At Storm Eye

Whirling winds, like loud voices,

writhe in circular emotions;

seemingly at war with one another,

they call and draw forth clouds
from far off lakes and oceans.

Rushing waves, ringing, raging,

roar in circular courses,

overtaking what lies in the way,

from here to the far horizon,
flooding with its forces.

Sacred storm blows and flows, 

driving madness round about the way,

but your wave and mine can meet;

joining within the calm storm eye may,

challenge violence to stand down.

Joining hands in friendship,

once rogue waves form a unity;
together stronger than any storm,
our choice forms a harmonious purity

that must drive stormy madness away.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Weed Patch

Fall seeds brought color to a waning year;
rains helped greenery linger through Winter;
Spring now shines on a tangled flourish of weeds.

Taller and more robust, seem they,
than all the truer plants,
as if to boldly take over the world.

Truth is, they have served the sweeter plants,
as a cover to hold in the nourishing water,
a canopy against any exceptional heat from the sun.

Pulled at the roots, they soon shall be,
to dry in the sun and be turned to mulch,
while the flowers drink water and light.

For weeds,
life is short,
but full.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Boundaries

I never wanted to be contained or apart,
but the fences, walls and ceilings went up anyway.

The meta-message to me: this is love;
these enclosures are yours, deal with them.

But the sound of my song finds flight,
I can hear it on the wind and in the light.

My body is weary, weary of climbing the walls,
climbing walls that do not belong to me.

I cannot get over into that garden
where once I stood and thought I felt the sun.

But I have only slowly come to realize:
the only true garden is where I am Now.

The gates to that other place are closed;
there is no going back, only forward.

The love that sought to box me lies entombed;
Wistfully, my wings exercise freedom of flight again.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

The Answer Girl

I am now, and have always been, a magnet for queries and questions. Why? I'm not sure I know. But it is the truth. I can stand in the middle of a room, minding my own business, and someone will enter the room, then make a beeline for me.

"Do you know...?"
      "Where is...?"
          "Can you tell me...?"
               "Who do I...?"

Just the other day, as I arrived with my children at the beach, I spied a woman who was walking up and down, looking intently at her cell phone. She looked up long enough to spot me, then made the (seemingly) inevitable beeline for me.

"Do you know anyone who has bipolar disorder?" Given the setting, I was really thrown by the question.

"No," I lied, smiling, and she walked away, resuming her examination of whatever text information was on her cell phone display. The truth is, I do know people who are bipolar and have read a lot about the disorder. For some reason, I did not want to engage in a discussion on this topic with a stranger at the beach. Moments later, I was glad that I hadn't, because one of my kids was having a problem, and I needed to address that.

I have always wondered why people come to me with their questions. I am rather shy (though, if you knew me well, you would not think so). I enjoy a good conversation, but might not have the courage to start one, if in the company of strangers.

When I was a young teen, there was nothing more embarrassing for me than to have people ask me questions, as if I would know the answers. There were always adults around who looked, to me, as if they would know. Why ask me, rather than them?

And the kids at school were always asking me about the homework, or what the loudspeaker announcement had been, or what the teacher had just said.

When I was young professional musician, colleagues would turn to me, asking "what page are we on?" or "what did she say" or "what are we supposed to be doing" or just plain "huh?" Half the time, these folks were asking me for answers to questions that were actually being answered in that moment that they were asking me the question, which meant (much to my consternation) that I was missing that information, as well as they.

"Where am I supposed to go?"
      "What is happening?"
            "What time is it?"
                   "What do I do next?"

Well, yes, many... okay, most times I did (and do) have the answers to the questions. It is not as if I was unwilling to provide answers. I just don't usually feel as if I am the most qualified person around to be "the answer person". Sometimes the people who are actually in charge are standing right nearby.

One particularly embarrassing moment occurred when I was talking with a singing colleague at a performance venue, before a pre-concert warmup. He and I had arrived earlier than our other performer friends, and we were just shooting the breeze. Then, the director of the group came up, and we were exchanging pleasantries, when all at once a gentleman came up to me and asked, "where do you want this microphone and these music stands?"

I felt instantly awkward. I could feel my face going pink. The director, after all, was standing right next to me, looking older, more wise, and in charge. I sucked up my embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I don't know. But here, let me introduce you to the director of our group--he can tell you everything."

I later related this story to a friend of mine. She was merrily chuckling to herself, as I told my tale, throwing up my hands and finally asking her, "why ME?!"

"Because," she said, "you know."

"What?!"

"You know," she repeated, "you have the answers, and the universe knows it. If you don't have the answer, you know who does. Everyone can see this on your face!"

I thought she was crazy.

"You think I'm crazy, don't you? That is exactly what I mean."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."

She laughed. "You think of yourself as shy. You hold yourself back. You let others take the lead. But when people look at you, they see competence, they see a leader, they see that you hold the answers to their questions, and--more importantly--they see someone they are not afraid to approach with a question that might be embarrassing for them to ask."

"You are describing a kiosk."

"NO! I am describing you, who stand on the bridge that divides confusion from clarity! The universe has chosen you for this role. Accept it. Take it seriously! The people who approach you need you!"

That gave me something to think about. I had never considered this possibility. I later realized that my friend's insight had allowed me to cross my bridge, rather than merely stand on it.

Now, years later, the questions continue to come, and most of the time, I fulfill this small duty. I have thought a lot about that bridge between confusion and clarity. I continue to wonder how it can be possible that I ever stand on this bridge, when I feel myself to frequent the shores of confusion. But I have, more or less, accepted the observation of my friend as a truth that I must embrace.

I also have the sense, the apprehension, that most (if not all) individuals probably spend some little time on just such a bridge, helping others to cross. And that this is why there are so many of us--we must all help someone to cross, and reciprocally allow someone to help us, when we have need.

I try to do this small service whenever asked, but sometimes I forget. (Forgive me, lady on the beach--I hope you found the answer to your question!)

And I pray that, in those moments when I am confounded, I will be able to find the right person to lead me from the shore of confusion across some mind-worn and heart-warmed bridge to that other shore.

Discussions About Life

It had been such a beautiful day! Warm, Spring-like, gorgeous!

It was late in the afternoon. My daughter suddenly wanted to go to the beach, even for just a short time. My son did not want to go to the beach.

At their age, it is either all or none. I decided that we should go; the sun would soon be setting, we wouldn't be gone long.

So, off we went.

We are extremely fortunate to live within a mile of a lovely beach and bird sanctuary. Because of the fantastic weather, the beach was crowded with people of all ages, and birds, of many different feathers, were floating, flying and walking around the area. Couldn't have asked for a more perfect setting.

My son, however, was moping. At first, he didn't want to play with his sister, and then he did want to play with her, but she wouldn't play the way he wanted to... (sigh) One of those moments every parent has to deal with. I usually try to deal with it by casting my mind back to my own childhood, sifting through the memory banks for similar experiences.

He finally came over and sat by me, arms crossed, with a cloudy look on his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked (already knowing).

"She won't let me play with her," he said.

"Really?"

"Well, she will, but only if we play the way she wants to," came his answer.

"Hmmm..." Meanwhile, the memory banks were flicking images through my brain, and I was winding up to formulate some sort of response to his difficulty, hopefully a response that might be useful.

"You know, when I was a child, I was serious, just like you are. The difference between you and me is that you talk more about what is going on with you. I didn't talk, thinking I had to handle everything on my own," I paused, to see if he was listening.

"You do have to handle your experience on your own; I cannot change your experience for you, to make things happen the way that you think you want them to happen." I swept my arm around at the fabulous view and the people enjoying it. "Here we are in this beautiful place, in this beautiful moment, and you are choosing to be miserable."

"I know that it is disappointing when things don't go your way. Most days in life are like that, honestly. I can think of few days in my life when things have gone perfectly or the way that I wanted." He cut a glance at me, considering this with some skepticism.

"I think the secret to getting along through life must lie in letting go of the need to control circumstances that, let's face it, really can't be controlled, and by taking time to look at what is actually happening around us. If we can do that, it may be possible to find the beauty that just is, not a moment that we manufacture or manipulate, but one that is just there and includes us. Do you see?"

He was thinking about what I said.

"I think that if you spend more time finding and being within the beauty of things the way they are, you will feel less need to control them. There are so many people in the world who spend all their waking moments trying to make things happen and in continual frustration over not being able to control everything and every person around them. Ultimately, I think this is a waste of good living time, when you could be appreciating that you are part of this beautiful and remarkable place and moment. This beautiful moment is yours, if you can see it, hear it, taste it, touch it. bathe in it."

He looked out over the water. The sun was making a glorious red slide down behind the San Francisco skyline.

"There, see? We can go home now--this was only a quick outing anyway. Let's go home and make dinner."

He was watching the colors change along the horizon. He seemed more relaxed. But, I wondered, had he been able to digest what I had said? I don't know. But it seemed to me like he was thinking about it.

"Why don't you go get your sister, and then we'll go."

"Okay, mom." He ran over to where his sister was drawing pictures in the sand and splashing around.

Looking after him, watching them both, and remembering my own years of frustration and seriousness (then and now), I wondered if what had I said would help, or not.

If there is one thing I know, it is this: as a parent, I cannot mitigate my children's experiences--they must experience what they will experience.

Experience is the great teacher, but only if we are willing to be pliant and infinitely flexible students. Experience is the reason for life, though perhaps life's meaning is beyond experience, as meaning implies a synthesis that can only be derived from a culmination of all experiences.

I thought about what I had said to him. I wondered if I were modeling, in our home life, any of what I had suggested. If so, was it enough to be a good model?

And then I wondered if I could remember what I had said long enough to write it down, to be a wisdom that I, too, could quietly consider.

Jury Duty; It's A Service

Just this week, I completed my first actual jury service, as an alternate juror for a civil suit. While I have been summoned annually, I have never been entered into a jury, until this year. I found the experience to be highly educational and really felt good about being part of a small group of people, assigned the task of sorting out problems between two parties.

For years, whenever I mentioned receiving a summons, friends, coworkers and colleagues would say, "can't you get out of it?" I have frequently thought this a rather cavalier attitude toward a minor role that is meant to help our judicial system and our fellow citizens. Yes, I know that the summons can come at inconvenient times in one's life, but surely not every occasion is inconvenient, is it? It seems as if avoidance is the regular attitude toward this very necessary public service. And, yes, it is a public service--the public serves!

I have to say that I found the entire process very interesting. The judge and her attendant, clerk and court reporter were extremely efficient. The judge, in particular, was engaging and strove to give the pool of jurors the information they needed, in order to do their job with confidence, in as clear and engaging a manner as possible. My experience turned around the notions one has had from watching crime/courtroom drama, over the years. The most vivid actor, based on this, my single experience, is the judge, not the attorneys. The judge must command the courtroom, certainly, but also exhibit interest and care, with regard to jurors, counsel and witnesses.

I sat in the assigned courtroom for four days of voir dire, as one after another juror was dismissed. Mine was the last name called. After questioning, I was not kicked loose, but retained to be one of two alternates for this case. It was sometimes appalling, hearing the responses some people had to questions of counsel. Some of the answers seemed truly calculated toward a goal of "getting off the jury."

I have to say, I believe in public service. I believe that we are here in such vast numbers to help each other. I know that jury service can be a hardship for some working people, but the one thing I can say is that jury service is very interesting. It is in no way a waste of time. Being out of work, right now, I actually went into jury cattle call hoping that I would end up in a courtroom.

