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I Don’t Know Who I Could Be

A Poem

By Jane Tawel

April 19, 2021

I don’t know who I’d be, if I stopped unforgiving.

I don’t know who I’d be, if I spent less time worrying.

And who would I be if I didn’t care to keep up my grades,

but instead, judged not, either self or you?

If winning was an illusion I left behind like a broken toy,

might I know the terrible, fearsome freedom of joy?

*

I rarely know who I am, except as a passing glance,

a whirl of motion, unsteadied by a center…


I am finally “growing up” maybe? I didn’t know it but I began learning this at Wheaton College under both the spiritual and theater /acting guidance of Dr. James Young — Jimma, as he was called. I shared this today with the folks who were part of that world-changing time of mine today in a group called “Workout”, and thought someone in my other “worlds” might need to hear this today.

In that theatre group, after warming up with yoga exercises ( back before any one in America knew anything about yoga but weird theatre people!), we would often do…


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Listen With Your Heart — a poem

By Jane Tawel

April 12, 2021

*

I don’t know why the birds keep singing, but they do.

When every thing is horrible. It’s true.

My mind is on the negative, transfixed.

The world is broken and our minds up-mixed.

*

I wake up every day and burn the wick down,

Before my feet have even touched the hard ground.

But little bird is on a branch a-sway,

With ne’er a worry of the coming day.

*

If God is in the Heavens, He’s in birds, too.

And that would mean, that God’s…


To My Friends Reading Here, Feast On This

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A friend posted an article today entitled, “The Case Against Shakespeare” and the article, (not my friend) both angered and saddened me. The bottom line of this article was that we shouldn’t “force” any one to read the classics like Shakespeare because this keeps someone from learning to love to read. Now if I only take that one argument, all I need is a subscription to Netflix and a video game to prove the author wrong on why people don’t read anymore. However, one thing made my head want to explode, and I of course I had to write about…


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Whatever one’s belief system, this is historically a good weekend to meditate on what makes a belief “true”. If I say I believe something, but don’t in fact, myself, act in accordance with it, what is the meaning and purpose of my belief? …


(But For Now, Here are Five)

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One Thousand and One Things I Should Be Doing to Make My Life More Meaningful

(But For Now, Here are Five)

By Jane Tawel

March 31, 2021

Now that I am of an age, there are regrets, of course about wasted time and wasted energy, wasted dreams, and wasted relationships. But of course, looking back on regrets is worthless if I can not use them to make myself, or at least just my day better. With hope and a bit of luck, maybe I can even make my “Tomorrow Me” much better. …


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My friend got me thinking today about racist policies and systemic racism in this country. Well, how are not we thinking about that — we should not “move on” from incident to incident like lemmings. So I thought I would share some meditations on that here as well (does Jane never get tired of putting targets on her metaphorical back, you ask? No, heaven forbid when so many people of color have not just metaphorical but literal targets on their backs.)

Thank you, Kathleen — Tough conversations on racism in our policies and systems sounds like a good conversation. Especially…


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Gasping at Glimmers

By Jane Tawel

March 24, 2021

*

God-intentioned,

The world breathes, in and out

in and out; and good things come to rest.

When any little thing expires,

another respires in its place.

We settle for moving forward, and not the best

found in realities outside the bounds

of acceptable behavior.

The world is pale with shadows,

and Sudden! Awesome Moment Is —

overcome by the ennui of bully time.

I am left gasping at glimmers.

*

Oh, to see The Face,

of Whom my meaning mirrors!

There is a holiness in all;

With backs turned

to…


I have been "preaching" this for so long now, like so much dust in the wind. Orwell mentions this very thing in an "Animal Farm" intro about American capitalism being like the USSR, although it has been next to impossible to teach that and convince all my American students of the similarities and dangers -- much to my chagrine. One disagreement -- it has been a long, long time since the opposite of predatory capitalism was preached from the pulpits of America on Sundays. One of the great tragedies of my own life is to see what Americans have done…


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Life-lines — a poem

By Jane Tawel

March 19, 2021

*

When I was young,

my mind and heart

were intertwined

like scribbled lines.

When one is young,

separating scrambled lines

is the monumental task

of growing-up.

I failed at much of it

but some lines straightened,

into the miracle of

Due North.

The dots and dashes,

the broken, mended bits of line

Still encompass and still

compass me forth.

*

When I became

Two, and then more;

and “my” became “our”

heart, mind and soul;

We formed a new me.

And I took the bow of us in hand…

Jane Tawel

Still not old enough to know better. Enjoys philosophy, spirituality, poetry, books of all genres.Often torn between encouragement & self-directed chastisement.

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