RIDING ALONG ON A NATURAL HIGH: RESEARCH AND SCIENCE AT ITS BEST!

A series of essays....

MY NURSE WAS GENTLE AND KIND WITH A GREAT SENSE OF HUMOR!

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

How does one finally react after receiving something you’ve had to wait for and wanted for such a long time? Well, I will tell you how I reacted: positively giddy! About as happy as anyone has a right to be. I’m still not certain if the Pfizer vaccine jabbed into the upper portion of my left arm had anything directly to do with it, chemically speaking, but I’m sure this act opened-up a large dose of emotions I’d been holding back for quite a while.

After hoping and wishing for and dreaming about being scheduled for our inoculation here in Kalamazoo (with the Portage Pfizer operations just a few miles down the road from our house), for weeks now, the email arrived last week inviting us to schedule our appointments for this past Tuesday as new supplies had been allocated for Michigan. After complying, Dan and I found ourselves high-fiving each other and giggling and stepping a bit lighter all last week!

We’d missed the boat during the last go around of shots while many of our friends were already receiving their second shot in the series of two with the Pfizer vaccine. I have yet to hear of anyone I know having been administered the Moderna vaccine.  

So, we woke-up on Tuesday morning and dressed for both the bitter cold weather and the act of easily exposing our upper arm for the generous gift from science and the first step towards bringing life as we enjoyed it in the past back to fruition—for all of us! I did not like being left out of the equation for so long; deprived of participating in a life I missed and longed for again.

For all of you who know me, when confronted with a choice between snow boots or flip flops, the latter wins every time. Until now. Socks, boots, fake-fur hooded coat, and gloves all contributed to my proud Michelin Woman image. Stuffing myself in the car for our short trip to the designated venue was such a joy. I felt like a small child heading to Orlando for my first trip to Walt Disney World. Seriously special!

The people working at the Kalamazoo County Expo Center were kind, efficient, caring, and helpful all rolled-up into one organized entity. I found myself skipping from one station to another, from Kilimanjaro Safaris to Expedition Everest, on my journey through the cavernous rooms of the building and smiling along the way. 

We reached the ‘holy gates,’ otherwise known as Station #4, and were guided to Table E to await instructions. By this time, I would have attempted a backflip if they’d asked me to. There was plenty of room. It was amusing to look around to see some people in various stages of undress, though. Several older gentlemen had stripped down to bare chests, suspenders casually draping down their sides, almost as though they anticipated the shot penetrating their upper buttocks or thigh as if they were small children once again.

After swabbing my arm with alcohol and saying, “This will prick only slightly,” it was all over. My first question was, “Why are so many people afraid of getting a shot?” One nurse at Station #4, Table E, answered me with a political twist stating that many are still not sure if the vaccine is real and if it works and won’t subject themselves to it. But, my own nurse knew what I meant and relayed a story of how one person fainted dead away when the syringe came two feet from them. Both answers evoked a reaction from me as, with scientific endeavors throughout the years, people will always see science and progress in a different light based upon beliefs instilled in them by the various teachings in their own background.

At Station #5 we set-up our second shot appointment for three weeks later and sat-out our ‘observation’ time period before leaving the building.

TWO HIGHLY PRECIOUS PROOF OF VACCINATION CARDS!

Jumping into the car, a broad smile spread across my face. And, by the time we drove over to our daughter’s house where we planned on having lunch with her and our two grandchildren who were enjoying a ‘snow day,’ I was full of vitality and spirit. I knew it was a natural high. I didn’t believe it was a reaction to the vaccine so recently taken. The power poured out of me like molten lava from a highly active volcano. It engulfed me with its natural energy as I elicited the strangest looks from husband, daughter, grandkids, and even their dog, Oreo. 

I played games on my grandson’s Oculus that required extremely exaggerated arm movements. I was feeling no pain. We played a dice game with the kids that generated laughter from the joy and happiness felt deep down inside. My lunch was devoured with the gusto of the starving and I reveled in a simple and sweet conversation with my beautiful daughter as she worked at her desk from her home office. She has been working from home for a year. Life as she had been accustomed to was becoming obsolete.

