Earth Delights

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This is one of my favorite lines from Gibran's body of work. How wonderful to personify Nature and know she loves you so? ~~GH

[Tomorrow: I Usta]

Guest Musician: Priscilla Ahn

This song was recorded nearly five years ago, but I only recently heard it for the first time. Priscilla Ahn's voice is sweet, crystal clear. The song is too. And I love how the harmonica is brought in right before the last verse. The raucous tone of the harp against the music-box quality of Ahn's voice and guitar strumming is pretty powerful and unusual.

I relate to the first part of the song. Love the dreamy aspect. The lyrics kind of weaken in the last verse, but not enough to ruin it for me.

I'm not a music critic, don't play one even on the Internet, and this is as close to critiquing a song as I'll ever get. Not sure why I did it this time, even. ~~GH

I was a little girl alone in my little world who dreamed of a little home for me. 
I played pretend between the trees, and fed my houseguests bark and leaves, and laughed in my pretty bed of green. 

I had a dream 
That I could fly from the highest swing. 
I had a dream. 

Long walks in the dark through woods grown behind the park, I asked God who I'm supposed to be. 
The stars smiled down on me, God answered in silent reverie. I said a prayer and fell asleep. 

I had a dream 
That I could fly from the highest tree. 
I had a dream. 

Now I'm old and feeling grey. I don't know what's left to say about this life I'm willing to leave. 
I lived it full and I lived it well, there's many tales I've lived to tell. I'm ready now, I'm ready now, I'm ready now to fly from the highest wing. 

I had a dream

West Virginia: A Poem

Hills embrace everyone

Valleys snuggle all

Rivers course through our veins

Wind, our breath

Love, our song

Nature was born here

West Virginia 

~~GH

Guest Poet: Irene McKinney

Irene McKinney was West Virginia's Poet Laureate from January 1994 until her death in February 2012. I am only discovering her work. 

You have Irene McKinney (and my stubbornness) largely to thank for the absence of more of my personal poetry. My intentions were to write poetry, not prose. I wrote to her once, years ago, in the manner of a new writer seeking validation from an experienced one. 

I shall seek my answers within her poetry.

DARKNESS POEM Have you had enough darkness yet? No, I haven't had enough darkness. Have you had enough fire? Maybe. Enough wind and rain? Enough black ink? Ask me again, later. Have you had enough sugar? Definitely. Enough salt? No. I haven't had enough salt. Are you finished with wringing your hands? Definitely. Finished with spiders and silks And creatures of glamour? Probably not. Winsome looks? Completely. Pity? Never. I feel pity right now For everyone who got broken, Including me. Pity feels Like a sore and swollen heart Leaking blood and tears So hot they sting. Imagine that. Stay there. Have you had enough wind? No. Enough earth? No. Enough water? No, not nearly enough. Enough dirt to walk on? No. Never, never.

Nature, Grace, Redemption

(In honor of the first day of Autumn. ~GHC)

West Virginia roads suggest dancing. There is an innate rhythm to the undulations formed by lanes carved to shadow waterways that gently curve down the mountains. A sensuous sway of Nature's hips; she is a Mountain Woman making her way down the path with an apron full of walnuts in Autumn.~~GHC

Nature, Grace, Redemption

Each morning, Sun's light darts through thick foliage, seeking his mountain woman. He issues a clarion call to awaken and join him in the forest. He watches over her throughout the day even when she feels alone. She is courted by both Sun and Wind. The jealous suitors vie for her affection in an eternal battle.

Sun soothes her spirit, warms her body, lights her way in the gloom. Sun breaks the dark grasp of Winter, heralds the promise of Spring. Sun beats her in Summer, smothers her with his passion, lashes her with his harsh rays. His heat coaxes her musky essence; it drifts on the breeze. Mountain Woman lies panting and sweating in a verdant valley, drained and spent when he leaves her. She cries out from her spirit to Wind to come and bring relief.

