Reflections of My Heart: Traveling Rhythms

Photo of Japanese maple tree in leaf.

I wrote this poem in late 1983 while in college. During this time, learning by studying was a goal and expectation. I was determined to let nothing stop me from becoming more educated so I could thrive. Even though there were serious challenges, I confidently took them on. I continued finding reasons to smile and give thanks for the sun shining down, and throwing its rays to see me through. Enduring all, I walked tall and stayed strong like the Japanese maples as their roots grow strong.

On this day, I had an overpowering feeling. As I walked, I looked up at the beautiful golden canopy, but it turned cold on me—biting cold for Los Angeles. Listening to my discordant tempo, I heard the difference between my left foot and my right. I looked down at my legs. What I saw and heard then made me become who I am today. In that moment, I found my harmony and rhapsody.

Traveling Rhythms

The golden sky
Turned on me
With gray frost
As I walked
In syncopated
Rhythm down
The still street

I looked towards
The ground
Hearing the iambic sound
Of my stride

The right, strong and obstinate,
Keeping time with the left,
A delicate melody

Both traveling in
Separate rhythms…
Never combining
Their dissonance with their harmonies

Oh, why?
I ask myself
Why
Can’t you blend
Into rhapsody?

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.

Reflections of My Heart: Transparent Whiskers

Line drawing of a catfish's head showing its whiskers

One sunny day back in 1983, I walked to a neighborhood park that had a shallow, still pond.

When I sat by the water, I sat to calm my racing mind. But as I sought repose, I observed ripples in the water. As I watched, looking for regularity and peace, the ripples were not at peace. Nor were they soothing. Rather, churning, choppy, agitated, as if they replicated my emotions.

But then I noticed bubbles all over the shallow water. Their uneasiness was mine. Just beneath the surface, translucent bodies swam. Their faces, with their long, thin, hair-like whiskers, intimidated me.

But I wanted to be rugged, so despite being startled, I looked again. Catfish with barbels hanging from their mouths.

These fish are intelligent. The bubbles were formed by the father blowing air for the babies into the nest. The fathers swim to the top of the water so they can inhale and then aerate their family’s eggs.

At that point, I remembered that I too had to breathe. The catfish let me remember why I had come to the water’s edge. They were happy doing what they were doing. I needed to be too! So I softened, releasing the feelings I held in the back of my mind, and letting go, found happiness where I was. The catfish helped me do this. By getting caught up in watching them, I changed my state of mind to one without conflict, to a place where I did not feel threatened anymore.

Transparent Whiskers

The pond is clear.
A gentle glimpse of water,
It shines brightly as can be
But when it ripples, it moves with rigid fear
And lack of ease.

Its soft elements turn nature
Into stormy whiskers as
It becomes translucent
To all who threaten them!

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.

Reflections of My Heart: Time Ticks

Photo of clock face of Big Ben, London, UK

In 1985, I was a student at Santa Monica College, but I had to deal with the same issues and same kind of wrongheaded experts that I had faced right after I graduated from high school in 1969 when Rehab labeled me retarded and sent me to work in Handicraft Industries.

The California Department of Rehabilitation and Santa Monica College made it unbelievably hard for me to continue my education. I fought back by writing to the dean. There were two people at the college who made it extremely difficult for me. One told me I cheated on a test. That was the woman at the Resource Center, and she told the dean that, too. And the counselor told me I could only take my test in the disability office. Outside of the school, Rehab told the college I was retarded.

I never found out why the woman who ran the Resource Center had it in for me, but she sure did. And then my counselor, who himself was deaf and mute, claimed I had scattered thoughts because I was interested in dance, recreation, physiology, and sociology. That’s not scatterbrained. That’s having a wide range of healthy interests.

This episode was very difficult to face. It took everything in my breath and power to stay calm, feel safe, while knowing that this was a lie so that they could come out smelling like roses, when they knew what they were doing.They had met their match and knew they were in the wrong. They were trying to get through this unscathed. Yet it was okay if they did it to me a fourth time. Looks very wrong to me.

I didn’t want to hurt people, but I had to set boundaries, especially since I was getting exhausted by this ongoing discrimination, and I had to find some self-care time. I couldn’t be a schmatte (a torn rag, something worn out or of little value).

I became a teacher, and in a loving way, teaching others how I wanted to be treated and respected. I didn’t want to be afraid to speak up and have a voice that they would hear.

Therefore, I wrote this post to face my feelings, express myself, and to become a better human. A person learning each day about the twists and turns of life, asking myself if I did the right thing or not, and always coming back to living in the moment.

Time Ticks

Time ticks by
With each passing minute,
Ever-changing

And I
Am forever caught in that moment
Testing it

Time
What is it?
Time is but a passing second in our lives,
Trying to teach me life’s secret treasures

However, Time has not been my friend
Time instead has been my foe.

Taunting and twirling me
Around like a spinning top

Whirling me in different directions
With many discomforts,
Of anxiety and agony

Only to find what living in the moment
Truly is!

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.

Reflections of My Heart: Thy Beauty

Photo of rainbow in a red, sunset sky.

I wrote this poem on July 29, 1981, a day I remember vividly.

That spring, I had turned thirty, and I vowed, for the next thirty years, I would keep working through each and every obstacle in my life.

I vowed I would welcome the beauty I was given with my disabilities and learn to love myself unconditionally. I would not ask myself why…

Dear Universe, if I am as beautiful within as you say, then, in turn, I will not ask why. I will accept. I will do my best on earth, eternally. I will be a light within you. I fully commit to doing everything in my power to stay positive and embrace myself with full gratitude, knowing that you made me this way for a reason.

Thy Beauty

If beauty dwells
Beneath the skin,
Then I must beam bright within

Beyond the surface
One can see
How I’ve walked this earth eternally

So tell me God, tell me true,
Why do I shine like I do?

Others tell me all the time,
Why does it seem so
Difficult each and every time!

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.

Reflections of My Heart: The Swan

Photo of white swan on still water in the moonlight

It was sunset. April 24th 1983, the day time changed, the day we turned our clocks forward for Daylight Savings Time. And the evening was perfect.

It was safer, then, for a woman to go outside in the evening glow and enjoy the sunset and solitude. I felt drawn, almost by instinct as a sensory mechanism, so I followed my instincts to the still pond in the park, near where I lived.

There, I sat on a bench, all to myself. And watched, in quiet solitude, a beautiful swan gliding, moving continuously and effortlessly. Lighted only by the moon. An important signification. As I sat in harmony, my soul lit with its oneness.

The Swan

One swan on a pond
Is gliding through the water
In moonlit hours.

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.

Reflections of My Heart: The Singing Tree

Photo of song sparrow singing in a tree

One midmorning in the spring of 1978, as I took a walk down my block, a sound and a feeling came over me—from a tree. They overcame me. Strong. Indestructible. Everlasting. But not harsh or stern. Gentle, like water flowing in the channel of a stream.

That moment took me to a better place. In that moment, I knew I wanted to live my life like that. I wanted to go with the flow of life, always flowing like water in a stream.

The Singing Tree

Tall as the celestial rim above,
Sturdy as the unbreakable earth below,
Soft as a gentle pendulum swinging side to side

The tree cares for the singing bird that looks for shelter
In the tree’s branch way down below.

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.

Reflections of My Heart: The Sculptor

Photo of a model wearing a bodice and skirt inspired by trees

I wrote this poem in 1978, a year when I had many realizations about myself. Instead of feeling inferior and ashamed of myself, I decided to adopt a tolerant, sympathetic approach to who I was. Instead of hating who I was, I made a conscious decision to love myself unconditionally. I would love myself with all my heart and live in peace and self-acceptance forever more. This was my gift to myself. With it, I sowed a seed that soon grew into a mighty tree that bore life-giving fruit, a crop I harvested, as I became what I believed.

I was beautiful just the way I was. I held my head high, then, with feeling and power, living in a state of being certain, of certitude, creating my own circumstances. Remember, if Karen can do it, you can do it too.

The Sculptor

I know a young sculptor
Who chiseled a chunk of marble,
As he carved a girl’s reflection out of it,

He gave her laurel wreaths
And hands,
As different as branches from a tree

Her left hand
A gentle lamb like a crescent moon
Her right
As eloquently strong, like a lion providing for the lamb!

The sculptor,
So artistic,
Planted seeds and harvested many a dream!

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.

Reflections of My Heart: The Road Back Home

Photo of dirt road cut into the ground.

I wrote this poem in 1996. In November or December, I had come down with a sore throat, so I missed some work. That was bad enough because my job involved teaching dance to elderly people, and I loved it. But when I phoned my boss to say I was well enough to come back, she said, “Don’t bother. We found somebody else.”

