Tag Archives: communication

The Antisocial Experiment

When two people converse
But always on the second’s turf,
How does the first know
Whether the second cares?

They conduct an experiment—
Be their own turf king,
Stop conversing until where
Changes, not when.

But what if all conversations
Between the first and the rest
Are because he initiates?
How can he know the problem wasn’t just him?

And so was born
An innocent experiment:
He shall begin no conversations
No not one.

The antisocial element
Is quite perverse,
But perhaps this verse
Will wipe away the tears

Should it prove that the problem is him.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore

What of Columbus?

Of late there are many sources claiming Christopher Columbus was unworthy of a federal holiday a despicable rascal. See this “article” on the oatmeal  and this one on vox.com. I saw the oatmeal article last year. A friend who is a teacher shared it with me. The following is what I shared with her, and now with anyone open minded enough to not jump on the revisionist bandwagon without long contemplation and deep investigation.

Vicki Jo Anderson, while researching many historical figures over the course of several years, discovered that

“history written prior to 1920 was often written of great men and women who performed great deeds. After 1920, history has highlighted the miseries of men…. Dean Belnap once stated: ‘Young people of our generation have been deprived of their birthright, which is to be conscious that they are the children of a high destiny in the line of great men who performed great deeds.’ One cannot appreciate the future unless there is an understanding of the past. It is the intent of [the book she was doing the research for] to illustrate from the lives of these eminent men, that one individual can make a difference.”

Of Columbus, Anderson writes:

“Disheartened with the greed and lust that were wreaking havoc in the newly discovered land, in 1496 he wrote to the king and queen, begging that the same laws existing in Spain be applied to the islands, and that all people–including the Indians–have the same justice.
He wrote: ‘Procure for the Indians, that are coming under our rule, the same rules and protections as those we have been speaking of [here in Spain]. These rules are to apply to those in power and those not in power equally. I want them to have the same protection like I have as if they were my own flesh.’ In 1497, he pleaded again:
‘I worry immensely about the future. I do not know what will happen in years to come. But we will discover new lands and we will negotiate in some of them according to the law of Castile and if this is not ruled by a strong hand then we will lose and rip apart our future and we will lose everything. I am afraid we will be misunderstood. I tell you to do it this way because gold is not everything.’”

Her source for the Columbus quotes is:

Columbus, Christopher. Letters to King Ferdinand & Queen Isabel 1496 Raccolta Collection. Raccolta di Documenti e Studi Pubblicati dalla R. Commissione Colombiana, pel Quarto Centenario dalla Scoperta dell’ America, Appendix Roma 1894, p. 270.

I am not saying by this that he never did anything bad, just that he may not have been as bad as recent history writers make him out to be.

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Sand Castle

Two children meet on a beach;
For their sand shovels reach.
A castle they build,
With dreams it’s filled.

But the filling of the moat
They leave to the sea.
And the sea is pleased:
On the castle he dotes.

He reaches the moat with each high tide,
With each high tide, the moat is complete.
With each low, the heat competes
For the castle’s mastery.
Continue reading

What Profit?

“Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only true gift is a portion of thyself.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson

I wanted to give a gift to someone. Nothing particularly fancy, but getting it involved a lot of personal effort, and finding something appropriate required a lot of thought. Having selected what I felt would be a good token, I waited for the right moment to give it. I had planned to give the gift without any wrapping paper or other covering, but on the spur of the moment, just seconds before giving it, I changed my mind and decided I wanted to cover it. I used what I knew I had available: a facial tissue paper. I probably would have been better off to stick with my original plan. The moment came that I presented my gift, with a customary greeting for the occasion.

Nothing in my history of giving gifts could have prepared me for what happened next. She looked at my poorly packaged gift and after a moment of silence said, “I don’t think I want your gift.” Hurt, enough that I could have cried had I not been in a relatively public place, I said, “Okay.” I thrust my extended hand into my pocket, dropped the gift in, and withdrew my hand. Calm as a balmy summer day, a trembling puppy frightened by thunder, I walked away. It took all the focus I had to not run, not cry, not look back. I turned a corner, and put on a façade of normalcy as I interacted with those in the vicinity. Returning the gift to the place it was obtained would be impossible, so I put it where it would be available but out of sight.

When I was in junior high, an object lesson was taught using a slice of cake to represent the gospel of Jesus Christ. The cake was shown to the class, and the question was asked, “Who would like a piece of cake?” Several hands went up; one was selected. The person selected went to the front of the class to get their slice of cake. However, before they were given the cake, it was mashed up until it looked like leftovers retrieved from the garbage. The analogy made was that you might have a wonderful gift, such as the good news of the atonement of Jesus Christ, but if you present it poorly, the person you are giving it to may reject it. Thus, you need to take care that your life and your presentation of the gift match the wondrous quality of the gift, to reduce the likelihood that the gift will be rejected. Perhaps she was rejecting my gift because of how poorly it was presented.

There is another possibility. “For what doth it profit a man if a gift is bestowed upon him, and he receive not the gift? Behold, he rejoices not in that which is given unto him, neither rejoices in him who is the giver of the gift.” (Doctrine and Covenants 88:33) Did the presentation of the gift matter at all, or was she really rejecting me? If I was on the other end of such an exchange, I would at least receive the gift, and if I didn’t like it or didn’t want it, I’d throw or give it away. But I have forgiven the rejection and the rejector.

And now I think of all the times God offers His mercy to us, and we reject it, either by refusing to apply the atonement to our lives, or by choosing to apply it for a time only to backslide our way to rejection of the gift. I think of how sorrowful He must be at our rejection of Him. His hand is extended in mercy, ready to deliver us from all the chains that bind us captive; it is extended all the day long, and yet we do not listen. And unlike imperfect me, who ran from rejection of the gift or of me on account of emotional pain, He feels but stands as before, His outstretched hand yet offering the gift. His gift is no apology for a gift, but the truest gift of all: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” — John 15:13.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore

Asylum

Je veux—je veux faire,
Je veux mais c’est défendu.
Je veux mais je ne comprend pas le langue,
Et je ne sais pas le culture.

C’est mon veste droite.
Les puissances de l’enfer
M’ont donné les opportunités
Mais Dieu m’a refusé la savoir-faire.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore

The Southern Claw and St. Elmo’s Fire

The big dipper scoops the horizon
While Venus observes, trailing behind.
Do my eyes see better with egg on my face?
I see more stars tonight than I’ve seen in a while.

The Southern Claw is drawn by St. Elmo’s Fire,
Is drawn to Castor and Pollux.
With their touch the pull is strongest,
But touch they must or nothing will start.

Touch they do, and the Southern Claw is moved,
Moved nearly out of its place in the sky.
But the planets misaligned,
The omen of St. Elmo’s Fire misread.

The Southern Claw is forbidden,
Promises to never draw so near to Castor again.
This forbidding if held to brings foreboding;
An auspicious ending to the beginning.

Another misalignment of planets,
The Southern Claw tries to hold St. Elmo’s Fire.
But a claw can’t hold plasma,
So an offering is made.

But the effort and thought and distance are masked:
Poor presentation, or did Pollux instead
Reject the Claw? Offering rejected,
The Southern Claw examines the planets again.

Twice misaligned, twice misunderstood,
Two times the yolk dripping down my face.
It seems the Southern Claw and Pollux
Are separated by a gulf in the sky.

I stare bewildered at what happened,
Befuddled on the horizon.
Could it be I’ve been reading
The map upside down?

© 2014 H.K. Longmore

Excuses

I started this one sometime in early May, but due to several interruptions, I forgot about it until recently.

When you’re running late:
Headed to pick up a date—
Perhaps her name is Kate;
Or you’ve a meeting at eight,

To your rendez-vous you’d better hie;
And you realize there’s no good reason why,
Your brain begins to fly
To find some reason that’s not a lie.

When your obligations are not done:
The deadline is a rigid one—
Perhaps when Monday’s course is run;
Or you don’t want to disappoint your hun,

To the task at hand you’d better apply;
To avoid seeing disappointment in another’s eye,
Your brain begins to fly
To find some reason that will satisfy.

And yet, these times are ruled by fate,
When excuses are not shy,
And they will not make fun—
Unlike when you’re filled with butterflies.

Copyright © 2014 H.K. Longmore

Taciturn Turn

My taciturn trait
Love of conversation stole;
Kissed the blarney stone.

But not so of late—
A taciturn turn I took.
Resumed quiet look.

Speak when spoken to—
Unspoken words fill my mind;
Keep comments inside.

No tragic event
Stole from me the gift of gab;
I just grew weary:

Content to listen
To banter between two friends,
Clenched jaw hides my tongue.

A banter party
To which I’m not invited;
Tired of butting in.

Copyright © 2014 H.K. Longmore

Dance of Excitement

I watched you gavotte
As you trilled your tongue.
You wore no culotte.

Emotions were flung
Round the tiled room.
Fresh air filled my lungs,

And dispelled the gloom.
My heart filled with joy,
And doubt found its tomb.

Your response was coy
When asked the reason,
Thus hiding your ploy.

‘Twas a liason:
You were excited,
Cold but not freezin’,

But to my delight,
Excited mostly.
And try as I might,

In spirit ghostly,
I could but wonder
Yet not ask you why,

What was the cause of your excitement,
As I watched you fox-trot down the hallway.

Copyright © 2014 H.K. Longmore

The Can’t Gauntlet

“Don’t let others tell you
What you can and can’t do,”
Advice often given
And more often taken.

But I have a challenge,
I’ll throw the gauntlet down.
Take your pick, be my guest.
See if any of these
You can wrest from truth’s hands.

You can’t let go of what you never held.
You can’t finish what never started.
How can it be over if it never began?
You can’t lose what was never yours,
Nor what you never found.

You can’t have a conversation
With someone who refuses to speak to you in return.
You can’t respond to an ultimatum
That was never delivered, never known.

So call off the ultimatum,
Bind up the broken-hearted,
Keep looking for the things you want to find,
And start something before you end it.
Hold dear those things you don’t want to let go.

Copyright © 2014 H.K. Longmore

The Task Master

A task needs doing,
It’s mine to do.
I take it from the queue;
It becomes all that I’m pursuing.

It becomes my master,
My humanity subdues:
A “good morning” buried, a hello refused
Helps me get it done faster.

But as I leave from task completion,
Things left unsaid—now exhumed—
My thoughts completely consume.
A cause for relationship depletion?

When will I rule my tasks,
Rather than they rule me?

©2014 H.K. Longmore

The Land of Red and Green X’s

In the land of green and red x’s
No dance is ever in step;
Every good deed can be overturned
By the next misstep.

In the land of red and green x’s
Disappointment is par.
Human frailty guarantees
The tally can’t reach the bar.

Red X's, Green arrows
In the land of red and green x’s
The chroma of the red implies
The focus it will have:
The red gains control of the eyes.

In the land of green and red x’s.

Take a little trip,
It’s not too far—
But you can’t get there by car—
To the land of seventy times seven.

In the land of seventy times seven,
Even when a relationship must be severed
That does not diminish the love that grew.
Though the love may change form:

Eros may become Philos;
Either may become Agape,
But surely love
Will yet endure

In the land of seventy times seven.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore