How To Improve Your Luck

 Salty Snippet,  July 2022   

  My favorite version of Solitaire requires two decks of cards and is a bit more complicated than the ordinary game, but it feels like a sharp person can win more easily.  I play this to clear my mind and calm my nerves while I attend to working with the luck of the draw.

   The luck of the draw has been speaking to me recently.  Usually I just wait and see what comes up and  deal with that – and then I helplessly win or lose.  But Something Inside has suggested that I be a bit more assertive if I want to win: I could SAY what is needed right now, if “we” want to win. 

   What is this feeling of “we??”  It’s the Something Inside that seems to always accompany me in my life. The very quiet little voice offering a helpful thought; it’s even quieter than Jimminy Cricket on someone’s shoulder.  Here It is, suggesting that I might suggest what would be helpful for “us” to win. 

   So I began to do that:  I’d scan the situation and say “We could really use an Ace of Spades right now.”  Or a six of hearts, whatever.  To my surprise, whatever I suggest very often comes up immediately or shortly!  It feels like I have a partner who will help me, but will not lead:  I must do the leading, I must want to win, and I must take the responsibility to say what’s needed right now for success.

   This, of course, is spilling over into other parts of my life where I tend to be passive. “That’s just the way it is for me,”  I think.  “I never X,” “I always Y,”  “It seems to be my Destiny.”  I see there are some givens in my life that must be part of my Destiny – the family, time period, location in which I was born; my body with its gifts and its limitations; and surprising life influences that come along.  But I also see choices I’ve made, both passive and active, which have influenced the course of the river of my life.  Things don’t just always “happen.”  Many times, I have not spoken up; many other times I’ve spoken or acted unwisely.

   My experience as a parent, plus my observations of Nature Itself, tell me that The Source of All Life –  Whatever It is –  surely wants Its creations to thrive and grow and to feel good.  That we will “die” is also a given, but “thriving” is the creative thrust that brings us out into life and always carries us forward.  In all situations we all try to find a next step that will feel like thriving, like something good and successful for ourselves on which another step might be taken.  Now, finally, late in life I realize that I can say what’s needed.  I don’t even have to beg!  I just have to be sharp, and then be responsible and say it, and be willing to accept the help that comes.  Help isn’t always exactly as I thought it would be, but Help comes – when I’m sharp and willing.

Poems for the Very Beginning of Spring, 2022

Skunk Cabbage 

[The very first “flowers” to appear in the woods, in wet places]

What fun to be a skunk cabbage!

Smells are one of Life’s delights.

Out in the bog

I could be a tiny center

unfolding into a huge grand leaf

reeking through with greenness,

  ever richer,

     ever smellier.

Life makes many dainty whispers through the woods.

But bursting through decay,

I’d chase the winter doldrums

  with my sensual call.  I’d shout around

   “Wake up!  Wake up, you sleeping woods.

Come alive again

   and feel and

     smell

       and play.

It’s time to start all over once again!

Spring Beauty  

[tiny early white flowers with pink stripes from the middle; esp. found around trees]

Spring Beauty,

most delicate of all spring flowers,

early to appear,

how lovely to be her!

Small and sweet and dear,

my five-petalled face with pink mint stripes

   will smile up like a shy girl-child

      at the awesome world around.

Simple and friendly,

I will open to the sun.

My thin stem will dance with the smallest breeze.

Never alone, I’ll live in a world of gentle friends

   like me,

all of us playing

in the sweet spring sun and wind and rain.

O beauty protected,

O tenderness extreme,

I will speak to all the world

of the great sensitivity

of The Source of all Life.

The First Fly of Spingtime   

  [I have another poem: The last Fly of Summer]

The first fly of springtime,

I welcome you!

My adversary through the heat,

you bode of sunshine now,

   warmth

     and fun for all.

Right now, my housebound

    winter heart says

Yay!

We’ve come awake again,

the both of us.

Buttercup 

Oh I want to be a buttercup!  A buttercup!  A buttercup!

O warm richness!

O passionate color!

O enthusiasm for Life!

