Part I: Tales of Bellingham, Washington

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During the past  six months, I had the opportunity on two separate occasions to travel to Bellingham, Washington, with my youngest daughter, Lara, who just returned from two years in Togo with the Peace Corps. She was offered employment there and so we went together to go apartment hunting, along with her Aunt Kathy. I returned at Christmas because this old mother did not want her to have a third Christmas in a row without family.

I love the Pacific Northwest! It is beautiful and the weather not as extreme as I am now experiencing in Wisconsin. The Cascade Mountains, Mt. Baker specifically, and the trees and plants are just a sight to behold! Beauty beyond description!

"Mt. Baker" Photo Credit: Jane H. Johann, c.October, 2015. Taken from "Artist's Point" on the slopes of the Cascade Mountain Range.

“Mt. Baker” Photo Credit: Jane H. Johann, c.October, 2015. Taken from “Artist’s Point” on the slopes of the Cascade Mountain Range.

The people are warm and friendly in Bellingham. The city has a small town atmosphere and I felt very comfortable ambling through the streets during the day, while Lara was at work. I think I averaged three to four miles a day, walking through the city and taking in so many different expressions of life. I was careful not to walk to far West!  A far cry from the quiet soybean and cornfields that surround me here in southeastern Wisconsin.

Lara’s apartment is just two blocks from the view of Bellingham Bay as seen in the enclosed photo in this writing piece. It is also only a half block from the several train tracks.

"Trains of Bellingham" Photo Credit: Jane H. Johann.c.2016, January.

“Trains of Bellingham” Photo Credit: Jane H. Johann.c.2016, January.

The first night, after my 26 hour journey (who knew it would take that long from Wisconsin~ another story!) to Bellingham, I fell asleep very quickly, only to be startled awake at 11 PM with a train running over me! Or, so I thought! Then there was another at midnight and so on, until 3 AM. It was an adjustment, but I did get there by the end of the month and quickly learned not to complain about the noise of the trains to Bellingham residents. They take pride in living close to the tracks and the trains hold a deep connection to them — I am not quite sure what that is yet–will let you all know once I figure it out. However, the trains are delightful to see and appreciate–especially the art work on the various freight cars.

 

 

"Art on the Rails" Bellingham, WA, USA. Photo Credit: . Jane H. Johann, Jan. 2016

“Art on the Rails” Bellingham, WA, USA. Photo Credit: . Jane H. Johann, Jan. 2016

 

 

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Everyday I found something new to appreciate in the city of Bellingham.

A different kind of posting…

"Light at the End of Cloud Trails"

“Light at the End of Cloud Trails”

Well, I have not posted much in the last year. And, when I did, it has been sporadic. I have been battling issues on many fronts. I am trying to keep myself from sinking.  Some days I dip deep into the murky water and other days, I fly high into the beautiful clouds and sunshine.

My heart is sad.

I have tried so terribly hard to post only positive things and good, loving images…to inspire others not to give up. And now…my heart is bleeding and I am unable to do it. So my posts have become less and less.

I do NOT consider myself anywhere near sainthood. I have made many mistakes over my lifetime and each time, I try to pick myself up and “never give up”—a poem I found when I was a senior in high school spoke these words to me:”Never give up..Give it one more try”……and so that has been my motto for many, many moons.

But some days it is such a great struggle.

My last piece, “Listen…and walk in Everlasting Shoe,”  was a call to MY own inner spirit to wake up and be there for others.

Then a few people attacked me, accusing me of thinking I am better than others.  Well, to that I say, hell no…that is precisely the problem I have—I think and feel I am worse than most—and so I write those words to wake myself up and to be aware of what others are suffering.

I became a teacher many years ago. I had watched the movie, a script fashioned after James Hilton’s novel, Goodbye Mr. Chips. I said to myself, “That is the kind of teacher I want to be!”  And, much to the consternation of my parents, I pursued the teaching career. I taught for 36 years—–and then, the Republicans came into power. A long story and I am sure many would argue I got what I deserved—I had no right to be creative and treat the students like people—they were “clients” afterall.   I am a person who is very hard on herself.  I literally give 100% to something I pursue—and that was my weakness—because I was beaten on every level—for seven years.  In the end, I lost 18 inches of my large intestine and had to resign. My friends told me, “Jane, resign or you will be killed.”  I took their advice and resigned. And since then, I have been struggling greatly in trying to find myself and to find a purpose for my life. It has been quite difficult. I see so much suffering everywhere…and I do not know what I have to offer…because no one seems to want it.  I planned in my idealized vision, to teach until I dropped…and then, to come to such an abrupt and brutal ending, it was more than I could take…and I hadn’t planned for it. So, I was lost and I still am.

There have been other personal issues which have taken me to the brink of disaster. In an effort to protect the innocent, I shall not write about them.

