AMERICA'S ELEGY?

A series of essays....

"THE SCREAM" BY EDVARD MUNCH

                   Courtesy of www.EdvardMunch.org

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

AMERICA’S ELEGY?

For: The Administration of Donald John Trump

This is where the underlying sound builds into

a familiar cadence, grows slowly, gently pulsing,

and millions sway in union, in dignity and truth,

to celebrate a death, a new life, or both along their path.

This is where we hear the subtle sound vibrating in our ears

as the sunset bursts with shades of orange and red

and the air has turned to blood pulsing, pulsing,

indicative of a roiling wave of light that changes colors.

This is where the haunting beat picks up the pace

and the people begin to march to a different drummer.

This is where the skies return to a distinct shade of blue,

hearts shift their heavy loads and become softer, lighter.

This is where the people decide to honor life once again,

bring in hope and sunlight instead of fear and hate

and say ‘rest in peace’ to a situation meant to harm us—

living the way our forefathers called on us to understand life.

CAPTAIN AMERICA WANTS YOU TO VOTE!

                                     Courtesy of brodiehbrockie

The rain has dissipated. Listening to the occasional ‘ping’ of the droplets that fall on the roof from the variety of golden leaves hovering over our ‘Little Cottage’ is all that remains of the recent deluge. Waking-up to the heavy sounds of rainfall an hour ago, in the dark, chilly, early morning shadows, required me to snuggle into my makeshift robe (an oversized, gray, cotton shirt), collect my i-Pad, and move to my favorite writing spot. The clock above the fireplace has recently ‘bonged’ its five-thirty alarm.

Many of us have been giving some serious thought about the current world we live in and reflecting on what has been, is, and what could be in store for our future, depending upon which shade of wave might be hitting us next Tuesday.

Need I wonder at all why shivers run down my arms as I sit here in my repurposed space, stacked stone fireplace a gaping black hole across the room, screaming at me in the early morning hours? Entering the mind of Edvard Munch, the Norwegian Expressionist artist, born in 1863 and died in 1944, this early in the day can be very frightening. It might set a less desired tone for the coming weekend. I don’t want that to happen. Sunday marks my day of birth...so many years ago now that time seems to be overlapping itself, like the curtains at the center when closed; like the grandchild’s eyes that resemble my own and hold the secrets of the universe in their bottomless depths.

I recall researching Munch and the multiple versions of his popular work, The Scream, for a story I wrote several years ago. The death of his Mother when he was five, the death of his sister when Munch was thirteen, and the emotional loss and support by his Father who fell into a deep depression following his own great losses, Munch defined in his most iconic work how we see ourselves today, wracked with anxiety and uncertainty, often plagued by our own internal fear and doubt.

"My fear of life is necessary to me, as is my illness," he once wrote. "Without anxiety and illness, I am a ship without a rudder....My sufferings are part of my self and my art. They are indistinguishable from me, and their destruction would destroy my art."

Why is it impossible for me to relinquish the hold that this sad yet extremely brilliant man has on me? So often tragic circumstances that happen at the most vulnerable moments of our lives can set the precedent that shapes our future and makes us who we are as adults. Munch seemed to think so. If fear of life is necessary for some people to feel alive and productive, so be it. Do not drag me down into the blackish depths of despair along with you. I have much better things to accomplish during my few, short years here on earth and there is, quite simply, no time for nonsense! Celebrating yet another year of life makes one more aware of the truth.

WHAT IS A 'SPECIAL DAY'
WITHOUT IRISH FLOWERS?

I recall a time as a young writer when I believed that my best work was written under the dark cloud of sorrow and pain. Happiness was a stumbling block when it came to being a creative person. Really? Was a wayward college professor of mine going through a bad divorce or something? Soon after college I discovered that, in a sense, this philosophy would become truth as I happily married at twenty-two and we began our family soon afterward. My writing became fifth or sixth in line of importance. Fortunately, I wrote in my daily journals and kept-up with my travel notes, all of which have become so important to me today!

Within the past two years many people have discovered or, at least, become much more aware of the hatred, intolerance, and racist attitudes thrust upon us by others; even among the people we work with or live nearby and thought we knew so well. That’s quite disturbing when you think about it. All of the anger, hate, fear, and raw emotions have surfaced because there is no longer a governor on these human machines, holding them back or keeping them reined-in within this current political climate.

Then again, just maybe...we need to know where we stand, where others stand, especially when it comes down to how we treat and respect other human beings! 

I do hear the sounds of the people today! I hear a low, underlying sound that continues to build into a familiar cadence, growing slowly, gently pulsating, yet rising, rising to the surface with each breath that is taken and every speech that is spoken and every march that is stepped in order to unify us and retain our basic rights. It was brought to life as a small-scale dirge, a mournful song honoring the death of ‘stupidity and greediness’ and has grown into a movement carried along by the flow of peace and the rhythms of a giant wave crashing headlong into a crimson wall of hatred and separation.

My hope and belief is that Munch’s painting of a sexless, twisted, fetal-faced creature, with mouth and eyes opened wide in a shriek of horror will not haunt me any longer. My dreams will become softer, lighter, and less wracked with anxiety and uncertainty. Such Joy! Such Peace!

And, if I am good, if I am very, very fortunate, and if all Americans eighteen and older take advantage of their precious obligation to vote on Tuesday, November 6....then, I will receive two of the most precious gifts possible this year,  for my Special Day....the gift of Common Sense and the gift of Love. Who could ask for anything more? 

Vote on Tuesday if you haven’t already via early voting or absentee ballot. Vote as if your life depended upon it.....and, it does! VOTE...!

I want to wake-up on Wednesday morning smiling, observe older couples holding hands in the park, watch people laugh with one another in the local market, and...see all of us giving someone else a helping hand when needed. Together we can make all of this happen again!

Copyright © 2018 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

HEATHER.....AN ANGEL IN DARK TIMES

 A series of essays.....

~MICHAEL CAVNA TELLS US THAT HEATHER'S FAVORITE COLOR WAS VIOLET~
A SIMPLE NOTE THAT OFFERS A PRIVATE LOOK INTO
THE LIFE OF HEATHER HEYER

.....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

I've noticed that each time I connect with my Facebook Timeline and scroll down reading everything I can, an interesting thing happens that I have absolutely no control over. You may have experienced this, as well. 

At first, I am concentrating so diligently on each post that I'm oblivious to it. Then the broiling inner emotions make me feel physically ill and I can feel my facial expressions taking on an unusual life of their own. It takes me a while to even begin to understand what's going on. But, when I do, I can feel my face twisting and contorting, my lips begin to pucker and purse, and my eyes crinkle and squint as my forehead wrinkles like the loose skin of a wrinkly Pug puppy. 

~WRINKLY PUG PUPPY~

This, as I understand it, is not acting; this is reacting. I am responding, frame by frame, to the content and extent of the information that has been presented to me and in such a way that my acknowledgement of this information adopts its own style. My emotions are captured, dare I say, possessed, by the most egregious and flagrant violations of human rights and decency that our country has recently experienced. If you don't count the early morning hours of November, 9, 2016, that is.

Heather Heyer.

As if I were watching an M. Night Shyamalan movie, the Indian American film director known for making movies with contemporary supernatural plots and surprise endings, firmly entrenched within my own set of fear and fascination, I become impervious to my surroundings. My attention is focused on the next move on the screen, a black shadow flickering in the upper left-hand corner, the dark, dense feeling in the pit of my stomach, and (once again) my facial expressions as my brain takes in the multiple nuances chronicled in each scene. A pronounced squint becomes my preferred mask-like face for the next hour and a half.

This is, precisely, my reaction to the posts on Facebook from the past several days! If truth be told, within the past year or more.

How does it begin? Will it ever end or, at least, be contained enough to not be as blatantly and brazenly splashed before our eyes like acidic liquid the deep, crimson color of blood? Hatred...unrestrained by a sense of shame; rudely bold, and justified by many while they tout the uniform (white polo shirts and khaki pants) and carry a burning torch in the day or night. 

HER BEAUTIFUL FACE.....!

Hate is a word we teach our children not to use. Hate is an emotion that, if allowed to control us, has the power to turn us inside out as if our internal organs were exposed and we begin to associate the natural beauty and goodness of our world as a 'punch in the gut.' Hatemongers misinterpret the love of family and friends as reprehensible behavior and disassociate themselves from them with the need for a more tangible cause; one that justifies the sense of power bursting forth like molten lava from deep within their darkening souls.

Heather Heyer.

While under the influence of hate, they seek other haters because hate in large quantities helps to substantiate their cause. While strengthening their beliefs and affording themselves more power and more intense reasons to hate, the haters find safety in numbers; justified by the comfort of an administration that clings to them as life supports within a churning sea of dissolution and destruction of the 'law of the land' as we know it.

Even writing about hate right now has gotten to me and I feel my face contorting into 'facial yoga' expressions that I usually reserve for driving alone in the car, protected by the thought that what happens in the car stays in the car. Silly me. Vestiges of 'The Scream' painted by Edvard Munch begin to dissolve before me as I, too, feel a whiff of melancholy while sitting here thinking about his accompanying poem, "I remained behind - Shivering with Anxiety - and feeling the infinite Scream in Nature." Edvard Munch

'THE SCREAM'
"FEELING THE INFINITE SCREAM IN NATURE"

Her beautiful face, from childhood to maturity, a face that projects being deeply loved by her parents, friends, and coworkers alike, flashes before me so often that it's as though I've watched her grow up before my very eyes! Heather Heyer. Post after post after post recalls a very strong, very opinionated young woman who “made known that she was all about equality," according to Alfred Wilson, her boss at the law firm where she worked. Before she was cut down by hate, she was helping people through bankruptcy and telling them, "It's going to be okay."

Heather Heyer could be my own daughter, my friend, the girl next door. For each of her thirty-two years on this earth, I thank her that many times over and over for holding the goodness in life to a higher standard than the sadness of hatred and strife. For this alone, Heather is a hero. Little did she know that she would be making the ultimate sacrifice for all that she believed in and held so dear to her heart by
giving her own life towards the justification of equality and compassion.

As I type her name again, Heather Heyer, not wishing to forget it...ever, I am becoming more conscious of my emotions. The inevitable tears are welling up, rising to the surface, ready to flow. My facial expressions soften, become more relaxed this time, and my breathing is deeper, more sustained. 

Repeating her name, Heather Heyer, out loud is calming. Her kindness, sweetness, and caring for others is like an invisible salve spreading across the earth; angel wings floating above the weak and the wretched, the loving and kind spirited, alike. I don't know what Heather's voice sounds like and, I, more than likely, never will. But, I do know this for certain...when we close our eyes and feel the love, experience the hope, and hear the voice of comfort, we will know it is Heather's and she is telling us not to worry, it's going to be okay!

REMEMBERING YOU....ALWAYS, HEATHER HEYER!
WITH OUR LOVE, AMERICA!!!

Copyright © 2017 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved 

"ORLANDO UNITED"

 A series of essays.....

BEAUTIFUL RAINBOWS CRISSCROSSING OVER ORLANDO, FLORIDA

.....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

Like beacons in the night, the digital highway signs above us along the 417 were guiding us home with their bright flashing messages of "ORLANDO UNITED!" 

"AMBER ALERT," or "HEAVY TRAFFIC NEXT 10 MILES," or "SILVER ALERT" need not apply here. "ORLANDO UNITED" was showing us the way home tonight. And, we were almost there!

The colliding evening sea breezes between the Gulf and the Atlantic decided to take a late hit as the skies opened up above us along I-95 near Palm Coast a short while before. For the last forty-five minutes our world had been wrapped in a cloak of darkness that was sporadically illuminated by bright flashes of intricate lightening bolts tossed at us from a hostile eastern sky! 

Happy about our final leg of driving after a long, long day on the road, and feeling comforting warmth on the back of my head, I decided to text our two daughters of our imminent arrival. "The fiery red sun is in full bloom low in the western sky and we are between Sanford and home! There are at least three rainbows to the east! And, it's still raining! WOW!" What a magnificent welcoming party! What a glorious sight!

It felt as if the highway signs had teamed up with the sun, rainbows, and rain in welcoming us back to a place we've, literally, grown up in for twenty years. And, true to nature, the growing pains have hurt, as well as inspired us along the way.....

Growing pains. All large cities have them. It's a challenge to keep up with the needs and constant fluctuations of the multitudes that incorporate so many various ideas and desires. Death. It surrounds all of us every day, big city or small town, in one way or another. With life there will always be death. Senseless Death? Hate? Gun Violence? Please help me understand these acts because I'm having a major problem here!!!

Rainbows in the eastern sky. The souls of the recent gun violence victims from the massacre at 'Pulse,' an Orlando nightclub located on Orange Avenue, in the very early hours of Sunday morning, were still making their way Home. The brilliant colors comprising each rainbow, representing their vibrancy and pure joy of life, were vehicles assisting in their climb up to the heavens along perfectly formed arches.....God's elegant gateway to Bliss. 

The 'tears of the survivors' that we have been shedding for these innocent souls are splashing down upon us in the form of rain from the Heavens above. God's way of stripping off the dirt and grime of travel; cleansing us of the filthy, tangible atmosphere of Hate and Fear.

