Showing posts with label doubts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doubts. Show all posts

Sunday, June 22, 2025

"Absurdity and Corruption"

   


Ideologues idolized—
Seductive sirens
luring loyalty
mandating mores
destroying diversity
wrangling words
fostering falsehoods
designing doubts
customizing confusion
sanctioning skepticism
fanning fears
attracting absurdity
civilizing corruption











Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Friday, June 6, 2025

"The Litany"

 



"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.” 

Frank Herbert--Dune




          When in my twenties, I carried this litany from Dune in my wallet. Faced with living alone for the first time in a new place while attending college, my personal anxieties dogged me. On bad days while riding the shuttle to early morning classes, I would whisper these words. When I worried that I wasn’t as smart as everyone else thought, this recitation calmed my soul.
          When in my thirties, I carried this litany (now worn and faded) as solace whenever I felt I failed as a wife, mother, daughter or sister. The dread of not measuring up to the expectations of my principals or peers wrapped me into doubts that eased if I chanted this invocation. 
          When in my forties, my father died. The world tilted. I faced one of my worst fears and survived. Somehow, carrying the little scrap of paper seem unnecessary. The words, permanently etched in memory, offered comfort and soothed my grief. 
          When in my fifties, my life narrowed down into the nightmares of my mother’s Huntington’s disease. Every day filled with uncertainties as I dealt with the horrific symptoms of this disorder. To be honest, I hid from many of my fears. I wasted energy running away from them. I forgot the power of permitting them “to pass over me and through me.” 
          Now I begin my sixties. And I need to carry these assurances with me once again. I’m printing them out on a crisply new piece of paper and folding them into my wallet. Although committed to memory forty years ago, I need them to be concretely within my grasp. I face a different challenge today as a madman dictates our political reality. I must not let his mental illness paralyze my ability to reason and resist.

Copyright 2018 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Monday, March 3, 2025

"Plans and More Plans"

  

overthinking
list making
best case scenarios
worst possible tragedies imagined
journaling predictions for infinite tomorrows
fluctuating daily between certainty and self-doubt
juggling multiple dependent  lives with limited reserves
 
nurturing
visions dreamt
viewpoints expanded outward
selflessly sheltering the weakest
returning to ritual’s comforting grace
strengthening spirit by dancing with fire
embracing obligations with the tenacity of hope
 
Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 



 

 

Sunday, June 23, 2024

"Looking for Answers"

           Ever wish for the power to see into the future? Ever long for the ability to know ahead of time if the path you’ve set out on will take you where you really want to go?

        In my twenties, I set out on a journey with David that meant we selected a trail and forged ahead no matter what barrier blocked our journey. During the first years, we struggled with meeting basic necessities. Like most people, our twenties meant scrounging for every penny just to make it through each month. I remember evaluating everything by gallons of milk or gas. Did we need to go to a movie? That would be “spending” three gallons of milk on entertainment. How much did I want that new top? It would cost me the same as a tank of gas to go see my family. By being budget conscious and frugal, we pulled together enough money to purchase our home, but it wasn’t easy. Our next goal, having a child, proved an unexpected challenge, too. While many of our friends and family members seemed to pop out babies with great ease, we found ourselves looking for the answers to infertility. The answer we found, adoption, led us onto the wonderful path of parenthood.

        In our thirties, David had the opportunity to start his own business and work from our home. We couldn’t turn down the chance of having one parent at home at all times. The freelance business brought its own trials. Clients loved to send contracts with short turnarounds on completing the work, but then they bogged down the payment process. Sometimes a project’s payment wouldn’t come in for more than two months. If we’d had a crystal ball that could have predicted the shortcomings and obstacles of self-employment, would David have attempted his business? Even with hindsight on the difficulties we faced, we probably would have made the same choices because the benefits of having a parent at home outweighed the uncertainties of sporadic income.


       Every decision we made as a couple, we made with the goal of keeping our family strong. Many times, life piled seemingly insurmountable obstacles on the trail before us. Often, we plowed forward blindly on the pure faith that if we put family first we couldn’t get off track. Sometimes onlookers from the sidelines catcalled and jeered, trying to steer us into another direction. They’d throw large bricks of doubt directly in front of us that made us lose our footing and momentum. Eventually, we learned to block out the noise of the faceless crowd and kept true to our trek.
        

         I thought, foolishly, that I’d eventually hit an age where everything would fall into place. Where the wisdom of my years and experience would mean I wouldn’t flounder on this winding trail of life. However, questions still plague my days and nights. Obstructions make me pause and second guess myself. I find that I’m still trying to divine the future as I take another loop along the path. My soul searching illuminates the road just far enough ahead for me to know that keeping family whole and strong will secure safe passage.



Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Monday, June 3, 2024

"Stillness”



Today I need to step outside of myself
            to embrace caution
            to access this new information
            to slow down my pulse with measured breaths
 
Today I need to locate my panic’s source
            to immobilize my fear
            to heed my heart’s warnings
            to analyze my certainty I’ll be hurt again
 
Today I need to be still
            to reflect upon my younger self’s doubts
            to acknowledge her searing pain
            to wrap her safely within the tranquility of my experiences




 
Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
 
 

Sunday, April 16, 2023

"Philosophy in the Car"

 



Hours in a box on wheels   
Could play out soundlessly   
With each of us plugged     
Into our own online world   

Instead   
Music pushes our pulses   
Into unison   
And we philosophize   
About Life   
With a capital “L”    

Our Dreams and Doubts   
Dance on the dashboard   
As we   
Pick apart     
Cognitive dissonance     
With science instead of faith   
And create Peace on Earth     

Time distorts     
Into only the here-and-now   
Or tunnels down into our pasts   
Or spirals outward to What Will Be   

 



Copyright 2015 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

 

 

 

 

Wednesday, April 12, 2023

"In The Morning"

 




In the morning
   before I open my eyes
      I listen for her breath
         for sounds of her movement
            for her voice calling
In the morning
   before the alarm’s irritating bleat
      I open my eyes to darkness
         seeing no soft light filtering from the kitchen
            hearing no sounds for preparing First Breakfast
In the morning
   before I leave the warmth of quilts
      I pull clichés onto my psyche
         covering up my doubts
            with comforting words and phrases
In the morning
   before I build my protective walls
      I grieve
         the endless day free of responsibilities saddens me
            and sorrowful hours loom ahead



Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman