The Unconquered Soul (Invictus, 2009)

In 1875, William Earnest Henley wrote the poem that would, in part, inspire Nelson Mandela to be the master of his own fate - learning that forgiveness can be the mightiest weapon against hatred and tyranny from a prison cell.

The movie, directed by Clint Eastwood and starring Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon, that takes the name of this poem as its title showed one year of the influence that one, unconquered soul can have on a nation and the world. Mandela lost his immediate family, but looked to the 43 million South Africans as his brothers and sisters who were in desperate need of both forgiveness and a moment of greatness to heal the terrible wounds of fear. Mandela recognized the pull of a national sport, a national anthem, a national flag to bring the black and white of his nation into one voice, one hope, one prayer, and one tremendous triumph.

The grime and grit of the year's Rugby matches are intertwined so well into the fate of the people as the tide turns for the better after Mandela's election. Mandela invited the team captian, Francois Pienaar to tea one afternoon to discuss leadership. "To lead by example and to inspire those around us to be better than they believe they can be." Oh, that the world would be a little better every day. My husband watched this movie with me and declared his intention to move to South Africa if Mandela were still President because he was honest enough to forfeit 1/3 of his Presidential salary to charity because he was paid, "too much." We did a little bit of research and found that Mandela has not been president of South Africa for over a decade.

Mandela may have retired from public life. Freeman and Eastwood may be getting a little "old" for the Hollywood scene. Henley may have died over a century and a half ago. But, each of these men has "put their hand in" to life with more than themselves in mind. So, today, in honor of all the unconquered who have given so much to lift the hands of another, ignoring the burdens that could have been an excuse had they belonged to someone else, I pray that we will all remember their example and become better than we thought we could be.

Henley's Poem... Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Freedom of Speech and the Patriotic Biting of Tongue

Yesterday, I spent some time pushing daisies. Admittedly, my original intention was a photo op. I heard from a friend about a woman who did this once in an era before my birth. I believe she did it in protest of the Vietnam War. I couldn't find the picture online. I hadn't planned to reiterate her protest. I honestly believed it was a little tacky to park tanks in a cemetary and decided they needed their own flowers. I just didn't realize that the flowers should have been 'mums.

The chrysanthemum, the flower of my own birth month, is the traditional flower to stand sentinel over the graves of our fallen. It is a fitting flower. The voices of the dead are hushed in their graves - "mums the word" and all that jazz. But, as the commentary and backlash of yesterdays photo op turned political, I grieved over the loss of speech that came when the Twin Towers fell (perhaps sooner).

The men and women protesting the Vietnam war or the draft (or both) went so far in voicing their own opinions that they disrespected and made miserable the lives of those who were called upon by our nation to fight a war they may or may not have understood themselves. Their treatment was disgraceful and should never have happened. But, since it did, American citizens who disagree with the current war - no matter how respectfully - have been labeled "unpatriotic" for voicing their dissent.

The week of Cinco de Mayo, a photo floated around the Internet of some high school students flying the American flag upside down underneath the Mexican one. Sometimes it seems we allow everyone their freedom to speek but our own and each others. I wonder what it is we are afraid of and where all these decisions, made in fear, our leading this Nation.

Simple Sculpture

Susan Lordi is the sculptor of the Willow Tree line. These simple, faceless sculptures of precious moments have always drawn me to them. There is something about the way she's captured the tilt of the head, the curve of a hand - the way that the mothers, fathers, and lovers bend toward one another and stay...

Today, a sweet neighbor and friend of mine shared several of her WillowTree sculptures with me. She found that she didn't have room for all of the ones she'd been given since she was married a few years back and offered them to me. I was thrilled to accept them and completely unprepared for the emotions they would evoke. "Cherish - awaiting a miracle", "Together" and "Promise" speak to moments I am uncertain of finding in my life again. Of course, the only thing I ever plan to be pregnant with is a story. So, this is the least bittersweet... the intimate connection of the other faceless couples can be noted from across the room. Unlike my own.

Sliding Doors (1998)

Gwyneth Paltrow is delightful as Helen, a woman living out the two versions of "what if" reminding us that just as small moments can have a powerful influence on the general order of things, the people and experiences that are important to our growth will find their way into our existence. There is no need to regret a missed train or a difficult decision. Life weaves its way forward.

Besides, "nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition."

Turquoise

This year, my husband discovered my love for turquoise. It was our anniversary and I paused in front of a glass display cabinet stunned by the varying shades, textures, and sizes of the stones. I honestly hadn't seen stones as large as some of the ones on display. Even the Squash Blossom jewelry is made of smaller chunks of stones. I told him I would feel more like a queen wearing one of those necklaces than I ever would wearing ropes of diamonds.

I once had the pleasure of being assigned The Anthropology of Turquoise by Ellen Maloy a strange book where I learned the chemistry of turquoise: CuAl6(PO4)4(OH)8*4H2O, blended with its history and mysticicsm. In the book it is noted that in 1652,Thomas Nichols said, "Many strange things beyond faith are reported concerning the vertues of this stone, which nothing but excesse of faith can believe." But, my favorite bit of history is that in Egyptian prayer the words for water and turquoise are interchangeable. For me, a woman who still pretends to be a mermaid every chance she gets, this trivia is like locking puzzle pieces together.

On Sunday, I rested this solid, steady, circle of turquoise on my chest. The weight of it was like a soothing palm, warm and soft... and I did feel royal. Thank you, dear one.

~Princess Words like Water

Mother's Day

History of Mother's Day

The above link to the history of Mother's Day is an interesting read about a woman who wanted to honor her own mother and allow other, individual families to do the same. She spent her life and her fortune fighting against the political, social, and commercial "monster" she'd created.

I wish she'd won.

Mother's Day is one of my least favorite holidays. I like my "I love you's" year-round and do not appreciate the pressure my family feels to spend money we don't have on this day. I don't like the pressure of all the attention and "honor" of the day. Motherhood has been such a gift to me. However, being a mother has not, instantaneously, made me into some noble and perfected being. The office is noble, indeed - but, I am not perfect in my mothering.

Spending a full day, publicly honoring me (and mothers like me) is a slap in the face to women who want desperately to be mothers and have never married or have been unable to have children or whose babies have passed away and are reminded, again and again, that their arms are empty.

I'm with Anna. Enough already.

To Beard or NOT to Beard

Once upon a time, I kissed a boy and I liked it. Then, I married a man who couldn't grow a beard. There were some excuses about the 1/8th Choctaw blood in his genes disallowing the process to actually take place. Only a few splotchy patches here and there could ever creep in enough to get a decent goatee. Testosterone replacement therapy anyone?

I'm kidding. (And this is NOT the reason I divorced him ... really!) A whole lot of men walk this planet without facial hair. It's a sign of cleanliness and discipline. If you've seen some of the scraggly beards running around on men who also do not brush their teeth, you probably agree. However, my current cutie grows a great beard. Give him two weeks, and it's full and soft. We aren't sure (for lack of opportunity to test the theory), but we're thinking that in 6 months without trimming he could be sporting a regular Rip Van Winkle style. (Not that we plan on testing this!)

It makes me CRAZY that his workplace has some "missionary" dress requirements that state no facial hair. An uprising in the meat department led to the general admission that a well-trimmed moustache is okay. When is a MOUSTACHE ever okay?! (Unless you're Brad Roghaar or my Grandpa Hank who keeps his in a waxed handlebar.) You'd think he could claim his Scottish heritage on this one and show up in a khaki kilt and beard.

So... what are we hoping for in a career? You got it. Someplace where the men who have enough testosterone to be men, and grow soft, sexy beards for their wives back home are not discriminated against by the men who can't.