The blood orange evening sun, now large and bold having broken through the angry black cloud cover, coupled with the bright digital signs right above our car, warmly light our way as we pass by the exit to Orlando Sanford International Airport, our personal gateway to Michigan, and over the bridge at Lake Jesup, spanning its calm, lazy alligator-filled existence. These landmarks exist between time and space and embed into one's very being given exercise and time. 

Yes! I truly understand and believe that rolling along the 417, we have become witnesses to this miracle of Life and Death. 

As a 'survivor,' I welcome the challenge that exists for those of us who clearly see the backwardness of our society and are capable of standing up to the idea that a gun-toting, miserable and mentally insane loner can cause such damage to everything we hold dear. Let's check a person's mental stability at the front door of every gun shop, gun show, and NRA meeting that exists today!

And, by the way, the National Rifle Association is an organization, according to the New Oxford American Dictionary, founded in 1871 that promotes the legal use of guns and gun safety in the United States. It defends a U.S. citizen's constitutional right to own and bear arms. 

You see....I have a problem with accepting an archaic law that refuses to change or upgrade with the times. Let's pull ourselves out of the Wild, Wild West and actually admit that circumstances and people do change over time. More guns will never make it right! And, just for the record, isn't a large part of "gun safety" about protecting the innocent?

Owning another human being as a machine to provide labor for one's personal benefit and enrichment is ARCHAIC! Telling half of the nation's population (women) that they cannot vote....is ARCHAIC! Pulling your gun from its holster in order to shoot another human being because he or she is taking what you believe to be a personal possession of yours (Such as land, space, gold....) is ARCHAIC and very much related to modern day road rage and pure hatred of those around you. 

You do see my point, don't you? What was written up in the year of our Lord, 1871, may not apply in the same way in 2016. Times change. Circumstances change. The world evolves. People within a society should evolve along with these changes. Laws and regulations need to match the changing times. Many refuse to believe this and continue to act like small children soon to be denied their 'toys of choice.' If organizations such as the NRA convince you that your life is threatened and your 'toys' are required to maintain the wellbeing of your existence.....then, what better way to do so than to convince you that there are terrorists, unstable minds, unmitigated hatred constantly surrounding you?

Create the seed and hashtag it #power and you will find you've created monsters legally possessing lethal weapons.

Create the seed and hashtag it #Love and you will find that Love attracts more Love and can be shared throughout the world....  

Orlando nightclub shooter, Omar Mateen, and the killer of the twenty-two year old singer, Christina Grimmie, this past Friday at The Plaza Live in Orlando, should both be filed under 'mentally unstable' and yet....both were sold guns. Both succeeded in annihilating the innocent lives of those they had targeted for whatever reason. 

CHURCH LOCATED IN BOONE, NORTH
CAROLINA, OFFERING PRAYERS OF
HOPE AND LOVE FOR ORLANDO

As a reasonable human being, I cannot justify this unreasonable behavior. I will not attach a certain lifestyle to a "God given right" if it means the death of innocent people. I refuse to glorify young women and girls posing with handguns and attack rifles in a 'Charlie's Angels' like opening scene. I am still shaking my head after seeing my niece and her young daughter engaged in this imagery on Facebook! 

This is not "I am woman; hear me roar..." material. When women take pride in themselves, we see them flocking to the poles on Election Day, working hard to secure equal pay for the same job done by men, and maybe, just maybe, ensuring the fundamental rights of women over their own bodies instead of taking the lead from men who believe they know what's best for all women. The power I seek will be securing all of the above in my lifetime for myself, my daughters, and their daughters. For ALL women in the future! And, I will be voting for our nation's first female president in November in order to assist in making this country a better place where both women and men can coexist in mutual tolerance despite different ideologies or interests.

Talk is cheap....as the old saying goes. The words and actions of a self-proclaimed racist, egomaniac, and all-around nasty man will fire-up the masses, including those who think along the same vein as he does; their latent hatred being encouraged and served-up on a platter reinforced by Fear itself. May they tumble around in their massive machine of bigotry and denial (often under the guise of religious beliefs) until some sense of reality is forged from their actions. Their power is weak and self-serving. Their leader is, as well. The sad part is that this guy is crazy dangerous with his many twisted lies and opinions that are untethered to reality.

My friend, Amanda Patterson, shared a post on Facebook, written by Gareth Van Onselen for The Rand Daily Mail, suggesting diseases affecting South African politics. I am applying it to American politics, as well. "Entitled: The Instability Itch. Description: Instability itch manifests as a compulsion to disrupt or destabilize order by introducing chaos and uncertainty into a situation. Symptoms: Randomness, irresponsibility, and patronage." I believe it fits in our case quite well.

Light and Hope shined into our car windows just a few miles from our house bringing peace and contentment into my heart. I knew that coming back home to Orlando carried its heavy burden of grief for the lives so indiscriminately taken away from our community. And, for those they left behind. Knowing that I had to decide how to live with the pain and attempt to make the changes needed to make things better, I turned to my writing.

My words do matter. And I will continue to write them for all who are willing to read them and hope for a better life; a better, kinder life in a world filled with change and renewal.

If the written word is a means of replacing or repairing something that is worn out, run down, or broken, then there is a general need for more people to open up and relate how they feel to others. Simply put, we cannot afford to allow bigotry, walls, hatred, the ego, and negative power to take over our lives. 

Coming home to "ORLANDO UNITED" was living proof of this....!

That's the spirit we see in Orlando!

Remember that Love is what will always matter the most!

REMEMBERING THE LIVES SO BRUTALLY TAKEN
FROM US BY SENSELESS GUN VIOLENCE
IN ORLANDO, FLORIDA, 6-12-2016

Note: At this time I would like to extend my condolences to the Graves family from Elkhorn, Nebraska, who lost their two-year- old son, Lane, at the Grand Floridian Resort at Walt Disney World. Prayers are being sent out to help you carry this burden and let you know how much you are loved..... 

Copyright © 2016 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

"LOVE IS JUST LOVE, IT CAN NEVER BE EXPLAINED"

A series of essays.....

~~~~HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY TO HUMANKIND~~~~

.....as seen through my eyes!



By: Jacqueline E. Hughes


Should Love have to be explained?

Is it possible to treat Love as a color? Create its texture, temperature, and appeal to share with someone who may not be able to see the color for themselves yet desires knowing what it might look like if they could? To descriptively open up our souls to the suggestion of shimmering silvers, wet and sharp as lake water beginning to freeze over, or the chill of a 'Winter Blue' kind of day, or the softness of pale yellow as it wraps us in its warmth during a sun-filled, afternoon walk.

If Love were a color....what would it be? Red, blue, yellow, blushing pink, or as white as freshly fallen snow?

Love might be the fluid crimson of a perfect rose, generously given and delightfully received throughout the ages as a symbol of affection and beauty. Gifts between lovers in celebration of their commitment to and desire for one another. With compassion and Love we mark a wedding anniversary, filial affection displayed as gratitude for a Mother's Love, and the generous offering of a spray of roses at the passing of a Loved one that symbolizes the honor and reverence we hold in our hearts for their time shared with us here on earth.

Love is a feeling deep inside each of us. It is up to us to tap into its source and allow it to flow freely.

Love can be as strong as the wind, rushing out in palpable waves that surround its recipient in hot, white sheets of passion. It can be as light as the breeze of a summer's evening sending silent chills throughout our being; shivers of delight and promise. Love is the excitement of finally traveling to see a foreign landscape. No longer a perceptible thought or desire, but a living, breathing, observable expanse of scenery waiting to be explored and better understood. Love is inhaling the scent of a new puppy or kitten. Love is the unadulterated joy felt when holding your grandchild in your arms for the first time. It is the recognition of our own existence passed forward into this small, precious gift of life!

Tapping into the well of Love allows us to see the world within a broad spectrum of capabilities and raw emotions.

Shall we soar high above the earth like a great bird held aloft by the rising currents of warm air, floating along to our heart's content? Looking down below us, we take immense pleasure in the natural beauty our world offers....God's eye candy for the soul! Sadly, this vantage point would also reveal the travesty of humankind witnessed by our innate capacity to destroy, hate, and kill! From a child's cry of hunger and pain, to bombs bursting in air....what will it take to shift our priorities and allow each one of us to live in peace on this amazing planet? The answer would be, Love.

Love is strong. Love is powerful. Love is soft and kind. Love is the medium by which we cultivate, sow and harvest the joy within us and spread its essence around for others to administer as a tonic to heal humankind.

I am convinced that one day Love will succeed. It will turn haters and doubters into believers. When that blissful day arrives, we will no longer have the need to ask for a definition of, or an explanation for Love. It will become the 'natural' every day experience that directs us in complete harmony and peace. It will become the standard of behavior that is required, desired, and designated as normal.

"What is Love?" you query. "Love is just Love, it can never be explained........because it doesn't have to be. It is as natural as life itself."    



Copyright © 2016 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved


With Love in your heart, spend Valentine's Day with those you hold near and dear.