Meanwhile, I felt like a kid in a candy store; a woman shopping for an unlimited amount of shoes; the lady in a crowded room laughing louder than anyone else; the captured being released by the invaders; a person fully appreciating the freedom of being in the moment. By the time we said our goodbyes and arrived home, I crashed like the Hindenburg—fully engulfed in flames and without a single bit of fight left in me.

Having the first round of the precious vaccine opened up the world and helped me see the endless opportunities ahead for all of us. With a bit more caution and common sense applied, we can love, laugh, socialize, move about the cabin on our own terms, and be the curious creatures we have been and are meant to be. Eventually, we will get to hug and hold each other, kiss a friend, as well as be surrounded by others in all social settings that had been taken for granted not long ago.

My ‘natural high’ was a release of pressure that had been building-up for months. Like a tea kettle when its contents comes to a boil, it can make the kettle’s whistle create ear piercing pitches of sound. Coming down from such a high can be an experience in itself. Sleep. Sleep and more sleep was the remedy to neutralizing my emotions. Honestly, this was the eye-opening event I’d been hoping for for weeks. I can’t help but feel among the blessed and the grateful. What an amazing experience!

If 2020 has taught us anything, it’s that our health is the most important thing we have. Do whatever it takes to get your own vaccine inoculation and feel the euphoria for yourself. Continue to wear your face masks no matter what and always take care of yourself and others.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

AHH—THE MAGNIFICENT SHORT MONTH OF FEBRUARY!

 

A Series of essays....

 
DRIVEWAY CHALK ART BY MY GRANDCHILDREN, DATED APRIL 3, 2020,
DURING THE INITIAL MONTHS OF THE CORONAVIRUS PANDEMIC.

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

A Select List of February Monthly Holidays and Observances:

• Chinese New Year
• Groundhog Day
• Valentine’s Day
• President’s Day
• Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday
• Black History Month
• American Heart Month
• Friendship Month
• Library Lovers Month
• Chocolate Lovers Month
• National Dental Month

With Valentine’s Day fast approaching, coupled with the personal confinement of this COVID-laced world we live in, we have learned how to be a bit more creative when it comes to celebrating this year. Yes, a bit less adventurous, yet more open-minded and realistic allowing us to see and love the world in a much deeper sense while retaining the romantic value of a heart-shaped box of chocolates and freshly cut roses.

I’ve always been a hopeless romantic and can visualize its potential in everything, every place, and everyone I know or hope to meet one day! You might say it began with formal tea parties with stuffed animals which grew into tiny, porcelain tea cups adorned with hand-painted roses and filled with water poured from a matching teapot to be shared with my friends on a sunny front porch in late June. When I close my eyes the smell of ginger delights my senses as I recall the crisp snap of the tea cookies we’d eat with our cuppa tea.

As a young wife I would create a full Bed-and-Breakfast feast for my husband on weekend mornings when we’d sit and discuss our future and where we hoped to travel to when financially possible. Oh, I was definitely the dreamer, the romantic back in the day while Dan struggled to maintain the realism required to keep us stable with feet planted firmly on the ground. Thank goodness!

In our own way, Dan and I kept our dreams alive, our goals intact, and learned throughout the years how to mesh our ideas together and create a life that satisfied both of us. Eventually, this included two daughters who broadened our circle of love and helped shape our close knit family for many years.

Today, I find it highly appropriate that this special day of sharing love is sandwiched right in the middle of the shortest month of the year and serves to anchor, balance if you will, Black History Month. Carter G. Woodson, known as the ‘Father of Black History,’ dedicated his career to the field of African American history and lobbied extensively to establish Black History Month. 

DR. CARTER G. WOODSON

Dedicating himself to the field of African American history after being the second African American to receive his Ph.D. from Harvard University in 1912, Doctor Woodson authored numerous books during his career which include A Century of Negro Migration (1918), The History of the Negro Church (1921), and The Negro in Our History (1922). You might say he was a bit of a romantic and a dreamer, as well!

Biography Newsletter notes that Doctor Woodson “lobbied schools and organizations to participate in a special program to encourage the study of African American history, which began in February 1926 with Negro History Week and choosing the second week of February to coincide with the birthdays of Frederick Douglas and President Abraham Lincoln.” The program was soon expanded and renamed Black History Month. 

It wasn’t until fifty years later that President Gerald Ford officially recognized Black History Month in 1976. He called upon the public to “seize the opportunity to honor the too-often neglected accomplishments of Black Americans in every area of endeavor throughout our history.”

Growing up a young, white female in the 1950’s and ‘60’s, the plight of the Black Americans touched me in one way or another every day of my life. You see, for some reason I can’t totally explain, I never saw humans categorized by their color or religion. Eventually, I did come to the realization that others did. Perhaps it was my strict Catholic upbringing by many diverse and honorable nuns who taught that God does not see His children through a lens of color or stigmatized by a particular religious belief. May God bless these ladies with His love and grace!

Alongside the Black achievements throughout history we were taught in school, it was the Black struggle that etched its mark on me, especially in the early 1960’s. The peace, love, and kindness displayed by Dr. Martin Luther King and his close followers helped to meld the radical Black groups, fists held high in pride and protest, with the gentle nature of Doctor King and his beliefs of how to genuinely portray the Black struggle with head held high and ideals held even higher!

Did I fully understand the blending of Woman’s Rights, Black struggles, and the beginnings of Gay Rights emerging as the common threads weaving their way through an unpopular war being played out in a country called Viêtnam? My entire college career was based upon and centered around all of the above struggles with the hope of achieving progress by embracing their cause and understanding their history.

I have always embraced being a product of the 1960’s and influenced by the particular circumstances of each cause presented to my generation. Sadly, after centuries have passed, we continue to struggle with all of these issues while time has proven that multiple generations have unsuccessfully passed through the eye of the needle and into the Kingdom of Acceptance and Love.

Today, I remember that little girl passing out small cups of tea and plates of cookies to her friends on a sunny afternoon and cherish the memory of an innocent moment dictated by a splash of etiquette and whimsy. How proud she would soon be to know that her ultimate ideals will include the betterment of ALL lives while holding on to the notion that this knowledge can and should be shared with everyone.

Because of my beliefs and the passing of time, I already knew how life was filled with strife and adversity; to love and be loved leaves us vulnerable, susceptible to temptation, and being wounded both physically and emotionally. But, who knew that the month of February could contain so much knowledge, history, celebration, and love all crammed into the shortest month of the year?

As I make the coffee and bake an apple Dutch Baby pancake for my particular Love this Sunday morning, I will remember the little girl, college student, young wife and mother, career woman, and friend I’ve become to others via the passing of time. I will be grateful for the numerous accomplishments, as well as the personal strife that have served to shape the person I am today.   

We have so much to be proud of during this month. I encourage you to take time to rejoice in the dedication of people like Carter G. Woodson for keeping the achievements and struggles of Black people alive and strong. Be prepared to stretch this one month of Hope and Love throughout the remaining eleven months of the year and share the positive results with those you love every day of your life. Let’s make each day another Valentine’s Day and give Groundhog Day a bit of a rest.

Happy Valentine’s Day! Stay safe and healthy and protect the people you love. This defines Romanticism for me.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photos Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

ACCOUNTABILITY

 

A series of essays....

A TRULY MAGICAL PLACE: FLIGHT OF STEPS LEADING UP INTO THE LIGHT!
THE SEVEN CHURCHES OF GLENDALOUGH, COUNTY WICKLOW, IRELAND

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

As our country becomes charged and electrified by the emergence of positive change, it becomes more and more imperative that we thoroughly examine exactly how and by whom we got where we are today in terms of being led by someone completely inept and uniquely dysfunctional. Doesn’t this describe the world we were forced to live in for the past four years? It is time to hold those responsible for stirring up this pot of ‘crazy’ justifiably accountable.

Accountability is the expectation or requirement to account for one's actions; to be answerable for the negligence of leadership responsibilities that have led to the hardship, lack of peace of mind, and untimely death of so many people by not properly managing a swiftly spreading pandemic. To allow anyone to blatantly shirk or even deny their responsibility of placing the lives of others in any form of danger only adds more names and faces to the list of those to be held accountable for their actions or lack thereof. 

Some might contend that if you want people to be accountable, you have to create an environment that fosters accountability and you have to be accountable yourself. If our current leadership drops the ball on holding those liable for their actions then we, as a nation, must and will suffer the consequences of our inactions. The new leaders in Washington D.C. understand this explicitly and cannot allow themselves to turn a blind eye to treacherous acts if they are to be responsible for leading us into a secure future. 

