Fearless

Look at that little guy … a young praying mantis, sitting next to Pumpkin (R.I.P.), one of the most fearless animals I have ever known.

How is the mantis so brave? Is this innate to his species, or an individual who takes risks or is just naive and inexperienced?

Looking at ourselves, if we aren’t fearless like the mantis, how did we get this way? Perhaps the bigger question is can we become more brave?

I believe there are two core emotions – fear and love, the opposite of one another. To become fearless, or start heading in that direction, we need to love ourselves more, to tip the scales. We need to let go of things we were told that we were. These often had nothing to do with us, but more to do with the individuals that told us. Think about it.

Many of our behaviors that make us unhappy today were once developed as children because we needed them in order to cope or survive, whether to make others happy or comfortable or just to leave us alone. But we can look at ourselves now, at our fears, our outer coats of beliefs that no longer work in our lives, and release them.

It was Socrates who said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” Looking and seeing who we are underneath those once-needed layers, we can love and accept ourselves for what we find, forgive ourselves for behaving in ways we have not understood. And we can change. It takes time, and it’s not always easy, but we are capable of change.

We are always braver than we believe.

p.s. As for the yet-unnoticed, young praying mantis … I called Pumpkin over to my back door for a snack, and the little one, apparently having made his point (to me), quickly disappeared.

Ocean Poem

It’s the last hurrah of summer. I rarely share my poetry online, but … here I am.

Ocean

Foam, waves, tripple around my feet
now gloriously raw from the pebbles and shell bits.
White bubbling sea patterns
rushing up cold to catch me
in their beckoning game,
spitting up dares from amidst green breakers
and blended from a cerulean horizon.
Yes, I’m red-raw, but come `round me,
I see you so little, my friend.

© Jeanne Balsam

Find Someplace Beautiful

My guess is that there is someplace beautiful within walking distance or a short drive from where you live.

This is one of the views walking along the bike/footpath in Frenchtown. So gorgeous. A friend and I had stopped in to The Bridge Cafe for coffee and some pastry, and decided to walk.

We can all get stuck in our homes and/or digital lives and forget that it’s not all that far to find some beauty. It doesn’t have to be nature; it can just as easily be in the city, in a park, or a walk in the neighborhood.

Get outside and look around. Find someplace beautiful. Take pictures. Enjoy your life.

Home …

Home is such an important place. A place to just be yourself, to relax, a refuge, a place to foster growth, a cocoon of dreams, an inspiration of life, a place to heal, and so much more.

April is National Poetry Month, so I’m offering this lovely poem by Christopher Marlowe.

Song for A Little House

I’m glad our house is a little house,
Not too tall nor too wide.
I’m glad the hovering butterflies
Feel free to come inside.

Our little house is a friendly house.
It is not shy or vain;
It gossips with the talking trees,
And makes friends with the rain.

And quick leaves cast a shimmer of green
Against our whited walls,
And in the phlox, the courteous bees
Are paying duty calls.
– Christopher Marlowe

But home is not just the structure itself; it is also the place, the neighborhood, the city, the town. They’re all part of “home.” And so, a few more photos of my home, as spring comes slowly into bloom. Above, the trees, just beginning to green up, and their late afternoon shadows accompany me on my walk along the river to the bridge.

Looking north, life is just awakening from slumber. This sentinel, which has steadfastly looked over the river for the 19 years I’ve lived here and much longer, is now showing the most shy of buds.

Crossing the Delaware River to Pennsylvania, where the blush of green in the trees is heartening.

Forsythia in bloom around one of our many turn-of-the-century homes, with the Chestnut Hill B`n B just behind.

Home is where we walk, where we become, and who we are for however long we stay.

National Poetry Month – April 4th

April is National Poetry Month. They Want Us to Be Afraid is one of many beautiful – the word here is so inadequate – poems by Kamand Kojouri. This poem was written in May 2017, just 8 years ago.

THEY WANT US TO BE AFRAID

They want us to be afraid.
They want us to be afraid of leaving our homes,
to barricade our doors and hide our children.
They aim to make us fear life!

They want us to hate.
They want us to hate the other,
to practice aggression and promote oppression.
They aim to divide us all!

They want us to be inhuman.
They want us to throw out our kindness,
to conceal our love and bury our hope.
They aim to take our light!

They think their brick walls
will separate us.
They think their damned bombs
will defeat us.

They are so ignorant they don’t understand
that my soul and your soul are old friends.
They are so ignorant they don’t understand
that when they cut you, I bleed.

They are so ignorant they don’t understand
that we will never be afraid,
we will never hate,
and we will never be silent.
For life is only ours!

~ Kamand Kojouri