That same day, I began my job hunt. I kept trying to find another job. Something. Anything. I kept looking and reaching out to any positions available. All to no avail. There was nothing. I had to accept each defeat and keep moving forward. But I never gave up through all the disappointments and hardship. Somehow, someway, I stayed positive and kept a smile on my face, through all the things that cause pain and hardship.

It took until the following September before I could start a new position, and it included teaching dance, public speaking, and sitting on the organization’s board. Remember, if Karen can do it, you can do it too.

The Road Back Home

You say
I have the road map
To the tunnel
For which
I’ve searched
And looked.

I see signs,
I’ve used directions,
All, leading me nowhere
Or,
To dead ends
Signifying nothing

I called for help,
For directions,
For someone’s guidance,
To be lead
To the road
Back home!

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.

Reflections of My Heart: The River

Photograph of the Colorado River from a campsite on its shore.

In 1993, husband Chris and I went on a camping trip through Sedona and Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon. From the seventh floor of the Desert View Watchtower on the canyon’s South Rim, the view was majestic. Everywhere I turned, there was another eye-catching view.

We camped for the night on the shore of the Colorado River, and when nightfall came, I got very still and quiet, sitting serenely on a camp chair, watching the campfire, thinking about my day’s travels. As I looked out beyond the river’s edge, I pondered, and I wrote. I gave serious and careful thought to this poem. You know how it is. Visualizing that moment in the Watchtower, looking out over the canyon. What it conveyed to my mind. I took that image and developed it, making it into something others might like to read. So I thought and daydreamed, then wrote a few more words, until I was lost in my poem. I looked down again, only to see that I could conclude and scribble a few more words about what being near the river meant to me. And this is what I scratched out.

During the time I wrote this, I looked back and into my past. Only to look forward to new possibilities, new dreams, and new hopes.

The River

Remember the days
The river rinsed my feet,
As I frolicked in that crystal clear stream

Suddenly, the emerald green leaf
Turned into a delicate gilded gold,
Blowing

Swaying with sweet whispers of its chattering leaves…
Staying beautifully poised with every beautiful pose…

Then winter came,
The calming stream turned,
Leaving the leaves
Covered with a frozen snow,
Stiffening the water below,
Turning its ivory black,
Like the shadowed forest,
In the mist of dusk,
And being very, very cold!

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.

Reflections of My Heart: The Pond

Photo of a swan and ducks on a still lake

One brisk, beautiful morning back in April 1992, my husband Chris and I got up and decided to go to the park to relax. He knew how much I enjoyed feeding the ducks and swans. The park with the pond was close to our house, so we packed some bread and crackers and drove there. I couldn’t wait to arrive. I was excited and full of well-being and contentment.

When we arrived, Chris and I spread our blanket on the grass and got comfortable, sitting and watching the birds for a while. Then I got the bag of bread and the crackers. Tossing some out to the ducks and swans was a shared delight. I felt at peace, calm, almost euphoric. Being in the moment, amongst nature, rejuvenated me. It was that joyful, and pleasant.

All I could do was smile. My smile felt like it was frozen on my face. That’s how happy I was. I felt this happiness soothe my inner self. It made me feel so serene that I pulled out my writing pad and wrote this poem.

I didn’t feel a care in the world. I sat, taking it all in. It was pure delight, sitting there, being one with the universe, while soaking in all that goodness. It was a lighthearted, joyful day.

The Pond

The mid-day sun
Gleams across
The magenta pond
As graceful swans glide round and round.

Oh, how I enjoy the jade green grasses,
tickling my toes,
And,
The shade trees,
Cooling the summer breeze.

Oh, how wonderful life can be
Watching nature just be!

You can order my poetry collection, including this poem, here: Reflections of My Heart.

Reflections of My Heart: Traveling Rhythms

Traveling Rhythms

Reflections of My Heart: Transparent Whiskers

Transparent Whiskers

Reflections of My Heart: Time Ticks

Time Ticks

Reflections of My Heart: Thy Beauty

Thy Beauty

Reflections of My Heart: The Swan

The Swan

Reflections of My Heart: The Singing Tree

The Singing Tree

Reflections of My Heart: The Sculptor

The Sculptor

Reflections of My Heart: The Road Back Home

The Road Back Home

Reflections of My Heart: The River

The River

Reflections of My Heart: The Pond

The Pond

Inspiration and Hope for People with Cerebral Palsy and Learning Disabilities

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