This is not the time to rest on one’s laurels, accept the irresponsible actions of the past, and make no further effort to improve life as we know it. With so much misinformation and an underlying current of hatred and mistrust bubbling around us, we can’t afford to ignore its source and not make him accountable for placing us in the depths of despair and having to have others dig us out. 

Allowing ourselves to admit to having thrown the ball that broke our neighbor’s window should be enough to promote responsibility for our actions. Telling your neighbor that you will do chores to earn the money to pay for the window is taking full accountability for your actions. Blaming others is easy. Being accountable can be difficult. However, being accountable for your actions displays integrity and the adherence to a strict ethical code; ideals that have been completely ignored and thrown out of the window during the last administration.

It is time—it is time to set a good example for all of us, for our children, for future generations, as well as for the rest of the world and let them know that those displaying a moral compass are back and performing beautifully. We must not and will not allow those responsible for failure, amoral practices, and especially the death of so many innocent people, go free and not be forced to account for lack of good consciousness and ownership of all of their past actions. At the same time, we have an affirmative obligation to all Americans to move ahead and get things done. It is time. It is time to be accountable!

Remember to wear a mask even if you have received your vaccination. Protect everyone, including yourself. We’re all in this together!

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photo copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

EDINBURGH IN THE MOONLIGHT

 

A series of essays....

HANGING OUT ON FREDERICK STREET—IN OUR PAJAMAS—
UNDER A CRESCENT MOON.

 

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

The story takes me back to a wind blown store front somewhere along Frederick Street, New Town, Edinburgh, Scotland. The time was shortly after midnight. Even though it appeared that a slight drizzle might threaten us, a sliver of moon was visible between wispy clouds as several vehicles, their lights strobed across the store fronts, pulled up in front of the hotel. I remember as if it were just last week; the four of us huddled together on the front steps of the Eteaket Tea Room located across the street from our home for two nights, the Frederick House Hotel. 

We kept blinking in order to keep our eyes open and be able to take everything in. Wrapping our jackets tighter around our pajama-clad bodies, we speculated as to which area of the hotel might be burning. We hadn’t smelled any smoke on our recent journey down the open stairwell. Stretching our necks up towards the front windows of the top floor, we located our rooms still glowing from the lights, hastily turned on, and shining like two beacons over the Edinburgh nightscape .

“Man, I’d finally fallen asleep when the alarm started blaring.” Caught between jet lag and an adrenaline rush, Dan’s face said it all. Actually, all of our faces did. 

“Maybe we’re still dreaming,” Marsha contributed. “I would never wear this outfit out on a cold, late September night at home!” she grinned while looking around at our faces and flimsy clothing being continuously splashed blue in the bright wash of lights from the Scottish Fire And Rescue Service vehicles lined up across the street.

The large group of young, French students sharing the hotel with us massed together along the sidewalk in a football huddle formation attempting to keep warm. Other guests chose to stand curbside and take quick snaps of the procedures taken to secure the building and right what was wrong. And, finally, after nearly thirty, teeth-chattering minutes, our hotel manager stood before us with the news that all was clear. “This has happened before when a basement switch malfunctions and sends notice to emergency services of a potential problem. We apologize profusely and want you to know that you will be able to sleep comfortably and safely now. We are very, very sorry for this inconvenience.” Did an apology sound better in a Scottish accent?

As all of the weary guests, most of us clutching purses or satchels containing our passports and cash, made their way back across the street, the boys of the Scottish Fire And Rescue Service were wrapping things up and exchanging some final words with our hotel manager. 

We climbed the stairs with the hope that slinking back under the warm covers would make everything better.

Reflecting back on the arduous day we had just had beginning with the long, night flight out of Detroit and landing at Edinburgh Airport, mid-morning UK time, jet lag seemed to be our greatest concern. The bus driver taking us into the city passed a block away from our hotel but held on to his original destination along North Bridge Street and nearly three quarters of a mile from Frederick House Hotel. At least we got the ‘lay of the land’ perched above the crowd as we were. So, backtracking and pulling our numerous pieces of luggage along behind us, we rolled along Princess Street in the shadow of Edinburgh Castle and along the edge of Princess Street Gardens until we found Frederick Street, once again. 

Our pre-arranged accommodations were clean and cozy and the soft, comfortable bed with its crisp, white linen enticed our weary minds and bodies. Being up on the top floor of our hotel gave us the advantage of a glorious view of the city all the way across the bay to the north and out to the North Sea. Bonus!

Realizing that attending to our need for nourishment rose even higher in importance than our need for sleep, Michael, having gone back down to speak with the concierge, was told about the best place to look for a satisfying, local meal within walking distance. “She said to backtrack towards Princess Street and when we come to Rose Street, take either a right or left. There are plenty of shops and restaurants either way,” Michael explained.

We hung a right on Rose Street which turned out to be a quaint, pedestrian alley lined with small shops and enticing restaurants. With amazing aromas wafting all around, we decided to step inside a restaurant/pub filled with an abundance of laughter and bright, rosy faces. The establishment looked like a nice mix of tourists along with locals out for a pint and a bite before heading home. Some were already lifting cream-topped pints of Guinness while others waited for theirs to ‘settle’ nicely while resting on the two-tiered drain near the taps along the top of the bar. 

“I don’t know about everyone else, but I would like, no—I need a Guinness and an order of fish-n-chips!” I cheerfully exclaimed, after the bartender seated us in a cozy booth adjacent to the bar with the promise to return, shortly. Our first meal in Edinburgh was not disappointing and set the stage for many delightful meals to come during our week long exploration of Scotland. (I still dream about the risotto I thoroughly enjoyed in a small restaurant outside of Stirling Castle.)

Walking back up Rose Street and getting closer to our ill-fated destiny and midnight rendezvous on the front stoop of a tea room, shivering and wondering where the hotel fire might be, we decided to forgo further exploration and get the much needed sleep we required. “Good night, good night, good night, John Boy,” we recited from our respective doorways. “See you downstairs for breakfast around eight?” we inquired. With that, a good night’s sleep was all we asked for. After all, climbing up to Edinburgh Castle and trekking along High Street and the Royal Mile the next day would take stamina and clear minds.

It was a good plan until the fire alarm interrupted the entire building with its shrill, staccato screams meant to awaken every soul in the building. Success!

Now that the dust had settled from our bone chilling experience outside, we realized that we’d be talking about this unsettling ordeal for years to come; hopefully, in a much more jovial and lighthearted way. Finally, we snuggled back into bed to sleep the remainder of the night away; visions of sugar plums and old castles drifting in and out of our dreams.

In a more perfect world, this would be the case. However, our introduction to Edinburgh, Scotland had a completely different plan in mind for four weary travelers from Michigan, USA! As if still in the fog-like snare of loud alarms and multitudes of feet tramping down open stairwells, it was difficult to shake dream state from reality when sirens assaulted us for the second time!! Checking the time, just after three o’clock, we found ourselves in a true ‘Groundhog Day’ scenario a few hours later.

“Okay, we can do this. We can put on more clothes than last time because we know the drill,” I, almost too casually, said to my husband who was swiftly slipping on jeans, socks, and a warm sweater. I truly admired him right at that moment. “This is crazy, I know, but what can we do?” Dan said. “Let’s make sure Michael and Marsha are ready to go back out into the street for round #2.”

ROUND NUMBER TWO ~ 
SCOTTISH FIRE BRIGADE

I was feeling extremely sorry for anyone who might have taken sleep enhancing medication before going to bed that night. What a daunting experience this would have been for them. Then again, taking some form of drugs seemed very appropriate this time around. Same scenario; same place of refuge; same throbbing blue lights, same duty shift for the boys of the Scottish Fire And Rescue Service; same malfunctioning switch in the basement; same (similar) amount of time out in the frigid, early morning temps; and same shame-faced manager fearing that everyone would ask for monetary compensation after all was said and done. We didn’t go there.

The same moon (only shifted a bit in the night sky) stared down at us as though the Cheshire Cat was mischievously flashing his huge grin. What a welcome we had been given by mysterious Scotland during our first night there. Did we pass your test given to first-timers? Actually, that’s all the four of us ever really wanted to know.

Stay safe. Stay strong. Wear your mask and we’ll get through this.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photos Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved 

REFLECTIONS OF THE TIMES

 

A series of essays....

REFLECTIONS OF JOYFULNESS AS THE WHITE HOUSE 
IS ILLUMINATED WITH FIREWORKS AND COLOR
ON THE EVENING OF INAUGURATION DAY!

Photo Courtesy of The Wall Street Journal

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

“The music didn’t help. It was upbeat and cheerful, but it had a way of getting into your blood and making you want to feel as alive as humanly possible.”

— The Irish Cottage: Finding Elizabeth by Juliet Gauvin

Music...

This particular quote epitomizes how many of us feel this Inauguration Week. Even while we’re still reeling from the past four years of non-leadership and constant frustration and so many lies—the filtering of Irish music into our souls in the form of a good man by the name of Joe Biden cannot be helped. His music is upbeat, cheerful, and strong and makes us feel as alive and hopeful as humanly possible; as delighted and visceral as an Irish Step Dance performed on a Saturday night.

So, this is not the time for any of us to wallow in sadness any longer. Certainly there are a multitude of duties to be performed by the ‘powers that be’ in Congress which includes an impending trial within the Senate. President Biden (I can’t tell you just how good this title sounds!) and his new staff of intelligent, hard working, and forthright human beings have hit the ground running in order to expedite the changes needed to reverse a legacy never wanted in the first place.

I sit here, alone, as the sun rises over the pristine facade of our Capitol Building reflecting the shimmer of hope that resides in our hearts this golden morning. I am at peace. I am at peace with myself. I am feeling the peace of Irish music flowing around and through me, upbeat and cheerful—enticing me to feel more alive than I’ve felt in over four years.

“To heal we must remember.” — From the Inauguration Speech of President Joe Biden

Change...

His physical body might be in a different place, but his damaged mind and corrupt heart will remain with him wherever he goes. Because he is such a hateful man and perpetrator of horrific crimes against the wellbeing of others, no matter where he resides, this will never change; he will never be able to see or enjoy the positive light that illuminates those of sound mind and character.

It is entirely up to us to make good change happen. We must believe in ourselves and the power of acceptance and unity in order to wake-up with joy in our hearts. Joe Biden and Kamala Harris are only the competent hors-d'œuvres! There is a long road ahead of us. We must not become complacent knowing that good people are, once again, placed by we the people, in pivotal positions designed to create laws of responsible protection, leadership, and future advancements for ALL of the citizens of this great nation.

Before the full blast of unity can be achieved, our immediate agenda needs to pinpoint equality as its main goal. I don’t believe unity can be fully met until we understand how important it is to see all people equal in one another’s eyes. I’ve written often before about how the elimination of white supremacy in this country is the premier ticket to the unification of our people. Once we eliminate separation by color and class and fully embrace diversity, with means of education and advancement—unification will always be left drifting in the rear view mirror.

“Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished.” — Amanda Gorman, American Poet

Hope...

Shortly after January 6, 2021, a friend was feeling down and out and floundering in the muddy existence of disgust and fear. I proceeded to write her back with these words of encouragement: “Hope is a commodity, as useful and valuable as water is precious...never lose it.” Never, never lose hope. Lose some weight, lose a bad attitude, or lose the feeling that the world revolves solely around you—but, never allow yourself to lose the feeling that what we want or expect can be had if we truly desire it badly enough. 

It is time to fall in love with life again. We must find areas of our life that are working well and capitalize on them.  It’s time to be totally aware of how someone has emotionally affected us in such a way that they have opened up our mind to feeling happy and absolutely appreciative of the world around us. We must be able to wake up in the morning and instantly tap into that blissful feeling of appreciation and carry it with us throughout the day! Dare we hope that this feeling will awaken our spirits and allow us to love life again?

Walls of apprehension shall be torn down in order to make way for positive deeds and thoughts; new chapters of our life. I deeply hope that through the guidance and leadership of our new administration brand new attitudes and avenues are explored, widened, and fortified with the spirit of our Founding Fathers, the characteristics of a new Renaissance period, and the wisdom and love of Reverend Martin Luther King Jr., Congressman John Lewis, and Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg! Indeed, our cup would runneth over if we only dared to hope.

“American Aspiration is what drove the women in this nation, throughout history, to demand equal rights.” — From the Inauguration Speech of Vice President Kamala Harris

I hope you stay safe, happy, and healthy. Always take good care of yourselves and those you love.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

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

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