idiocy vs hope

 hope?

I am an optimist at heart,

I imagine an innate goodness within people,

the only way I could get to sleep in November, 2016,

when Trump unexpectedly won

was to declare to myself inside: "I choose hope!"

my decades of teaching actually supported such positivity,

true, my middle schoolers could choose wrong,

could choose a quick response over a measured one,

the lesser over the greater,

illusion over the harsh path

that might be what truly called to their feet,

with support, and love, they usually found the way forward,

now I worry about our country,

too many of the people who are part of us,

seem oblivious to the danger

of the forked tongues of candidates and media,

they who tell us what we want to hear,

what the lesser in us chooses to believe,

so as to escape from what is real

to the fantasy of what we want to be true,

it is all summed-up for me in a Congresswoman

whose response this week to a devastating storm

is to blame liberals who she claims can control the weather,

whether such idiocy can rule our choice of leaders

will be tested in a few weeks on election day.

by Henry H. Walker

October  10, ‘24

of pride, and history

 

how are we defined?

I blurt out to a new German friend

my white privilege guilt:

my genes are only of northwest Europe,

no diversity in my background, not even Neanderthal,

I have no empathic leap before my words are spoken

as to how what I say might feel to one

whose personal roots are primarily of Germany,

I recalibrate my thoughts

and query: "What makes you proud of being German?"

the very question makes no sense to him,

the accident of birth lays no burden or worth on him,

instead he is thankful for all the positive in his own life:

his wife, his children, his work, their health care,

his community where all together

grapes are grown, made into fine wine,

and shared, sold, to make a difference,

it's not the national history,

but still maybe it's the culture that holds him,

it is the real people who raised him,

who share a life with him,

that every day weave connections that hold him where he is,

that define him as to who he is,

it is easy to lose yourself and the consequences of your own actions

when you consider your ancestor's mistakes,

in my case, enslaving people and profiting from immoral choices,

my hope is that my ancestors lived a goodness in much of their lives,

yet I still have to figure how to come to terms with choices

that now seem so wrong to me,

I pray that I can carry forward the hope of every life,

despite the darkness that also calls to our hearts.

by Henry H. Walker

September  27, ‘24

a week with cousins

 

a visit to Germany

we just spent over a week in Germany,

4300 miles, or so, east of home,

a land ancient compared to how long people have been in North America,

the visit feels like it was a family thing,

these are cousins with whom we have not kept up,

so we visit and marvel

both at how similar we are

and how different we are,

the language makes me feel

like I am far too young a person,

for I only really know to say

"please," "thank you," "goodbye,"

I work to figure out the names of towns,

"Garmish-Partenkirchen," "Muchen,"

the highest mountain in Germany, "Zugspitze,"

pronounced with the help of my son

with a reference to the movie "Goldfinger,"

any sophisticated thought still only possible for me

to reach for in English,

I have profound thoughts and learnings from there,

it troubles me how much I don't know the language of their thoughts,

I know the language of their kindnesses,

as strangers who help us navigate the subway system,

and others use English to tell us of deep feelings and thoughts,

while I "grok" what I can and keenly feel as the stranger,

it is a land that may not be strange at all,

but a land within which I visit 

and expand myself, 

enthusiastically.

by Henry H. Walker

October  1, ‘24

a new outlook

 

a transforming through travel

travel can be good for the soul

in ways I did not anticipate, until this trip to Germany,

in my psyche Germany has been a cautionary tale

of a people who went the wrong way,

of my ancestors who were called to leave it,

I did not feel drawn to it,

despite how much its recent story is of redemption,

of closing the door on a troublesome past,

and emerging into the open air of modernity

I ask a new German friend

what he is proud of in being German,

his rejection of the very question

taught me that each of us can make our own world,

our culture may give us hints,

but we should make our own decisions,

for that is where pride can be,

in a life that is well-lived, 

built in how we treat ourselves and others,

this country is beautiful:

pastoral countryside, teeming gleaming cities,

impressive technology: great windmills everywhere,

solar panels, sleek fast trains and subways,

the digital and the electric, pervasive,

a richness of food and drink, particularly with beer,

an encouraging current openness to diversity in its citizenry,

despite some recent loud negative reactions to that diversity,

what I feel most transformational from this travel

is how much I need to transform myself,

to let experience open doors in me

and shake me loose from preconceptions,

so that all places and people come to me fresh,

and we can all evolve together in a shared reality.

by Henry H. Walker

September 29, ‘24

a home shared with renters

 

absence vs presence

two roads diverge within us: 

the glass half-full, or half-empty,

the optimistic view, or the pessimistic,

seeing the absence, or seeing the presence,

a family visits the mountain house we manage,

and a blistering e mail arrives to me soon after, 

some attention given to what worked for them,

far more attention given to what didn't,

criticisms of excessive dirt, of available opened boxes of cereal,

of how they would prefer far more compulsive presentation than we,

attacks on us for not being as a sterile hotel,

the absence of what they wanted

overwhelming the presence of the beauty outside the doors and windows,

the welcoming comfort of a home shared with renters,

the grounding of artifact and photo (of flower, mountain, wildlife)

the books of history, of the naturalist, of story,

the many board games and cards to play when the outside is wet,

the emailer feels the absence of what she wants

more than the presence of what she gets,

and she is thirstier than the half-full glass can satisfy,

we, however, do what we can about the absences

while we concentrate on all that can be present.

by Henry H. Walker

September 28, ‘24

I lift up mine eyes

 

pulled up by mountains

mountains draw me,

consider visiting a cathedral

with its dynamic structure pulling you up to the transcendent,

in my normal life I scurry around in the horizontal,

more in two dimensions than in three,

not particularly up or down, 

backwards in time, or forward, 

where it is easy to forget complexities, deeper and higher realities,

as I trial and error move through the maze,

in my early experience in my religion,

I heard "I lift up mine eyes unto the hills. . ."

and I felt the touch of God in those words,

this day we find a way out of the comfortable, idyllic, alpine valley,

to the top of the highest mountain in Germany, Zugspitze,

a cog railroad climbs us steeply up through lush spruce forest,

then the way up requires a long tunnel through the uplifted gray rock,

our passage up is steady, dark, and of the unknown,

till we find ourselves out of the hole and born again

in snow-covered, glacier-strewn heights,

where the way down and the way out 

expand us toward their greatness,

Looking back down at the valley where we started.

in this world of high mountain, of rock and snow,

and revelations of view that just cannot be held,

there are restaurants perched on the raw surfaces

with bathrooms, heat, food, even beer, to take care of us,

I take picture after picture,

and do my best to "get it,"

though I still only glimpse what I feel 

to be the immensity of that of God,

the great ranges of the Alps spread out, 

magnificent, before us,

the day clear enough to let the sun draw light

to spotlight the towering peaks after peaks before us,

I return to the mountains often,

and I always hope to have my spirit lifted up,

just as a cathedral can pul me toward my best,

I want to lift up my soul unto the hills.

by Henry H. Walker

September 25, ‘24