Hello everyone. This is Karen’s editor writing. I have had some health issues since December of last year, and so I have not been able to stay on schedule. Please be patient. I am feeling better and hope to resume regular postings during the rest of April.
This story is from my life. It’s all true, and I hope my readers will gain a sense of what it’s like to live with any type of cerebral palsy, whether acquired before birth or after. What people with CP go through on a daily basis is sometimes extremely unpleasant, painful, and degrading. To thrive, we put expansive energy into living our lives to the best of our ability.
Here I am near the end of my stint in the sheltered workshop and ready to move on in life.
In this story, I will give you a sense of who I am, and I will share a personal struggle and how I remained positive through it. I was unwavering in my goals and beliefs. Had I not been, I would have spent the rest of my life labeled retarded and working on an assembly line in a sheltered workshop.
Straight after high school graduation, in the spring of 1969, I had my first run-in with the California Department of Rehabilitation. Based on an IQ test that did not consider learning disabilities, they claimed I was mentally retarded. Then, they denied me the right to work a regular job or go to college like other people. Instead, they sent me off to a workshop for people with intellectual disabilities.
I will never forget the evil grin on the psychologist’s face as he consigned me to the workshop. He chortled as if he were sending me to prison.
I staggered out of his office, asking myself, “How could they do this to me?”
Determined that this would not happen again, I became infuriated. I was like a hot ember, ready to start a fire.
But at that moment, I reasoned with myself, “How could they say I’m retarded when I’m not? I have a learning disability, and that is different. There must have been a mistake.”
The next day, I phoned and asked to see my test results and speak with the professional who had tested me. Request denied. They had made up their minds. So, from memory, I reviewed the whole situation and concluded that the so-called experts did not know the difference between learning disabilities and mental retardation. As a child, I had fought hard for my right to an education, and now the same thing was happening again. But I would not let it.
Over the next months, I considered my situation as, with my strong right hand, I folded cardboard boxes hour after hour at my job in the sheltered workshop.
I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life there, doing that. I began transforming and evolving. I changed, committing myself to adjusting and amending my attitude and ways for the better. Discovering at eighteen what I wanted to do with my life. I thought a lot about this. The more I thought, the more I knew what I could and couldn’t do as a person with CP.
I dreamed and envisioned something much better for myself as an adaptive aerobics and dance teacher for the disabled. This was a process of discovering who I was and what I wanted to become. I knew I had to be true to myself, my disabilities, and the values I was brought up with. And I knew the skills I had from a lifetime of studying dance and fitness.
Given that, I fearlessly took action. I grew into the person and voice I am today. I expressed my views. I spoke up to give my perspective. Often, I spoke out in circumstances full of injustice. I showed the world my strong posture, smiling repose, and optimistic outlook. With these, I conquered the seemingly unconquerable.
Unlike all other disabilities, cerebral palsy is different in that we are looked down upon. Depending on the type of CP one has, people judge us when we walk or wheel down the street, present ourselves in public, go on an interview, go shopping, eat, or even speak. Whatever we are doing, we are scrutinized. We are examined and inspected. Those of us with spastic CP are often accused of being drunk because of our walk and lack of coordination.
I did everything in my power, and mindfully. That’s why I walked into the furious fire of dealing with the State of California. I refused to be mocked in that way. My reasoning was sound, and my faith in a just world was in my own hands. I wasn’t going to settle for anything less.
I revisited my logic, and what I had endured many times. Despite the initial examination, I had to go through this battery of tests again in my mid-twenties and then in my mid-thirties. Humiliating as they were, I did what I had to do to remain steady. I stood tall and grew stronger. I demonstrated I could face adversity and remain positive despite my ongoing challenges. I was firm in my resolve. Throughout it all, I was unshakeable. Yet I needed to find peace to heal. This was before I found Science of Mind, so I turned to music, to songs. At the time, my favorites were “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” “The Impossible Dream” from Man of La Mancha, and “People” by Barbra Streisand.
The truth of having cerebral palsy takes a special daring, courage, and bravery. Whatever kind you have takes courage that cannot be disturbed, weakened, or changed. It takes a willingness and demeanor to carry out every action in tranquil calm. A stillness to listen to oneself and to have an open mind, hearing other people’s perspectives. So we can grow, live out our lives in a way we desire, and in a kind and just way.
