From an Upper Floor

Wrongful Death

We have put so much faith in the medical profession but they ultimately cannot deliver us
from death. Oftentimes in our western culture, agonies are prolonged as surrounding
relatives make their peace with what a very wise teacher once said to a student, the only
thing you have to do is die.   The homework is up to you.   And often the departure is fraught with negatives.   The biggest being our inability to leave with dignity.   For then we are stripped of our freedoms; the freedom to leave with a mind intact.   Is this the purpose of a life? Is death so ominous that a breathing body vacant of spirit is preferable?

Preparation should have allowed for the personality to keep as much of its functioning self
as possible. Medical science can make it easier for leave taking on both sides when what we leave is a body still recognizable with a spirit of the beloved we know.   It does not help when our memories are fraught with last months and years of pain that distort the image of the one held dear. Medicine often negates all we tried to do in life.   When the body is programmed for long life it would be best if we also programmed the mind.

With so much emphasis on the body, we have left no time to fill the mind with nourishment befitting a body determined for immortality.   The spirit makes the break. Little by little , the time spent away from the body is longer.   The tenuous thread, the linkage to the heart in desperation breaks.   And by that time, who we were can no longer be recognized. The civilities, the niceties that we encouraged through the many years have departed with the spirit intact.   These are what makes a civilization humane, civilized and what is left is Cro-Magnon.

The mind that has been fed, that has been nourished, has the right to what medical science offers. But this mind will also call a halt to procedures that no longer give sustenance but instead steals from it its dignity.   The population at large has not availed itself to the study of man’s place in the universe   Has not availed itself to what has been offered as guidelines, as nourishment for the spirit.   It has not taken as gospel what we all should know from the time of birth. . . . that death too is part of the living process, the earth process.   And if we have accorded dignity to life itself, then death must be included.

To program a body for long life but starve a mind is criminal.   We are deluged with information as to what to do to keep the body active, to keep it healthy.   We are a world of proof that a healthy body, one told to eat whatever is newsworthy at the moment will result in a body that fights diseases, that will be able to withstand everything.   And yet we will meet death, if not in our youth by misfortune, then in our dotage with a body so well taught that it will continue to do what it is we taught it from day one. Yet the mind, the spirit has subsisted on kindergarten fare. On porridge.   And we are left to wonder why mother or papa are not the persons we knew and if we loved them so much yesterday how could they change so fast to being mean and ugly today?

And where the peace and resolve of the unresolved that are suppose to occur at the bedside? Where the reconciliations when the unable in body are also unable and absent in mind? And where the spirit of the beloved who has nurtured us in ages past, the linkage to what was, as our children will be the link in the future to what we were? The emotional tie will be non existent for the grandchildren.   The last memories will be the only memories for some and for the others, the last memories will be wiped out as not being part of life.   And both are damaged, for unless we rearrange our priorities, reprogram ourselves, rewrite the lesson plans, the last memories will continue to be part and parcel of life in this 21st century.

What to do?   Feed the mind as well as the body.   As we stretch the body, we must also stretch the mind.   New concepts, old ideas made relevant, religions made vital, philosophers resurrected and visionary poetry made mandatory. Literature to be taught and understood with today’s technology, in today’s high tech world has application in the dailyness of each of us.   Along with the ability to compute anything and everything, should be stretched the mind’s ability to grasp spiritual concepts to enrich the person.   It will prove to be practical in the long run.   And the result will be characters of substance befitting the body programmed for life everlasting.

June 10, 2013

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
Loved Into Being

I said,

‘You have to take it
personally,
or you cannot play
the game at all.

The lessons, like plants,
cannot be absorbed by osmosis,
if they are
to reach the head
and heart.

What would be
the purpose of the lesson
if it could not
be applied
where you are?

Love is played for real
and we may be the idea
loved into being;
carried like a brother
on your back.

It will again be the stuffs
other dreams are dreamed of.’

June 7, 2013

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
Winner of Common Thread Give-a-way

I am pleased to announce the winner of our Common Thread Give-a-way. And she is Julie.    So if Julie will contact me at fromanupperfloor.com I will send a copy of The Last Bird Sings to her.   I hope she will enjoy the book and that it will become a favorite friend to go back to visit many times.

And to the other artists and writers of Common Thread,   Kim Gifford of Pugs and Pics, Jane McMillen of little house home arts, Rachel Barlow of picking my battles, Jon Katz of BedlamFarm.com and Maria from Fullmoonfiberarts.com my thanks go out to you for supporting the arts.    To Maria, who has been a wonderful cyber friend and has a following of loyal readers, thank you especially for your support.

And my thanks go to all the wonderful readers who not only sent in their names but also took the time to look at upper floor.   I hope I can keep you interested with my blog so that I too, will become a favorite place to go to. I look forward to your comments and appreciate your time with me.

June 6, 2013

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
Common Thread Give-a-way

It is a pleasure to be a guest on the Common Thread Give-a-way. Involved are Kim Gifford ( Pugs and Pics) and Jane McMillen ( little house home arts) and Rachel Barlow (picking my battles) and then Maria Wulf , fullmoonfiberart.com. I am offering my book called The Last Bird Sings to the winner. Names will be selected from comments. They will go into a box and be picked randomly. The contest is run from Monday, June 3 rd until Wednesday the 5th. I will announce the winner on Thursday the 6th of June. I am looking forward to joining these highly talented women and cannot tell you how delighted I am to have been asked to be a guest. I hope that many of you will spend some time looking at my work and comments are always appreciated. To know that my work reaches and relates to some of you is rewarding. I have posted an excerpt from the book which is part memoir and part philosophy. I hope you will find it interesting.

June 2, 2013

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
What It Means To You

The question was asked of me, what exactly do you mean with that quote? And I said that I knew what I meant but my meaning might not make sense to another. But it was important enough to me that I wrote it with my machine because I thought it might make sense to someone else. I thought it was worth the time and effort. It would be truly their own wall quilt if it has meaning for them. I can fuzzy up their meaning by saying what it meant to me, but that would not be fair. Does that make sense to you? If it does, let me know.

It is for sale for $75.00 with $15.00 for shipping and insurance.

May 28, 2013

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
Begin With A ‘Maybe’

Oftentimes in my comments I will say that if I can introduce a `maybe ‘ into someone’s thinking, we can help broaden premises. Because I have lived long enough to see old ideas fail, am I open to new ideas.   After due thought, I incorporate them but also realize that others are not as eager as I am. We all know we cannot force feed an entire generation nor even attempt to change long established patterns of behavior.   People do what they do because to change any thing means that all things in the light of what is learned, must be examined. People know this. Humans know it.   It is not the work for the fainthearted.   It is the work of a human workaholic bent on cleaning up a mess of too many centuries old.

And in the process of reexamination and change, what we grant to ourselves, we must grant to Others.   If freedom is ours, having freed ourselves either from a past holding us hostage or some other factor, we must grant to the Other, his.   If we claim the sun to shine on our heads, we must also grant space to the Other for the sun to shine. What we have is a double edged sword.   We must also grant the right not to change to the Other.   If they prefer the status quo, it must be granted.   But only if an Other’s space is not intruded upon.   By clinging to one’s own bent, we cannot damage an Other.

When we have an entire generation bridling under a specific burden, it must be rectified.   That means whatever non-violent tools required, must be used. We change things then bit by bit. We know the dangers of drugs.   We know the crunch of unequal opportunities in all walks of life.   So we change by education, by election, by changing laws. If we have a generation of grandparents seeing beyond their own children and grandchildren, seeing across waters and generations to come, we then have those who see life’s continuity.   When we have parents and grandparents viewing their own progeny as mortgage payments requiring due payment, we will save liters of blood , not only our own but untold generations’ spilling endlessly on soil in wars not needing to be fought. We will then make a difference.

A young man told me he knew what he was supposed to think and feel. He said I will continue to try but at that moment he said he was scared.   I told him he was close to the kingdom.   He was. Enough times told, the frightened self will begin to change habits.

We can begin with a `maybe’ after due process of thought.

May 24, 2013

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
Where Can We Go?

As the sparrow falls it is noted
and the quality of life
is diminished by one.
Long ago the feathers were counted.
The color of the downy beast
was subtly painted into the rainbow.

A child is born
in the forgotten regions
of a world too busy to take note.
The borning is observed, however,
by the cosmic populace.
Its growth watched and shepherded
and when the child cries,
the heavens lament.

There is no least in quality or number.
Each beating heart is calculated
to keep a world intact.
Each blink of an eyelid
reason enough for the sun
to keep itself alive.

The coming together
and the going apart of each
is through a door
opening and closing
onto a portion of life, indissoluble.

Now it is here,
now gone from here, now it is here.
Disappearing from this place,
it takes form in another.

The sparrow sings in another tree
and his song is heard
by one who left the here
and followed.

Where can we go and not be found?

(from Kiss The Moon)

May 21, 2013

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
I Bring Into Sweet Focus

And I heard the young one say, and I know this true, he said, that this lady likes to work with blue cloths is because he said, that she said this is what heaven is like. And I want to know he said, how does she know? And I told him that some people just know things, not guess or because they believe, but because they know. What do you think heaven is like I asked him. What do you think? And he said that because he remembered because he was only 5 fingers old, that he knew and she was right. What he remembered was that the colors of everything was so bright, even brighter he said than the sun or even, he said, the moon in the night sky when everything else is black. Then you know, I said to him, you know. And he said then that there were lots of things he knowed, but he did not like to say because other kids said it was baby stuff. But he knowed, he said, he knowed and this lady also knowed he said. Do you like the colors she uses, I asked. And he said that this is what he remembered and they are true.

If you, like the young one, like the colors I use in my wall quilts, then contact me. This one is for sale for $75.00 plus $15 for shipping including insurance. It says, and I say, `I bring into sweet focus a world my heart requires.’

May 17, 2013

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
Legacy

The house is quiet
when I enter this private place,
this holy place,
to listen to my private oracle,
my comforter,
while I chase down my holy grail.

This holy grail for me
is my philosophy,
that I spent a lifetime pursuing.
I was pushed and pulled
into a blackened pit
strewn with many lifetimes’ worth
of desecrated dogmas.

I was expected not to question,
just accept as man had
dutifully done for centuries.
But life’s ironies consumed
an enormous part of me
as the maternal segment refused
to feed the children of my heart
an unpalatable meal.

Strong arms lifted me
and the nearing century
found me
in august terms in a legacy.

But I will leave some memos,
essays, words of many muses,
whose meanings are dressed
in costumes of countless lifetimes.
There will be ledgers
on how to build a life
with digestible ingredients.

Done as the mother of sons
whose hearts and minds she swallowed
so they would never, ever
think that she took
the keys of the kingdom

and left them bereft.

May 10, 2013

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
The Boarder Ashley

We hardly
knew you Babe.
You walked in and out
of our lives daily,
leaving a dust of footprints
on our hearts.

But we knew
you were ours
when first we met you.
A face like yours
was much at home
with laughing and crying.
We mostly loved loving you.

It seems we were born to do that.

(Ashley graduates from college and we will miss her.)

May 7, 2013

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.