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Posts tagged ‘Heart’

Haiku and Loku Days-Today

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2013

A year ago last week I was in the emergency room. A year ago this week I had heart surgery to remove a blockage. A year ago I saw my deceased mother in law smiling at me in my passage as my soul returned to my body, to this realm. A year ago this Saturday I was out of the hospital and spent the evening surrounded by family celebrating my daughter’s birthday.

I awoke this day, Today. Today I awoke. I transitioned from the realm of sleep to consciousness; the world of my being transitioned from night to day. I awoke to the pains that are my constant companion. I awoke to my dog scrunched next to me and to her barrage of kisses once she sees that I am again awake, here for another day. When I grimace from pain, I try to remember to smile. I want my day, my Today, to begin with a positive energy.

I had a little more time today; I didn’t have to be at work as early. This morning’s splurge was coffee with whipped cream and cardamon leisurely enjoyed on my patio with the unfolding morning. I had a little more time Today. Two and a half years ago I had an internal cardiac device implanted. It keeps my heart beating. That and last year’s surgery have given me a little more time. I have had a little more time with my children, a little more time with my grandson Asher. That “little more time” has allowed me to see my granddaughter Parisa. That “little more time” allowed me to be at my mother’s side, to comfort her and to comfort myself during her death-dying and passing.

The air was cool, the sky was blue this morning. To me it was perfect. I drank it in as I sipped my coffee. The subtile changes in the sky and air. The slight breeze through the leaves. Doors closing, gates clanging, cars starting.The garbage truck making it’s rounds. Police sirens and fire sirens. The hum of traffic on the highway. The SSB chasing and catching bumble bees. The glimmering of ripening peaches in the morning sun. The chirping and singing of  birds. The melancholy coo of the Mourning Dove, the Morning Dove. My soul sighs with its melody.

The morning was clear. My thoughts and my awareness are clear. It is always Today. I am grateful I have more time; I have more Today.



Dove morning dawned clear 
today, morning rhythms pulse
heart bird song beating



Haiku and Loku Days-The Fluttering of Wings

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2013

I would think every and any mother would want to be with her daughter and her first baby during birth and those special first moments after. In this space, this place in time, is an affirmation of an eternal bond of mothers and daughters and the eternal magic of bringing forth life. This treasure was denied me by circumstances that were not absolutely inevitable, but came about by the doings of another person. I had envisioned the moment, cherished its materialization and was crushed when it was usurped from me.

Tuesday morning I opened my email. I was taking a few moments to relax before getting ready for work. I had been having significant levels of pain again, partly from the strong front that was coming through. I didn’t have to be there until mid-day; I wanted to take time, have some hot coffee and read my mail. I started down the list of new emails and there was an email from my son-in-law announcing the birth of their second child a few days before her due date. It had come in shortly after I had gone to bed the night before and so I didn’t see it until morning. Along with the cold front, there had been a full moon – an effective formula for triggering labor. As I was reading the email, I received a text from my daughter asking if I could come to the hospital to be with her and the baby. There was no one there, it would just be us.

I called work to see if it was okay for me to come in a little later. I dressed, grabbed my purse and a little hat I had knitted for the baby and stepped out to brave the icy wind and rain. It was the tail end of rush hour. It is amazing how many cars are on the road and what bad drivers are in them when one is making a 40 minute drive to see a new grandchild. The rain and wind did not let up. It blew me a foot to the side as I took a step on my walk up to the hospital entrance.

The walk to the elevator was long, too many codes and locked doors and passages. Finally there it was-the room-warm, quiet, calm, behind the curtain my daughter with a tiny bundle of blankets at her breast.

“Would you like to hold her?”

She handed me a treasure as light as air and just as precious. Under the blanket, little arms with tiny covered hands held close, this world still too strange and invasive, dark knowing eyes in a softly expressive face. Quiet. Still. A heart beat meditative with the protective spirit of the now forsaken womb. I held her, rocking softly to my heart’s beat.

Parisa. I peruse the details of your physical being. The pink of your skin. The bow of your lips. The smallness of your ears. The grace of your hands and the length of your fingers. The untold secret you hold in your eyes, your deep knowing eyes.

Who are you, Parisa? Angelic spirit, spiritual beauty- inner and outer. I hold you, close to me. I hold you, the key, to my past and to all future. I hold you, the world in my hands, redemption in my hands. Every baby born – a chance for redemption-for the individual, the family, the world. Every baby born – a portal, a reminder, a glimpse of from where we came and to where we return.

I hold you in my arms. I hold you in my heart.




Winged flutter from womb,
Lighten my heart, ancient soul,
Eyes speak deep intent.                                                                                                            

Haiku and Loku Days-Blow Out the Candle

©  Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO 2013

Well this is pretty self explanatory. There is a part of me that wants to go and a part of me that wants to stay a little longer. I would miss my kids, grandchild and the new one on the way, family and friends. But every day there are moments when I am in pain. And there are moments I feel as though I could be heading to the ground.

My job is to make the customers happy. I do that by showing them products that will make them look a few years younger. Some of them are nice people, some not so much. I have had a 40+ year old woman whine, stomp her foot and throw a tantrum because the product she wanted wasn’t on the shelf.  I come upon others opening box after box and if they do decide they want the product, they will take the one box they did not open. (I would hate to shop where they buy their groceries.) Sometimes, I wonder, if I were to fall to the floor in a heap in front of some of them, would they kick me to the side? Would they step over me or would they just step on me while throwing a tantrum or to get closer to more unopened boxes. How sad to have more money than substance.

It was a tiring day today. So I lie here-too much pain and too tired to do much of anything, too much pain to sleep. I wonder…

Blow Out the Candle

Chest pains, like labor              
Occur more frequently. So
When is my birthday?
In the Candle Light by Marek Langowski

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

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