Reflections of My Heart: Years Passing

I wrote this poem about the challenges I have had in my life. And how, one at a time, I overcame them to become a voice of hope for everyone, regardless of disability—visible or invisible.

Years Passing

When I was five months old
The doctors pronounced
That I would be
Deaf, dumb, and blind.
However, I showed them.
I didn’t go to heaven!

At age three
My mother gave me
Dance lessons
And at age seven,
My braces went to brace heaven.

At thirteen
I was taught to read and write
But with little comprehension or delight

Then, years later, I was empowered
I saw my life’s lessons lighting the sky
I realized I had never learned
While going through school.

However, now,
With all due respect,
And sincere gratitude,
I understand how I
Was passed from class to class
From grade to grade
Being nothing of importance
To the teachers I had

And then that day came
When I knew exactly what I needed
To change
My life’s course

My only problem,
A huge one at that,
Was reasoning with a
Handicap organization
That would not listen to me

But listen, they did
When I took them to court

I fought the good fight
Winning the battle
Of my life
And,
Because of that day,
I am doing exactly
What my heart desires.

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

Reflections of My Heart: Wondering

Image of woman in ancient Greek dress looking at her reflection in a hand mirror

I wrote this poem after having a vision. A plan for my future. Of wanting better for myself. Of working hard in every way. And, one by one, facing, seeking, and making dreams come true.

Most importantly, seeing who I am and finding the wisdom to follow my ideas and drive myself to reach them.

I sought and found what this could be like, especially as a disabled person growing up in the early nineteen-fifties.

Today, you can find it too. Look within your heart, and you will find the guidance you seek.

Wondering

Sometimes I wonder
What life would be like
If I were a different kind of person

I ponder the ideas of time, space,
And form
I think about how
I would flow
In and out of situations
Bending and
Curving with every
Twist and turn

What would it be like
Molding myself in all
Different unique
Shapes and forms?

Suddenly, I am
Returned to reality
Remembering
Who I am
Where I’ve been

And
The path I am
Taking.

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

Reflections of My Heart: Wilting Daisy

Photo of dead daisies

In 1993, my husband Chris and I visited Joshua Tree National Park, which I had never seen before. His mother lived nearby in Yucca Valley, so we took a day hike.

Out of respect for all the reptiles of the desert, I wrote this poem.

Wilting Daisy

The snake
Wanders through
The shaded shrubs
In secrecy

The hot sun hisses,
And the slimy
Creature crawls toward the wilting daisy,
Speaking suspicious words,
From the garden
And
Sapping its last strength.

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

Reflections of My Heart: Why

Me-at-my-first-dance-recital-and-Al-by-my-side

I wrote this poem in 1983 for Al Gilbert, who was an absolute angel in my life. From my early childhood (age three), he taught me, he cared for me, and he loved me—teaching me to dance and healing my spirit and life in the process.

Keep in mind that the doctors had told my parents that I would never walk. But Al not only taught me to walk, he taught me to dance. And this led into my own career as a dance and fitness instructor. So Al made the difference in my life. Without him, I might have ended up in an institution, broken and dependent. With him, I soared, unbroken and victoriously interdependent, professionally successful, and happily married.

Al taught dance to Annette Funicello and many other stars. In my memoir/novel, I wrote about how he blessed my life. I have also written about him in earlier poems and posts in Reflections of My Heart.

To save you some time, I created this hot link so you can find the relevant Al Gilbert passages through my website:

https://whispersofhope.org/?s=gilbert

I have not yet published the memoir because it needs more editing, but you can read the most current version on my blog, though it is broken up into scenes. If you are desperate to read it, just let me know.

Thank you, again for reading my words. What you give me by reading them equals what I give you by writing them.

Stay strong!

Why

I dance because

Dance healed

My broken

Wing and my life.

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

Reflections of My Heart: Weaving

Photo fo a Virginia tiger mother cocoon

Back in 1983, on a night walk, I looked down. And there before me was a cocoon, with the caterpillar still weaving it in the moonlight, on the sidewalk where I stood. I stopped, looked, and smiled. This was the first time I had ever seen a caterpillar before it turned into a butterfly. I was in the presence, and I was awed by that moment.

Weaving

The caterpillar
Weaving threads of a cocoon
In moonlit hours!

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

Reflections of My Heart: Wanderer

Blossom of a white magnolia tree

In 1989, a woman wandered the streets of Santa Monica, homeless, disheveled, emaciated. Every day, I saw her in the same spot, and my heart went out to her, so I stopped what I was doing and said a silent affirmation for her benefit. I asked my light to touch hers, and a moment later, she looked up, dazed but aware.

Finding herself hiding from the world and without shelter, she sat under a tree and watched as a white magnolia flower fell.

I continued saying my solemn declarations, confirming her emotional support. Surprisingly enough, one day, while walking by her, she, too, saw the amethyst sky, and she awoke. Something inside awakened her. It was a long-lost dream that suddenly came alive. I never saw her again.

Wanderer

The woman walked all alone one day,
Sadly, along the charcoal-darkened streets,
Drifting silently nowhere

She glanced up
And found herself
Hidden from life’s lighted path!

Then, under a pale, pale flowing tree
She watched the white falling petals wilt
Wilting became familiar to her.

She continued her strolls, but
A glimpse of silver light
Slipped through the amethyst sky,
And woke something deep within her
Which had almost died

It was a long-lost, forgotten dream
That caught her very eye!

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

Reflections of My Heart: Turbulent

Hurricane Isabel from ISS

In the summer of 1982, I was midway through my college education. My life had never been completely calm. Because I am disabled with cerebral palsy, left-side hemiplegia, and dyslexia, it has been a series of conflicts. And not because I wanted it that way, but because the able-bodied professionals who were supposed to help me could not handle a person like me who did not want pity. I wanted to make something of myself and my life, and the experts did not like that.

Like the title of the poem, this caused me tumult. Emotional agitation came after years of my civil rights being manipulated and my boundaries violated.

The more I fought to grow and become more independent, the more they tried to reduce me. Piece by piece, they tried to dismantle my integrity and functionality. They tried to take my power away from me. They even tried to make me feel unworthy of my own efforts to make something of myself. But through it all, my voice grew stronger. I refused to give up or give in, and I refused to be humiliated or treated in a high-handed manner.

Even though the mighty whistle seemed to take over my weeping heart, from the silence, a sound emerged—a ripple that carried a reverberation of hope.

To this day, this hope continues to infuse my healing soul.

Turbulent

The winter was calm and mellow,
But suddenly the stillness changed
Into a turbulent spring

Week by week,
Day by day,
The weather got progressively worse

Tumultuous waters clashed
Without a star in the sky

Its mighty whistle had taken over, Divine!

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

Original text ©2024 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image courtesy of Mike Trenchard, Earth Sciences & Image Analysis Laboratory, NASA Johnson Space Center., Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

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: Years Passing

Years Passing

Reflections of My Heart: Wondering

Wondering

Reflections of My Heart: Wilting Daisy

Wilting Daisy

Reflections of My Heart: Why

Reflections of My Heart: Weaving

Reflections of My Heart: Wanderer

Reflections of My Heart: Turbulent

Reflections of My Heart: Traveling Rhythms

Traveling Rhythms

Reflections of My Heart: Transparent Whiskers

Transparent Whiskers

Reflections of My Heart: Time Ticks

Time Ticks

Inspiration and Hope for People with Cerebral Palsy and Learning Disabilities

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