Doubled Life

(Teach so you can be taught)

To be blessed, be a blessing.

To be beautiful, bring forth beauty.

To be joyful, share others’ joy. 

To be grateful, give of yourself. 

To be rich, share your plenty. 

To be loved, pass love forward. 

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 10 December 2018

Rebuilding a Tattered Soul

"Time after Time, I see Reflections."
(with thanks to Holland, Dozier, Holland)

Collect the broken bits of yourself and put them back together into a different shape.
Our lives are mirrors that reflect us; some shiny, some wavy, some antiqued, some chipped.
The broken shards can be repaired, building new pictures facing different directions; 
reflecting the healed incarnations of our broken hearts, our wounded bodies, and our shattered minds.
Refracting in endless shapes and colours; 
echoing life if one can pick up the varied bits without cutting oneself on the sharp edges.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
©1 December 2018

Dusk ’til Dawn

The sun has lowered; the darkness has come arising.  
Trees are shedding their bright autumn leaves; 
chilled, brittle branches shiver in their nakedness in the winter wind.

Someday the sun will rise again; light and lifesaving warmth will return, 
buds and shoots will cover the chilled, bare earth instead of the blanketing snow, 
and our hearts will beat with the warming renewal of spring. 

Until then, we will huddle under blankets of cloth dreaming;
yearning by flickering, artificial light for the coming dawn of a brighter day. 

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 11 November 2018

Motivations

”Not by might and not by power.”

I pray for hope

Against helplessness

Not for futile desires

Not for wasted days and time.

I pray for power against hopelessness. 

I look within for strength

Not to beat others down

Not to overwhelm the world but to rise above myself.

I look deeply into others and myself for both the answers and the questions. 

 

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 27 October 2018

We March

Like the Burning Bush, 

we burn but are not consumed. 

Neither drive nor ire. 

I have been considering this week which burns brighter: 

Does love or hate, determination or stubborn will, fury or desire flare up and become embers that glow and last? 

Do our flares of intention become firestorms that destroy everything in their path or burning bushes that draw others to the flames, warming and fanning our intent while not burning out and flaring to a blinding flash?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 14 October 2018

Neshamah

Breathe in the lightness of your surroundings;
Exhale the darkness, sorrow, oppression, and fear.

Absorb the joy of the moment,
the fragrant, comforting breeze of euphoric spirit.

Let the delights of the sky above, earth below, 
sun’s warmth, and the sound of refreshing waters wash you clean of distress.

Feel the molecules of life, and the spaces encircling them move within you; 
listen to the pauses between the words spoken and floating in your mind.

Recognise the harmonic silence when the music rests, or the cadenza fades away.

Become part of the surrounding Life; 
let your calm awareness enhance and embrace the Light.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 25 September 2018

“Se’u Shearim” Lift up your Heads

Today it is the beginning, the birthday of the world; 
today is the dawning of the Light, the igniting of the “Bang”, the sounding of the horns.
Today is the opening of the gates; 
today is the writing of the Book, the thrumming of the strings, the wailing of the Ram.
Today the year begins anew; 
today is the reading of the scrolls, the chanting of the tropes, the singing of all hearts.
Today may it be sweet; 
today may we be Blessed; today may we repair the World, today may we have Peace.


Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 14 September 2015

Descant

I dance to a different rhythm

I march to a different drum

I am the descant; a bit ahead, a bit behind, higher, lower, harmonically minor. 

I follow the Third Road through the straights and tangents; I walk alone in spirit to the music of my soul. 

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 28 July 2018

Please take a Memo… (I'm going to get hate mail)

Take a Memo…

Dear Republicans:

Liberalism, Acceptance and Compassion are not dirty words, but Regressivism could be;
Social Justice is not anti-religion, Fairness is not Communism,
closed ears, eyes, and minds can lead to deadly results.

Dear Democrats:

Pragmatism, Moderation, and Progressivism are not dirty words, but Purity could be;

Wealth isn’t inherently evil; Businesses are not all corrupt,

Closed ears, eyes, and minds can lead to tragedy.

