Tag: Relationships

PLACING THE TRUTH IN ANOTHER LIGHT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 4 Comments

As one traditional Quaker query was read aloud during a meeting for worship, one of its phrases began echoing within me: “Truth in the heart.”

How remarkable! Not in the head but rather the heart! Truth, which we see so often as ground in facts and logical consistency, is now assayed not in the brain but rather in the core of our affections.

As early Friends used the word, Truth is much more of a verb than an immutable object. Think of the progression from true to truer to truest. Maybe you can sense that motion in the slightly fuller expression of that day’s query, asking if we, individually and as a group, heed “Love and Truth in the heart” …

As I said, a remarkable phrase.

REAMS OF CORRESPONDENCE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

She wanted to review our email exchanges from our days of courtship but couldn’t find copies of what she’d sent me. Hoped I had printouts.

I’ve been downsizing, so some things weren’t where I expected to find them. Knew I had a loose-leaf binder somewhere.

Nowhere in my studio, though, the one in the attic. No, not the bookshelves or even the remaining filing cabinets or the knee-high closet under the roof. Nor in the first sweep of the loft of the barn. Not in the drawer of surviving correspondence there, either.

Naturally, I was perplexed.

One more round, though, and I came across a crate of binders. Aha! First one had Quaker letters, back before Internet. Second one, other letters. And then, a three-inch thick binder, our nine months of emails. My first emails, actually. How embarrassing … and fascinating! So long ago, it now seems.

Has me reflecting on how much times have changed, too – amazed, on one hand, how much I actually sent out in the postal system and received in reply. Where did the time come from? And reflecting, on another side, at how much today would be a click and later delete … and thus lost. (Printouts? Too tedious, most of the time.)

Another question even has me pondering how much of my poetry and fiction would have simply been shot off as blog posts rather than tediously typed and retyped, revised and condensed into literature, had another option existed?

If my small-press acceptances letters fill three filing drawers, as they do, the rejections would take up 20 times the space. Where would I put them? Or why?

Now, back to the juicy stuff …

ADMIRING THE QUEEN OF GIFT-GIVING

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

For many folks – especially of the male gender – nothing adds more stress to the approaching holidays than the matter of gift-giving. Matter? Should I instead say requirement or obligation or necessity or, uh, finals examination? That’s even before we get to any consideration of price tags or value.

We (ah, the crucial confession!) just don’t get it. And when we think we do, it’s usually with some very useful item they’ll see as totally lacking sentimental value. A garbage disposal, for instance? (OK, I avoided that one.)

Being married to a woman who has a sixth sense in this realm, moreover, has not only been illuminating but heightens my apprehension. She’s not one for flowers or jewelry or chocolate, for starters, at least on the receiving end. No, it’s her sense of empathy in finding some surprise she knows the receiver will appreciate. Often it’s humorous – and often it’s useful without being, shall we say, utilitarian. It’s downright psychic.

I can point to the binoculars or the little recorder that captures our choir rehearsals or the turtlenecks I seem to live in these days. Sometimes they’re even baffling, those things I didn’t know I wanted or needed until, well, time proves otherwise.

There’s no way, either, to top the panini press she presented a dear friend. It makes him think gratefully of her almost daily. It’s also proof that she listens carefully for clues no one else seems to notice.

Locating appropriate gifts – and it’s really something other than shopping – is an enterprise she tries to have largely wrapped up (sorry for the pun – the wrapping comes later) by Halloween. Well, that relieves some of the pressure – many of her finds actually come at yard sales as early as May, and there are other bargains to be found through the summer and fall, if you’re alert.

She’s the one, by the way, who can’t comprehend how a mother could have no clue to what her kids like or want. Just know that it’s fuel for a rant.

But I rather treasure it for the way it gets us guys off the hook just a tad. That mother, that is.

Now, from my end, I’m further along than I would have been before I met her. But I’m still distinctly playing second fiddle. Or even viola.

HALLE STREET, AS I’VE CALLED IT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Big or little, it’s a city, after all, with daily encounters. Along the street. From the porches. In third-floor apartments. It’s broken glass on cracked pavement. Parking along the curb, maybe requiring a permit. It’s the bakery, Laundromat, or bar around the corner. It’s decay and repair over the years imbedded in the floors, walls, and ceilings. It’s a stale cigarette in the morning of love.

~*~

To see more, click here.

Riverside 1

 

ADULTS-ONLY DISHES

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 7 Comments

Think of a food a child in your life refuses to eat. Or glance back to your own childhood. Something you, as an adult, now find heavenly as you anticipate that first bite.

I’ve long held a theory that there are certain items that should be made adults-only, you kiddies keep your hands away.

We could begin with asparagus, Brussels sprouts, clams and mussels. Coffee, beer, and wine are no-brainers. Maybe even lobster or lamb or Swiss cheese or spinach or salmon.

What would you add to that list?

EVERYDAY BEAUTIES, IN RETROSPECT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

After recently coming across some now-historic Playboy centerfold playmates online – models we adolescent boys worshiped – I was struck by how average they were in retrospect. Not surgically enhanced nor abnormally thin waists nor even fashionably tall, as we’ve come to expect. Even their hair looked like the girls we knew – or dreamed of knowing.

Looking back, let me say it was the smile, more than anything, that got us.

And then, in the midst of the sexual revolution of the hippie era came a feminist rejection of Hugh Hefner’s free-love philosophy, even as events pushed far beyond his now pathetically comic hedonism. Quite simply, he went one way and we went another.

Yes, the glossy periodical was a rich patron for short-story writers and novelists, interviewers, and cartoonists, no matter the reality they were window dressing all along. Still, in many ways, Playboy appeared as a hip rival to the more staid New Yorker. For a while, it was even Chicago versus Manhattan in the realm of publishing.

And then Penthouse and Hustler attacked Hefner’s little empire from the other side of the respectability divide.

Oh, how long ago that all seems!

These days I’m reflecting on the magazine’s admission it can no longer compete with the nudity that’s readily available online for free and its decision to go more respectable, as Esquire did decades earlier. No more centerfold? Wasn’t that the magazine’s identity? What else has been stripped away?

In light of today’s world of publishing, let me say, Best wishes!

Especially considering Tinder and the rest of the new social-media lifestyle.

EX- MARKS THE SPOT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

A comment from Martha Schaefer got this ball rolling.

She was confessing that she never liked Brussels sprouts until her ex-husband, “an excellent cook,” introduced her to what happens when the tiny cabbages are cooked well. And, of course, that changed everything.

My, that could even get us going on a crimes-against-foods rant, considering how many vegetables, fruits, meats, and so on are abused in kitchens around the globe.

For now, though, let’s consider an overlooked aspect of broken relationships. Think of something positive you’ve carried away from an ex-spouse or lover. What were you introduced to that you now treasure or delight in?

A special place, perhaps, or food or beverage, music or art, literature or activity, friends or family, even (maybe most of all) lovemaking.

What comes to mind? Or your heart? Pipe up!

FOR THE STORYTELLER, A SCANDALOUS ZIPPER

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Obviously, not me …

“I’ll have to explain,” the woman said as she insisted on placing a garland around my neck. It wasn’t a garland, exactly, but a lanyard-like ring of cream-colored lace. “You see, this was a zipper from a favorite aunt’s sewing box. She was very fond of her fabrics.”

I was baffled, but she obviously appreciated my performance that night and the relationship between an artist – and someone who has been touched by the work cannot be slighted. So a mixture of gratitude, humility, and pride flowed through me as I bent slightly to accept her admittedly eccentric token.

On awakening the next morning after an uncommonly deep sleep, nothing in my room was in its place. To my horror, my closet was empty, as were the dresser drawers. At least I still had a selection of shoes. Mystified as to what might have transpired, I noticed an envelope addressed to me on my dressing table. I lifted it, inhaled gardenia, and carefully slit the fold. No one could have been here while I slept, could they? My husband was away on a business trip. The kids were off at camp. This was supposed to be time for myself, and appearing on stage was my one indulgence in celebrating myself.

The note reminded me of the garland and instructed me to once again place it around my neck. The front came down to my navel. The guidelines informed me I could zip it as low as I wanted, should I desire to be open to inspiration, or close it as tight if I desired more privacy. How strange, I thought, the flowery handwriting was telling me I did not need to wear anything else, the zipper would be more than sufficient. Actually, the words were more specific. They said I dare not wear anything else when I set out.

Well, I thought, I’m really in a pickle. I can’t go out like this, I’ll just have to stay put. On the other hand, I was also out of milk and coffee. I was thinking about calling my best friend, but she was on the phone first, saying she was going to be in the neighborhood and hoped to stop by. None of my excuses were working. At least she agreed to pick up a few necessaries.

When she arrived, I was wearing only the garland and a pair of flip-flops. “My, aren’t you being risque today,” she said as gave me a brief hug. “I never wear that so unzipped.”

“You really think so?”

“Oh, yes, you could be a bit more modest, a bit more of a tease.”

“There, that’s better. Why don’t you grab your purse and we’ll head to the mall?”

“But I’d need to get dressed,” I protested.

“Oh, no, you’re fine,” she assured me.

Reluctantly, I headed off with her.

Amazingly, nobody noticed I was totally naked apart from the yoke and my shoes. “My, what a lovely collar,” some murmured with approval.

“You shouldn’t bend over so far when it’s unzipped that far,” another counseled. “People can see a bit too much of your taa-taas.”

I couldn’t believe it, especially how free I felt, even on stage. Did nobody see anything but the collar? Well, they saw the skin within it and above it, but no more.

That, in turn, created its own forms of impropriety …

PLAYING UPON THE LOONY TUNES, TOO

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

As I said at the time …

One acquaintance, preparing to be married under the care of another meeting, finally concluded you couldn’t find so many loonies collected in one place if you tried. There are times I suspect most of us would agree, especially when we get jammed on an item of business. We are an intelligent, opinionated, independent bunch of people. It’s said of us, as I also heard Jews at temple refer to themselves, that where twelve are gathered on an issue, you’ll have thirteen points of view.

Our way of doing business, requiring unity but no voting, requires us to try to listen carefully to each Friend. In practice, this can be difficult, especially if someone opposed to a proposal refuses to speak up or speak fully or, perhaps more serious, refuses to attend the business sessions where the matter is being considered. Sometimes, knowing there is unvoiced opposition, we will lay an agenda over to the next session, hoping for better representation – itself an admission that low turnout for our monthly meeting for worship for the conduct of business may also indicate its low priority in our lives. Laying it over, in turn, can often mean beginning all over again as a different set of individuals addresses the issue. Moreover, being present is essential, because miracles can occur in the session. Sending a statement on paper or via another Friend avoids moving with the Spirit in the meeting. There are times when being uncomfortable in the context of business meeting is healthy, and a sense of agreeing to disagree for a while may in turn lead to a third way and innovative resolution.

Our structure of doing business, in which each Friend is expected to participate in the operation of our faith community, can also be subject to breakdown. Individuals may fail to follow through on promised action, or not step forward at all for committee service. The work then falls back on a small core of Friends, who quickly become overburdened. Has there ever been a period when all of our committees were sufficiently filled and operating smoothly? It’s a lovely ideal, all the same, one that makes me all the more grateful for committees that are running well through the year.

Other dysfunctions arise in business meeting when we veer from the decision at hand, usually by trying to introduce a host of other problems and concerns – that is, trying to solve many of the world’s problems instead of replacing a furnace; when we forget the tenderness of the individuals involved and their motivations; when we try to redo work a committee has already labored over; when a committee comes forward to business meeting without finding unity on the proposal, hoping we can do what they couldn’t; or when we leap ahead toward a project we’re unlikely to give full support over time.

Once upon a time, reflecting on the traditional assumption that our business meetings would be led by Christ and that our job is simply to listen for the answer, I jested, “I don’t think Jesus cares what color the carpet is.” A decade or two later, when we were faced with that actual, prolonged decision, I had to add: “But he does care how we engage one another in deciding.” People can and do come away from our deliberations with hurt feelings, and it’s something requiring our mindfulness. Being opinionated doesn’t necessarily have to mean being heartless, even unintentionally. In the rug decision, the reaction of Friends in bringing heirloom Asian carpets to the meetinghouse for the wedding, while we were still deliberating the choice of permanent floor cover, remains a colorful reminder of the third way and its surprises.

We also need to be mindful that working through differences on small things is practice that strengthens us, as a body, for larger, more difficult issues.

WITH FLAMES AND A DEMON OR TWO

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

Anais Nin once contended that each of us has a demon. My response was – and remains – Just one?

Each demon, we should note, is different.

Our struggle is what thickens the plot – or dulls it. It can draw us together in intimacy – or drive us apart.

The eleven prose-poems of Harbor of Grace reflect that energy.

They tell of intense friendship propelled by a shared faith that flames and then explodes. Of the Old Ways bordering Amish and other Plain peoples in addition to urban conflict over the horizon. Of commitment and human shortfalls, too.

Harbor of Grace is the translated name of the town at the mouth of the Susquehanna River where the dedicatee of this collection was born.

harbor cover.jpg.opt370x493o0,0s370x493~*~

For the chapbook, click here.