difference is our commonality

 all on various spectrums

we are all so very different,

we often grasp at the illusion 

that boundaries and definitions are clear and sharp,

just listen to our politics these days!

we are challenged to be open-minded toward others 

and sometimes as we should be toward ourselves,

we can feel estranged when we're on a path less taken,

sorrow can thrive in the conflict 

between what is, and our hopes,

consider the hours of therapy that can go toward resolving

the conflict between expectation and reality,

particularly that between parent and child,

I feel for those not easily defined,

those who know themselves to be different

from what others can cavalierly assume about them,

I keep feeling that there are many spectrums upon which

the luck of the die drops every one of us,

we must expand and open what we feel

so that we can make empathic leaps of love into the other,

so that we can know that whoever they are,

that however the universe manifests itself as they are,

they are as true to rightness

as any of us could hope to be,

we are all on a spectrum,

we are all on various spectrums,

and we need to appreciate 

how much difference is also our commonality,

a step toward truth is to imagine that others are like us,

but that step can be on a slippery slope

upon which we can fall 

and lose the empathic leap into the other,

we are then even worse off

because we think we are open

and instead we are really 

centered on our own self.

by Henry H. Walker

September 4, ‘25

embrace the moments allowed

 

mortality

are we blessed, or cursed, 

with the knowledge of our own mortality?

Carl Sagan argued it was the brain's physical evolution: Broca's Brain,

within which synapses linked and revealed a future

in which we were not present,

JRR Tolkien created his immortal elves

for whom mortality was God's gift to humans,

for how better to appreciate the moment 

when you know a time is coming 

when such moments won't exist,

I remember those who have passed 

beyond the presence of my moments,

I hold both hope and fear

as to what future moments might bring,

I choose to feel blessed 

by embracing the glory of the moments we are allowed.

by Henry H. Walker

September 2, ‘25

to create consensus

 

speaking the collective mind

I always worry about the tyranny of the majority,

it is a Friends testimony that consensus is the goal,

not acquiescence to going along with the bulk of the others,

such as in voting,

but rather to find commonality in the truth revealed,

where it's not the individual will but rather a collective will

somehow emerging from the interaction  of one's own truth

with the insights others bring to the grand effort,

"that Friend speaks my mind" scares me,

despite how often it might be true,

I remember well the times a lone voice spoke up,

and saw things differently,

one time I spoke up:

"that Friend does not speak my mind:

I need to change my mind,"

our species is challenged

by reconciling our love for connection with the other,

and our love for finding the truth as currently revealed,

even if that revelation is painful.

by Henry H. Walker

September 2, ‘25

Rachel in Nepal 2

 

Into the test!

my mother described her mother as never still,

even when seated her hands would busy themselves

stringing beans, sewing, whatever,

for each day required much of her,

our granddaughter in her first weeks in Kathmandu, Nepal,

feels challenged to reveal how strong in body and spirit she is,

it takes work to tend a garden, to process the corn,

to milk a cow, to muck the stalls,

to be as strong as her host family needs,  and the needs demand,

to be as open as she can be,

both spirit and body tested

to learn different ways to think, to act, to be,

while still being true to herself,

the chores don't make her,

but they allow her mettle to reveal itself,

her dynamic relationship with the language

is coming together, conversations beginning to work,

thoughts finding other words to express themselves,

and she's even finding how to express her humor, 

sharing a pun in Nepali with her teacher this week!

by Henry Walker

8/31/25

late summer in the Smokies

 

August can feel tired

cardinal flowers are blooming along the creek

three weeks into August,

a week and a half ago would be when they start

and when it would have been time for me

to transit from mountains to piedmont,

from vacation to work,

now the cardinal flowers are not harbingers

but rather an integral part of the illustrations of this season,

the air pregnant with too much water,

the forest green with too much life,

even the sun on the trees across the way

seems tired and half-hearted,

not bright with promise the way it so often is

as I sit here late afternoon,

August can feel exhausted, not exuberant as in spring,

it is hard to write about anything besides the sweat

that the day makes me pay for being here, now,

behind me quartz is piled up like treasure,

kids recently were enticed by its dirty-white unique self,

they must have felt and found wonder,

how wonderful that this "cabin on the creek" 

still exists and can still welcome

many to find their way here and open themselves

to however the world reveals its magic to them.

by Henry H. Walker

August 20, '25