Dear Undecideds:

Taking a Stand is neither fundamentally wrong nor right;

Researching your chosen friends and your perceived enemies is required
if you opt to follow your desires, read and follow the rules of engagement within your district.

Non-Voters:

Ambivalence is understandable at times;
benefiting from or complaining about everyone else doing your Civic Responsibility is not.

If it is too bothersome to participate in the world you’re in, then move somewhere it’s forbidden.

Dear Everybody:

Getting what you want is less important than getting what you need;
Me-Centricism is much less important than the Common Good,

Education, Kindness, and Empathy are never over-rated,

Totalitarianism, Dictatorship, Theocracy, Oligarchy, and Fascism always are perilous miscalculations.

By the way… Name-Calling continues to go both ways, and Hatred is always a dirty word!

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 26 July 2018

Fantastickal (sic)

(With thanks to Harvey Schmidt and Tom Jones)

I need to “try to remember” to breathe, to hydrate, to loosen my shoulders, and unkink my neck.

I need to discover things in my life that I can look forward to; things I can do on my own.

I need to find a position in which to sleep without awakening in discomfort.

I need to find a way to get through the day without gritting my teeth or girding my loins.

I need to find a way to have regrets about decisions, but not anger for having made them;
try to accept my discontent with my life, but not regret living it.

I need to learn to acknowledge that I will never have the things I desire;
or the contented lifestyle, surrounded by the beauty I strive for
and the comfortable surroundings for which I long.

I need to adjust to being who I am, not who I think I should be.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 24 July 2018

I’m apparently not a carpenter, because I can’t seem to cope.

Where inside oneself does one look to find the cure for despondency and wretchedness?

When one is mentally sound, which is, of course, a good thing,
but that is the problem, ‘cause the whole world’s gone quite mad,
and there’s nought one can do to change even one’s own small part of it…

How is one supposed to cope, to stop thinking, to sleep?

How does one keep the tension from building up in one’s sinews, forming knots as hard as diamonds?

Is there a method to keep from running around,
hair a bird’s nest, with dead bouquets like a distraught Ophelia?

How does one overcome the gut-cold, sickness of fear for humanity, the world;
continue to get through the insanity of today’s daily life?

Are we now so so devoid of reason, compassion, empathy, insight, conscious thought
that the only hope of Light at the end of the tunnel is being wiped out quickly by the oncoming trainwreck?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 13 July 2018

In the Quietude

( with gratitude to Lori Lippitz)

I sit in the quiet; listening to the murmuring of meditations.

I need to, but how do I get

My mind straight and clearing, my body resilient and healing, my life grounded and secure, and my spirit free from
Anger

Fear

Sadness

Want

Loss and

Shame?

The quiet has answers if one is willing to just listen.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 23 June 2018

Baroque and Blue

For Eddy, with love:

My family is a rainbow of different races, religions, ethnicity, sexual orientation, and political views.

Some are carnivores, some vegetarian, some drink ginger-ale and some booze,
some like Broadway and some play the Blues.

We agree, and we disagree about how we live our lives, teach our children,
gas or electric stoves and cars.

Some love animals, some are afraid, or allergic, or ambivalent;
none of us is abusive to other living things.

Some are far-sighted, some very, very myopic,
some are going blind, losing their hearing, balance, and wits,
but we are a family, and we love each other even if and when we disagree loudly, or only in silence.

This was brought into clarity for me this week by the loss of a loved one who hadn’t the chance to say goodbye.

Don’t waste precious time protesting the differences… there is never enough time.

Someday there won’t be another chance to say I love you, to say I’m sorry,
or the opportunity to say farewell.

The HUMAN family, the GLOBAL family needs to realise that we are one, while there is still any time.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 5 June 2018

Vindicated or Vindictive?

I am astonished by kindness, awed by talent and beauty, and overwhelmed with anger and sadness by blatant, reckless thoughtlessness and unwarranted hate.

It seems, the older I get, and I’ve aged rapidly in the last couple of years, the worse people have become, and the less tolerant I’ve become of unabridged ignorance and unbridled animosity.

Maybe I’m just out of touch, but I remember a time when the public odium was not this prevalent; when we expected, not just hoped for the best in people. Once there wasn’t a 100 foot, unscaleable barrier between everyone; we didn’t discuss religion or politics with the singular intention of blame and ridicule, we didn’t call authorities on strangers because we disliked what they looked like or for what they believed…

Yes actually, people did, but that was supposed to have disappeared with the fall of the Third Reich, Tail Gunner Joe,  “No Irish, Jewish, Chinese, or Italian need apply”, along with forced segregation and Jim Crow Laws. What people didn’t do was threaten people by the calling in of false bomb threats, ‘Swatting,’ or bullying the helpless, hopeless, homeless, and victimised.

We didn’t let our children be killed on playgrounds, in schools, religious services, or in their homes by drive-by shootings and semi-automatic strafing planned to get the agitators’ names broadcast all over the media. We didn’t deliberately drive people off the road because we didn’t like their bumper stickers or their physical attributes. 

We didn’t spew vitriol to total strangers in public, whether in person or via forms of communication meant to bring people together instead of ripping them apart. We fought for each other, not with each other. We said please, thank you, helped strangers with directions that didn’t consist of curses and suggestions of impossible sexual acts; we ate together, talked to each other, greeted new neighbours with food or flowers and not fear and weapons.

Once we believed in the American Dream instead of the American Nightmare; once we were proud, respected, upwardly mobile, but now what is left to us other than embarrassment, fear, and hate?

Well, it's only my opinion, and no doubt I'll get plenty of other conflicting opinions giving me the diagrams for those impossible, physical acts.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 7 June 2018

Anachronism

"I am an Island"

(With thanks to Paul Simon)

I am an outlier for these times:

I speak in complete sentences, choose my words with deliberation;
speak and write about actual ideas and complex thoughts instead of sound bites, memes and vitriol.

I write as I think, as I speak, feel;

I am neither hair-triggered in my reactions, nor am I prone to over-reaction or simplistic responses.

I see no purpose in responding to other people’s random comments by spewing unrelated invective
and running around with my hair on fire.

I take other people’s sensitivities and their understanding of my words into consideration;
I do not jump through hoops though to be constantly today’s de rigueur, politically correct
by tossing out a life-long vocabulary based on literature and travelling because someone, somewhere may misinterpret my intent.

I do not call people names; I either respond with deliberation, or I ignore them.

I do not make assumptions about people by their ethnicity, race, religion, sexuality, or political party.

If I find someone to be an uninformed, vindictive, prejudiced ass, then I judge that person by themselves and not as a member of a specific group other than a group of other similar jerks.

On the other hand, I’ve been told that I am overly sensitive to other people’s remarks made to me;
if I’m hurt, I might respond in kind, but please keep one thing in mind,
when I get really angry, I become silent.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 6 June 2018

Water and Stone

Water and Stone

Give us the strength to press through obstacles,
The vision to see through artifice,
The determination to overcome adversity

Let us gain the wisdom to listen, learn, discern, and especially, to know when to ignore.
Let us discover the vision to recognise other’s weaknesses in ourselves, 
and our flaws in others, with both foresight and hindsight.

Let us learn to know when to care and when to turn away, 
when to give and when to withhold one’s self;
one’s opinion, one’s trust, one’s belief, one’s faith, and one's love.

Let us understand that everything takes time,
nothing is instantaneous; it takes aeons for endless drips to form stalactites
and for water to carve stone.


Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 22 May 2018

May

The night is as soft as old worn bedsheets;
breeze against the skin like sanded silk edged with cool satin.

The midnight sky is neither black nor blue;
sprinkled with stars like pearl sugar crystals on freshly baked pastries.

Through the open window the scent of spring floats;
the air smells green and purple.

Nightbirds, in their nests, faintly sing the world to sleep with avian love songs.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 18 May 2018

Grey Skies… Put on a Happy Face?

(With thanks to Lee Adams and Charles Strouse)

Is dread what living is now about, what it has become?

Fear of the next news cycle, of the next bill, the next phone call;
the next incident, attack, exhausting argument?

Is warranted or unwarranted worry all we have left;
fearing the next morning’s pain, loss, anger, frustration, aggravation, regrets?

Is there nought to look forward to, be grateful for,
to have a reason to feel free, happy, calm, and blessed?

Is there any reason to appreciate our own lives other than to not be dead?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 15 May 2018

Mad World

I get angry, I don’t deny it, but I am not a violent person.

I do not understand violence, the desire to hurt, maim, kill is utterly foreign to me.

Yet… as beyond my understanding as it is that someone would pick up a weapon to deliberately strafe total strangers, killing haphazardly to get whatever satisfaction or notoriety the violence resulted in… there are moments I can understand how frustration and anger could prompt someone to consider picking a target and ridding the world.

Maybe the trick to understanding the world today is to join with the majority, wrap one’s bubblewrap around, and stop caring about others. Unfortunately, I am functionally unable to do that; I am hard-wired to care about the Earth, her inhabitants, the flora, fauna, and the microcosms of life that support us.

As the world gets darker, dirtier, more hateful, and less concerned about anything other than one’s own private domains and beliefs, many of its inhabitants are becoming more detached from each other or reality. Whatever lies the day brings, whichever talking head speaking the loudest and most adamantly, whoever manages to spin the fastest and grab the golden ring away from everyone else gets the coverage.

As a group, separately and together we are in the process of abandoning all hope, reason, truth, empathy, and each other. We are lost, unable to think, process, understand, or centre ourselves in a world gone mad. Some turn to reflections of themselves, some to their version of belief or lack thereof, and some just reach the breaking point and just act out, scream, hit, vilify, or even strafe unknown crowds. 

We are losing our coping mechanism, and I don’t see the balancing act between truth, reason, bullshite, and lies maintaining much longer; we are over the edge of normalcy, and I fear what happens next.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 9 May 2018

Widdershins and Anti-Gravity

(with thanks to Peggy Malecki for the unintended inspiration)

The world’s turned upside down,
everyone’s on their heads.

Truth is subjective and lies reality;
when it is warm in winter, and it snows in spring.

The rain pours sideways, the snowflakes are sleet,
and the clouds glare more than the sun.

Children have become the leaders, and our parents sometimes need care;
how far have we come, and where do we go from here?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 4 May 2018

Separation Anxiety

(Dedicated to an unknown friend)

Sometimes two halves are worth more than their single whole.

Separation, division; the act is sometimes a form of growth in nature:
Single-cell organisms multiply by becoming two.

De-unification can be a freedom of spirit as well as a civil action;
conjoined twins, years together may become separate identities while retaining their shared memories.

The same is true for families, partners, long-married couples.

Growth continues to happen within the universe even while it keeps on expanding.

One needn’t fight the growth inherent within separation,
even while remembering the wonder and warmth of union.

Splitting up does not denote failure, it is the proof of growth.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

©26 April 2018

Duck, Cover, and Whinge

(just asking for a friend)

Does anyone wonder if he’s ever cried, real tears from real emotion?

Is it possible that he’s ever felt personal grief at the loss of a person instead of a thing;
the sensation of true sorrow, sadness, or mourning or regret?

Does anyone believe that he has ever felt shame, remorse, or guilt?

Who honestly would trust his apologies, assuming he would ever admit error?

Is it possible that there is any humanity in him, any shred of empathy, or dignity?

Has he only wept crocodile tears unless they were tears of frustration or anger?

Was there ever a thoughtful, compassionate person in that shell of a man,
or has his first and only thoughts been about him?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

©13 April 2018

Mid-Century Lass

I'm the type that they classify as quaint
(With thanks to Johnny Mercer)

I’m old fashioned but open minded
Forward thinking but conventional
Traditional with cutting edges
Reasonable but stubborn.  
I’m a listener and a thinker
An observer and a doer;
I speak my mind by remaining silent. 

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
©1 April 2018

Blocked

I have stories that will never be a book.

I have rhymes that will not become a poem.

I have lyrics that will not be sung aloud.

I have melodies that will never be transcribed.

I have a voice that won’t be understood.

I have visions that will not become art.

I have emotions that can’t be put in words.

I have a silence that echoes in my mind.

I have passions that will never be fulfilled.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 27 March 2018

Some Small Irritations bring forth Pearls … (or so they say)

I’ve gone through life so far with my hat in my hand,
my heart both in my mouth and worn on my sleeve;
my head in the clouds, and foul weather ahead.

I’ve had the wind in my hair, the clouds full of rain,
“ the sun in the morning and the moon at night.”

I’ve had my back to the wall and stars in my eyes.

Friends, I’ve had a few, but in most cases warm acquaintances;
people come and go, and go, and go some with kindly waves
and some like thieves in the night.

I’ve seen rainbows, but the pots of gold were full of fools.

I’ve seen danger ahead and over my shoulder too many regrets;
I’m pretty sure that nothing’s changed except the world around me.

I’ll continue on the same worn path since I don’t know any other.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 22 March 2018

Talking to Myself

"I've been huntin' for a kindly ear but couldn't find one near and wound up talking to myself."

(Thanks to George Watsky)

Are we the emptiness within or the human shell-surround?
Is living just the means of filling that bottomless hole?
Sometimes my voice echoes in the ambient roar inside my head; the reverberating buzz of a million answerless questions.
Sometimes I can’t recognise my reflection; seeing the shadowy outline instead of the person looking back.
Am I real, am I invisible?
Worse, am I and my value unacknowledged even to myself?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 14 March 2018

State of Despair

"Don't you understand what I'm trying to say"

(with thanks to Barry McGuire)

I ache for the world.

I feel each wrong, fear and loss;

My heart is breaking.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 8 March 2018

No(t)stalgia

Was it really easier when we were young?

Were people kinder, or just less blatant about their malice?

Did people really communicate with each other;
neighbours have friendly conversations, families not battle over line-drawn viewpoints?

Were religious beliefs, or the lack thereof less vitriolic, intolerant, or demanding of others?

Did children have time for play, unscheduled by parental desires or extramural activities?

Was it really safer then, allowing us to run, bike, participate in games outside of the house
and away from parents’ constant gaze on weekends, holidays, and after school?

Was living without fear of being shot, having one’s environment vandalised,
being able to go to work or school without anything more alarming than an occasional fire drill
just a whitewashed memory?

Did children really not expect to be handed every toy, device, or pricy item of clothing on demand?

Did we actually not walk around in clothing more suitable for burlesque than school or work?

Did we really wear actual hats, not ballcaps, for something other than warmth?

Were sparkly jewellery and clothing only allowed after five in the evening?

Did we ever anticipate that people would think wearing torn clothing was fashionable,
or that t-shirts and jeans were suitable attire for formal religious services, weddings, or funerals?

Did we really work only forty hour weeks, and take two-week vacations at the shore;
did families live on one parent’s income that paid for a decent life, college, and retirement savings?

Did doctors really make house calls, did customer service mean businesses serving their customers,
and no one had to self-serve themselves everywhere?

Did people once write in complete sentences and speak without swearing and slang?

Was there always this much hate, division, oversight, and undervaluing?

Was this our definition of freedom and greatness?

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 7 March 2018

Yih’yu L’ratzon

May there be the Other within the emptiness.
Let there be all life within this secure space outside of time.
May there always be room for my thoughts within the silence of the Void.
Let there be morning birds.
Let there be evening calm.
Let there be mid-night quiet and mid-day song.
Let there be peaceful dreams and grateful hearts.
Let there always be Light to break the Darkness.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 4 March 2018

Seasons

Friendships in spring are new growth;

green shoots growing and reaching for warmth.

Friendships in summer are bright blossoms;

fragrant bouquets of joined blooms.

Friendships in fall are golden in the waning days;

rich-hued leaves that glow with remembered sun.

Friendships in winter are firelight and berries;

bright jewels and comfort against the increasing cold.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 23 February 2018

Tarnish and Rust

(With thanks to Joan Baez for the title idea)

Today I am tired.

I feel like an old woman;

no longer nimble and full of future plans.

Today I just progress in place
moving step after step, barely awake.

Today my joints are rusty,
my hair tarnished instead of silvered;
my brain creaking slowly as it turns my thoughts into movement.

Today I want to sleep
with warmth in my bed, and rain on the roof.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 13 February 2018

Still, Small Voice

The quiet voice inside me reminds me to be kind,
conscious of my gifts, of my place in humanity’s whole;
I listen, and I want to heal the world, to heal myself.

The louder voices, outside my head, shouting in my ears
are telling me to burn it all down;
the damage too extensive, the rifts too deep,
the enmity too vast and irate.

In my mind, there is an expanse between both shores:
extensive, unfathomable, and full of hazards.

I want to build a path to reason, a bond of human kindness,
a bridge made up of spirit and good intentions.

I know the desire is in me, and I hope it is there in others, 
to join our gifts together to create a place of strength and safety.

The emptiness and cacophony of the outside world though laughs at my intent and echoes it back;
the Still, Small Voice of Soul and Spirit cannot be heard above the din of Babel.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 7 February 2018

Wrinkle in Time

“Twinkle, twinkle little star.”

(With thanks to Jane Taylor)

Pinpoints of light shine within a dark velvet curtain
like peepholes in the night.

Long dead stars twinkle; memories of ancient gases explode.

Night and darkness are older than infinity;
silent winds move across the primaeval skies of living darkness.

We hide from the vastness above;
within the softness of our beds,
we burrow for safety within our heads.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 31 January 2018

Illusion or Delusion

"It's a very, very mad, mad world"

(With thanks to Gary Jules)

Invisible as an echo in an empty room;
we phase through the crowded world
like spectres through solid walls.

We are the many, the unheard voices,
the unseen presence of life between the cracks.

We are darkened stars within the void.

Only we see the warming glow that shines within
as we walk in the disorienting shade of our own shadows.
We are ghosts moving through our own lives alone.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 28 January 2017

On Broadway, Saturday Matinee

Find your seats and turn off your devices.

Take off your hats and don’t step on feet.

Unwrap your candy; don’t snap, crackle, or pop it.

Do not usurp the armrests or rustle your programmes.

No fidgets, no whispers, no cameras, catcalls, or phones.

There’s standing room only if required at the back of the House.

Overture and Beginners…

Everybody raise their Jazz hands.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

5 August 2017

Diminished

For him, and me, and us:

A person spends most of his or her adult life with work associates;
more than family and friends.

At the end of that phase of living, whether by choice, circumstance or age people forget that closeness. They forget the friendships and camaraderie forged in pain, joy, and loss that they all went through together and that feeling frequently disappears when people drift apart.

When the ones gone from the circle are forgotten, ignored, and the shared experiences are swept under the rug or tossed into the trash it hurts.

It especially hurts their family when the lost one, no longer in anyone’s thoughts, sickens alone, neglected, or dies unmourned or unremembered.

Nothing is lonelier than becoming invisible and overlooked
by those, you have not yourself forgotten.

Nothing diminishes us as humans than neglected or disregarded friendships.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 6 January 2018

Perchance

"To sleep, perchance to dream"

(With thanks to Wm Shakespeare)

Physical pain can reference many sensations;
sharp, dull, buzzing, aching, throbbing, or constant but it always means discomfort.

Pain always hurts: physical pain distresses your body,
and emotional misery can hurt everything.

Exhaustion is palpable; it is a different sort of pain, a disabling, constant distress
that exacerbates all the tender spots, known and unknown.

Sleep pretends to help;
it promises dark quiet where the mind and body can drift in peaceful dreams.

Sleep might rejuvenate the organs and muscles to a degree.

It may calm the mind, relax the turbulence,
but it doesn’t relieve the fatigue in every molecule of body, mind, and soul.

I fear not even the final sleep will cure that.

Ronda R. Scott-Marak

© 9 January 2018