Tag Archives: love

Vibrate Love Like A Tuning Fork

Seems that living is, often, difficult these days. Lingering reverberations from COVID, upheavals and warring countries, impending elections, fractionalized society, wild and dangerous weather, snarky comments from complete strangers on social media platforms; and, so much more. Add to all this the wear and tear of daily life – illnesses, finances, deaths, and all the mundane stuff that requires our attentions and energies. It’s no wonder folks can be argumentative, short-tempered, and downright nasty sometimes.

However, here’s the thing: if what you say and/or do you lead with love, it can begin to change your point of view and, ultimately, the outcome.

For example, the other day my husband and I were in a big box store. He’d made comment to a woman that was somewhat playful and innocent. It was a brief exchange. Both smiled and moved on. A bit later he and I passed her, again. She made reference to the previous encounter and the three of us started talking about how easy, everyday conversations seemed to happen less and less as hand-held devices have become where lots of folks focus; and, not on/with each other. A fourth woman came up on our conversation and agreed with what she heard. For several minutes all four of us were engaged, sharing ideas and information, laughing and bemoaning what seemed to have become a less friendly world.

What, you might ask, has this example to do with the title of this brief piece? To be open and available to another person you must, first, acknowledge each other. To be able to acknowledge each other means that you must both, literally, see each other. That’s the first part.

The second part is that you’re at ease and open to converse with another person. It can be a simple nod of the head as you pass each other, acknowledging that, and moving on. Takes no time at all.

There’s the third part – time. We seem to be in such a rush to get somewhere that we blaze through lines, cut folks off on the road, belly ache when we have to wait longer than we want. Patience. Rather than belly aching, enjoy the few moments (more or less) to just be still, at rest as it were. Relax.

All three parts require that one person sees the other person, takes the time to share an acknowledgement and/or a word or two; and, recognizes that we’re all in this life together. Some days are good. Some days are wonder-filled (sic). Some days are heavy loads. If we vibrate love like a tuning fork, everything we do and/or say comes through those vibrations.

Will any of this change the course of human history? I don’t know. What I do know is that it might make a stranger’s life just a bit better, might briefly lift the invisible load they’re carrying that day. That counts. That counts every time.

J E T T Y

At moon high tide

I run off the end of the silvered dock

Phosphorous confounds inverted eyes

wanting to grasp something more

than air can offer

to sustain this body sinking

into black mollusk mud

and transparent jelly fish.

Jessan Dunn Otis (c) 1985

From the unpublished manuscript MIGRATIONS OF THE HEART

My Sons

Stepping into this morning’s light, it’s the same as yesterday’s but not. My heart breaks open, knowing that, someday, I’ll have to go away. Tears of sorrow. Tears of joy. Who will come and comfort me? Who will come and comfort you after I go?

@JessanDunnOtis (c) #Writer

Reconfiguring

Since May 21, 1996, I’ve marketed myself as an independent, freelance writer/editor, collaborating with some amazing clients. To them, as always and again, many thanks for trusting me.

It’s true, from time to time, I did my own work. Not enough, however.

After twenty-seven (27) years it’s time to reconfigure.

Going forward I’ll be focusing more on my work that has laid dormant or ignored too long.

This is my path. Not to walk it is unconscionable.

#DanceOn…

DISSOLVE

As when you touch yourself for the first

     time inside and out

Or when you have left without saying goodbye

     for the last time and you do not know it yet

Like walking into a dark room where everything

     is known and you are excited that

     something alive and beautiful will brush

     your face

Or I am the long tree whose branches

     move gently wild from the wind

     and leave marks on your face

     that you will remember when you dream

     and you will go back to stare for days

     until your eyes ache

Like arms that nobody who has ever loved you

    has had before or has held you more strong

    than you will ever be held again

And you will weep because you know that

    that is true.

(c) Jessan Dunn (DeCredico) Otis – 1985/1987 – CQ, California State Poetry Quarterly, Spring-Summer 1987, Volume 14, Number 1, p.11. 

“Tell her your story. She will listen.”

People have told me their stories since I was a girl. I listened.

Over time, doing walking errands in the city, complete strangers would stop me and begin to tell something they wanted me to know. I listened as long as I could before I had to contine on my way.

Eventually, I began to believe there was an invisible (to me), neon light on my forehead that flashed erratically announcing: “Tell her your story. She will listen.”

Thing is: folks have been telling their stories to each other for millions of years. In a cave. Around a fire. Most likely to indicate where food could be found – an important imperative; or, what areas to avoid because of imminent danger. Perhaps, eventually, expressing more abstract sentiments, like respect or hate or love.

It’s important to share our stories with each other – our universal, human common denominators. To bear witness and to tell about our joys, losses, failures, challenges, successes; and, even a ridiculous recounting.

Sometimes, when you share a deep, long-silent experience, memory, or desire with another person, it can change you and your listener. The burden of your story is brought out and into the light, no longer tucked away in a dark place. It takes courage. You trust you’re telling someone who will not judge, who will understand and empathsize. In the telling and the listening a weight is given up and a recognition that “Ah ha, I know what you’re talking about, I’ve had the same experience, too!”

By telling, you can, also, share a story in a way that reveals just how silly we can be, making complete nincompoops of ourselves (often in public) that elicits a similar, response: “Me, too!” Laughter is a healing thing.

Imagine, if you will, for just a moment, that you’re sitting around an open fire, with millions of stars dancing in the blue-black night sky. What story do you want to tell?

What do you leave for this world?

What’s the legacy you leave for this world when your time on this earth as a breathing, living human being is done?

Did you love enough? Were you kind enough? Did you give it your best effort each day? Did you, in James Taylor’s song, “…shower the people you love with love…”? Did you overcome your fears? Did you give all to what you do best? Did you take care of yourself (not selfsih), so you could better take care of those who needed it? Did you hold the door for the one behind you? Did you give a stranger a hug when they needed it? Are you grateful for the gifts you’ve been give – like waking up each day to give it your best, again?

Or, did you give up, give over, slip down that slippery slope of anxiety, selfishness, hate, bigotry, and loathing? Did you tell a story about someone or something when you only knew less than half the whole story? Did you knee-jerk respond to someone you care for when a moment to step back would have stopped the words that you can never take back? Did you forget that your life is worth living?

It’s always a matter of deciding to do this rather than that. To say, or not say, something. It’s always a choice. Every day, it’s always a choice.

What’s your legacy?

Walk with love…

#Rise_and_Shine

☀️

Welcome to #Sunday, July 31, 2022 / Walk with beauty. Walk with peace. Walk with joy. Walk with happiness. Walk with grace. Walk with foregiveness. Walk with humility. Walk in this world with your whole self – each day. Walk with love. Amen.

🙏🏻

This is just to say… For ARO

This is just to say I’ve left you a bouquet of wildflowers, fresh-picked from our garden, on the table in front of the couch where you, often, sit. You are sleeping. The sun’s up and so am I and the birds and other living things. Continue to breathe easy in the room across the hall. https://pic.twitter.com/is3Bgi1j2O

Love,

~ Jessan

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This was originally posted on @Twitter on June 22, 2022.

Sunday, April 4, 2021

As the first bird is heard, the half Worm Moon continues to head West, and the sun rises, again, in the East, I celebrate each hand or eye that ever loved me.

There are invisible blessings, if one can hear and see and feel and remember.

In gratitude,

~ Jessan