REPETITIVE RHYTHMS: POSITIVE AND NEGATIVE ASPECTS

 

A series of essays....

REPETITIVE RHYTHMS OF PATTERN: WOOD GRAIN, 
LEAF VEINS, AND FENCING SQUARES.

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Repetitive rhythms can serve to soothe the weary soul, instill patterns in our mind that help us accomplish great things, and even bring us to the brink of poetic enlightenment! However, if handled incorrectly, they can implant, drop by drop, a sense of immorality and defiance, more formally known as re-education or brainwashing.

Children’s literature applies repetitive rhythm with the desire to encourage and shape a young mind into following the right path into the future. The Little Engine That Could, a book by Watty Piper, with its inspiring motto of “I think I can! I think I can!” has spoken to generations of girls and boys about the value of optimism and hard work. And, whether we want to admit it or not, when push comes to shove we can find ourselves repeating in our heads “I think I can! I think I can” as adults in order to push ourselves up and over a difficult situation. 

Repetitive rhythms stimulate our adult daily lives in many different ways. It may be the music we choose to listen to while crawling out of bed at a set time and stumbling our way into the kitchen to perform the morning ritual of making coffee, and each repetitive act can be as soothing and important to us within our daily routine. We create patterns for ourselves that ground us to the particular life we’ve chosen and keep us on track each day. Can comfortable rituals eventually  become boring? Perhaps, but we tend to offset them by sleeping in late on a Saturday morning or by taking a trip where breakfast is made and served to us by others—for a change. 

Being part of an established routine or being associated with performances instituted according to a rite or ritual have helped us form the pockets of social existence for centuries. As travelers, we’ve come to appreciate the variety of music, food and drink, literature and poetry, routines, and dress that varies from one culture to another. These patterns and rhythms might be exactly why we travel in the first place and why having others share their rituals with us is considered a true gift. 

The sound of drumbeats alongside the repetitiveness of soft leather-clad feet pounding the earth in tribal rhythms that coordinate with the syncopated beats of colorful beads adorning heads and necks and ankles, partially describes our first and foremost American culture. It has been waiting in the wings far too long; denied its original rights as the true indigenous people of North America who stand as proud today as they have for centuries. This society, comprised of art, customs, spirituality, family, and oral tradition, can openly influence this nation and provide a comforting buffer between old and new as time passes; its repetitive rhythms will help to soothe our soul and awaken the love that is sorely needed in today’s world.

Many of us find solace in the unique rhythm of the mighty sea with its breakers crashing onto the sandy shoreline and the violent, foaming seawater coating our feet white before attempting to slide back out into the murky depths beyond. The repetitive pulse of the water keeps time with our own body rhythms and draws us closer and closer to our primitive beginnings. 

Repetitive rhythms have played a pivotal part in our nation’s political overview for the past four years. The president’s verbal and written lies repeated over and over again served as his re-education program of those gullible enough to believe them. The direct summoning up and stroking the hatred of his fired-up believers led to that mob becoming domestic terrorists as they stormed the Capitol Building last week leading to ultimate death and destruction.

The repetition of lies played an important role in stoking the anger and fervor of people who want to believe in something so badly that nothing else said, or no other opinion noted, will change their way of thinking. Our current president is a master of manipulation. His forced indoctrination into a new set of attitudes and beliefs has been nothing short of brainwashing his followers. Repeating his lies of a “rigged election” and exploiting his cries of “fake news” over and over again has perpetuated a repetitive rhythm of persuasive conditioning that has enraptured the weak minded and made them believe in the absurdity of his narcissistic goals. His minions, Rudy Giuliani and others, helped to light the flame of the mob by “Calling for a trial by combat.” 

America and her principals have, literally, come under attack. Within the natural rhythm of right and wrong, good vs. evil—we have no option but to respond.

Part of the legacy of this president, one week after the storming of the Capitol by his militant thugs, will be his second impeachment and further proof that his childish repetition of simple vocabulary and violent, racist implications continue to sow the seeds of hatred throughout this country. May the repetitive rhythms of sound thinking, equality and justice for all ring out loud and clear. We must remember that fear is fleeting and truth will prevail.

Last week was not just a stain on our democracy; last week was a permanent and hideous tattoo on our democracy! White supremacy is our greatest threat and we must face it head on.

Continue to stay healthy and safe. Always take good care of those you love.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

HAVE WE MET THE ENEMY AND ARE THEY OURS?

 A series of essays....

 
A VIEW OF THE UNITED STATES CAPITOL BEFORE IT WAS
BURNED DURING THE WAR OF 1812.   (ARTIST UNKNOWN)

Courtesy PhotoQuest/Getty Images

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

‘Tis the season for keeping my favorite ‘soothing hydration’ body lotion, packed with a triple hydration complex and a one percent punch of Aloe Vera, close at hand at all times. Not messing around here, folks! Between the naturally freezing temps outdoors (not that I am out there too often these days) and the artificial heat indoors, my skin begins to dry and crack like an unloved piece of leather furniture. Ugh!

Truthfully, constant hand-wringing feels less uncomfortable when the skin becomes softer and more supple to the touch.

Right along with you, there has been a lot of hand-wringing going on in my household and this past year has been nothing short of eye-opening! It has rewritten, so far, at least one full chapter from the ‘book of life’ and has made us realize how flexible we have to be when it comes to any and all things that deviate from what we had always considered to be ‘the norm.’ Indeed, we have entered the age of what we recognize as modified normalcy and this concept is changing how we feel, think, and react to ideas every single day.

For example: When someone coughed or sneezed nearby us prior to March of 2020, we might not have liked being too close to them for fear of getting a cold. We never dreamt of associating these uncontrollable body functions as possible symptoms of a deadly, air-borne disease. 

Taught as a small child that the Catholic Church represented the religious philosophies of my parents, I passed from one parochial school to another for seven years, totally at the whim of my father’s job and a series of promotions. Gratefully, my early studies included the understanding that others followed their own path towards spiritual enlightenment. By the time I reached high school and we stopped our nomadic lifestyle as a family, I was well aware of and interested in the religious beliefs connected with friends and acquaintances. I felt more worldly and mature for embracing this knowledge.

Similarly, my social studies class and local, small town politics taught me that not all politicians followed the same belief in which rules and regulations should guide them in order to assist the people who helped put them in office in the first place. But, one thing I was pretty certain of was that the Constitution of the United States of America, the official ‘rule book’ written for and adopted by the people, was forever beyond reproach. Ratified in 1788, it has been in operation since 1789 and has become the world’s longest surviving written charter of government.

The brazen coup attempt we saw play out on Capitol Hill on January 6, 2021, this past Wednesday, reflected a group of miscreants who pledged their allegiance to a white, nationalist cult bent on overthrowing our government. Seduced and brainwashed by their own president and his minions, their obsession and devotion to him overpowered any sense of right from wrong. 

It is frightening to see how they have become increasingly emboldened by their newfound capabilities and are strengthened and encouraged by their toxic leadership. My fear is that they will only become more sophisticated in their attempts at treason and many more people will die, historical buildings may be completely destroyed, and judging by the numerous children we see within their gatherings, future generations will learn the ‘rules of hopelessness’ taught to them by their parents and cult leaders.

You can’t hold people accountable by just putting the truth in their faces; you have to hold them accountable by putting them in jail and making them pay for their crimes. This is when they might begin to understand the reality of their actions and possibly feel a semblance of remorse. The people who have disparaged what our government truly stands for must be accountable for their actions—right now!

We have met the enemy in this case and, regrettably, the “deplorables” are our own people and not the British this time around. They arrived at our ‘Shining City on the Hill’ from every state, pulled together by hate and pushed forward by their fear of missing out on being a part of something that accepts them for who they are. (You can fill in that blank on this one.) They are people who surround us in our daily lives, linked together and taunted by what they deem a cause greater than themselves with no regard for our safety, their own safety, or the well being of those they love.

Regrettably, they have championed the thuggery of this deplorable president.

Losing their lord and master as leader of this great nation is something too difficult for them to understand, especially considering that this man continues to grind the untruth of his imaginary win over Joe Biden into them day and night, forcing them to react to his pettiness. So, I ask you, who needs to be accountable for his own actions? He may have broken all of the rules set forth by our Constitution, laughed in the face of justice whenever possible, and led poor fools into the fray by means of brainwashing, and gotten away with all of the above, but HE MUST BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR HIS OWN ACTIONS! To dismiss them now would be a failure this country and our government simply cannot afford.

The arrow of time only points forward in this new year. We have learned so much in the past several years: MAGA hats fade from red to pink. The Senate Majority Leader (Mitch McConnell) can fall from his pedestal of power, eventually, just like any other entity. And, hopefully, people can be guided in the right direction and see beyond the trail of lies that have been held in front of their eyes for so long. 

If our neighbors, co-workers, and acquaintances are our enemies today, ideas must change; inviting a civil war into our already coronavirus riddled lives is a doubled-dosed recipe for immediate disaster. We must cut the head off of the snake—today! This president of the next thirteen days must be stopped, even after he leaves office, and must never be considered relevant, again. He must not be allowed to lead anyone else, Americans or Republicans in general, down this path of fantasy and ultimate destruction. May this new year be the beginning of our healing process; the ultimate soothing lotion aimed to appease our eager longing for peace and required understanding.

Promise to take good care of yourselves and those you love.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

2021 DREAMING

 

A series of essays....

TRAVEL GUIDES AND MAPS MAKE-UP 
A LARGE PART OF MY LIBRARY

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

A good friend told me how she is managing the ‘no travel’ COVID-19 world we live in today. Her ideas appeal to those of us who believe that the planning for and anticipation of any trip taken is equivalent to at least forty percent of the ultimate joy we receive after actually making it to our travel destination. 

So, with this spirit of the traveling soul within us, we can be assured of feeling the glossy pages of a DK ‘New Edition’ of PROVENCE & THE COTE D’AZUR on our fingertips; tap into The National Geographic Guide to the National Parks of the United States on a gray and rainy afternoon. While perusing the sights, activities, and accommodations offered by your particular source of information, you might be sipping Lucky Irish Breakfast Tea from your favorite mug or indulging in a crystalline glass of private blend Scotch obtained from your last trip to Edinburgh. I say, do whatever it takes in order to conjure up your particular traveling spirits!

Oh, and online perusing is totally acceptable, as well. Immersing ourselves in the pleasant visual of striking ocean blue seascapes, toes slowly sinking into sandy white beaches, and gazing into the colorful spirit of a blood orange sunset all while swiping to the left is a pleasurable experience. Also, this is truly the best way to see what Bed & Breakfast, Airbnb, VRBO, Hostel, Motel, or European Style Hotel your destination might offer. (Please keep in mind that pinpointing a date and actually making a reservation will have to wait a while longer.) 

My friend has virtually booked mini-trips and weekend extravaganzas in Pure Michigan, organized return visits to some of her favorite places in Spain and Ireland, and dreams about what she might see while hiking through one of our National Parks or walking a trail that cuts through the scenic red rock formations of Sedona, Arizona.

Whether making plans to visit with friends along our outstanding coastline of Lake Michigan or organizing a romantic get-a-way with her husband in the Traverse City, Petoskey area, she fills her heart with memories of lovely times from the past. My friend is decidedly preparing herself for what can be in the future. 

What our worldwide traveling future consists of remains to be seen. Simply stated, there are too many variables that apply during and in the aftermath of a pandemic. I do know that having respect for fellow travelers, as well as ourselves, will always be the main ticket. Within the months and even years to come, we need to weigh all of the facts, rearrange our way of thinking, and make important changes where needed in order to feel safe upon entering a post-pandemic reality. As long as we believe in change and we abide by the proper steps to make this change happen, we will help control the unconscionable death of so many innocent people during this pandemic.

LA TOUR EIFFEL

As our world began to shrink and blend one country into another and the continental United States became easier to navigate due to the general affordability of travel due to planes, trains, and automobiles—we were hooked! Ultimately, there was nothing to stop us from taking our own iconic shots of La Tour Eiffel in Paris or capturing smiles of loved ones at a family reunion after having traveled hundreds of miles to get there. The simplicity of travel has been ingrained in us so deeply that it is difficult to change or remove (even temporarily). Coupled with a modern day attitude of owning our individual rights and freedom, no matter what—this is a recipe for disaster when linked with COVID-19. 

Holiday travel this year has become an embarrassment to our well-being and to the well-being of everyone around us. We simply cannot play games with our lives by refusing to acknowledge the deadly effects of this virus—worldwide. Curbing our enthusiasm for travel today may save many lives in the weeks, months, and years ahead.

Let’s take a few reasonable and highly qualified notes from my dear friend and utilize this time to plan for future adventures and put together as many trips as our hearts desire—in memory or on paper. When the time comes, and it will, and it is safe to take the plunge into traveling once again, we will be content to see as many adventures as possible come alive, bringing us joy and satiating our need for roaming the world. Until then, be patient, be smart, be safe, and respect life—your own, as well as others.

