sense of self, and implode my inner core, like strategically placed detonations in old, creaky building.

Blueprints with plans to ruin me at every turn.

If not for…

If not for…

Faith.

The knowing that these shadows are temporary, only existing because some fiend has blocked the Sun … for a moment.

Faith – the keen and clear awareness that the Sun does assuredly exist behind all shadows.

The Sun – the source.

The source of heat, warmth and life.

Creating a glimmering reflection off the cool, blue water.

Forever.

No matter the frightful remarks from a mind bent on destruction.

Forever.

In faith - in life.

In life.

That which exists in every breath into lungs.

Filling and emptying, filling and emptying.

When observed, taking us infinitely deeper into the truth that will free us.

To love.

To faith.

To faith.

My Momma Will Walk Again

I wrote this in February 2013 prior to my mother's passing when she was still bed-ridden. She passed in July 2014, into the freedom beyond the physical. 

I silently watch as my mother rests in her bed

Made to soothe and comfort, and lift her when need be
It makes it easier on her hip and her head

It makes it easier on her suffering knees

I quietly watch in agony believing she's never coming back
I find no words to speak, there's no place to hide
Invisible enemies of the past I plan to attack
Then surrender to the loss and the longing inside

I know it's not the start
I pray it's not the end
In dream-scapes and within my heart
My momma will walk again

My mother will stand up and walk once more
She'll effortlessly glide from room to room
She'll walk towards and then out that front door
She'll marvel again at the stars, the Sun, the Moon

She may even skip or dance or run for a bit
She'll be able to plant flowers in her own garden
Then … in its splendor … simply kneel down and sit
Yes, my momma will walk again

I know it's not the start
I pray it's not the end
In dream-scapes and within heaven's heart
My momma will walk again
My momma will walk again

Beyond the polarities of the loss and the win
Beyond the cruelties of sickness and sin
Beyond the conversations we never did begin

Beyond the missed celebrations that should have been

Beyond the pain that all of us are in

In the peace and love found only within
In God's sweet embrace of an eternal heaven
In a timeless dream-state I long to live in
My momma will walk again
My momma will walk again
My momma will walk again

 


Jim Ellis and his writings can be found here:  http://legacyproductions.org/products/
 

The Promise of Crowns and Bloom

Shadows cast by cemetery trees

A shallow chill breeze reaches bone

We shake uncontrollably

The sense of being alone, and then followed

By a figure unknown to all

We fall, as we struggle to run away

A deadly delay, as in a film’s chaotic music blaring

Someone is staring at us, the end rapidly coming soon

So far from … the promise of crowns and bloom

The promise of crowns and bloom

Coins and dollars fall through the cracks

A weekly attack of envelopes and bills

We are filled with lack and emptiness

The treadmill, incessant and relentless, moves

And moves

Time, money and hope we lose

The pace slows, drags and then quickens

We are sickened by the stomach ache

For God’s sake, will relief and respite arrive soon?

In a promise of crowns and bloom

The promise of crowns and bloom

    The promise was there at the very start

    When once upon a time there was only a heart

    And clouds and sky that ruled from above

    Guiding with a graceful hand of love

    The shining of the sun off the surface of the moon

    And the ever-present promise of crowns and bloom

 

But now as grown-ups we sense the dread

Of the dead, and dying, and those with disease

Begging please – show us a path beyond all of this

A hug, a kiss, an embrace of family with friendly face

The glory of a crown worn only by a winner

Not sinners whose loss they are never without

A shout, a cheer for the truth we hold dear

The dropping of a tear, down the cheek of the humble

Beyond the crumbling hope, a flowering blossom boon

Here to fulfill the promise of crowns and bloom

    The promise was there at the very start

    When once upon a time there was only a heart

    And clouds and sky that ruled from above

    Guiding with a graceful hand of love

    It has never altered in the eons of time

    Found in the reflection of the caring and kind

    Do not forgo or forget what is true

    The unseen crown that you wear and the light within you

    The dawn after dark, it will be here so very soon

    Hark, you will see – the promise of crowns and bloom

    The promise of crowns and bloom

JAE - Copyright  © 2017

The Loss of Innocence ... and the Pop-Tarts

We all have those moments. Those heartbreaking times when innocence is all but lost.

• Those first moments when mom and dad somehow stopped being two perfect people. 
• The times when the belief in Santa Claus became something for kids.    
• The loss of that first family cat or dog.  
• The curtain being moved aside to reveal the small man wizard, in so many different ways.
• The heartbreak of the first girlfriend or boyfriend ... and their untimely farewell.
• The first lawsuit when you knew you did nothing wrong. 

And for me ... the stolen Pop-Tarts.

Man, those Pop-Tarts. I know there were a bunch of kinds, such as blueberry and strawberry, but I loved the chocolate fudge Pop-Tarts. Remember those? I didn't even need them toasted, just thrown into my lunch bag so I could enjoy those treats at lunchtime. The way to eat them, for me, was to pick at the outer crust and then start in on the fudge interior. I didn't care about the 7 essential vitamins. I just wanted the chocolate, and the snack.

That's why the one day in second grade was so disheartening. I had brought my lunch bag to school as I had done for the entire year. Sandwich and chips in there, courtesy of mom. And the big treat was the Pop-Tart. And as always before class, in the early morning, all the kids put their lunch bags down at the side wall near the entrance to the classroom. I recall this one day, Rusty was asking me if I had brought a Pop-Tart or not. I didn't know why he was so interested in that.

After running around on the playground for a bit before class started, I went to my lunch bag. I picked it up. And it appeared lighter. I looked inside, and my chocolate Pop-Tart was gone. I was crushed. Who would take my Pop-Tart? How could this happen? I questioned Rusty in one of those weird ways where you try to have them admit to something but you don't know how. Looking back, why the hell is an 8-year-old having to do such maneuvering and positioning? How sad is that? 

Loss is sad.
Having something taken from you is heartbreaking.
Life can hurt.  
 
In the late 1970's Bruce Springsteen sung of broken dreams and the loss of innocence, as his unbridled joy of recording and performing was thwarted through a lawsuit brought by his previous manager Mike Appel. His song "The Promise" pointed to such brokenness.

The promise is broken, you go on living
It steals something from down in your soul
When the truth is spoken, it don't make no difference
Something in your heart goes cold

Now, no doubt, I make the story lighthearted with the tale of a Pop-Tart. But it doesn't matter when it happens. Or how it happens. Or even why. It just happens. Life comes along, with its deadbeat dudes and gals, who don't know any better. And they want to steal something from you. And whether it's a dream of Santa, a home, a job, a spouse or a simple childhood treat, the key to dealing with loss is to not let it steal your joy, your enthusiasm or your innocence.

For after all the curtains are pulled aside, to reveal every crazy and fake Wizard of Oz, we will stand in truth knowing we can never truly lose the love, the light and the innocence that is our birthright. And who knows? Maybe after that awakening, we can be treated to have returned to us those things that truly matter to us in the end.

Such as, yes you know it ...

James Anthony Ellis is a writer living in San Diego. He can be reached at www.LegacyProductions.org.