The only complaint I could possibly register about my experience is that it took so long to get through the security check line at the single entrance. In these days of downsizing and budget crises, there is great demand for security, but no one wants to pay people to do it! The Superior Court building that I was assigned to had multiple entrances, but everyone had to go through one set of doors, regardless of whether you were going for traffic tickets, jury assignment or litigation.

The case to which I was assigned was convoluted, having to do with a small business (internet café) in breach of an undisclosed exclusive use agreement another business (fast food sandwich shop) had with the landlord of the mixed use business park, of which each building had a separate zone definition. It did not help that the city where the business was located did not have designations for restaurants of any kind, categorizing them all as "retail sales".

Essential questions in this case were of these varieties: What constitutes a "sandwich"; What constitutes a "restaurant"; What, if any, are the differences between a "restaurant" and a "fast food restaurant" and a "café"; Are landlords obligated to disclose zoning issues and exclusive use agreements to businesses planning to lease their space; If the city does not demand that a new business request a special use permit when plans are submitted that clearly show a use not compatible with the defined zone for the space, can the city later come back and shut down the business for failing to conform to the zoning ordinances; should a plaintiff receive damages for lost profits or even emotional trauma?

I have the impression that many of the people who automatically want to "get out of jury duty" have a basic distrust of the process. Some people may not believe that jurors unversed in the law should be allowed to make decisions about awarding damages.

I can report that the jurors in this case were from a varied demographic. The questions they (and I asked) of some witnesses were really excellent. (Did you know that you, as a jury member, might have the opportunity to ask questions of a witness?) The judge was really excellent, guiding the jury through the legal points, guiding witnesses, fielding objections and motions and sidebars of counsel. There were some really exciting moments, during testimony. We had a hostile witness or two. We had extra counsel, showing up to support a witness, trying to make an objection. We had attorneys telling us that a sandwich is sometimes not a sandwich, a café is not really a restaurant (especially if the zoning says it can't be), a kitchen is not a place where food would necessarily be prepared. We were presented interesting "red herrings" by both sides. We jurors were could not talk about the case amongst ourselves until deliberations, and we did not, even though there themes hanging in the air during breaks. You could look into the eyes of fellow jurors and know that they were thinking exactly what you were thinking about what had happened in the courtroom just before the break.

Finally, after all of the testimony had been given, the jury was given preliminary instructions from the judge, heard final statements of the attorneys, then the alternates were cut loose (unless someone had a heart attack or an auto accident), before the judge issued final instructions to the jury. At that point, I left. My fellow alternate and I felt confident that the twelve jurors would come to a reasonable verdict. We did not know if we would ever know the outcome. (sigh) I figured out in my mind what I felt was a reasonable outcome.

Several days later, I was surprised to receive a call from the clerk at the courthouse! She thanked me for my service and reported to me what the verdict was, and that there had been damages awarded, and what they were. "You are free for another year, and thanks again," I could hear her smiling as she said it. The decision had not been cut and dried... they struggled. The judge had to send them back twice because there were not enough people agreeing with some of the decisions.

I had read the other jurors correctly; their decision was very close to the one I would have made, and there were reasonable damages awarded, in the way that I would have. I believe that justice was done in that case, and that a jury of twelve average people were able to be impartial, fair and honest to both plaintiff and defense.

The system does work, if you let it work, and if you, when you are called, add yourself to the mix by serving. If you should ever be in a situation where you find yourself in a courtroom, I recommend the following: have faith in yourself, have faith in your attorneys, have faith in the process, have faith in the judge, and most of all, have faith in your fellow citizens who have been called to serve you in the due process system.

Reality

Materialism:

products are petted,
becoming self-referential fetishes
for our admiration,
critique &
worship.

Compassion:
heart opens out
ever more outwardly mobile
in the exploration
of life &
of love.

A middle way:
experience of form and spirit,
accepted as inherent
to every journey
—moderately lived,
appropriately embraced.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen