THE MANY FACES OF THE HOLIDAYS

 

A series of essays….

THERE IS NOTHING MORE INTIMATE THAN THE HUMAN
FACE EXCEPT FOR THE STORY BEHIND IT…

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Behind each face is a human story. A bottleneck of pictures, facts and emotions from which all things must pass through within a lifetime before they are listed, categorized, processed, and, with any luck, made sense out of. But, we tend to hold our stories deep inside of us, not wishing to share them for fear of being embarrassed or, for lack of anything else, entitled and destined to have our story become the greater part of ourselves. We are a grand puzzle made-up of a million small pieces that span our lifetime. Each piece, set of pieces, illustrates the human story behind each face.

As a writer, it has been interesting bringing some of these human stories to light from time to time. It is impossible for me to look at the faces that pass by in an airport, shopping mall, or in a busy city streetscape without wondering what each person has to say; what makes them who they are, and what circumstances have  motivated them to move forward into the future or lag behind out of frustration and confusion. What happiness or sorrow has gripped their being and held on tight for years or, what may seem like only mere moments in time?

The holiday season can be a very deceiving time of the year for many. A time when we feel discombobulated, torn between joy and sorrow and a bit out of place in the world. Couple this with the continuing onslaught of the Covid-19 variances and we are riding that roller coaster of ups and downs, twists and turns that often raises our blood pressure and serves up a side order of vertigo to boot! 

This conflict or rhythm within each of us fascinates me. It is what remarkable books, memorable films, well written poetry, and great works of art are all about! Artists have delved deeply into what makes humans, especially themselves, tick and have written or illustrated their findings for others to analyze and critique at their leisure. 

Trauma is an egregious culprit whose presence may involuntarily mark our life while leaving us emotionally helpless for years to come. It may become the haunting experience we choose to push far back into our subconscious  with the hope that it will be forgotten. Usually, ‘out of sight, out of mind’ measures do not apply here. Traumatic experiences have led many people to seek professional consultation in order to help quiet their fears and lighten a heavy heart while allowing some light to shine through the cracks.

When I became aware of the fact that some people fear the holidays and are often the most depressed during this time of the year, it was difficult to understand…until some of their stories were unlocked: living within the poverty level, domestic violence, the fear of being alone, fighting depression itself while attempting to appear normal to those around you. Depression in any form is a heavy and dangerous burden that can be difficult to appraise. Unfortunately, because of this, many young, intelligent, and lovely people are taken away from us (often by their own hand) leaving a large void for the survivors to live with and attempt to comprehend. Let us make a greater effort to become more aware of the warning signs of this terrible disease.

I would like to see a world united in the sense that Mother Earth is the most predominant force in our lives and realize that we must be able to promote this concept to all of us who share this beautiful planet. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why this is such a difficult plan. We depend on her for everything. But, just like the wealthy souls who selfishly build ships to climb up into the stars for pleasure and profit, I can’t help but think of how all of that money could help make this world healthier, cleaner, and happier for all of us who call Earth our home.

Seeing the faces of the children light-up when presented with presents at Christmastime has been a mainstay of parents all over the world; especially the pandemic world we have lived in for nearly two years. Children are growing up in a new era with brand new rules: on and off virtual schooling, wearing masks, not being with close relatives and friends on a regular basis, and becoming more aware of their surroundings than ever before. My heart goes out to them as their senses are becoming more heightened by school shootings and personal safety. 

Baking Christmas cookies with two of my precious grandchildren today while listening to their giggles, seeing the joy on their faces, and pretending not to see another cookie lifted from the cooling rack, made me sing with happiness! That’s the progression of life, dear friends; the process of moving gradually towards a more advanced state—enjoying the aging process with all of its amazing accompaniments! As I often say, I am very, very blessed. 

May your life be brightened by all things wholesome and kind and may you remember to pass this joy along to others. You’ll know when you have because each face will shine just a little bit brighter for it. Merry Christmas to everyone with my love to you…!

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

A JOURNAL ENTRY OF A SINGLE PARENT

 A series of essays....

SALVADOR DALI: "DISINTEGRATION OF PERSISTENCE OF MEMORY"
THE ARTIST DESCRIBES HIS THEME AS A KIND OF 'NUCLEAR MYSTICISM'

          Courtesy of Etsy

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

It was his way of washing a potential problem out of his hair. It was his way of dealing with misunderstanding and stress even though he had, certainly, assisted in creating large portions of both. To admit this fact would go against every fiber of his being. In his mind, the problem was created by others and he had just been caught in the middle, that’s all. It was his way of saying, “This is my coping mechanism. It will have to suffice.”

To say that he was managerial material would be a stretch because, in order to be able to manage others, you should be able to manage your own life and deal with what life throws at you. Yes, juggling numerous balls at one time is a part of the game. What I failed to recognize was, as difficult as life had become for the rest of us, he could not handle one more ball.

He was raised, loved, nourished, and protected to the best of my ability. After unexpectedly taking on the role of a single parent, I decided I should not hoist all of the blame onto my own shoulders. That would be a fool’s journey because it’s understood that outside factors and influences affect our lives in many different ways. I know only too well how that game is played; how guilt, frustration, love, and fear enter the picture via the passing of a spouse when children are so young and vulnerable. As they mature, life can become skewed for them and with the addition of negative peer pressure, bullying, and the misunderstanding of their purpose in life, this concoction can be as lethal as a cyanide-laced cocktail.

Does any of this really matter now?

Instantly, life becomes distorted; a living nightmare as surreal as a Dali painting with time slowly melting away as the world disintegrates around us. The screams of our children pierce our ears and chip away at our souls until all we have left is the persistence of memory: haunting our days and strangling our nights with its slippery tentacles of pain, sorrow, and regret.

There is a horrible mystique regarding mental health disorders that brings to mind Stephen King novels and towering, brick psychiatric hospitals. We have our own idea of what mental illness is and, unless we educate ourselves, and all forms of mental health disorders are discussed openly, situations can become turbid as the days, weeks, months, and years pass by. I never intentionally ignored the truth; it was always conveniently tucked away within the deep recesses of my mind. Having to tap into it frightened me as much as the truth itself!

As with every generation, I had all of the answers as a teen: I would learn by the examples around me and decide early on that what happened back then would have to change as I conducted my life in the future and, with any luck, never be repeated again. What transpired long ago rearranged my sense of perspective in such a way that all I had to do was incorporate the opposite actions of the adults in my life regarding how we were raised and infuse a healthier, more sustainable lifestyle for my own children to thrive on, one day. The best was yet to come, or so I believed. 

Life has its way of throwing out curve balls.

It was his way of saying what silly fools we humans are. Oh, how we set ourselves up for failure. When we believe we have failed, a certain 'door of insensibility' creaks open, ever so slightly, but just enough to offer an escape route into oblivion. 

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

WEEP FOR HIM, DON JUAN: EVEN THE FLOWERS SHED THEIR TEARS!

 A series of essays....

ONE OF OUR FIRST DON JUAN ROSES OF THE SEASON
SHEDDING TEARS AFTER A SUDDEN RAINFALL!

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

I admit to being a very selfish person, especially when it comes to people I feel I know and love. I want them around me, helping me feel good about my life as they make me laugh and see myself for who I really am. I like it when people offer a dry sense of humor and are able to make fun of themselves; when they can confidently share their knowledge and expertise on subject(s) of interest that include some of my own passions, and do it with ease and panache. 

Anthony Bourdain could do all of that. Anthony made us feel like we knew him; he drew us in and had us believing we were his close, intimate friends!

Guilt can be one of the primary motivators of our selfishness. Guilt equals sadness and can turn the purest of intentions into a holy nightmare of dark dreams and possessed emotions. I, personally, can relate to this.

Leaving my youngest daughter up at Michigan State University at the beginning of her sophomore year was my personal recipe for guilt, shame, and profound heartache. I recall being beyond myself and would cry for hours while feeling imprisoned in our apartment in Orlando. Good mothers don’t abandon their children, I thought. A good mother wouldn’t leave her daughter up at college so far away and at such a vulnerable, young age. Oh, that guilt thing was eating me up inside! Outside, I didn’t care about my appearance one iota; even if I washed my hair or brushed my teeth that day. It was not a struggle to stay in bed all morning; it was a struggle to get out of bed at all.                    

I was a hot mess.

I recall feeling this deep, dark funk for many weeks. Dan was gone Monday through Friday at job sites in such (exotic?) places as West Virginia and Mississippi. I would drive him to OIA (Orlando International Airport) for his Monday morning flight out and then pick him up from there on Friday afternoons....week after very long week.

In the meantime, I would spend most of my days unpacking the boxes we didn’t have stored in a climate controlled storage unit (including our baby-grand piano) and worrying about the fires that smoldered just to the east of us, between Orlando and the Atlantic coastline. Muck fires, as I call them, are created from marsh gas, swamp gas whose principal component is methane that’s produced naturally within some marshes and swamps. Often, when fed by the Floridian heat, fuel, and oxygen, it will allow for spontaneous combustion and underground fires will smolder for a considerable time.

Looking out through our east-facing windows, alone in an unfamiliar place, imprisoned by stacked moving boxes and a guilty soul, I felt I’d been moved to hell and its intense fire was rapidly approaching!

As I’ve said before....I was a hot mess! Fortunately, I do not recall ever feeling suicidal.

Thinking back, other than the abrupt passing of my Mother at the young age of sixty-two, I had never felt so lonely, sad, and guilt ridden as I did in those early weeks here in Orlando. I missed our youngest child with so much passion that life itself seemed futile with all efforts to remedy the situation proving to be nugatory.

Dan’s distant job sites, eventually, became more local and the threatening muck fires were tamed, only to rage again another day. Corinne and I would e-mail one another as much as possible and talk on the phone whenever we could. Dan and I utilized his frequent flyers miles and made long weekend trips up to East Lansing to spend as much time with her as possible.                                                         

Eventually, I cleaned-up enough to participate in several job interviews and with two fantastic prospects at my disposal, chose a construction themed job over a prominent law office opportunity located in downtown Orlando. I sometimes question the wisdom of my choice but, that decision is far behind me now. The point is....I survived. Corinne survived without me as, deep down, we all knew she would. 

My maternal guilt, like a cloud of smoke, had dissipated for now. But, muck fires are dangerous things and can smolder and burn slowly with smoke and no flame; the mist spreading across the landscapes of our mind with flare-ups unexpected and, potentially, dangerous to ourselves and those around us whom we love.

As more facts appear in dribs and drabs from France, where he died, and from CNN, where he worked his latest gig, Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown, I have to ask one thing, “What in the hell was he thinking?” Or, more precisely, was he able to think (rationally) at all by this point in time?

Strasbourg, France will never quite be the same. It will, however, remain one of my most beloved places on earth. The pure happiness it once contained, however, was squeezed out like a ripe piece of fruit is for juicing. Early last Friday morning, when I first heard the news, I recall a primal scream being emitted and then the hairs, literally, stood up on my arms, and a tingling feeling took over my entire body. I know I wasn’t alone with this particular reaction to his, apparent, suicide near Strasbourg. 

       

What in the hell were you thinking.....? Well, that’s just it, I don’t believe you were able to think at all! The state of depression robs you of rational thinking and exchanges it for a sadness that consumes you. Was it about feeling guilty, not being worthy? Your superego absorbs your thoughts and exchanges you for the stranger you will become to yourself. Anthony, you have left behind so many who love and miss you. I wish we had all been enough for you.....! Rest In Peace, sweet man.

Looking back on those early days of residing here in Orlando continues to grip at my heart. It will forever remain a low point in my life. Training my mind to feel good about myself and worthy of all the goodness life has to offer was the most difficult task for me. I do admit to reverting back to that sad person every now and again but, I try to snap out of it as quickly as possible and carry on with living.

I leave you with a quote from the bestselling Irish author, Cathy Kelly, who captures the feeling of growing older, learning to live with our acquired knowledge, as well as our foibles, while attempting to retain a certain balance in our life:

“What was the point of being old enough to have worked out what life was all about if you couldn’t act on what you knew? Then again, how could you sort out someone else’s life when you were still trying to figure out how to live your own?”

Copyright © 2018 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

CONFUSION

A series of essays.....

~CONFUSION IN EPIC AND ANCIENT PROPORTIONS?~

~ROMAN ARENA LOCATED IN ARLES, FRANCE~
SEPTEMBER 13, 2016

.....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

CONFUSION

reigns and messes with our state of being; clashes with the soul. A mixed-up, crazy tangle of this and that, here or there, that deposits within its wake, a state of tumult that can be as deep and cavernous as the mightiest canyon, the deepest ocean, and is as unpredictable as a sinkhole expecting to randomly claim its rights to all things both animate and inanimate. We are left with a confused collection of chaos and clutter from which we find we are constantly living in a world that is unsettled and lacking direction or purpose.

We seek safety in numbers when we must feel our way around a world that lacks coherence or a sense of direction and often find ourselves caught in an even graver tangle of bewilderment; a weak cannon not properly secured that could break loose from the force of recoil. Human nature compels us to believe, while in the state of being confused, that we can be safer doing something if there are others doing it. So much better than confronting it alone, adrift at sea and hoping to find a purpose and place within a world overflowing with diversity. There will come a time to decide if the plan to 'blend in' is a bold opportunity of seeking harmony within diversity or a strategy of furthering division. Even while blinded by uncertainty, it becomes acutely important that we decide on a particular path to follow. The correct path for us may serve to offer the clearness we seek and, ultimately,  suppress the confusion.

Only when we choose to embrace the enormous multiformity and complications of life, can we better adapt to meet changing circumstances that strive to constantly perplex and bewilder us, whether we are within a particular group or alone in this world mightily grasping to fend for ourselves. If we continue to be lost, disoriented, suicidal....we can regain our bearings, our sense of direction and purpose in this life if we remember to reach out to others, friend or stranger, woman or man, and understand that we are never, truly on our own. Sit down, close your eyes and allow the sensation of vertigo to pass. Yes, it will pass. By the time we reopen our eyes and feel encouraged by the calmness, a sense of embarrassment will float away from our bodies, our souls, as though a heavy load has been lifted from them and it appears we are floating inches above the ground. This contentment we are experiencing is the happiness and satisfaction of embracing a simple life; the joy of living in a log cabin deep inside the woods with nature surrounding us in abundance.

Like a blind person feeling the contours of a human face in order to 'see' them within their mind's eye, it is possible to obtain a tangible sense of structure and individuality. We are not all the same. Each one of us is open to interpretation. How people form mental images seems to vary, but the talent for mental imagery is far greater if we practice reining-in negativity, defeating disorientation, and learning to manage the confusion that lingers subconsciously and will only serve to sabotage the future. 

The acceptance of life, good or bad, fragile....disturbed, jumbled and disordered, allowed or inappropriate, only sets the ground rules for what is to be considered our personal 'roller coaster' ride. When we choose to accept the challenges this ride has to offer, as the wind blows back our hair and distorts our facial features, we must accept the responsibilities that go along with our decisions. As our personal story emerges, smooth sailing becomes an abstract concept such as beauty or love. The sooner we realize that it is possible to control our confusion, we are ahead of this game called 'Life.' The growing dependence upon our own imagination and abundance of ideas will help us get through the 'sticky' spots and we will be able to thrive well beyond our perceived capabilities!

Do not strive to completely avoid confusion. That is not our purpose. We will learn so much more if we consciously embrace it as one would a long, lost friend. It is the clear and present state of euphoria we experience each time our heart and mind filters our confusion and promotes the power of the imagination that takes us to the next level along life's numerous plateaus. We all deserve a pat on the back at this juncture because we are officially entitled to bear the label of 'Survivor' pinned ceremoniously across our hearts like a badge of courage and meant to be worn with pride!

~ROMAN ARENA ~ ARLES, FRANCE~

Copyright © 2017 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

All Photos Copyright © 2017 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved