POETRY, HEALTH, AND AN OLD SOUL

A series of essays....

RAFAEL CAMPO, ALTERNATIVE MEDICINE, POET, PHYSICIAN...
HOW ART AND MEDICINE COMBINE TO GENTLE THE PAIN
AND ENHANCE LIFE

                     Courtesy of Harvard Magazine

 ....as seen through my eyes!

 

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Two conversations within the past few weeks have sparked my consciousness and lifted my spirits. I am eternally grateful for not only better understanding how they tie in with one another so seamlessly but for showing me how brilliant life truly is and why I wouldn’t change  our future possibilities for anything in the world!

Like many of us, TED Talks have become a part of our lives. They can range in subject matter anywhere from A to Z and fully encompass that space in between with people from all walks of life with so much to offer to any of us who try to make sense out of this crazy and complicated world. I have had several ‘aha moments’ while listening to a particular Ted Talk over the years and have written about my reactions to share with others in previous blog posts.

TEDxCambridge, an independently organized TED event, introduced me to Rafael Campo who teaches and practices medicine at Harvard Medical School. In addition, he serves as Poetry Section Editor for JAMA, the Journal of the American Medical Association and has authored nine acclaimed books.

He has received the Nicholas E. Davies Memorial Scholar Award from the American College of Physicians, for outstanding humanism in medicine. The New York Times Book Review says of his work, “Valuable and moving... he is undaunted by the ugliness of the physical deterioration apparent before his eyes, seeking always to capture the beauty of the human soul in struggle with physical reality.” And, I was attracted, not only by all of this brilliant information about this beautiful man, but by the title of his particular TED Talk: How Poetry Heals Us.

Having written poetry throughout the years alongside of my prose endeavors, poetry has been given a new life in my heart and soul since moving back up to Michigan a year ago. My good friend and proclaimed ‘sister,’ Marsha, has introduced the wonderful world of poetry in Kalamazoo to me in such a kind and poignant manner that it is becoming equally as important and comforting to me as any other work I've done over the past years.

Rafael Campo’s fourteen minutes of brilliance caught my attention and provided me with his thought and insight into the lives of people living with illness and feeling increasingly isolated and unheard. As a physician, he claims that doctors suffer from empathy erosion and burnout. He helps us to understand that, “When pain takes our breath away, poetry resuscitates us. Poetry sparks empathy and empathy is essential for our survival.”

Without the extraordinary power of our voices to bring us together, how can we heal? Poetry is enlightenment through ecstatic experience; allowing people to have periods of trancelike joy and the opportunity to experience great rapture and delight. He claims that silence can equal death and that, as many of us already know, music is poetry and can, perhaps, keep us alive by encouraging our memories to envelope us and spark new life through them. 

His stories are moving journeys of AIDS, opioid addiction, and cancer and tell of when he, as a poet, began to focus on the healing and not just the curing as he often did as a physician alone.  One of the first of his patients to strike a nerve while asking him to prescribe opioids for her as she proclaimed, “My soul hurts,” had been living with an abusive partner for years. He realized that nobody had been listening to her pleas for help, thinking only in terms of easing her physical pain. The day he reached out to her mental and soulful outcries was his own moment of awakening.

Stating that poetry will never take the place of penicillin, poetry can keep us alive and offers restorative powers. As a scientist and a poet, he now blends the two and teaches poetry to his medical students. “I am making them better doctors.”

Through the medical humanities, Rafael Campo has brought poetry to medicine and introduced poetry’s presence into the art of healing. When it is our turn to come to an understanding of our own health, “Each one of us can only hope and imagine that even if we are not restored to health then, at least, we are brought to life through humane poetry.”

Our imagination and poetic licenses are taking on a huge part of our everyday lives and proving to be a positive step towards living and dying gracefully...and with dignity.

GAVIN AND PAPA WORKING ON
A SOLUTION TO A PROBLEM

I have always proclaimed that our grandson, Gavin, is truly what we might call an ‘Old Soul.’ He expresses knowledge beyond his eight-year-old experiences and uses words that are often proclaimed far beyond his age and capacity. This may be due, in fact, to his love of reading and explicit understanding of new words and expressions. In any case, I am, indeed, a huge fan of his and a very proud grandmother.

