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Archive for November, 2012

Haiku and Loku Days-Clean the Refrigerator Day

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2012

I don’t really like shopping. And I have a weird work schedule. And I have a dog-which means I go home immediately after work. There is a little co-op grocery near my house, but their hours are limited and many times don’t work for me. All of these factors contribute to me not buying groceries frequently in small amounts. So when I do make it out I buy enough to last me for awhile. I also bought into one of those organic produce delivery services that delivers every two weeks.

It sounds like a good plan. There is a snag though. My refrigerator isn’t quite large enough to comfortably manage the produce. It is almost a Bacchanal of veggies, piled on top of each other in there. This again is not a problem in itself, but I am a visual person. Out of sight out of mind too many times applies to me. Sometimes I forget what all I have in there. The produce metamorphoses into another life form.

Look at it this way:  maybe as you get older you lose one funk but gain another! Ugh!  I forget what is in the fridge. I forget where I have put the car keys. I can’t find my shoes or hat at times. I am practicing the “forgetful old lady” lifestyle now. By the time I reach old age I will be such a pro.

Until then, it is my day off and it is:

Clean the Refrigerator Day

 
forgot what I had-
a science experiment
that’s gone really bad
 
 
fruits-and-vegetables
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Haiku and Loku Days-Putz the Rush

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2012

Okay. I am going to sound totally evil.  I am going to pull an Andy Rooney on you.

Van drivers just piss me off. I am not talking about professional drivers making deliveries in the course of their work day. They are doing their jobs. I am talking about the people, mostly women, who just have to have a van to drive. You know, hauling all those kids to soccer practice and carrying all that equipment around all the time.

Well, it is rush hour, there are no kids, no equipment, just you and your van blocking the road as you putz around, sidling from lane to lane. Do you really need it? Does most of your driving necessitate a van? There are no kids or sports equipment in there now.

But you really need it you say. Okay. Fine. But learn to drive it. Stay in your lane. Keep up with the flow of traffic. Accelerate appropriately when the light turns green.

But it is not your fault you say that: the engine doesn’t accelerate quickly and really doesn’t have enough power, that the steering has too much play and you can’t drive in a straight line, that the mirrors aren’t positioned properly to see the traffic appropriately and compensate for all your blind spots, and that because of these conditions you say it is not your fault that the traffic lanes are too narrow and you need two to drive on and your favorite position is on the line between the lanes.

The situation inspires a vernacular in me that almost compels me to join the navy. Instead of those words, I will say:

Learn to drive the darn thing or please stay off the roads when the rest of us are trying to get to work and don’t have the luxury of time while you fumble and ramble on your way.

Putz the Rush

 
Putzing lane line lane,
Block rushing cars you can, in
Your Jean Claude Damn Van.
 
 
 

Haiku and Loku Days-Spin Your Yarn

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2012

There you are; you are there. You are born buck naked and blatantly bare.

Almost as soon as you are born, the remnants of your sheath from the womb are removed, wiped away, and you are wrapped in a new protective layer for this world. At first a blanket to keep you warm, then clothing that does more than physically protect. It begins to define you, define you and guide you, beyond pink or blue.

Later, you need more for protection-an attitude, a gimmick, a look-from far more complex things. You create versions of you- varied personas to protect you from stressful people, jobs, events. You may wear different “you-s”, but don’t lose sight of the person under the facade. Be true to the real you.

 

Spin Your Yarn

 
Spin, spin-truth or lies?
Weave a sheath to hide beneath,
From yourself disguised.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 



Spinning by Henrietta Rae
 

Haiku and Loku Days-Coffee Hound Dreams

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2012

I toss the residual old coffee and grounds from my French press outside. Sometimes I put it around a select plant or part of a flower bed. Sometime I just reach my arm out the door and give it a good fling onto the grass, especially since it is getting cold-coffee and weather both- we are nearing December first. Just as I flung the grounds, The SSB Drever came running. She was showered with coffee. Into the house and upstairs for a bath, right? She’s fast. She made a pit stop on my bed before I could get upstairs to corral her into the bathroom for a good shampooing.  I didn’t have time for laundry so she was clean, but my sheets were not. So…

      Coffee Hound Dreams

 
I am off to sleep
on coffee stained sheets. Coffee-
the dog’s dream-with cream.
 

 
 












The SSB Drever aka The Clydesdale Bullet

Haiku and Loku Days-The Heart Beat

..."© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2012

To find and live in the harmony of authentic love-is that the ultimate goal? How many of us have not taken up the quest, at some point or other in our lives to find the perfect love and love relationship with another, or our own soul, or  the unknowable itself.  Perhaps whether we recognize it or not, we are probably on at least one of those paths at any given time in our lives -or even all three.  Though the paths may appear to be different, in love there is a convergence; ultimately love is one.

How much time and how much of our resources does any of us spend in search of our one true love in this life? How many times have we thought we found love in and with another, but later experienced a heart wrenching betrayal.  The wailing pain of the heart can be excruciating and the scars long lived and deep.  How could any one hurt another so?

Do we remember to give our own soul the same love and attention, the care and nurturing that it needs? Do we give it as least as much as had been spent on those temporal relationships? Are we true to our souls? Or do they wail in an eternal night from broken hearts and betrayal?

And is there an ultimate betrayal?  Have we been negligent in the search for and love for and with the essence of and beyond the soul? Is there an essential wailing in  the universe of creation? “…Many a dawn hath the breeze of My loving-kindness wafted over thee and found thee upon the bed of heedlessness fast asleep. Bewailing then thy plight it returned whence it came. ”

Authentic love, true love-are we the betrayed or the betrayers? Are our words in harmony with our deeds and our being? Ah, the heart and the paths of  love…

The Heart Beat.

 
You said you love me.
Yet your heart beat talks and walks
 With another’s words.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Severine by Louis Weldon Hawkins

Haiku and Loku Days-The Moon and Stars On My Shoulders

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2012

Long long ago, in a dream, I danced and skipped along a winding moonlit path. It was like one of those summer nights in the country when the moon is full and everything is set aglow. If magic did exist, it would be on a night such as this. In the dream I skipped, above were the moon and stars to guide my way. They were so bright, so luminous, so large, I felt I could almost reach them. They did more than light the path. They followed me. And when I did reach up to them, I could touch them. And as I did, some of the stars came down and sat on my shoulders as I skipped along the path that night in my dream journey.

  The Moon and Stars On My Shoulders

 
touch the-moon-lit path
on my shoulders stars alite 
soul dream dance through night
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Starry Night by Alex Ruiz

Haiku and Loku Days-Darkness in Light

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2012

I have reached that point in life, actually reached it quite awhile back. Light has shone upon my life to blatantly let me know that way too much of it is not in harmony with my soul. There is a daily uneasiness, a fumbling through the days, tripping over my own shadows; I am my own blind leading my own blind. The light has shone upon my darkness.

They say God opens windows and doors. I don’t think they have been opened. Maybe they have but the spot light isn’t directed there; I don’t see them. If I can’t see, I will feel; I will continue to fumble and reach for the sill or the door knob so I can walk out of this shadowy light into a light without darkness.

      Darkness In Light

 
 

 
 
 
I fumble in the
blaring dark light of my life
who am- I- lose sight
 
 

 
 
 
 


The Pink House by William Degouve de Nunques

Haiku and Loku Days-Healing Breeze

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2012

Everyone has a story. And too many times the story may include a childhood that perhaps was not ideally nurturing and even much less than that. I carry long ago hurt deep inside me. Having been an introverted, sensitive child and a small one at that, I developed mechanisms to protect myself. My preferred place was the back of the room, behind something or someone, and when I was very young, under a kitchen table, an end table, or a quiet corner in a darkened room. When I had to face people, I hid behind a quick wit, sarcasm, and an acerbic tongue.  Time and life have moved on. I have encountered more pain along the way. But I have also encountered moments of joy and the bounty of genuine love from friends, family and sometimes even near strangers in those darker moments. And I have encountered other travelers with pain in their lives. When I overcome my fears, and move as a healing breeze among the people, then for that moment, at that meeting of souls, we move in a sphere of love.

                                            Healing Breeze

 
 
like a summer breeze,
move gently among people,
your spirit unbound.
 
 
 
 
 


The Passing Train by Marianne Stokes

Haiku and Loku Days-Lives Not Lived

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2012

My heart has been playing Russian Roulette with me again. About a couple of weeks ago, I had started having intermittent chest pains again. Some days I am okay and some days I am not. Some moments I am okay and some I am not.

There has been pain today and it has continued off and on this evening. I am tired. I had given up on doing things this evening and decided to go to sleep. I set Pandora to my Anugama shuffle of songs. As I lay there the piece that was playing was Healing Earth.

I tried to visualize myself somewhere else-somewhere with no pain. An image of a tree appeared. I could see the colors. I could see the back of a form of me standing next to the trunk, under the protection of its bough. I was alone. I looked to see who else was there, who might be coming. No one came.

I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know where, what vision I could manifest, in what place I could place my soul that it would be happy and at peace. I feel I have failed; I have failed my soul and its life and opportunities here in this realm.

This is not the life, and this has not been the life I had imagined for me five years ago, ten years ago, nor 20, 30, or 40 years ago.  Where is that life ? Does my soul suffer in bearing this life as my heart seems to do?  To  where has my soul disappeared in its search to find some peace? Has its heart been broken and pained as mine feels now? Has it gone in search of its own world of peace? Where is its happiness? Where has it gone? Where is my soul?

Lives Not Lived

I spoke to my soul.
Where are you? Where, where are you?
Far, so far away.
 
 
 

                                     

The Muse at Sunrise by Alphonse Osbert

 

Haiku and Loku Days-Who:

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2012

I voted this morning.

It has been a tough campaign for the voter. The constant barrage of divisive assaults. I have been watching and listening to and about many of the candidates for quite sometime time now. Honestly, there is none among them that I can whole-heartedly embrace. Yes some come closer than others. But not a one of the individuals for whom I can vote meets my standard. I have a vision of a society, of a world of such a degree of justice and mercy, a world that truly values the individual regardless of gender, nationality, age, race, ethnic background-in fact these material world and temporal world “differences” are merely colors and cultivars in the garden of the human race. a world that understands the value of the relationship of the individual with the collective. It is a dance of give and take, rights and responsibilities, times to step out in victory, times to concede, always with the wisdom that in one is all and in all the one.

I want a world that understands the importance of the resources needed to achieve it and maintain it-education, opportunities for self respect through respectable employment.  I want a world where the powers that be understand the human rights of these opportunities and the basic human right of  clean air, clean water, (and therefore, also understands and gives respect to this generous earth in the process), safe and healthy foods, safe and secure communities and families, and, definitely a world where no one nor any group or business perverts any ethical, spiritual, moral or religious teaching for their own greedy gain.

Well, I don’t have that world, that country, or that government. This is what I have-the USA of 2012. So how do I vote? What criteria do I use to make the best choices from among candidates who, many, long ago lost their “moral compass” assuming they ever had one.

Whom do we choose,whom do we choose?

Babar. Babar.

It is not so easy today as in the Babar the Elephant books.

But I have a simple philosophy to guide me on considerations of the candidates and here it is.

Who:

 
will cause the most harm,
cause the least amount of harm
maybe do some good,
 
throw us a few bones,
and will strip the least amount 
of flesh from our bones?

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