I’ll plant myself by a watery place

  and laugh for joy.

I’ll glory in the singing birds,

the humming bees,

  the pesky flies,

    the tickling breeze.

And the sun’s salvation,

“Relish in the warmth of sun!”

my shining saffron face will sing.

“And don’t forget enthusiasm, passion.

Dance, swim, listen, sing, love,

  feel and sense.

    celebrate like me,”  I’ll laugh,

I, the cheerful buttercup!

Breaking and Entering in my Own House

April 2021

   I was “irritated” with someone and so decided to do some errands to let this go and get into a better mood.  I went out to Trader Joe’s (always fun) and Staples, had enjoyable interactions, came home.  I pulled up to the garage in the dark, reached for the garage door opener on the visor – it wasn’t there.  Felt all over, turned the inside car lights on, couldn’t find it.  Got out and went to all car doors (in the dark) but from no angle could I find where that darn thing might have fallen. I usually try to keep a flashlight in the car but, of course, not now. I always enter my house through the garage, so now I had to find plan B To get in.  Found my back door housekey in the dark, in my purse, went up to the back door, but -oh no-I’d locked the thin storm door from the inside.  Weather had turned nice, I had pulled the screen open on the top, left the heavy door open for awhile and locked the outside from the inside.  Could not get to the lock through the locked screen door.

Walked around to the front door, trying to be optimistic that this key might open the front door.  In the dark, gave it a try.  No luck.

How to get into my house?  I guessed, must try a window! Nice weather had brought window-opening: which one might be easiest to get into?  I decided on the corner dining room windows -low and often loose.   I clamored through the vines, aware that I saw poison ivy there last fall. Usually people are out on the street jogging, walking dogs etc. But all was dark and quiet now.  This was good and bad:  No one would see me try to get through a window, but I was on my own. 

  I tried the first window: no budge.  Went around the corner: this was probably my last hope!  The window was open far enough to push on the screen and the bottom of the screen pushed in.  But no further; the screen did not want to just gently fall inward for me, no.  It did not want to give at all and this, of course is good news for me, if there were someone else trying to enter my house!  But for me here now, bad news.  Well, I would have to bend the screen, maybe damage it.  I had been carrying my cane with me so I gave that screen a good shove with hand and cane and somehow it fell forward.

 The window was just a little high off the ground for me, short as I am.  I leaned in, pushed the big floor plants out of the way.  Tried to get one 76-year-old leg up over the sill but this was definitely a no go. Leaned in.  The window seemed just a smidgeon tight.  Was I going to have to just fall on my face inside, butt in air, pull myself in?  Looked around, still no one anywhere, either to see or to help.  At this point, independent as I am, yes I would have asked for help. 

   I finally realized what I had to do.  It’s what soldiers do as they charge forward in war – one has to get your energy up for the job – anger is the best.  I turned my problem-solving mind off, and from my  pocket of past skills I pulled my swear words; then mustering together anger and energy and determination and not even knowing how I did it, I just – “did it!”  I have no idea how,  but I got through the window and was kind of stumbling forward on the floor.  

    Actually, I felt pretty calm.  I rearranged the plants and then went to the garage and pulled the car in.

    From there, I went to my computer, emailed the person I’d felt “irritated” with that I did not want to feel angry and argumentative – they could feel free to do X as they chose;  I don’t want to be an angry argumentative person, I do not want to be that kind of person.  I felt at peace and went to bed.

Next day I went to the car and looked around for the missing garage door opener. Where could that darn thing have jumped to?  And lo, there it was, on the visor where it was supposed to be but facing the wrong way!

What to make of this?! It was hysterically funny, and yet – puzzling.  The ending turned a funny experience into a puzzling one.  Kind of like a Zen koan or a parable that leaves something unfinished in your mind.  Something about the irony made it all seem “set up.”  Had some “teacher” set this up for me to learn something here? “Grasshopper, think on this!”

Ultimately this is what I see:  While being angry is not a healthy state to permanently be in, there may be times when only anger will get you through.  There are times when one actually needs to get MORE angry in order to get oneself to do what needs to be done. Or life needs to make you more angry!

I always remember both the feeling of embarrassment and of freedom that I felt when I first let myself “swear.”  My children were little, the work was more than I felt up to, and I just let it out.  It did feel – wonderful!  Nothing quite matches that counter-cultural release.

   As toddlers we learn to speak by listening to the adults around us.  As I grew up, I did hear both my dad and his dad swear.  My mother worked endlessly to get my dad to stop – “Don, don’t say that in front of the girls!” Eventually he did stop swearing – out loud, at least.  But then he’d go huffing and puffing around the house when he was mad and no one knew who he was mad at!  And Grandpa – it seems in my memory that gruff old grandpa never opened his mouth without something foul coming out with whatever he said.  He’d endured a lot of misfortune, and maybe it was part of his French Canadian backwoods character, I don’t know.  But I did know those words when I needed them!

  And I did know that I could get through that window!  I could feel myself on the other side, it would not be impossible, it would just take much more than my ordinary determination.  I stepped into an alter ego, allowed myself to be different, and wow!  What I could do in my different self!  Something in me feels freer now and glad to have felt all my power; I will remember what I am truly able to do – when I want to!

Christmas December 2020

“Do the work of a spider, strengthening the web of relationships around us, and throwing out threads to enlarge it and pull ever more people in.”                               -Pamela Haines, in Befriending Creation, fall 2020

What could be more of the essence of this holiday season at its best than strengthening bonds of love and light in our world?  And most especially this year as we all – all over the world – face perhaps the hardest time in our lives.  We must hang on just a little bit longer! Not only for ourselves, but let us see if we can rise to our very biggest selves and reach out a hand and light to everyone possible.  We see like never before that we are all in this together and that how we each handle it affects many others.This month’s Snippet will be my Christmas letter.  I share here in a one page letter some of what the experience of this year has been for me.  I’d love to hear what it’s been for you!  We each have a little light to offer, a view, some experiences – Let us not belittle the gifts our life has given us.  Thankfulness for our life could be expressed by sharing what love and enlightenment we’ve received.  Even the unanswered questions that come to us can lift others to see they’re not alone in their own questions.   What can heal our wounded ailing world?   All the love possible.  Throw out lifelines of connection and affirmation wherever you can.  


My Christmas letter, December 2020

Dearest friends,         What a year! Hard in similar ways for all of us and yet each has had our own unique challenges.  I apologize for not reaching out more.  I’ve often thought with love and concern toward different friends and family; you’ve probably done the same.  Something in us has sunk inwards into a quiet place, like winter on a long scale.

   Some highlights for me have been:  With the help of my daughter Anne Marie, we created a website for sharing my writings!  I’m writing one blog (a “Salty Snippet”) per month now, more writing than I’ve done in awhile.  I hope in the quietness of January- February you might check it out:  www.martimatthews.com

  Summer was scaled-down:  I never once got to my beloved Lake Michigan dunes and waves.  But I did stroll around a good deal on my three wheeled bike, pausing to chat with neighbors, greet the many old trees, watch the clouds.  As all beaches were closed, I got into water only once, pretending with the grandkids to fall off our paddleboat.

   The Unitarian Writers Group I lead, “Writing for Spiritual Growth,” met outdoors under the wide sheltering boughs of my great Maple.  I’ve participated in online book discussions:  With the Progressive Spiritualists we discussed Dr. Brian Weiss’ Many Lives, Many Masters on past life regression, then Bill Moyers interviewing Joseph Campbell The Power of Myth, and finally the true Scrooge story by Dickens.  With First Friends I read Elaine Pagels’ personal story Why Religion. Am reading Heidegger and Jungians on Nietzsche, who fascinates me, and loving the poetry of David Whyte and Mary Oliver.  Fall Creek Friends Meeting is so small we meet once a month in person, with windows open into the quiet cemetery around and much space indoors. I make the rounds online with various churches I love, each feeding me in different ways.

   John started high school and Adele sixth grade completely online.  They did pretty well, but got a bit behind so grandma took up tutoring.  I finally got to read Homer’s Odyssey – what an adventure!  Then learned about the Ming Dynasty (I’ll bet you don’t know that info), the details of the bloody French Revolution, and -again- the famous “fall of Rome”.  While also watching our own country sink low and split apart in hate, mudslinging, and dishonesty.  And now our lives are threatened as Covid shows our unwillingness to obey Nature or to concede personal freedoms to care for each other. The best potentials of this nation have yet to be discovered. 

Anne Marie is trying to do her part by developing online courses, meditations, and activities in earth-centered spirituality.  “Intuition Immersion” is her platform, emerging as a viable course to help people grow healthier and wiser. On Facebook, she is under “Moon Mysteries.”  

I submitted and then unsubmitted my children’s book Cakes for Mistakes, which will be my first January project. In a week I’ll turn 76!  The horizon looks different from here:  I’m missing so many loved ones./  I’m feeling more comfortable with all of us as imperfect, always growing.  As Jewish people do at their New Years, I ask forgiveness of anyone I have hurt, and I give complete forgiveness to anyone who has hurt me.   My heart sends a big imaginary hug to each of you; I would love to hear from you.        God bless us, every one! 


Birthday Joy

   Enclosed here is a poem and a link (hopefully) in celebration of my 70th birthday.  The address will take you to YouTube video of 80 happy people singing their hearts out in fun, plus the marvelous cake with cannoli rum filling and buttercream frosting with the little gypsy dancers on top.  You can also see pics of the beautiful worship space of Unity Temple, the Frank Lloyd Wright church in which the party was held.
   The  poem is from Carolyn Aguila, a neighbor from many, many years ago in Chicago when we took in Kevin Price Sanchez and Kelly Price Jorgensen as foster children one winter.  Carolyn has a wonderful published book of her own Chicago/family/literature based poems:  “Flirting with Rhyme and Reason,  EM Press, Channahon, IL 2006.
     YouTube:   Marti’s 70th Birthday          

      by Kevin Sanchez

Marti’s Matthew’s 70th Birthday – Dec 27, 2014

   

 
GRATITUDE AND ACKNOWLEDGMENT
By Carolyn S. Aguila ~ December 27, 2014
 On the occasion of Marti Matthews’ 70th Birthday—
 City moms have different worries,

but all moms worry,
about all children,
all the time.
It’s always been so.

In ancient ages,

young boys and girls were sent
to uncles and aunts for fostering,
particularly when mothers grew tired
from the fretting.
Sometimes a family needs a rest from itself—
–or an urgent matter must be tended to
far from a child’s daily life.

I would not learn

until many years latter
that my own bricked city street
harbored such a mother
who mothered without question
the child of another,
a woman who understood
the sacred mission of tending to children
who were not her own,
but who were in need.

This is ancient,

this type of generosity,
and it is passed on and between and among
the bones and blood of motherhood.
We are finer, brighter, and sturdier because of these mothers—
   –and one is named, Marti.

                         Happy Birthday.
 
 
 
 

comments

Re: poems on Daffodils

From Pamela Timme    Thank you so much, Marti. I am going to the Arboretum to see the daffodils on Saturday, so especially enjoyed reading Tom’s piece. They’re all lovely!

*****
Thank you so much Marti, I read your poem – such an eloquent description of that traumatic time – and Tom’s writing – I felt “with him” again, after so long. I had no idea he wrote that much after his stroke. And the Wordsworth poem is an old favorite of mine – I had it memorized at one point!
Love,
Marilyn Myles
******

Thank you for sharing those wonderful poems. I just finished from doing our taxes all day and reading the poems helped me return to a more peaceful, present state of being,

Sweet dreams, Vanessa
********

Marti,

I’ve always liked that Wordsworth poem, too. Ecstasy that seeps into our souls….such a lovely way of putting how beauty enters us. And your tender poem, marking that difficult, beautiful winter….then love claims the body…..that line washed over me. Thanks for sending these splashes of brightness into my morning.
Carol Tyx