One afternoon, while we were sitting and talking with one another about his love for the book Charlotte’s Web written by E. B. White that he recently finished reading, he began looking at me with a rather inquisitive expression spreading across his handsome, little face. With Gavin, I  could only imagine all manner of thoughts racing through his curious mind.

“Grandma, if we all came from the same place, then wouldn’t we all be connected to one another? Wouldn’t we all share the same ideas about living even though we speak different languages and our skin is different colors? I think we would.”

I was speechless for a moment as this ‘curious thought’ struck me deeply and personally. This profound expression of understanding about human connectedness expressed by one so young opened my eyes and heart to the positive possibilities of the future of mankind; a feeling I’d pushed aside given the political inadequacies of the current administration. Had this child looked far beyond our adult perception of ‘politics always rules’ and transgressed into the deepest ideas of common sense and human awareness?

Of course I explained to him just how correct he was on all counts as I sat beaming from ear to ear. He gets it! He truly gets it! Why on earth is it so difficult for others to understand connectedness, promoting racial tolerance, and instinctively knowing that our basic differences should not matter considering we all began our lives in the very same place. Right?

Rafael Campo and Gavin may have struck the perfect balance between how things truly are and how much better things can be given the opportunity of utilizing our imaginations and common sense. We still live in a world filled with a plethora of amazing ideas; a world where artistic endeavors shine over old, outdated doctrines and the sweet innocence of youth and the perception of what our world should be shines through young eyes like bright beacons leading us all into port on a stormy night.

I am indebted to Mr. Campo and to my grandson, Gavin, for their enlightenment. May we always remember to listen to the voices of reason that surround us. These are the voices that will motivate and complete us as we travel along this journey of life, love, and fulfillment.

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

AN IRISH CHAPEL AND THOUGHTFUL REFLECTIONS

A series of essays....

ENJOYING A PUB LUNCH WITH A GUINNESS BEFORE VISITING
THE NATIONAL GALLERY OF IRELAND IN DUBLIN

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

“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?”

Lately, I think about this timely quote written in the past tense from the book, ‘It Started With Paris’ by Cathy Kelly, one of my favorite Irish authors. It simply strikes a chord with me each time it’s read. What I read into it is that I am standing in the future having the past dictate what will be happening to me beyond the point of right that very moment. Sliding into Never Neverland or helping Alice chase the White Rabbit through Wonderland gives the tummy a slight twist and makes the head feel dizzy.

With the autumn months fast approaching, children heading back to school within the next few days, and the evening air as crisp as the swirling orange leaves gracefully falling in the backyard with each generous breeze, it is time for thoughtful reflection. 

I won’t kid myself; there are things I would like to change in my life in order to ease some of the pain in my heart that produces tears and inevitable remorse. If or when I understand how to change them, trust me, I will do so in a heartbeat. I never give up hope. I can’t afford to when it comes down to seeing and being with the people I love. Patience.

Otherwise, I always try to live a pretty full and interesting life. 

Feeling nostalgic this time of year is not unusual, especially when preparing to mark another year of having lived, loved, and laughed with the best of them! I have pretty amazing family and friends to thank for this. And, some of these friends are, definitely, my family; people I can open up to when feeling blue and laugh an afternoon away with whenever possible. Sunday morning breakfast is a fine example of this.

Some of you may find this charmingly unorthodox or frightfully absurd, but either way, the word interesting does come to mind. A group of us, people I have come to love, each in his or her own right, meet for breakfast each Sunday.  Some of us, affectionately, label the occasion as ‘going to church’ because the valued time spent together discussing life, politics, books, current projects, plays we have seen and will see, celebrating birthdays in grand fashion, health issues, inviting new friends into the group, sharing our own children’s experiences and accomplishments, and talking about past and future travels...is likened to a breathtaking slice of life as seen through all of our eyes and generously shared among us.

Did I happen to mention that our small congregation meets in a fine, well established, local Irish pub? Some pretty cool strings must have been pulled in order to accomplish this one because we have the pub area all to ourselves. There’s something magical about drinking your first mug of morning coffee with friends (one being a bona fide Dublin native) while seated near the rich, dark wood of an Irish bar, shelves filled with a myriad of colored elixirs contained in interestingly shaped glass bottles being reflected in the elaborate mirrors behind them. Many of these beautiful Irish bars, for me, mimic the colorful and intricate beauty of a stained glass window.  

For many an Irishman, this pub experience would be like meeting your Maker and everything you thought this moment would be like has, finally, been realized. 

This would be a case for being old enough to have worked out what life is all about and acting upon it by sharing our knowledge and insights with others. At the same time, the bit about sorting out someone else’s life while you’re still trying to figure out how to live your own....well, that is and always will be a lifelong undertaking. As long as someone needs a shoulder to rest on or a listening ear to help them get through any situation, I would hope that we are all so kind as to offer both to anyone in need. Sometimes, making it through this life can be just that simple. Or, at least, not quite as difficult.

So, next week, while observing the leaves changing color on the tree limbs high above me as my car sits idling behind a local school bus picking-up or dropping-off students along its way, a grand Irish tune will be playing on the radio as I tap my fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. I will think about growing older; heading into the autumn season of my life. Maybe, just for a little while, because It’s all the living I have yet to do beyond flying alongside of Peter Pan or finding the White Rabbit that intrigues me the most.

Keep dreaming, dancing to the beat, holding on to patience and hope, attending ‘church’ each week with friends, and laughing to your heart’s content. If you do, autumn may just become the best season of your life.

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photo copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

COMMITMENT

A series of essays....

THERE IS NOTHING QUITE AS BEAUTIFUL OR
STRONG AS THE COMMITMENT OF MOTHER TO HER CHILD

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

COMMITMENT

is tantamount to both success and failure. Whether we make this pledge to ourselves or to others, a course of action is demanded of us, as per position, custom, law, or religion. Upon making it, we may choose to see our commitment in many different ways and even perceive it as a burden, destined to drag us down into its dark, spiraling depths as we attempt to fulfill our obligations and duties. And, even though our initial intentions may have been fueled by passion and love, the job at hand could transpire into a wearisome and troubled journey, if we allow it to. However, we are not made to live strictly within our 'comfort zone.' Mankind is much more resilient to negative thoughts and, for the most part, resolves its own inadequacies and fears in order to extract a sense of accomplishment based on the commitments he or she has made.

"Commitment is doing the thing you said you were going to do long after the mood you said it in has left you."  ~Unknown~    

To say that we love is a commitment to our choice of giving ourselves to another or to a certain cause and, once we have made it, we devote all of our physical and mental activities towards owning the experience because our commitment empowers us to do so. We should not feel enslaved by this choice. Love should never place restraints on the heart and soul in order to prove our intentions are real. If we truly commit to the choice to love, our reward is bliss and great joy shared with those we are committed to. We should not have to beg for these things from those we love, but be given them in return because we are equally loved. 

Taking responsibility for the welfare of an elderly person or a child with special needs requires a devotion so unselfish, honest, and true that the commitment made is worthy of all the respect and love needed to make it in the first place.

Teachers make brave and honorable commitments to all of our children and further their pledges by sacrificing their own free time and money with the idea that the children will give us back the benefit of peace of mind and the hope of a better future. God bless the teacher whose strength endures the inequalities forced upon him/her for we have been blessed by their kind and generous soul.

Athletes should respect and honor themselves while brandishing the results of a strong, powerful body, a healthy mind, and a positive outlook on life. True athletes commit to both physical and spiritual strength and have served us well as protector and warrior. Our soldiers marching off to war are athletes whose commitment to defend lives by pledging to sacrifice their own should inspire all of us. They should be met with gracious approval.

Life is short. It should not be wasted. Making a personal commitment to achieve a goal, no matter how large or small, is equal to making a commitment to someone else. It involves dedicating yourself to this agreement with yourself and knowing that there is nobody to let you down but you. Excuses are not allowed if you wish to succeed. Always keep your goals in sight and commit to them with an open heart, even in the face of adversity. Remember there is a sense of obligation whenever we make a commitment to another person. We should have that same sense of obligation to ourselves.

Think carefully and ask yourself what commitments you have already made and/or kept. Are you willing and strong enough to make new commitments to yourself and others? 

Author’s Note: Original version of this essay was published on 10/08/15. Our commitment to Freedom and Democracy has become a major priority for most of us since first writing this essay. In honor of this important endeavor, I wish us strength, determination, and the power to overcome the hatred, racism and evil that opposes us and desires to deplete us of our basic, human rights. My Love to all.

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photo copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

THE EXOTIC ELIXIR OF PACIFICATION

A series of essays....

OPPRESSION ON A GRAND SCALE:
GREAT FAMINE NATIONAL MONUMENT, COUNTY MAYO, IRELAND
WITH CROAGH PATRICK IN THE BACKGROUND 

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Have you ever tried to pacify a small child? If so, you have earned your first merit badge in the fine art of patience/diplomacy. Even if you were not one hundred percent successful, you must know that you have learned quite a bit about your own personality and strengths after all is said and done.

I remember that it would always take a calm, soothing voice of reason to bring to and restore a state of peace and tranquility into the world of a small child whose feathers have been ruffled because certain demands have not been met (especially, in a timely manner) as far as they were concerned. Nine times out of ten this all came to pass in a public setting with millions of curious souls milling around, wishing you the best with their eyes and blissfully content that it was happening to you and not them. 

Throw a dash of bribery and a pinch of promises into this exotic elixir of pacification and you have one mystifying concoction that should be bottled and sold to every couple hoping for or anticipating a first child. Liquid Pacification. Directions: One spoonful taken during the red-faced and trembling stages and just prior to the full-blown onslaught of a mighty tantrum. Often useful towards maintaining the sanity of all participants.

Whether we like it or not, 45 has turned most of us into that desperate parent trying to calm the overgrown child with our soothing voice of reason. We are on one of the largest public stages now, performing our pacification rituals for all the world to see because one of the most unpredictable, self-possessed, and spoiled brats of all time is tearing us away from anyone who ever looked-up to or hoped to emulate our kindness, the pledge of being “indivisible with liberty and justice for all,” and protecting the right to be different...all attributes associated with democracy and the United States of America. Our toddler leader accepts our deterioration of all things good with inhumane anticipation and tremendous joy!

I must say, we’ve all been nice to a fault for the past several years while putting-up with his hate, greed, and malicious behavior. We are good, kind parents who have tolerated his tantrums placing all of our hopes of renewal in one tidy basket only to be mystified by the short-comings of our possible lone hero, Robert Mueller. (He should have followed the money trail!) Unfortunately, we’ve learned the hard way that even ‘super heroes’ have their vulnerable, human side.

If we don't shrug-off the mantle of oppression soon and stop the pacification process of 45 and all of his intolerable cronies, 'We the People' will lose the 'Blessings of Liberty' within our lifetime.

Every person I know who possesses a soul and a conscious, is benevolent to a fault, and exercises their rights as a tax-payer and Social Security contributor since their first W-2 job could use a bottle of this elaborate mixture just to get through his or her own daily routine. Certainly, becoming numb to a very bad situation would placate us...temporarily, but the crisis we face under 45’s regime will not go away unless we all do something...now! 

45 will always be the little boy who never received enough love growing-up; the man/boy who’s been given everything (including our exotic elixir of pacification) yet, consistently revels in the fact that there will always be heavy consequences connected to his every action. When you believe the world revolves around you, no elixir (unwritten laws based on basic faith and humanity and honored by good men and women) will be able to subdue the man or a country that remains divided by racism. 

It is taking the break-down of all that we believe in to see that by giving one spoiled, untamed, over-privileged bully maximum power by becoming president, our status of strength and benevolence as a nation is swiftly disappearing. Bullies are easily bribed, manipulated, and driven by the fact that, “If I can, I will.” Bullies enable other bullies. Warning: Great Nations have fallen for much less than this...

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

CIVIL SPEECH: AN INTRICATE ART FORM

A series of essays....

