a middle school musical

 

how brief the flare!

we love to be individuals:

unique, self-reliant, distinctive,

while at the same time,

we crave to be an important part of a larger whole,

validated by others, savored in the connection,

as I enjoyed today the CFS musical, Something Rotten,

I savored individual virtuosity

of character, of movement, of costume, of song,

of delineation of story and of humor,

but even more I savored pieces fitting together into a whole,

I particularly appreciated scene changes and group dances,

where the discipline of a specific role of action

allowed each to fit into the larger whole,

specificity of role allowed the freedom

to succeed as individual within group,

and then the sum of the parts

became far larger than seemed possible,

a play or a musical can come alive on stage,

the energy of the individual infuses the whole,

and the energy of the whole infuses the individual,

each of us aches to find how to be seen,

how to release our gifts and have them noticed, appreciated,

to have our sense of self grow larger

than the constriction that can be us as just individual,

often after the last performance

I would be the last to leave,

I would stand on the stage

and call up the living play or musical

that had blazed its light so well here,

and then it softly faded away,

like into dusk after a sunset,

the run of this middle school musical is just starting,

soon the cast will have an audience

to mirror and expand what they create,

and the life on stage, and within the cast and crew,

will blaze brightly.

by Henry H. Walker

February  7, ‘25

a grandchild and us

 

Rachel Turns 20!

parents are given a great gift

when each witnesses the coming into themselves

of God's next attempt to get it all right,

teachers can feel the gift, too, as they help that self-revelation,

as grandparents we joy even more surely

in the wonder that can be around each new corner

as each marvel of person progresses along the path,

our oldest grandchild is turning 20,

a sophomore in college,

a gift unto the world, and unto us,

her openness to experience, to ideas, to others,

overwhelms us with the fullness of her being herself,

of her enlarging herself,

of her realizing the daunting charge from the universe

to appreciate all that is,

and to be worthy of all those gifts life can reveal,

how wonderful it is that we still breathe,

and thus we are able to joy in more new days,

brightened by the light that is our granddaughter!

with love, from Granddaddy and Grandmama,

February 10, ‘25

the inchoate finds form

 

The Word

the word,

a word,

letters and sounds hope to hold

a complexity of thought

in one clean tool,

each tool audacious and new

and pulls nuanced idea out of the ether,

and allows us to find, to expand

how we see and feel the world around us,

our place in it,

the other,

and the bridges that can 

connect us and that world,

was the word in the beginning?

how much was the word the beginning?

was that when thought first coalesced

into form that could be held

and then used to connect

the interior to the exterior,

and vice versa?

the inchoate finds form,

when dementia steals words away,

how much does it steal individuation?

can such loss return us to the Source?

or does it imprison us where we have no control,

and we know disempowerment?

for now I celebrate words

and how they enable me 

to create and to hold thoughts and feelings.

by Henry H. Walker

February  3, ‘25