I try not to listen to headlines, watch the market, listen to the news.  But it is hard when all my friends talk about their fear.  We are in a first-time-in-recorded-history economic scare.  As one person, I tell myself that the only thing I can do is provide for myself as best I can.  If i can do that, I’m one less problem the government has to worry about.

And, if you are scared of losing your job, or if you’ve lost your job, please don’t despair and above all, don’t take it personally.  I have.  Let me explain:

Gypsy Employee (by Linda Athis)

You’re fired.
I resign.
We’ve eliminated your position.
I’ve heard these all many times.
 
Forty-two years my father worked
in one, same place.
Was it fun?
Were there friends?
A respect for grace?
 
Me, I jumped,
assumed new faces,
lucky to rest two years
in any one place.
 
No one would have me.
Too blunt.
Too bold.
Even told,
too good to be here.
 
A heart
sliced and diced,
seeking employer appreciation,
I fled hard,
came home,
bought a computer,
got a logo
and thick, rich business cards.
 
There I earned my name
as one employee…single,
and a ten year stint
in my home,
so simple.
 
While those
with big titles,
who fire, layoff, let go,
they call for me.
 
I walk into their office
dressed to the nines,
cautiously posed
in leather chair,
and wait for the sign
when they tell me the secrets
they cannot bear,
and I, in turn, swear
to keep them.
 
I’ve spun 180.
Now I know
why they do
what they must do.
And me, how my heart pulls,
for all those past workplace wounds,
I took far too personal.

Each morning I wake and try to move my bones.  Each day is more painful and I cry inside as I realize…this is the burden, the pain of age.  All the world’s doctors, all the world’s meds, can’t put me together again.  How long will I live like this?  I look to my Mother, now gone.  She made it to 88.  For me, that would be 30 more years of slow descending pain.

Feeling a little too sorry for myself, I wrote this poem.
The Weight of Water- by Linda Athis

My back and arms ache
when I lift my jug
of filtered/safe water,
for a glassful, to swallow
my pile of daily pills.

Then a flash in my mind,
of tall, African women,
in their slow,
foot by foot journey.
Precious river water
in huge earthen jugs,
painfully pounding,
in delicate balance on their tender heads.

This existence amazes me.
What they must do
to simply live.
I shift my attitude,
lift my jug with dignity,
and drink with gratitude
for what I have
that they do not.

The older I get, the more I realize my youthful dreams of being somebody were very dangerous.  American celebrities and the groupies they attract worry me.  If we’re always wishing we were someone else, can we ever find happiness?

Spotlight Gone – by Linda Athis
My eyes prefer shade,
as others seek light.
I crave cool safe-haven
to rest my body,
a blistered, wincing parcel,
ill from self-sought celebrity.
 
Do not seek it.
Do not wish it.
Once you get it,
can you lose it?
 
That warm temptress spotlight
will ravage your life.
Friends won’t be real.
Relatives are kinder.
Lovers come in quantity,
hiding hideous motive.
 
In a red-hot, sweaty, jealous fist,
the known squeeze tight their treasure,
and every new face,
exquisite body,
rare raw talent,
could easily snatch it,
like a most evil thief.
 
The known, they know this,
weep deeply inside,
for the helpless baby bird they clutch,
as the world plots to steal it.
This sad hatchling will never face age.
Never fly free,
find peace,
in seasons of life.
 
Do you have celebrity?
Don’t pause, don’t ponder.
Toss it like trash, like spit to cement.
Flee fast before you grab it back
and gasp at the kidnapper you choose to embrace.
 
Find fresh space, fresh fields,
search hard for the gem of the ordinary.
Talk not of yourself,
not of your past.
Walk away from those who knew you when.
Find instead, true family, true friends.
 
It is no sin
to leave no mark in this world.
It will still turn,
the stars will still shine.
And you, fortunate one,
at last will find
your ageless eagle inside.

A funny sort of breakthrough took place in my life yesterday.  I quite suddenly arrived at the conclusion that I have a right to be alive and a right to enjoy my life.

It sounds silly, but for some reason I thought just the opposite for nearly 57 years.  Where did that come from? 

I thought that every moment had to be filled with very hard work…or no one would value me.  And I thought I was a burden to this world.

When you have transformative thoughts like this…you have to promise yourself to hold onto them.  It is easy to forget as the years go by.

And so yesterday, I set my work aside, did several hours of Yoga, went for a walk, and refilled the soap, hand lotion dispensers in my home.  All simple things, and my day was filled with joy, and best of all…no guilt.

Smoked Filled Rooms - by Linda Athis

He used to get mad at me
when I was ill.
My coughing,
my hacking,
drew me much ill will.

Do you have to make those noises?,
he’d say.
Isn’t there another way
to clear your throat?

Me, a child ,
used the only way I could.
But I so wanted to be good.