Sometimes I wonder, “Why is there so much suffering?”  “Why do people not trust each other?  “Why is there so much loneliness in our world?”  “Why do people not care anymore?”

I still do not know the answer.

Yes, there are the people who do good for others…there are people who get awards for this or that…but then I see the thousands of homeless throughout our cities…the thousands of people in homes who are as isolated as those on the streets.  I wonder, WHY?  I read that the suicide rate for elderly people living in the countryside is an all time high. I read that now people between the ages of 30 and 59 are committing suicide at an alarming rate. Everyday, I read about another “murder-suicide”—–either between a couple, or, yet worse, between a couple and their children—all end up killed.  What is happening to our world?

I do not know the answers.

I question myself constantly about what I can do personally to make this world better.  Some times I can go in spurts and give my best and write uplifting things.  Lately, I feel so much pain inside of myself, that I cannot find the strength to write about goodness.  I feel I have failed my friends.  I am sorry.  I am doing my best.

I am so grateful for WordPress and the people on here. Even when the despair surrounds me, and there is darkness all around me,  something pulls me back to WordPress. And I begin reading the works of others—-and I see how much their words and reflections help me to go on.  To all of you, I say THANK YOU!  Never think that your words are worthless or meaningless—you have all touched me along the path of life—your words! You do have purpose and you have helped me continue…

Thank you!

 

 

Listen…and walk in everlasting shoes

“You listen with only one purpose: to help him or her to empty his heart…”

Thich Nhat Hahn

Photo Credit; Jane H. Johann, Dec. 2014 "Walk in the Shoes of One Another"

Photo Credit; Jane H. Johann, Dec. 2014 “Walk in the Shoes of One Another”

Listen…and walk in everlasting shoes

among the broken-hearted

Listen…and walk in everlasting shoes

…hear the sighs–the silent whispers of the child

waiting for a hug of reassurance

Listen…and walk in everlasting shoes

…feel the judgment

we lay upon the homeless…

Listen…and walk in everlasting shoes

…crawl into the skin

of those oppressed because of the color of their skin

Listen…and walk in everlasting shoes

…touch the loneliness unspoken

of the aged in the walls of the nursing home

Listen…and walk in everlasting shoes

…open your arms to those battered

and abused

Listen…and walk in everlasting shoes

 

 

 

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“to walk in everlasting shoes”–Victorian era— to walk barefoot

Haiku: Water Waves

Lake Michigan, Port Washington, WI September 26, 2016 PHOTO CREDIT: c. Jane H. Johann

Lake Michigan, Port Washington, WI September 26, 2016 PHOTO CREDIT: c. Jane H. Johann

 

 

waves of emotions

surfacing from deep within

awakening souls

 

2015 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2015 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 5,300 times in 2015. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 4 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Haiku: Mt. Ranier, Washington

"Top Hat of Mt. Ranier"  Photo Credit by Elijah, Freelancer . from Denver, Colorado. COPYRIGHT.  Used with Permission. December 15, 2015

“Top Hat of Mt. Ranier” Photo Credit by Elijah, Freelancer . from Denver, Colorado. COPYRIGHT. Used with Permission.
December 15, 2015

 

surreal the vision

sharing in the eye of God

majestic the pause

 

I was privileged to be sitting in the aircraft, as we flew past Mt. Ranier, Washington from Denver, Colorado. The very kind person sitting next to me, Elijah, a young man in his twenties, graciously offered to share his photo with me and gave me permission to share it with all of you. I would suggest enlarging the photo if you can—it was an amazing site to behold!

Haiku: Mt. Kulshan (aka Mt. Baker, Washington)

"Mt. Kulshan" Oil painting original by Jane H. Johann c.January, 2016.

“Mt. Kulshan” Oil painting original by Jane H. Johann c.January, 2016.

 

Resilient strength

Pouring forth nobility

Sharing its beauty

Free Verse # 340 (on her lips the full moon)

LOVE in all its glory!  Please direct your likes and comments to:  http://themischiefmemoirs.com/

Pierre Mhanna's avatarRooted in Love

She held his poem
against her belly,
pressed into her naval
like a fiery seed being sown
in the womb of the earth.

~

On her lips
the full moon
a wild flower

~

Two in appearance; in reality one light, one body, one soul.

~

Wrapped in the silk
of a thousand dawns
she comes to me
and I unwrap her
one dawn at a time,
unfolding
her ineffable essence,
poetry…

~

I’m not a poet
I am a perfume maker,
in the oil of her skin
I dip my brush
then paint her,
a burning fragrance,
poetry.

~

On the nourishment
of your skin I subsist
the way a butterfly
dips and dips
into the heart of the flower,
her tremulous sea of poetry.

~

Of all my yearnings
only one remains…
red flower on her lips

~

In the quiet of my heart
your flower grows…
moon…

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How dangerous Smartphon

Just yesterday, a man in California plunged to his death, as he walked off a cliff! He also was using his cellphone!