Author: Kathryn Atkins

“…I Lie Awake at Night and Ask Why Me?”

Posted on by Kathryn Atkins

Then a voice answers, “Nothing personal, your name just happened to come up.”

These TWO lines are a quote from Charles M. Schulz, creator of the Peanuts comic strips. 

GOOD STUFF

I had not seen this quote. It stopped me cold because it’s my question too! In the case of Charles Schulz and me, ours were, I think, questions of the things that we had received (his gift for penning and illustrating comic strips, and mine for playing the piano by ear). Or not! Because . . .

NOT-GOOD STUFF

Not-good stuff happens to us that yields the same question— and the reasons for the query change over the decades, years, and months. Heck. “Why Me?” pops into our heads as one freakin’ instant changes the positive to the negative and back again. Whiplash? Yaasss!

THE ANSWER

The answer does not change.

The voice of, I don’t know, someone, says our name just happened to come up. We can look for all kinds of philosophical hoo-haw to explain the unexplainable. But, I think it saves a lot of time to relax into the idea of chance, luck, Karma, or serendipity. Call it what you will, each can be skewed to the positive or negative. And luck, change, or Karma can change on a dime.

Life just is. We don’t know why. It. Just. Is.

Let’s keep going. Let’s see what our name comes up for today.

My Mom Confesses

My Mom Confesses

Posted on by Kathryn Atkins

If you’re a Catholic of a certain age, you remember that in the old days, we had to confess our sins. You might have seen it in the movies, but it was what we really did. You’d go into the church and on one side there was a place where you went in a little door, knelt down in a dark room, and waited for the priest to slide the little door that separated him from you. You confessed your heinous sins to the gauzy outline of a man who looked like the pope or something. It was weird and sometimes you wondered what he had for lunch.

So what did I confess? I like, might have said a bad word. Like shoot. (I was little.) Or had a “bad” thought (like wanting to stay home from church). Or if you ate meat on Friday. Or you forgot to say your prayers one night, those were sins. For me, I didn’t have a lot to confess, but we were supposed to go at least once a month. I think more devout Catholics were supposed to go once a week. I’m not sure. Did the nuns go every day?

ANYWAY, my mom was a “convenient” Catholic. Her strategy was to find the priests that gave her the least number of Our Fathers and Hail Mary’s to say as penance and go on their day in the confessional box. She especially liked the priests who said, “Oh, that’s not a big sin, really. In fact, let’s not call it a sin this time. Try to do better next time.” Like a speeding ticket warning or something.

Sometimes, there was a substitute in the confessional, and she’d get a hard priest. “That’s terrible. Say 50 Our Father’s and 50 Hail Mary’s.” My mom felt horrible. Then he’d say, “Now, go in peace, my child.”

“Go in peace?” she might have said. “I might just go to hell if I don’t say these in time!” My mother would be a wreck. But then she didn’t have a lot to confess anyway. Just yelling at us kids for something or other. And that was okay. We probably deserved it.

It was fun seeing how my mom “interpreted” Catholicism. She was pretty practical. And I’m sure she’s in heaven now. She was a great mom, even if she thought confessing would get her into heaven. I don’t know. I’ll have to ask her if I ever get there. It will be great to see her again.

Thirty-Four Weeks

Posted on by Kathryn Atkins

Life Balloons

We are early by six weeks. S/he (because they chose not to find out) and I are together in this. S/he and my son and his wife. We are all together, beating hearts to give strength to this new soul. To the four souls, six souls, eight, twelve, billions of souls that contributed to make this little life a life.

Birth. It must be soon. And the struggle to live begins.

We are waiting to hear. My heart beats with the baby’s. My heart murmurs, yes! Yes. YES. You can do this.

It will be stronger, we’d like to say. We will be stronger, ‘they’ say.

But dang!

Just yesterday, we did not know of this. Today we do. Today, we have a new reality. Thinks change. Then, they change again. We never know when we wake up in the morning what the day has for us. Today, it wants prayer. Beating heart prayer.

Be strong, little one.
Bring in your best self,
New as you are,
For your mom and dad.
We’re all here to help you
Be well.
Be.

The Old-Fashioned Way

The Old-Fashioned Way

Posted on by Kathryn Atkins

 

I envied her.

She didn’t own a computer. She had a cell phone for three months but never used it. She told her kids to take it back. She had time to read and do crafts, take long walks, and lunch with friends. She attended live lectures, went to the library, enjoyed museums, picnics at the park, and face-to-face conversations with her grandchildren, who squirmed much of the time, unused to talking without a keyboard and a computer screen as part of the interaction. And she could see the kids’ expressions, touch their knees or hands, and help them understand social interplay the old-fashioned way.

Mrs. Manfred writes notes to people, does her banking inside the bank, visits friends, and has the bridge club at her house once a month. The book club is on the third Thursday of the month, bridge club on the second Tuesday, and baby quilters on the fourth Friday. Mrs.M. volunteers at the local hospital, stuffing envelopes and helping the cooks put little white cups on the trays for the patients. She wears a hairnet, gloves, and an apron for this job. The apron comes down to the floor, and the extra small gloves hang off her tiny hands like a four-year-old dressing up in her mom’s clothes. The hairnet is a big blue surgical hat of which the hospital purchased at a huge discount in the tens of thousands, making Mrs. M. look like a cross between a blue mushroom and a midget chef. Her hair pokes out from under the blue hat, clown style.

She laughed easily. She had a razor-sharp mind and a heart of expanding elasticity, especially for children. Her favorite volunteer work was reading to kids in hospitals, schools, churches, and libraries.

However, it was not only becoming a lost art, but the ‘safety laws required that she wear a badge, get fingerprinted, TB tested, and background checked all so she could have an “aide” in the room while she read to the kids. Mrs. M. cried at the thought of it.

“All I want to do is entertain and teach the children,” she said. The laws had changed, the world had changed, the people had changed. It became too much of a hassle for her, and eventually, she had to cut back because they couldn’t find the “aide” person. In fact, when she gave up driving for Lent one year, her daughter couldn’t get her to the hospitals, and she had to stop forever.

She was forced into a retirement home—what a loss for everyone — for the kids and Mrs. M.’s wonderfully abundant heart.

One day, when cell phones stopped working, the internet coughed and passed out for a 24-hour period. Mrs. Manfred’s life did not change at all, except the people in the retirement home came down to the central meeting room in a trickle at first and then in a steady stream. Finally, they arrived in a torrent, and the room was awash in blue hairs so that the chattering and laughing brought life back into the home that usually served as the waiting area for an appointment with Death.

New acquaintances became fast friends.

Alas, the internet came back on the next day, and Death and her friend Depression resumed their march. The spell was broken, and Mrs. M. cried until she decided to read to her friends in the old folks’ home –knee to knee, the old-fashioned way.

Smiles all around. Life was good.

If I’m Being Honest

Posted on by Kathryn Atkins

If I’m being honest, I’m checking my authentic truth for falsehoods.

“Really? Is that REALLY true?”

Women Who Run With the Wolves author Clarissa Pinkola Estés says we must turn to art to find our true selves. Find silence. Be somehow willing to acknowledge a higher power.

If I’m being honest, I don’t know what to call the higher power. I think there’s one. I pray to them sometimes. But I’m still on the fence about “God” with that name. It could be anything. Here’s what. I believe we humans are more than an evolutionary fluke. A Charles Darwin leap from an ape to a person. Nope. There’s something or someone. I believe that.

If I’m being honest, I am absolutely sure I have been specially blessed with more than my fair share of REALLY cool stuff. I am grateful for all of it. I wonder when the “shoe” is going to fall. But then maybe I’ll not bring it on by asking too many questions.

If I’m being honest, I absolutely know that there are few accidents. It’s all pretty much planned. All of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I am often good, sometimes bad, and unfortunately, plain ugly from time to time. And yet, if I’m being honest, I try to catch myself and get better. That’s all we can ask for, because, well, we’re lucky to be here, maybe being ugly, and still having people who love us even so.

If I’m being honest, I’m trying to be objective about the things I say and do. It takes stillness. And the willingness to work hard to change the things you see that, if you’re being REALLY honest, are REALLY bad. Those are hard times.

Evolving Language Speechless

Posted on by Kathryn Atkins

 

Out of the thoughtless earth, Words struggle to grow through the sludge-mud to where Pooled Rain Water is shoved sideways by Wind. Teenage frogs wink at each other as their tadpole brothers and sisters look up hoping to see their older selves with legs if all goes well and a smarmy hungry Snake Snot doesn’t eat them in one gulp. Mom and Dad Frog do not croak a warning. They are too tired.

Besides, Words stuck in muck behind a root truck never exit Mom and Dad’s Froggie Mouths. Señor snake licks his lips, wishing for arms to rub his bulging tadpole-bump tummy.

I hope to keep my Mom and Dad self from warning me. For if I am swallowed whole, I will see darkness and know that I can escape and make new words. Evolved language. Or at least overreach my croakings in new ways.

 

Photo Credit: Pexels.com

What if Death Quit Her Job?

What if Death Quit Her Job?

Posted on by Kathryn Atkins

Would we rejoice?

Maybe. But what about her?

Death has had nothing but sadness in her day job. No one likes her. No one wants to see her coming. She clearly does not enjoy her work. Who would? Coming to work is depressing. “Hello, Mrs. Jones. I’m going to take your soul today.” And guess what? She has very few (no) friends.

And you thought you had a bad job.

Somewhere along the way, Death ended up collecting souls as part of the team in Heaven. Eventually she finds out why. And that’s not to say everyone goes to heaven after they die. No. That’s not it. And that’s not Death’s job, you see. She just makes the rounds according to the schedule and collects the souls so the other departments can get them to the correct eternity. You know. If you sin too much, you go to Hell. If you’ve accumulated enough brownie points, as it were, you get to spend eternity in Heaven. Everything is free there. Free health club memberships, country club passes, zoos, museums…It’s all free. It’s fun in the beginning but well. Everything gets boring after a while. Even Perfection. And free booze.

Back to Death. She definitely wins top prize for “sucky job” and to offset her terrible work life, she buys beautiful clothes. Her retail therapy outings have earned her the nickname Coco for Coco Chanel, her favorite designer. But she can wear Vera Wang, too. Betsey Johnson, Calvin Klein. It doesn’t matter as along as it’s expensive and gorgeous. But Chanel is her bestie.

When our story opens, Death quits. Yup. Finally, she’s had it up to here. The cruise ships are the absolute worst. Bodies and their attached souls float around in the ocean shivering their lips off, and Death has to handle each person. Some are still alive, and in every manner of scared to death. And then Death comes by. Imagine. Cold. Wet. Make it freezing, soaked. Almost drowning or recently drowned. (What a crappy way to go!) “It’s okay, Mr. Smith. I’m here to help you pass peacefully.” BAM. Mr. Smith bops Death in the jaw. “Oh, no you don’t!” The arguments over the years would make your hair hurt. Seriously. Death has heard them all. But now, she’s decided to quit.

And it’s not pretty. You can read all about it in my book, Deathlist, coming to a bookstore near you. There’s a lot more to it than Coco Chanel and Death, however. I’d hang on to your bucket seats. It’s quite a ride. Funny. Philosophical. Profane. Good and evil. Life’s purpose. High concept stuff wrapped around a book in which God plays too much golf, and the Holy Spirit is almost as much a clothes horse as Death. And there are epic battles afoot, Stay tuned for more posts about this crazy novel. Until then, I’m thinking we want Death to keep her job. Just sayin’.

My Last Day on Earth

My Last Day on Earth

Posted on by Kathryn Atkins

With One Foot Dangling Over the Edge of the Universe

“If today were the last day of your life, would

you want to do what you are about to do today?”

~ Steve Jobs

Rumor has it that Steve Jobs asked himself this question every day in the mirror. It’s said that if he had enough days in a row when the answer was no, he’d do something else. Jobs was dead at 56.

Today, we watched another visionary dent the universe (almost literally). If today were Jeff Bezos’s last day on earth, he’d probably be okay with it. I’d be okay if it were my last day having watched his accomplishment from way down here. Good for him. Good for them. I like my brother, too, and I’d take him up with me.

WHAT’S IT FOR? Going into space isn’t for anything, except to DO IT. They didn’t make money, they spent LOTS. They learned even more, and they proved their worth to themselves, if no one else. Did anyone else really matter? Probably not.

WHAT DOES IT REMIND ME OF?
The Bezos launch reminded me of years past when we raced for space with other countries. Now our local visionaries compete with one another, and the media runs amok. It’s all wonderful. We used to rely on a war machine to feed for innovation and invention. Now, our CEOs feed their curiosity and, okay, their egos, but that’s okay.

IT’S MY LAST DAY ON EARTH [Pretend!]

I watched the rocket ship, walked my dog, listened to an amazing woman Melissa Renzi share her poetry, her love, and her vulnerability.

THIS IS THE POEM FROM MELISA RENZI’s BLOG POST on 7/6/21

(I challenge you to get through it with dry eyes.)

Love more today

Inspired by and in honor of Danay DiVirgilio

Love more today
Not tomorrow, not yesterday, not next year

Love more today
This very second, right now
You can do it, I believe in you
Be present with the feelings
All of them, all of you
This is not new
Since the beginning of time

In the infinity that is and was always
There is only one thing
And that thing is Love

Love more today
Not tomorrow, not yesterday, not next year

I see you, I hear you, I love you
I feel your Love, I feel your fear
I see you shedding a tear
All the Love you’re withholding
Give it up, give it away, let it go
Your life is unfolding

Love more today
Really, it is the only way
Close your eyes, yes, let’s do it right now
Send your love to someone who needs it the most

Send your love to someone who is easy to love

Now to someone who is hard to love
See, love doesn’t know the difference
Love is the great equalizer
Breaking through barriers of time and space

With total ease and infinite grace

Love is bigger than here and now

Love is wonder, love is how.
Love is deeper than good or bad
It’s so much wider than happy or sad

Love is not a drop in the ocean

Love is the ocean

So love more today
Not tomorrow, not yesterday, not next year

Really darling, there is nothing to fear
Open your eyes to the wisdom of love
See the world through its freedom, a dove

From high up above and all the way down

Love the whole rainbow, love the whole town

Love the sadness and love the grief
Love the Joy and love the belief
That Love is forever

And before I go, I want you to know:

It is okay to laugh and it is okay to cry

It is okay to ask “Why?”
Yes, really I ask you, I ask you to try

To love more today
In honor of the Spirit that is Danay

-Melissa Renzi

Amherst, MA

July 2020

*The words “Love more today” first appeared in an email from Michael DiVirgilio, sharing the news of Danay’s transition with family and friends. He asked friends to “Love More Today” as a way to honor her memory.

PS – I wrote this poem just days after Danay’s transition last summer. I read it at the memorial service under the trees in her backyard. Her presence was felt that day in the palpable Love that was there. And in the breeze of the trees above. Today it is a year. Honoring this beautiful human, friend, teacher, mother, mama. It was such a joy knowing you, friend. I treasure you always. Thank you for showing up in all the ways you do in my life and in the life of so many.

Good things, darling.

Love more today.

# # #

I hope it’s okay with you, Melissa, that I shared your poem. If this were my last day on earth, I would be happy, hanging one foot over the edge of our shared universe. Thank you for writing this piece and letting us know you better.

Thanks to Pixels.com for the image.

Confirmation Bias

Confirmation Bias

Posted on by Kathryn Atkins

“People are prone to believe what they want to believe.*”

How much of what we think we believe is true? How much do we believe it because we want to or because it fits our previous decision on a topic, a medical issue, a political candidate, our hobbies—ANYTHING.

I like to think I’m challenging myself to grow in new ways by reading different genres of novels, a variety of non-fiction books on a broad spectrum of viewpoints. But am I really? What about podcasts?

How can we be sure we’re not seeking agreement with where we are now? What are the signs? Are we doing the same things again and again, but thinking we are doing something different? I pride myself on my creativity. My fearlessness. But I now must challenge myself to understand if I’m really just confirming what I already think or know. So, I’m going to try the following. I’ll let you know what I find out.

  1. Make a list of the last six novels I read.
  2. List the last five non-fiction books I read (not purchased, read).
  3. What were the last four classes I took?
  4. Name the last three times I ate a food I’ve never eaten before.
  5. Summarize the last two conversations that I shared with someone twenty or more years younger than myself and twenty or more years older than me.
  6. When did I try a different browser than the one I normally use?

Confirmation bias keeps people in a rut. Scary but true. Stepping out of our rut is REALLY scary!

Change scares everyone to an extent. Knowing when you’re suffering from confirmation bias might be the first step to changing your mind, even a little. We’re not suggesting which way to think, but we would like to know if you are brave enough to confirm that you have confirmation bias. Or not.

Source: * Psychology Today

Image compliments of Pexels.com