Rivulets of perspiration trace the curves of her countenance and she dreams of Wind's sweet touch. Sensing her scent in the zephyr, Wind joins Mountain Woman. He whispers against her cheek, smoothes her hair. He strokes her everywhere at once. The hairs on her arms stand up as he wraps around and over and under her, finding his way into tiny crevices that Sun never discovers. Mountain Woman shivers from the sensation. He brushes her nipples, causing them to reach for his touch. He obliges.

But Wind is as cruel a lover as Sun. In Winter, he causes her hair to lash her face. He chaps her skin, chills her to the bone. In Winter, she sometimes weeps for Sun, wondering if he will ever return. Wind leaves as suddenly as he arrives, without warning every time. He is capricious, unlike faithful Sun who soars across the sky each morning and stays until nightfall when he settles into the trees like a bird returning to its nest.

Mountain Woman has a third lover: Night. Night too is faithful but undemanding. She waits until Sun leaves, gracious and patient for her turn. Her gentle fingers soothe Mountain Woman's tired spirit and restore her soul. She pulls Mountain Woman to her bosom, murmurs into her ear to rest, sleep, renew, and refresh.

Sometimes Wind comes while Mountain Woman lies within Night's arms. He rails against the walls, his jealousy evident. He howls outside her window, impotent and incapable of forcing her to unlatch her door and allow him in. He warns of Night's deceit.

Glittering diamonds emphasize Night's dark beauty. She offers gifts to Mountain Woman: the Moon and Stars. Night's jewels are sempiternal but cold and distant. They sparkle with false brilliance. Their light is mere reflection; their lives forfeit long ago. Like Mountain Woman, they cannot be possessed.

Mountain Woman wakens and makes her way down the hillside to the River. River is her true Love. River fills her every crevice, gentle and insistent, patient, persistent. Thorough. River caresses and treasures everything Mountain Woman offers and nothing more. If she deigns to only dip a dainty foot in, River caresses it, worships it. When Mountain Woman chooses to disrobe away from the prying eyes of Sun, Wind, or Night, and offers herself entirely into River's embrace, River welcomes her. River always accepts, never judges. River extends an invitation but never presses. Steady yet never stagnant, faithful yet not fawning, loving without lusting, River is the keeper of Mountain Woman's heart.

The Ineffable Essay

Here is the paper I composed last semester based on the answers to my questionnaire (Click to read post). Let me just observe that some of the statements I made regarding my marriage are exquisitely painful to read now, but Irony is what it is. Hey, when you write Truth, you write what you know to be true at the time. Truth is not set in stone, despite what you might believe.~~GHC

Why Choose to Keep Living When Life Is So Damned Hard?

I have always been fascinated with death. I worked as a terminal care nurse in the 1970s and 1980s. During those years as part of my job and also a result of my personal curiosity, I interviewed and counseled thousands of people about their feelings about death and dying.

I attended hundreds of deaths. I can attest that the process of dying is, in and of itself, painless. I do not fear the process of dying, and due to my belief in reincarnation and eternal life, I do not fear death (what comes after one dies).

Now I am a middle-aged woman who chooses to keep living despite a handful of illnesses. I see countless people struggle to keep living under the worst of circumstances. Popular media bombards us with negativity and hopelessness. Depression is rampant. Suicide is a very real component of society. Suicide rates by state ranged from 5.5 to 23.37 per 100,000 population in 2004 (Care). My fascination has shifted from death to what makes people want to stay alive. What is the underlying drive to stay alive?

It is a common misperception that human beings possess an innate desire to keep the species alive. This is referred to as the biological imperative. While most scientists do agree that single-celled organisms possess a true biological imperative, two-time finalist for the Pulitzer Prize and Johnstone Family Professor in the Department of Psychology at Harvard University Dr. Steven Pinker contends the true biological imperative in humans is sex drive, and not reproduction or a need to keep the species alive (Pinker). His research proves his point. In short, if humans possessed a true need to propagate, men would line up at sperm banks instead of strip clubs.

Many Christians believe they are charged by God to multiply and replenish the Earth. Yet Christian scripture references only two instances of “multiply and replenish” – once when mankind began in the Garden of Eden, and again after the world population was decimated following Noah’s flood. Thus the so-called “biological imperative” does not exist in either our innate biology or our souls (according to Christianity’s teachings).

So perhaps our motivation is less a desire to stay alive and more a fear of death? Human beliefs about death fall into three broad spectrums: resurrection, reincarnation, and ceasing to exist (Death). Individual beliefs exercise great influence on how people view life and death. Some religions teach there is a literal Hell. Some religions as well as many atheists believe that once we die, we cease to exist. Religions that teach resurrection promise life everlasting. And spiritualities that teach reincarnation tend to look forward to the next progression in life’s cycle.

It is understandable that people would fear death if it means spending an eternity of torment in a blazing river of fire. Although mainstream Christians tend to believe in the existence of a literal Hell, the promise of forgiveness of sins eliminates the need to spend eternity in Hell and should relieve believers of that reason to fear death. Those who believe in reincarnation after death rarely fear death and tend to look forward to the next progression.

That would seem to suggest that only those who believe existence ends at the moment of death have reason to avoid it. We know from popular culture that is far from reality; people of all beliefs hang onto life and fight to live every day. Rationally or not, people fear dying and death, the great underlying leveler of mankind – the process each of us must undergo at some point despite our station in life.

    Fears include concerns for survivors; the aspect of not knowing what happens after we die; the loss of control; as well as pain, illness, or loss of dignity (Fritscher). The natural process of dying is painless; when coupled with disease or injury, it can be complicated by pain and a resultant fear of loss of dignity occurs.

            Still, I feel compelled to frame the question in the positive: Why do we choose to keep living? Does an entire species fight to stay alive solely out of fear of death? Life is hard. The world is in a mess. Sometimes people just want the pain to stop. The illusion is that giving up would be easier than struggling toward the pinnacle of that Matterhorn of Existence, pickaxe in hand, “uphill both ways in the snow.”

              I surveyed 75 people to gain some external insights about hopelessness and methods of coping with hopelessness. The respondents are primarily female (85.5%), under 30 (82.6%), and 67.6% feel they are better able to cope now than when they were younger. One-third of respondents (25) admitted to one or more chronic medical conditions and all but one found Life harder because of it, Those same 24 who find Life more difficult also perceive themselves better able to cope with hopelessness as they grow older.

The inevitability of death can contribute to both the fear of or lack of fear of death. My survey results revealed two motivations which demonstrate resignation to the unavoidability of death (negative – “I’m helpless; death is unavoidable,” “Nothing I can do will change it”) and (positive – “It is what it is so I may as well live as long as possible”).

            I keep on living for several reasons. Love: I genuinely love and adore my family and friends and want to spend more time with them. Expected Reward: I’ve invested so much into my marriage, I intend to reap those benefits. I did the hard stuff when I was younger and now I want to enjoy watching my children and grandchildren continue to develop. I’ve spent a lifetime learning to write and I want to enjoy the fruits of my labor. Altruism: Also, I have so much to give back to the community now. I consider myself a golden resource. I also believe in reincarnation and in the concept that I still have lessons to learn in this dispensation.

            Respondents’ positive motivations for choosing to continue living involve hope, optimism, and altruism, as well as a sense of incompletion. Survey results include “I believe things are going to get better,” “I can help others./have a positive influence on others,” “I’m not finished here yet,” “I am curious about the future,” and “I want to watch my children/ grandchildren grow up.” Concern for others is another motivation to continue living (“I don’t want my family to have to deal with the fallout from my suicide”).

The last question in my survey asked subjects to list at least one joy they look forward to in life. My purpose for asking this was twofold: I wanted to end a potentially depressing questionnaire on a hopeful, positive note. I also wanted to know what sorts of things motivate people to keep living. In no particular order, people most often chose: physical contact with others (lovers, family members, babies); sensual Nature experiences (sights, smells, touch, and sounds); smells, sights, and tastes of food; the sensation/perception of being loved by and loving another; health or regaining health; sleep or feeling rested. (Individuals)

My conclusion is that while there is an underlying concern, however irrational, with the process of dying, the mysteries of Death, and the uncertainties of the right- or wrongfulness of ending their own lives, most people choose to keep living despite feelings of hopelessness because they expect or anticipate that their situation will improve, they aren’t ready to relinquish physical sensation, and they want to connect or reconnect with others.

There’s something to be said for curling up with someone you love in front of a crackling fireplace, toasting marshmallows while feeling their breath on your hair, and sharing an ice cream cone, that just makes you believe Life will get better. There is something to be said for being in the present. There is something to be said for Love.

Works Cited

Care, Mental Health America and Thomson Health. "Ranking America's Mental Health: An Analysis of Depression Across the States." 2012. Mental Health America.net. Web site. 2012.

Death. n.d. Web site. 24 March 2012. .

Fritscher, Lisa. Thanatophobias. 30 April 2011. Web site. 24 March 2012. .

Individuals, Survey of 75. Interview. Ginger Hamilton Caudill. March 2012. Internet Survey Tool.

Pinker, Steven A. "Genetic Mandate or Social Impulse?" n.d. American Radio Works. Web site. 24 March 2012. .

Guest Poet: Shel Silverstein

Sometimes my soul feels polluted by the confines of concrete. I find this theme repeatedly in my writing. I was never meant to be a city girl.

At the end of this post is a video my buddy Mike created. The band is The Floating Men, the singer and songwriter's name is Jeff Holmes, and you can open a new page and read more here: The Floating Men website~~GHC

Where the Sidewalk Ends ~~ Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

Well, once again, Blogger refuses to embed. Here's the link though. 

Video will open in new window. Enjoy!

Eden, Redux

Thanks to those who did the silly little poll I asked you to fill out. I felt the love! :) For some reason, even though I have a good amount of traffic on this blog, folks rarely comment or interact. Lots of lurkers though. And that's fine. I think many of you enjoy peeking into other people's thoughts, like I do. 

I believe good literature is like that: It lifts the veil and permits access to inner thoughts and private activities. For a brief while, we become gods. 

Request: Please do me a favor and do not visit here directly from an "adult" site. I do not want to see those images and I am ignorant of the site names. Blogger sends me info on what page my visitors link here from. It's totally cool with me that you go wherever and I do not judge. I simply request that you extend the courtesy to me so I don't have to "go places" I prefer not to visit. I believe I would almost prefer to lose readers than to have to see those images again. Thanks!

Today, I am writing about an incident that took place on the Dragon's Tail, U.S. 129 between Tennessee and North Carolina. So until that's ready to go, I'll leave you with "Eden," the micro flash piece that won the International Binnacle Award. I hope you enjoy it. And if you STILL haven't read about the "Dangling Kiss" on the last blog post, be sure and click Older Posts when you are finished reading "Eden." You might be glad you did.~GHC

Eden - by Ginger Hamilton Caudill

In her dreams, the muted heather hills roll on forever. Verdant fields flow beneath her bare feet like bottle-green sea surge. A brook curls around the massive trunks of ancient oak trees; she dips her toes into its soothing stream. Flowers' fragrant perfumes waft on the breeze. Enticed by the songbirds' serene harmony, she lies down to rest.

The alarm clock snatches her from sylvan heaven to a studio apartment. Overhead, the city looms like a grimy Goliath. Below, sirens wail and horns reply; angry voices clash with the traffic's din. An ancient light fixture trembles as the corpulent man upstairs lumbers to his kitchen. The smells of pork and rancid cooking oil linger in the atmosphere.

She slips into grease-slicked shoes and pins a nametag to the bodice of her uniform. Reconciled to raising her ransom, Eve faces the world.