Now Dad is gone,
and I remain
and look back
and remember his cigarettes.
All his smoke,
all his ashtrays,
and realize the joke.

Several years ago I came to my senses.  After spending plenty of money to tour Alaska, I realized in the middle of it all how much I missed my great bed at home, my own food, the simple act of making my own cup of coffee…..and my solitude.  I now love my home and my stayvations!

A vacation spent with lots of people that I don’t know, and the “herding” tour guides, is highly irritating for me.  As I age, I love the silence of life.  Best of all…it is free.

Tour Bus Hell – by Linda Athis

Promise yourself:

Never venture onto a tour bus.

Buses aren’t the problem.

People who like them are.

The chatterers memorize facts to spew.

The beer drinkers work to charm the guides.

The short, fat ladies with ratted lacquer hair

will incessantly mother anyone,

and will not shut up,

even when asked,

frequently running to bathrooms

and towards any source of food

as if starved for centuries.

But if you must board that bus,

stand back.

Cover your ears.

Fold your soul slowly into itself.

Find the mystery – absolute joy within.

Fiercely protect your newfound land.

Tell no one you have it, lest they run you down,

demand directions and a map

of how you arrived there.

Sure, aging brings pain.  It brings much comfort too.  Society doesn’t expect you to look as good.  You’re even allowed to get away with saying what you think…and they listen without offense…regarding your words as very wise. 

I remember in my 30s, stepping on a weight scale up to 14 times a day, just to make sure no ounces crept in.  I didn’t drink water for fear it would add a pound or two.  Then one day, I grabbed the ugly scale and threw it in the garbage.  I had nightmares for two weeks.  Now I’m more at peace.  And when I go to the doctor and they asked me to step on their scale, I turn my head and tell them not to say a thing about my weight.

Statistical Living-by Linda Athis

I measured my heart rate.
Stepped on a scale.
Embraced the practice of self-inflicted pain…
my personal wail
against age.

Nearby, elders watched
with a non-malicious glee.
They knew the secret:
Time and gravity bring all to their knees.
Ten out of every ten people die.

Now I,
Much older,
threw out my scale.
Vowed to stroll, not race,
grateful to do that alone,
inhaling all beauty
I never saw
while dueling with time.

I bow in peace at my role, my place.
I lived not to gain power, money, pleasure,
but faced my most formidable goal:
To treat myself with kindness,
and unfold my soul.

Don’t Even Try 

You can’t fold a pile of laundry all at once.

Get mad if you must.

Each piece demands to be folded,

by itself.  In its own time.

Age Revelation

Two tiny holes in a dishwash rag.

My earlier mind would have thrown it out.

Replaced it with a costly designer piece.

My later mind likes the touch

of fabric supple from use.

This one is saved.

Years ago I found and bought a wire sculpture that said it all to me.  It was a bird cage.  Inside a man was peering desperately through the bars, and right behind him, the cage door…..was open!

 One Key

The jailer, he walks.
So cocky, he rings
the keys he holds dear.

And I, behind bars,
have such angry thirst,
I cannot bear to watch.

But maybe I will…
just a glimpse
An inner voice has hinted
something sacred passes here.

I took that glance,
an eerie chance.
Heart shattered with shock
at what I saw.
He strolled to my cell,
undid one key,
and handed it with love to me.

So many guys have it easy.  No make-up to worry about, gut size doesn’t matter, clothes (and shopping for them) is very simple.  Men can be easily entertained for hours in front of a TV – God forbid you try to wrestle it out of their hands – and leave the house a total mess.  It just doesn’t register on their “I care” scale.   One day, while I mused about how complicated it is to live the female life, I asked the women in the office what advantage or “ease in life” they had over men.  Not one came up with a good answer.  One tried…she said, “I don’t have to shave everyday.”  Well I had news for her.  I have to shave both legs every day (I get 4:00 p.m. shadow), many more square inches than a guy.  And guys can simply grow beards!

If you are male and reading this…please know, I’m not generalizing.  There are good guys, too.  But admit it….you do have an easier time.  Guys can grab a bar of soap and one change of clothes and have everything they need to travel (soap shampoo, soap toothpaste, soap for the body, and even soap to wash their clothes if they forgot their second outfit.  Twenty year olds will still marry you, even if you are 80.  Now that’s telling it all.  Read on:

 Born Female 

-by Linda Athis

I wore no bra.
I did not bathe…
nor shave
my legs bearing half-inch hair.

I scratched and belched,
and had no care.
Turned on the TV,
and ruled the remote.

I zoned into a blank,
uncaring stare,
watching war and blood,
crime, celebrity, cruel sport,
and babes with glittered hair.

My conscience rebelled
with guilt. Unfair!
Too bad, too bad.
I did not care!

I needed this day,
This rest from hell,
to discover a world,
where I might have been male.