THE SUMMER COLORS OF SOUTH HAVEN, MICHIGAN

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

“Are you coming in?” he asked. “No, thank you,” Dan replied. “I was just checking out the business hours of the bookstore.”

The gentleman gave us a charming smile. “Yes, he just closed up his shop. You’ll have to come back again tomorrow because his bookstore is really amazing. He’s collected some great books throughout the years.” 

“I’m so sad to have missed it,” I chimed in, having just looked through the shop windows at all of the store’s offerings with eyes as large as Tiny Tim’s on Christmas Eve!

“Well, come back again, soon. He’s open every day of the week.” The man’s bushy, salt-n-pepper eyebrows moved in unison with each generous expression on his rugged, sun-drenched face. “I really like the man, you know, with the possible exception of his bloomin’ politics, that is...!!!” spoken as he stared straight at me for some obscure reason.

By now, the three of us were walking down the sidewalk together with our new acquaintance barely a step ahead. “And what political persuasion might that be?” I, boldly, asked. I could tell he was being slightly coy with us yet he had an attitude of just having held a semi-heated conversation with someone else and this was his way of letting off steam. I was being accommodating but my curiosity was genuinely piqued. The gentleman, after all, did bring up the subject first.

I could feel Dan’s eyes glaring at me as if to ask, “Are you sure you want to go there?” But this gentle looking, giant of a man walking with us seemed a bit troubled and confused and, before answering my question, he kept switching-off from looking ahead to pivoting his neck to look over at me. 

“Well, are you sure you really want to know?” he asked. Staring at his profile moving along beside us, I could see fine details that led me to believe this gentleman was conflicted by internal struggles of his own making. He wanted to talk; he wasn’t sure if he should talk. Something was confusing him. Quietly I responded, “Yes, if you don’t mind, I really would like to know.”

By this time, the three of us had reached the intersection where Dan and I would continue on a straight path, our companion was veering off to the right and most likely turning towards home. We all slowed down and came to a complete stop at the corner. Looking at one another, I said, “I apologize. You don’t have to tell me a thing unless you feel like it. I’m just curious because you seem to have something on your mind.” 

Making direct contact with me, once again, his piercing brown eyes softened a bit and his body language was that of a person turning-in on himself with head slightly bowed and hands gently clasping in front of his long torso. Silence prevailed for a few seconds when he slowly turned around the corner and walked away from us. I’ll admit that I was a little disappointed at first by his quiet departure.

A few steps later, his body at a right angle from us, we suddenly hear, “Well, let’s just say that right now I am a very frustrated and disillusioned Republican.”

We stood on that corner for awhile letting his words sink in. By the time we crossed the street continuing our half-mile journey back to our car, Dan and I had plenty to talk about!

DEERLICK CREEK PARK

SOUTH BEACH

This true story took place shortly after five o’clock in the evening on a sun-dappled street in South Haven, Michigan, this past Sunday, August 4, 2019. Our nation had just learned of yet another mass shooting and murder of innocent people in El Paso, Texas the day before. But, this was Sunday, the day after the El Paso shootings, and news broke of another mass shooting in Dayton, Ohio. Democratic presidential candidate, Beto O’Rourke, was abruptly heading home to El Paso and cutting his fund-raising trip short to be with his family when he was asked by someone whether Trump’s racist, anti-immigrant rhetoric had anything to do with the El Paso tragedy. O’Rourke’s response was the most succinct, hardcore, and personal one I had yet to hear:

“What do you think? You know the shit he’s been saying. He’s been calling Mexican immigrants rapists and criminals. I don’t know, like, members of the press, what the fuck? Hold on a second. You know, I — it’s these questions that you know the answers to. I mean, connect the dots about what he’s doing in this country. He’s not tolerating racism; he’s promoting racism. He’s not tolerating violence; he’s inciting racism and violence in this country. So, you know, I just — I don’t know what kind of question that is.”

I’ve always believed that the usage of the f-word, spoken or written by someone at a precise and committed moment in time, is so effective because of how it demands our attention. It’s usage can be the result of total frustration over obvious questions asked of us or the simple truth and honesty coming from the gut and depths of our souls. It can be the most appropriate response to our failed and weak gun laws that have led us to the carnage of mass murders on our streets and in our schools, unjustified killings of dark-skinned people, and the so-called justification of the ‘pushing-back’ of the people on our southern borders seeking asylum and a better life for themselves and their family.

Beto’s hard hitting response enforced the strong emotions he was feeling at the time and, for me, was a more believable response compared to other, albeit just as genuine, responses filled with “I have no words to express my feelings,” and “We cannot accept this violence any longer.” After all of the shootings we have had to endure, these responses are much too weak. The citizens of Dayton, Ohio were absolutely right when they chanted to their governor, “Do something, do something, do something!!!”

I believe our temporary walking companion had reached his “What the f*ck?” level....!

DICK AND PAM HAFERMAN ARE THE
OWNERS OF BLACK RIVER BOOKS

Perhaps he had just been speaking with his friend, Dick, co-owner of Black River Books located on Kalamazoo Street, before we met him at a side entrance as Dan was perusing the store hours. Had these two friends/neighbors been caught-up in a heated situation after having recently discussed the incredulous events over the past weekend? Maybe Dick’s liberal views, ideals, and morals of a country solidified by kindness and compassion were, actually, similar ideologies of our tall, tanned walking companion and he was beginning to realize, with great frustration, that his own conservative views were being punched in the gut by the hateful and racist rhetoric of this corrupt administration.

Let’s say that my gut is telling me I am right and my scenario holds more truth than fallacies, how many others are now rethinking just what is required to take our country back and out of the swampy mess that Trump has placed us in? 

How many more of us must be shaken to the core responding with an appropriate “What the f*ck?” answer before learning the right steps needed to reclaim civility and reignite the positive imagination of the people who think this country is worth fighting for? Be frustrated and disillusioned for now, my unknown friend, but figure out what is best for you and the country and please, please tell all of your conservative friends the truth about what has been eating you up inside. 

Hopefully, one day we will know exactly why so many innocent people have had to sacrifice so greatly for the sake of the rest of us. 

Don't allow history to continue to repeat itself. Vote! 

  

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

POTENTIAL STORIES...AND SEEKING THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH

A series of essays....

"THIS LEAVES POSSIBLE DEVELOPMENT
UP TO MY IMAGINATION."

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

I cannot remember when a story failed to light-up my life or put a smile on my face. We love a good story. We know we’re not alone as long as others have stories to tell and we are able to listen to or read them...and, maybe, just maybe, share some of our own. 

With this in mind, I sit here, bird-like, my neck curving downwards, my eyes concentrating on the seven by five inch lined notebook where I’ve been writing down, capturing, if you will, the many words floating in the air around me. If I concentrate hard enough, it’s easier to define a single conversation and write down its key words before methodically moving on to the next.

Even as my hands move steadily along, swirling the fluid blue ink upon paper, my eyes attempt to avoid the figure reflected in the large mirror in front of me. The person looking back is a clear caricature of myself; a clownish character lost within the vanity of aging and the distant memories of youth. Sneaking a peek at Anna’s ‘handiwork in progress,’ I giggle out loud and wonder if a bright red nose would complete the picture reflected in the gilded mirror, hair slathered in white foam, red glasses sliding down the nose. At this, I contort my neck back into writing mode....and, resume my research.  

Even though I’m here for the luxury of covering-up the grays, my hair salon provides me with tiny nuggets offered by the unique and interesting lives of others. I know no one by name, other than Anna, my hairstylist, and don’t consider my notes as stealing from the women and several men from whom I take these potential story ideas from. By the way, I do the same in airports, restaurants, and just about every public place I visit. Often emotions are raw, not subjected to adjustment or analysis, pure unprocessed ideas in their natural state. This allows any promising sugarcoating to be  left up to my own imagination.

“My husband and I are taking our first trip to Europe in September....”

“You must have the longest hair in your class, Sweetheart....”

“Thank you. So far I’ve lost thirty pounds. I still have around fifteen to go.”

“Our grill broke and we used the Crockpot out on the patio over the weekend.”

“She flies in next Tuesday. We haven’t seen her for over two years!”

“We had to cancel the movers and reschedule for two weeks later.”

“She’s had a tough time with treatment. Damn cancer!!!”

Unfortunately, the last tidbit has become all too familiar and sad for most of us these days with far too many loved ones, friends, and acquaintances suffering as we offer them our love, hugs, and all of the support we can muster.

Today, my favorite conversation was all about a new client being ushered back to her stylist’s little cubicle to perch upon her own throne of faux leather. When asked what she’d like done today, the client replied, “Make me look sassy! I want to feel good about myself!” And, that pretty much summed-up the morning for me. Our hair is our crowning glory. There’s much to be said for having good hair days that, in turn, equal good days in general. 

I never really know what the fate of each tiny slice of life is. They just continue to live and multiply in my tiny notebook, lovingly labeled by date and location. Often, they are outside of my control. They all have the potential of holding their own and being reborn as a short story, blog material, or a sliver of a fiction novel...present and future. They captivate the imagination because they are real words spoken by real people living out their days by communicating with the people around them. What could be better and more natural than this?

Anna has considered my ‘baking time’ complete and, gently, shampoos, cuts, and styles my, for the most part, gray-less crowning glory! I will say, I do feel a bit younger now than I did an hour or so beforehand. Is it a miracle? We can call it a miracle, hocus-pocus, built-in self confidence, but I call my morning a lesson in joyful possibilities, learning to focus, and food for the heart and soul.

“So, how do you feel? Do you like it?” Anna asks. 

“I’m feeling sassy this morning, Anna. Sassy and ready to greet the world!” I reply with a smile.

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

AN OPEN LETTER TO ALL DISBELIEVERS AND NAYSAYERS

A series of essays....

ACKNOWLEDGING THE CIRCLE OF THOUGHT

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Dear Sir/Madam,

An open letter to all disbelievers and naysayers

I believe that if we communicate, we will, ultimately, learn how to compromise. If we know how to compromise, we will be able to encourage a settlement of differences by combining the knowledge of both parties involved and make concessions which would grant each party the acknowledgment and recognition that may lead to acceptance. Accepting the fact that we can and are able to work with one another leads everyone to a base of trust, faith, and confidence that can and will open-up all lines of communication.

Accepting this circle of thought should afford everyone the understanding that we are created of equal importance with a fundamental goal of achieving respect for one another.

Having been born with the unique ability to love in the deepest sense, respecting one another should be analogous to loving and respecting oneself in a most pure, simple, and base manner. Consequently, the passing of time with influences such as family, social and religious persuasion, peer pressure, body image, bullying, or sexual orientation can alter the natural progression of loving the person we were born to be. If so, the image we see within ourselves helps to skew the image we have of others and we, in time, will forfeit our ability to reason intelligently thus distorting our original beliefs in a way that is regarded as inaccurate, unfair, or misleading.

Systematically, fear, self-doubt, and diffidence, overpowers our innocent ideals and wrongly forces us into the belief that all is lost; life is hopeless. This is when we become the most vulnerable. 

How do we compensate for or correct this imbalance created by outside sources that influence our core values?  This is where the disbelievers and naysayers go wrong; they form their opinions based on theories, the attitudes of others, and negativity instead of going back to their roots where love, respect for others, and hope originated from. Learning, once again, how to communicate with our words filled with positive intentions and purpose, as well as being able to listen to the words of others, comprehend their meaning while moving forward, would be a good beginning. 

Good communicators and good listeners are the advanced team that guides us towards  compromise, acceptance, trust in one another, faith in the future, and the hope that we can all work together to form the alliances needed to realize a bright and prosperous tomorrow! 

In accepting this circle of thought, we are affirming the kindness we hold deep inside of us and we see the same as we look at those around us. My eight-year-old grandson recently asked me, “If we all come from the same place, grandma, aren’t we all related to one another?” Such a  profound nugget of truth from one so young. But then...expressing profound truth in simple language form as formulated by a child’s perspective is exactly how the circle of thought began; innocent and pure.

Respectfully,

Those with the intent on making a difference.

Copyright © 2019 by Jacqueline E Hughes

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