Tonight at midnight we will gladly wave goodbye to 2020 and find our 2021 happy place. Most of us have been dreaming 2021 for a long time. Now that it is right around the last corner, enjoy this time to make peace with the world; find peace in your own heart. Have a safe and Happy New Year!

ENJOY THE PROCESS AND JOY
OF VIRTUAL TRIP PLANNING!

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS AND ALL THROUGH THE HOUSE

A series of essays....

ACKNOWLEDGING THE SPIRIT, GRACE AND BEAUTY OF THE CARDINAL

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

I am sitting in my favorite spot watching the light slowly peek through and begin to illuminate the world outside the windows. Such a slow process it is this time of year. The new light drags its feet as if it doesn’t care if it makes an appearance this morning or not; challenging the circadian rhythm of my life with its weakness and ineptitude.

But then, everything about our lives this past year has been tested, provoked, and attacked in one way or another. 

Whether or not we are strong enough, well prepared, and hopeful going into this next year is for us to figure out. 2021 is right around the corner and there’s nothing to stop it from rolling into our lives and assisting in making a brand new year flexible enough to accommodate and manipulate what each one of us needs in order to go forward in this lifetime; maintain the rhythm that can make and keep us whole in the future.

Crying when it’s least expected has been an emotional response of mine throughout the past ten months. Tears can be bitter reminders of the loss of better times, the longing for blessed security, and having the option of being able to provide food and protection for the ones you love. Too many families have had these basic rights stripped away from them by a government that was initially established to protect these rights at all costs.

Since the beginning of this worldwide pandemic we have been governed by a person who does everything he can to harm instead of uplift our lives. Even with only a few days left in his one and only term, his appeal for hatred and revenge rates high on his farewell agenda. When you know better, you are supposed to do better. Obviously, no one ever taught him this simple and beautiful rule of being human.

When the spirit of loved ones who have passed take their shape from animal forms and watch over and protect us as our Native Americans have faithfully observed forever, we are truly blessed. Believing in this power of spiritual guidance has gotten me through some of the tears and sadness of the past four years when confronted with hatefulness and greed.

While living in Orlando, Florida, for twenty-three years, I had the good fortune of being loved and watched over by a beautiful cardinal. He had appeared in the corner of a transom window at the front of our home upon three occasions over a period of several years. I instinctively knew whom he represented and would stare back at him, mesmerized but alert to what he was trying to tell me.

After gaining my attention by pecking on the glass, we would stare at one another for a lengthy period of time. The calmness that penetrated every cell of my being remained with me forever after one of these experiences. I have attempted to capture our ‘silent’ conversation in my poem, Breathless:

BREATHLESS

Several sharp taps on the transom’s glass 

pique her curiosity while two obsidian eyes

follow her movements and begin to absorb

any negative energy in the room. The fiery

red plumage and distinctive black mask of

this cardinal exudes familiarity. His quizzical

manor harmless; fixed gaze through the glass 

is steady and comfortably aware.

I have missed you. My garden always welcomes you

with shelter, food, and protection for your young.

I know, he says with a slight tilt of the head.

Where did you go? I longed for your crimson flash

darting into the viburnum shrubs after the hunt. You,

your lady, and open-mouthed babes were safe—for

the time being.

Don’t be so possessive. I’m here for you now, aren’t I?

Truthfully, I’ve never left. But, you have been unmindful

sitting smugly in your air-conditioned palace. I know

my place.

What message do you have for me this time, Mother?

Breathe.

Only to breathe?

I am the hinge that opens your mind between Earth

and Spirit. I do not make this trip without purpose.

Trust in yourself and you will bring clarity out of 

confusion. Love and forgive, my child.

That can be a difficult task.

Life is about being one gesture away from instability

or balance.

In an instant the vibrant creature flies away leaving her transfixed; genuinely—

breathless.

Mom rarely displayed explosive outbursts in her lifetime. In fact, for a fiery redhead, this was considered highly unusual and many who loved her wished she had spoken up for herself more often. She did, however, own a genuine demonstrative manner and a great sense of humor. This is why I knew that the gentle creature who tapped on my window pane to look down at me with its volcanic stare was my very own spirit guide. This time around she vowed to be as vibrant as possible, display her brightest plumage, and hoped to be listened to as she continued to look after and protect the people she loves. After all, there is no gender specification when it comes to the guardians of our souls and bodies.

I humbly wish all of you, with special appreciation to all of my faithful readers, a Merry Christmas and very happy and positive life changing New Year! Stay safe and healthy and we’ll get to where we need to be, eventually.

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

THE COOKIE JAR

 

A series of essays....

THE COOKIE JAR PASSES THROUGH
TIME AND GENERATIONS...

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

There she sits, in all her glory. The apple-shaped outline keeps teasing my thoughts. Each little crack and crevice oozing  memories of a time and place so far away and long ago that they pull me back into my Grandma’s kitchen on the farm. Once again, I’m a small child seeking approval from the adults and trying so hard to fit in with my siblings and cousins that share with me the joys and freedom that farm life provides.

Even after riding on the tractor fender, holding on for dear life, while Grandpa navigated the furrowed fields, we wanted more and more of everything the farm had to offer. We were never disappointed. I remember how the chickens maddeningly clucked while we collected their precious offerings. Some eggs were cooked and eaten for breakfast. The majority of them, after being flame-checked, were placed in cartons to be taken to the local farmer’s market to sell.

The eggs that made it into the farmhouse kitchen on Grandma’s baking days were the ones that most interested us. Grandma was a consummate baker and the magic she weaved within the old coal-fired cook stove and oven, the coiled handles of the metal grates begging to be lifted to expose the heat source below, was woven around us kids like cotton candy on paper sticks at the county fair.

As rich and crisp as a Poilane biscuit in France, my Grandma’s buttery apple tarts, cream puffs, eclairs, cakes, buttermilk biscuits, and breads could rival any pastry chef’s delights found in Paris, today! 

AN EXAMPLE OF GRANDMA’S
FARM STOVE/OVEN

GRANDMA IS ON THE LEFT SIDE, THIRD PERSON BACK.
YOURS TRULY IS SEATED IN THE FOREFRONT, RIGHT SIDE.
GRANDMA’S COAL-FIRED COOK STOVE AND OVEN
CAN BE SEEN IN THE BACK LEFT OF THE PHOTO.

Photo courtesy of Linda McCombs Williams

Her kitchen was gigantic and spanned the entire depth of the farmhouse and was, probably, fourteen feet wide. It was the heart of the house and Grandma kept it beating in a steady rhythm while feeding family in numbers anywhere from the two of them to twenty-two on Christmas Day. The long, wooden table running down the middle of the room served as her prep bench when we weren’t sitting down at it and enjoying one of her meals. 

For us kids, it was the happiest room in the house! After working hard with Grandpa in the old barn, or having enjoyed a long romp in the apple orchard, we would migrate to the warmth of the kitchen where we knew ‘The Cookie Jar’ would be filled with treats meant for wild and playful grandchildren. Again, we were never disappointed.

CHECK-OUT ‘THE COOKIE JAR’
IN THE BACKGROUND

GRANDMA’S COOKIE JAR KEEPING WATCH

BREAK OUT THE ROYAL ICING

ALL OF MY LITTLE HELPERS WORKING
TOGETHER LIKE A FINE OILED MACHINE

Grandma, a smear of flour highlighting her cheek, would make sure we washed our hands. Then came the joyous sound of ceramic gliding over ceramic as the apple-stemmed lid gently slid away exposing sweet goodies she’d recently extracted from the oven. We had no clue if today meant sugar, peanut butter, chocolate chip, molasses, or oatmeal—but our small hands eagerly reached inside the belly of the apple to find out. Large glasses of milk suddenly appeared on the table to dunk with and create frothy white mustaches on our upper lips after  guzzling down the cold, refreshing beverage.

It always amazed me how Grandma could soothe the pain of scraped elbows and knees by merely opening that lid to our exploring hands. The simple presence of that blushing, ceramic vessel championed sudden impulses and often we were caught, literally, with a hand in the cookie jar. 

Now that we’ve moved back up to Michigan and close to our own grandchildren, standard traditions dictate Christmas cookie bake-offs and hours spent in my own kitchen. Last Saturday my daughter, grands, and I pulled-off a baking marathon with the scent of ginger, cloves, and cinnamon wafting throughout the house. There she sits, in all of her glory. Dusted with wayward flour and sporting more hairline cracks than ever before, ‘The Cookie Jar’ watches over us. Her splendid apple form and stemmed lid reminding me that what goes around comes around.

I inherited from my Grandparents the one and only item that means so many things to me. As it pleasantly evokes my own childhood memories of long, playful times on the farm, running between the tall corn stalks with my cousin, Vicki, and picking wild raspberries along the one-lane entrance path, I am grateful for the opportunity of showcasing it in my own kitchen. What pure joy to be filling it up with sweet, baked treats with our grandchildren!

Even though I’m not one hundred percent sure that Grandma was turning a blind eye (ear) to our sneak attacks into cookie heaven, I do know that when I hear the faint rubbing sounds of a ceramic lid sliding out of position, life is good and is how it was always meant to be. It is so satisfying to think that ‘The Cookie Jar’ continues to create new memories for the little ones that mean so much to us.

CHRISTMAS MUSIC FOR THE SOUL

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2021 to everyone! 

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

SPACES

 

A series of essays....

French artist, Henri Matisse, used flat colors to create
spaces in his Red Room (Harmony in Red)1908.

   

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Spaces can be beautiful things. They were created to calm the weary soul between bouts of upheaval; before the spirit can be crushed under the pressure of tempestuousness storms. Spaces offer relief and respite from ourselves. We can be grateful for this downtime. It is meditation for the soul and sanity for the mind and allows us the freedom to gulp fresh air and new ideas before carrying on. As humans, we can perform at our greatest potential if we offer ourselves time-outs, spaces for reflection, as we contemplate our next move, solve the next problem—recreate the world. A space in time is our sigh of relief when we exhale audibly in one long, deep breath releasing collected sorrow and weariness; a whispered exhalation suggesting the sound of trees sighing in the wind while we’re on a walk through a forest. The spaces between the trees define the paths that we follow while the space high above us offers an azure blue sky drifting between the bundles of broad leaves forming the crown of the tall, majestic trees. Our collective sighs surround the bracts and catkins, the likes of the Trembling Aspen whose leaves vibrate and quiver in the wind.

Wherewouldawriterbewithoutspaces?

Spaces define perimeters denoting boundaries that we have chosen to respect and abide by. Giving our neighbor his own ‘space’ in which to function as he sees fit is akin to respecting the fence he has installed to secure his property believing that he will respect our own private spaces in return. As some spaces deal with ownership and free will, others imply colloquial and basic parameters of daily life: A parking space, a space between your front teeth, the space between residential housing, spacing plantings a certain distance apart, the wide, open spaces of the Great Plains, the space of time between one action to be followed by a similar action, and the three-dimensional area around us, including the universe where stars and planets exist. Space, as one of the classic ‘seven elements of art’ refers to the distances or areas around, between, and within components of a piece. In art, the use of space can even be used to distort reality. One of the best ways to explain the use of space in art might be: Painters imply space, photographers capture space, sculptors rely on space and form, and architects build space. 

The use of space within an artistic format is sometimes nothing but an illusion; magic for the eyes.

An intermission placed in the middle of a performance offers the audience a space of time in order to contemplate and process the meaning of the first half so that they can more informedly approach the final act. If this intermission is applied to our own life span, might it be labeled ‘middle-age’ as in one’s prime, mature adulthood, seasoned, educated, and more reasonable than one’s undisciplined and often reckless youthful self? If we solemnly believe this, our second act should be driven by the mature lead of past examples, lessons learned via our mistakes, and the culmination of wisdom and truth that only the passing of time can provide. Keeping all of this in mind makes growing older a means of creating assets of great importance from each of us and being able to share this wealth of knowledge and experience with others of all ages. Even though, given the relatively short scale of existence one person has on this Earth we call home, this space of time may seem trivial compared to the span of history. But, it is long enough to capture in memory the heart and soul of every person and pass their ethereal existence down through the passage of time.

Researchers describe the interpersonal distances of man (the relative distances between people) in four distinct zones: intimate, personal, social, and public space. The implication of the importance of social spacing has impacted us today with great force, its reverberation can be felt around the world. From the largest cities to the smallest villages, remaining at least six feet apart from others during social and public settings may bring us one step closer to eliminating the deadly impact of Coronavirus.

Wear a mask, social distance outside of your home, and please regard the life of those around you as you would your own—with respect and love. Give everyone the ‘space’ they require to move forward!

Copyright © 2020 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved