Thank you to Ted Bowman for a deeply personal guest blog
on the theme of his workshop,11 November
at The Psychosynthesis Trust, London Bridge
on the theme of his workshop,11 November
at The Psychosynthesis Trust, London Bridge
I have been eating a similar breakfast of cereal, yogurt, fruit, granola and coffee for years. Yes, I can divert when in another’s home or for “special occasions” when eggs or waffles seem to be the better choice. But I revert quickly back to routine.
In April, I experienced the death of a grandson. That broke the rules of routine and a kind of generational justice. Grandfathers are not supposed to bury grandchildren.
In the midst of my grieving, I was sitting in a bi-monthly group that gathers for writing and supportive care of one another. Here is a poem I started that day.
Severe Clear
The prompt for the bi-monthly writing group was
Where were you when…a world changing event occurred?
Some came prepared with the first step on the moon
Kennedy’s assassination in Dallas
I thought of the sit-in at Woolworth’s in Greensboro
Most remembered September Eleventh
One person brought the September 24, 2001 New Yorker
With one line from the beginning of an article
“The day began with what pilots’ call
Severe clear – seemingly infinite visibility”
We were urged to write with whatever the sentence prompted
Immediately, the lyrics of a song were in my mouth
“I can see clearly now”, by Johnny Nash.
It kept playing in my head, stuck on the first line
No further lines emerged, only that one
I sang it discreetly while others wrote
In reality, I cannot see clearly now
My vantage is blurred, blocked, and bereft
My vantage is severe, not clear
Dying and death do that
I saw clearly a grandson on life support
The same young man I will never see
Except through reverse lenses and memories
I yearn for severe clear
That will unravel the mystery of his too-early death
Instead, I am left with a wobbling faith
About assumptions, expectations and dreams
About choices, friends and drugs
About family and friends who looked but did not see
I yearn for the lines I cannot remember
“Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day”
Infinite One, may it be so…one day!
Looking back from now (end of October) to then (May) I recognize my uncertainty and my struggle with it. Writing helped me then; writing helps me now. Living with uncertainty gets a wee bit more clear when it can be addressed, named, discussed, or shared.
In November, I will be in London to meet with others in an experience initiated and sponsored by the WordTherapy Centre. I look forward to sharing with others as we all attempt to live with uncertainty. It could be a bright, sun-shiny day…or it may fit the stereotype of London in November. No matter, to be with other writers will lift my spirits!
Ted Bowman – October 2017
I Can See Clearly Now by Johnny Nash