If you are asking yourself how I was able to do this and why? It was sheer determination. I didn’t want to spend my life being labeled, locked up in an institution, or depending on others to do for me what I couldn’t do for myself. Or watching Popeye the Sailor Man all day long in a facility, from a couch that is about to fall apart, walls decorated with clients’ pictures, and a television set that was out of date sixty years ago. I moved heaven and earth to become the person I am today. I allowed the fluidity of light and love in myself toward others to enlighten my path spiritually and intellectually.
I believe that anything is possible no matter what type of CP we have. As long as we want it. With all the technology we have today, you can make it possible. It’s not like it was seven decades ago. To quote what was a saying as I grew up, “The world is your oyster.”
If you achieve, you can achieve anything you desire. There is a world of possibilities out there if you want them badly enough. Dive deep, allowing yourself to dream your sweetest imaginings.
Have you ever experienced something like this? Would you care to share your story with me, or even with my readers? Let me know through the comments section. If you want to keep it confidential, you have my word that your words will not go beyond me.
Remember, if I can do it, you can do it too. And I will be here at your side all the way.
Text and image ©2026 Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved.
How do we, as people with disabilities, deal with authority figures who are neither transparent nor honest? They think they know better than we do, and that we cannot comprehend their motives. So they hide them. Also, they refuse to take responsibility for their actions and decisions. However, they are superb at the art of not giving way to pressure, and they are unwilling to change their decisions, opinions, and demands.
Orange sycamore leaves in the fall
This article is based on something that happened not only to me but also to my best friend, Sean. He and I have known each other for over twenty-five years, and we have shared a jarring number of similar experiences, sometimes simultaneously. How many times in our lives have we met people who have tried to take us for a ride, treating us unfairly for trying to make it in this world like everyone else?
Unfortunately, these people move fast. They manipulate us and impose their will on us. Sometimes more, sometimes less. They are quick-witted, seemingly brilliant, and definite in their opinions. They are experts at looking and sounding like experts, but they never deliver on their promises.
“If you pay me this amount, I will get everything done by next week,” a freelance editor promised me.
But my project of completing The Healing Horse moved at a snail’s pace. This was from April through June 2015. With its fragrant scent, spring began and then ended in the hot, humid days of summer and my drained bank account.
“Can’t you just find a way to work with me?” I asked countless times.
Why can’t these experts take people with disabilities seriously? Why do they have to abuse our good nature? They know exactly how to use their voices to get what they want.
At that time, my breath became rapid. My pulse quickened. My eyes opened wide, and my ears tuned in to every sound.
But I breathed, rolled my shoulders, and knew I would get through this incident as well. Thank goodness I listened to my inner self. Thanks to my meditation practice, I was in tune and willing to learn from this experience. I could have reached a point where I didn’t want to take any action. I could have frozen. But I knew I couldn’t do that. I knew at my core that this would pass. I wanted to move forward. I didn’t want to say anything because it might hurt my reputation as an author. I could lose everything I had worked so hard to attain. More importantly, I would lose my ability to move forward in my life. I thought further.
One day after facing my feelings, l became stronger. I wouldn’t allow this woman to use or take advantage of me. By changing my attitude, by confronting my feelings directly, I changed. I challenged myself. I stood tall, stayed calm, and bravely faced this person without fear. I had transformed. I used my own voice beneficially.
However, I also became cautious. I thought carefully before speaking. I took preventive measures. I thought in terms of risk assessment. I made deliberate choices. I became even more prudent by showing care.
Better yet, I became more aware of how precise these experts are. They do not deviate from their playbook. They are completely compelling and believable. They are great pretenders. They act as if they have qualities they do not possess. It’s like she knew how to win me over by saying she appreciated me.
With composure and respect, I discussed this unfair situation with Sean, who holds a DLitt degree and knows a lot about working with editors, and with Arthur Wilson. At the time, Arthur was the Director of VSA Arts of New Jersey’s Unlimited Potential Theatre Company. In 2005, he had asked me to come, share, and read excerpts of my story The Broken Hoof, and I had accepted with pleasure. So, I knew I could trust him.
Vital clues to watch for:
This needs to change. It is terribly hurtful, causing extreme anxiety, sorrow, and pain to our feelings. It wounds those of us who get beaten down for simply trying.
Disdain was wrapped in my emotional injuries. Like a cat climbing a brick wall, I had to claw my way up and out to remain positive. It is a disgrace that it is very easy in this day and age to take advantage of those who are really honest and serious about making something of their lives. Years ago, I tried to find an editor. After months of delayed communication with this woman, I wrote and confronted her.
She said,”I didn’t really think you wanted to work with me because most disabled people don’t have that kind of money.”
I replied, “I’m one of the ones who don’t ask for handouts. I pay my way.”
That was the end of that editor, as far as I was concerned. How unkind and upsetting. Despite being a disabled person herself, she lacked empathy and the skill to work with other disabled people. Nor was she concerned with how her attitude impacted my life.
The hard part of dealing with authority figures who enforce their will at the expense of ours is the shock and dismay it causes. And for what? Their egos create distance, tension, and an inability to work together.
This dysfunction of not seeing another person’s point of view reinforces the lack of respect and compassion. To make someone feel worthy of making their dreams come true, even though they do not have the money or education to advance themselves, all we need is a helping hand.
Years ago, people would pay it forward and take others under their wing to help them. In our complex world today, it’s not like that. It’s like we live in the fast lane. In the nineteen-fifties, we could leave our house with the doors unlocked. Be close to all of our neighbors. Trust them. And have them as extended families. We made friends with everyone. Many times when I was three or four years old. I would walk across the street, with Mama Katie watching, as I crossed to our neighbor’s house, where I was invited along with all the other children on the cul-de-sac to listen to banjo music. The musical notes fell softly on me like gentle rain. Transfixing my body. It was spectacular—mesmerizing—we loved it!
It was a quieter time. A simpler time. Where the pace of living was slower. News traveled with greater reflection. So, with that being said, the world today is not like it once was. People today think in the short term, multi-task far more, and easily get side-tracked, are short-tempered and get nervous and anger more easily. We don’t have time for ourselves, nor do we make that time. The atmosphere everywhere is organized chaos. At the same time, there are still kind and caring people out there—don’t get me wrong—in this world, but with all that is going on in today’s world, it’s harder to see or find them.
Why is it that some people cannot be compassionate? And why is it that in our rushed, hurried world today, where we have learned so much about everything, people look down on the disabled? On people who have been physically paralyzed and have to live with their illness their whole life. Like me. I refused to be a victim. I moved heaven and earth to be healthy in body, mind, and spirit. I am one of those people who moved mountains to make me the best person I could become. I am a decent human being, deserving of the same things other people have achieved. I work twice as much and three times harder to get anything accomplished. I never gave up. Or gave in. I accepted life and its difficulties as they presented themselves to me. When all is said and done, I will fight on. I will continue to make this a better place for all. Where there is room at the table. I became a force for good. I am thoughtful. Forgiving. Passing it forward to those in my orbit. What you give, you get far more back when you give unconditionally.
If I can do it, so can you! Be brave and bold and live by the convictions of your heart.
Has anything like this ever happened to you? If so, would you like to share your experience?
Original text ©2026 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. Image from Sacramento River National Wildlife Refuge Sycamore Tree on the Phelan Island Unit on SRNWR. (Justine Belson/USFWS) under a Creative Commons 2.0 license.
If you have a learning disability, you will know what I mean. If you do not, then you can empathize and understand.
Karen graduating from college
When I was six years old, I couldn’t even tell my teacher what the story we had just read in class meant. This was difficult and devastating for me. It haunted me.
In the back of my mind, I asked myself, “Why is this happening to me? Why is this so difficult? Why can’t I remember? And why can’t I keep the information I just read in my mind?“
It didn’t just bother me; it made me feel stupid. And that hurt me deeply.
I couldn’t retrieve the storyline from my memory, nor could I assemble it in my mind’s eye. I couldn’t even recall the information to tell my teacher.
But I knew I was smarter than that. Every morning I stood up from my seat, moving in a happy, lively way up to the green board. I took the white chalk in my strong, right, lion-hand and wrote my girlfriend’s last name on the board.
When I was done, I returned to my seat with the biggest grin on my face. It felt so good. And I felt really proud of myself.
“At least I can do that,” I told myself, in a nurturing way. I felt confident.
Yet, after twelve years of education in elementary and high schools dedicated to students with disabilities—twelve years of learning almost nothing—and having to win a civil rights case so I could go to college when I was twenty-eight years old, a friend and mentor taught me how I could read, write, and comprehend while listening to non-vocal music.
This method accompanied me through Chaucer’s Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, William Wordsworth’s “A Farewell,” and F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby
All this reading became possible because of my mentor, Robert. His suggestion to put on music while reading became a constant companion. This tool gave me the freedom to read and became my trusted friend.
I read because I enjoyed reading, not because I was forced to or had to for classes. When I read, I felt safe. Reading helped fill the gaps in my education, and it answered my questions. Most importantly, it made me knowledgeable and well-informed.
Comfortable and at ease when I sat down in my happy chair under my cozy blanket, I didn’t have to worry about all the pages I had to finish like I did as an eight-year-old in the library. Instead, I read for enjoyment.
And if I got nervous, I told myself, ”Just read one page at a time. You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Enjoy it. Embrace it. Relax into it. Imagine what wonderful things you’ll learn, Karen.”
As a result, reading felt like gentle stars dropping from heaven above, bringing me peace and calm. It gave me exactly what I needed to grow through this challenge.
The biggest benefit of listening to non-vocal music while reading was that I remembered what I read. I closed my eyes and visualized what the author had said. And, best of all, I could tell my mentor what the story was about.
“I am recalling what I just read,“ I declared, like a child jumping up and down. I was filled with hope and enthusiasm. I was doing this for the very first time in my life. I was thirty-five years old, but age didn’t matter. I was thrilled beyond belief at what I was accomplishing. No matter my age, I was doing it! I did this!
I said to myself with great happiness and exhilaration. “I feel very accomplished that I kept at it—my dream to read has become a dream come true.”
Even bigger, I was yet more motivated and thirsty to learn. After all those years, reading was attainable now. And so palpable was my desire to understand every book I could get my hands on—more knowledge—more than I ever thought I was capable of before. Now I have a library of my own—books that I can proudly say I’ve read.
How many countless hours have you spent trying to read a book, a sentence, or a paragraph? Could you understand a word that you just read.? Could you explain it?
I know exactly what that feels like. I have spent a lifetime finding a way to learn to read that worked for me.
If I can learn to read, you can learn to read, too!
Did this ever happen to you?
Have you ever thought about having a relationship with a person outside your religion or faith? The benefits are tremendous. It not only allows you to have the decorations you always w
anted for the holiday season, but it can bring many new opportunities to your life spiritually and emotionally. First, it will open your mind to see a whole new way of thinking. Second, it will open your heart. Third, it will lead you to forward-thinking positions while learning parallel ways to build a firm foundation and partnership.
I have. I am Jewish, and in 1989 I married the love of my life. He is Catholic.
Day by day, since we wed, we have had our shared moments. However, we together have learned and shared techniques from our different backgrounds and differences. We learned throughout the years that, even though we were brought up differently, we had a bond. Second languages. Similarities. And deep beliefs. We also had an unbreakable commitment. We found that no matter what the circumstances, we could find our way through. Each of our experiences, no matter how painful, led us back home, into each other’s arms with a love that grows ever stronger. We learned from our parents and siblings that we could bend and tweak our thoughts. We could amend them to come up with a compromise.
I write to you about a season where we need to look beyond. To work with our patterns, our mates, our better halves. Or however you describe yourselves together. Life is fragile. You never know what’s down the road or around the bend. Together is much better than apart. Together, loving and caring for each other, rather than a ring, a coat, or an expensive gift. The gift is each other. The gift is loving each other when you can’t look at him because you are so angry. The gift is learning to live in peace and harmony despite each other’s peccadilloes.
I think anything is possible if you learn to love unconditionally in all areas of your life. Then you can even have a Christmas tree, decorate it anyway you like, and have your menorah and dreidel, too!
I think the way I do because I am not a quitter. In my family, I was taught not to give up on myself and especially not on your man or wife. I was taught to communicate. I was taught to work things through. My husband did not learn some of those skills. Although, for the duration of our marriage, and because of our indoctrination, we carried and conveyed new ways and concepts of looking at things we were going through.
I hope you had a merry Christmas, a happy New Year, and more recently a lovely Valentine’s Day. Dress your spirit in unconditional love and forgiveness. Have an open heart. Each smile can fill the heart of any relationship and give you a whole new perspective. Reinvent yourself. Become a better partner. Build a better, more unique foundation for yourself. Wish for things that could very well happen. Consider the impossible: whisper in a way that is so subtle that even a cat can’t hear you.
Have you ever thought about this topic? It takes hard work, commitment, and determination. If I can do this, believe me, anyone can.
Text ©2026 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image from Karen Lynn-Chlup’s private collection. All rights reserved.
I wrote this poem in 2009. I wrote it for my editor.
Once more, despite my willingness to take on everything the universe presented to me, I kept on, despite the pain I knew I would face. My heart was open and ready to take it all on.
But then, instead of grief, a gift of friendship and help came my way, a gift to help the world.
Your Friendship
Your friendship started with a wish upon a star.
A wish to help others,
A wish to make this a better world for all to live in!
A wish so dear that the universe granted this wish to come true.
The Spirit graciously shone its divine light upon me.
So grateful was I.
You walked into my life with a golden glow, a soft radiance, and an unspoken kindness,
An understanding so complete that not a word had to be spoken.
You knew! You really knew!
Your caring heart allowed me to touch the moon and then some. Now, I swing my legs way, way up high!
You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.
Original text ©2026 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image from https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/00/Escribano.jpg by Jean Le Tavernier, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
I wrote this poem while editing my novel The Healing Horse, back in 2021. All of a sudden, I was in a trance. Automatic writing, when the pen seems to write on paper all by itself, took over and I kept writing, unaware of anything but the sheet of paper and the words written by my hand.
As I stand looking into my rose garden from my Mama’s bedroom, I am taken to a place of stillness and solitude. It is so quiet that I sit down, back upon her bed, curling up in complete silence. It is so peaceful that I am transported to another world. I lean back further and further upon an array of pillows on which I’m perched so comfortably.
The softness of these pillows helps me look beyond the window’s pane, beyond reality, and beyond the universal sphere. Slowly, slowing me down, I am ignited. I am enkindled, inflamed, and engulfed in my own spiritual awakening. It’s all crystal clear!
I see beyond all my life-altering experiences, my changing ideas, evolving as a person, and moving forward into the future; pressing beyond what I see. I see myself responding proudly, poignantly, with grace and fire, vowing to make this a better world for all. I will never quit! I will never cease! I will never give in!
With these powerful visions, I bravely intrude on these obstacles. I am empowered. I am strengthened by their adversity; I am determined at all costs to fight for my dignity and destiny. I am endowed to help others with an unseen bravery.
You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.
Original text ©2026 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved.
Yours truly at home this January, eyes still bloodshot from the vaccine.
I wrote this poem after I got my first COVID vaccine. That was back in February 2021. COVID-19 had hit. The country was in panic mode with Trump telling us not to worry about it. He said COVID-19 was no worse than a severe cold or the flu. And I, I seethed. I sizzled with contempt. Not just with the politics, but with the doctors who gave me the vaccine after promising that they would not give me the dose before they took a sample of my blood to see if I could safely take the serum. Contrary to what was supposed to be done, the young, incompetent doctor gave me a routine physical exam with no blood work. That was not part of my medical request. That was the insurance company treating me like a number, not a human being.
I was livid—beside myself—agitated, angry, and overwhelmed with emotion. Distressed that this so-called doctor paid absolutely no attention to my medical history for the test I needed or my words of caution. She had no idea what I was saying. Like I really knew nothing about myself, my health, or my own medical history.
“What is it with these doctors today?” I asked myself? Aren’t they here to help us heal? I was being minimized. She verbally belittled me intellectually and physically. She made comments to my face about my paralyzed left arm, too. Was she trying to make me feel so uncomfortable that I would break? I’d been through that before in 1979.
“Not this time, Doc,” I reiterated to myself. “I’m not a helpless crip—I have some disabilities, but I’m a human being! I’m able to think and talk, reason, and understand. What are you not saying to me, huh? I don’t like it either. But I will smile and rise above and take matters into my own hands at the time.”
As I whispered to myself, that realization subtly took me to another level.
“ Yes,” I said to myself. “I am very sensitive to all drugs, foods, herbs, and so forth. Couldn’t you hear what I was trying to tell you? Couldn’t you respond sympathetically?”
With all her knowledge and theory, she couldn’t do the right thing. She overrode a lifetime of my own experience. She disregarded my wishes and my personal physical history.
“What kind of doctors are we turning loose on patients today? Is this what being a doctor means today? This is what they get paid to do! No, thank you.”
“Am I not talking clearly enough for you to understand me?” I said, cradling myself from her negativity.
Now, at the boiling point, I knew I had to calm down, think things through, and find peace within before I could take any action at all. I had to stop erupting. I needed to do some self-care. So, I sat down in a comfortable position and dropped my arms to my sides, shook them out to release any tension, and gently touched my right pointer finger and thumb together. Deeply, I inhaled and exhaled three times. Then I wrote, got my hostility out. Meditated. And in the process, I calmed and centered myself. I found the words by writing and getting my emotions out on paper, so I could use my voice. From deep within, I gathered my thoughts and words. All at once, my keen and poignant diction stressed my distressed feeling. Within two hours of that appointment, I scorned the doctor by calling up her medical group and complaining.
But before doing this or knowing this, I went to my chiropractic appointment, at which she said, “Your body was never like this before. You had your issues, Karen, but your body has made a significant shift—and it’s not for the best.”
My heart sank. Was I reliving this all over again? I trembled as if frigid air were coming down upon me. My fingers tingled. My airways closed up. It was like a sentence in one of my stories. I could see and feel my breath turning to vapor as I shook with despair. I felt betrayed by the medical system. It made me sicker and weaker than I had ever been before in my life.
With all due respect, the medical field has made my body more compromised and debilitated. Riddled with pelting, hurdling pain. Lumps that could have turned into cancer, hypoglycemia, which was controlled for over fifty years, turned into diabetes. The inability to get out of bed and walk like I once did because of fatiguing spikes from the Moderna serum that is still in my body to this very day; which is still attacking the muscles in my legs and has made it almost impossible to walk.
Worse than my cerebral palsy—I couldn’t do what I loved most. The only way I could get myself off the couch was by telling myself, “One step at a time, sweetheart. You can do this.”
But it took every ounce of strength, courage, willingness, and bravery to take those twenty-six steps. I could not walk any further. Still, every day, I stretched and walked a step more, as if I were in therapy or a dance class.
“Could it be?” Oh yes, it could!
Rather than being vibrant and alive with happiness, I had to lie on the couch for six months because I couldn’t bear the weight on my legs. All this, and more, took hold. It was not a game, nor was it a wish or a prayer—it was serious stuff! It took complete hold and took my health toward overall debility.
I, for sure, was not the picture of health despite all the years of taking care of myself. I exercised every day, seven days a week, taught aerobics and giving to others in many ways. Now, realizing that by listening to these self-assured men and women in white coats all these years never helped me or healed me at all. They and their advice made me sicker than I’d ever been in my life. They didn’t give me a sense of understanding or confidence. Nor did they give me my health back. They did the opposite. Yet, in the process, it made me self-reliant, smarter, and wiser in the long run. It made me able to be grateful, to smile, and open up my heart. It made me feel my heart beat as it said, “Good morning, Karen Lynn! Time to get up!” This being so, I got up every morning with a reason and purpose to keep on keeping on—to have the smile on my face I once had and the hope in my heart.
The medical world, once again, had left me alone, with no one to turn to. It left me turning bitterness into striving and thriving—fearlessly. It left me alone to fend, fight, and heal on my own. With each step, I visualized walking in the sand at Venice Beach in Los Angeles, California, holding my mama’s hand and smiling as I practiced walking in the sand to strengthen my left leg and toes. I would have to do this again. These are the precious moments I revisited again and again. With each visualization, I became stronger and more fearless. My hope returned from my spirited self.
That was a blessing in disguise.
They gave me the vaccine. On that day in February, stating that they understood my concerns. Life had come after me again. This time, it was worse than when I was an infant. It is now six years after the fact. I took matters into my own hands, followed my instincts, by slowly, slowly listening—returning to myself—as I danced on!
In the end, life came after me
With overwhelming odds,
But I dance on!
You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.
Original text ©2026 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image by Christopher Chlup ©2026. All rights reserved.
This is another poem about my dear friend, who died in 2010. Tom and I were so in tune with each other that I wrote this poem on the day he died. But I did not know until a few months later, when the letter from his insurance company arrived in my mail, telling me that he had died.
From a thought within
Came a flickering light,
A twinkle,
A glimmer,
A back-and-forth movement
Steadily sparkling bright, luminous light
Taking in oxygen
From the rays it gave,
I felt its warmth
In every single way,
With each and every turn
Came a stronger inner voice
Transporting,
Transmitting,
And guiding me;
Focused in every way
There were many glowing lights,
Bringing balance to my life,
But only one after many passings,
When the earth stopped in reverence
An angel appeared.
Like a lunar eclipse, it carried me
Gently to essential elements
I dreamed of all my life.
You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart. I plan to release a new edition, which will include this work, in the spring of 2026.
Original text ©2026 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image by Karen Lynn-Chlup, ©2026.
I wrote this poem about my dear friend, who was like a brother to me. He died in 2010, but the cause of death was not clear. It could have been a medication problem, or just diabetes. OMG! If you have blood sugar problems, you know nothing is just diabetes. Diabetes is always something more.
It was evening when I found out. Dusk was upon me as I walked to the mailbox to retrieve our mail.
Back in our kitchen, I sifted through the stack of random material the Post Office had left—advertising flyers, bills—the usual stuff. But then, a manila envelope glared back at me. I knew the return address, and why that particular insurance company would have written to me. There was only one reason. I felt myself turn white with shock, and the room spun around me as I dropped everything else onto the table, and opened this large, wide, buff envelope.
I knew what it was, but I couldn’t believe what I saw. Was it true? I asked myself. Emotions gushed. I wept. I couldn’t control the depth of my pain.
Yet somehow I knew I had to remain focused. I collected myself enough to move forward and identify the crucial information. I told myself, “I can do this! I have to calm down.”
So I took a deep breath, and then another. With the vintage rose gold letter opener I inherited, I opened the envelope and read. Staying centered, I engaged. My friend Tom had died and left his life insurance money to me. I knew he had been sick with many major illnesses—diabetes, mental health issues, and high blood pressure. What I didn’t know was how fast he would be gone.
I was heartbroken, rocked beyond belief. I cried and cried with survivor’s grief and guilt, thinking back to how many times I could have helped him more or done things differently.
And I had to search for his middle name.
I had to gain calmness of mind and repose to continue evenly under extreme strain. My turning point came when I allowed myself to feel my feelings, which helped me to let go of them, which led to a significant moment that led to major changes. Somehow, through experience, I knew I only had to get through my grief a moment at a time. Deep down in my soul, I knew my friend would always be in my heart and by my side. Which bought me the peace I needed.
I did not need his insurance money, but it humbled me to know that he cared and loved me and left this monetary gift to me. No one had ever cared like this for me before. Nobody had given me a cat before. I had to pay for everything else myself.
What is so weird is that it was on that day the woman, Annie, who introduced me to my editor, helped me find his middle name because no matter what I did the insurance company website wouldn’t allow me to enter and confirm I was Tom’s beneficiary without it. I asked Annie if she could help me, and within seconds I had access and was able to receive Tom’s benefits.
When I think of you, warmth comes to my heart.
It fills my senses.
Soothes my soul,
Takes me to sweet pastures,
Where colors are vibrant,
And chakras heal naturally.
Where dancers dance,
And coruscate, energy, are way beneath the surface of man’s eyes
A brotherly love that heals another person’s heart
A truth that stands at attention
And revels in
A genuine confirmation of who you are.
There is no duplication for you
You are one in a million
You stand on your own
You are a symbol and likeness
That is why I admire you
Because you are an instrument
You say things in such a way that makes it easy to trust
Easy to understand,
And easy to digest
Your words turn into truths
That nourish my epitome,
Embellish my embodiment
And I feel with deep, earnest intention
Your passion to guide and to guard holds me up
And keeps my core growing ever stronger
You share from a true nature
Transcending as it reaches my essence
Flickering throughout my temple,
Fluttering back and forth,
Sending silent messages of instant comfort,
That only I can feel and you can only receive.
You are my example
To go forth,
To keep mindful,
And to keep hope alive.
You can order my poetry collection, not including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart. I plan to release a new edition, which will have this and other poems, in the spring of 2026.
Original text ©2025 by Karen Lynn Chlup. All rights reserved. Image by Karen Lynn-Chlup also ©2025.
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