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Doorway Between Mundane & Elusive
By Kim Owen
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The man who comes back through the Door in the Wall will never be quite the same as the man who went out. He will be wiser but less sure, happier but less self-satisfied, humbler in acknowledging his ignorance yet better equipped to understand the relationship of words to things, of systematic reasoning to the unfathomable mystery which it tries, forever vainly, to comprehend� ― Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception
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Table of Contents Beginnings No Longer Welcomed? Morning Rhetoric
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Peace Spa’s Melody Silence Sleep
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Emotions So What Hate Doubt Puer Aeternus
8 9 9 10
Nature Suddenly Fire Raining
12 13 13
Faith Faith Life Seems Different Why Me?
15 16 17
Daily Life Memories of Love Doorway Whose Trash, Whose Treasure Sales at JoAnn’s
19 20 21 22
Pets Lady Izzy The Game About the Author Author’s Notes
24 25 26 27 28
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Beginnings
“Everyone has that moment I think, the moment when something so momentous happens that it rips your very being into small pieces. And then you have to stop. For a long time, you gather your pieces. And it takes such a very long time, not to fit them back together, but to assemble them in a new way, not necessary a better way. More, a way you can live with until you know for certain that this piece should go there, and that one there.� Kathleen Glasgow, Girl in Pieces
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No Longer Welcomed? The weather-worn Welcome Sign swings with the wind as it hangs from a rusty nail. The white paint peeled completely away, is but an echo of its existence. The letters’ residence still seen, only as a ghostly symbol. The solitary post grips the reddened un-dried dirt with its last breath, just waiting for that one push; put it out of its misery. No one feels at home here and no one has for some time.
Morning Rhetoric My brain realizing before I know that I am awake; and yet, my eyes haven’t opened. Recognition of a functioning mind jumpstarts my thoughts, beginning a rush of commands and processes, still not a conscious acceptance. Gradually, eyes open… slowly with a stretch and a yawn. The day’s schedule begins to file immediately into the forefront of everything else. Urgency presses down into the body. Suddenly, the body wakes completely. The urgency is no longer thoughts, but a need. A rush to the bathroom jolts all systems to go.
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Peace
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do, I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.� John 14:27
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Spa’s Melody Soft notes, a soothing brush of chimes playing Tenderly, sweetly, delicately, and gingerly Gently strummed strings of chords Falling on the ears & minds Relaxing and releasing Shoulders lowered Strains erased Nod off Now
by Unknown Author is licensed under
Silence comes from within— shushing of the mind hearing the heart’s ba-bum slowing down exhaling softly with each breath releasing tension with falling shoulders heaviness of eyelids defy command obeying gravity with the stillness of arms and legs floating away on clouds and calmness
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Sleep usually comes naturally for me. Putting on pjs, brushing my teeth and going to bed. However, … there are those nights when sleep eludes me. I look for it with different positions on my bed, listen for it in ocean sounds and mediation— it just escapes me. Then… there are those nights when sleep overtakes me easily occurring even before I get ready for bed Then… there are those nights when sleep stays And then leaves. Everything appeared copasetic Until it’s not. Where does it go?
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Emotions
“Your emotions make you human. Even the unpleasant ones have a purpose. Don’t lock them away. If you ignore them, they just get louder and angrier.” Sabaa Tahir
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“So What” So what! What’s it to you? Why do you care what I do? What did I say? I’m tired of it! You can’t know that I care. You can’t know that you hurt me. It’s easier to keep my distance. I know you’re toxic, But I’ve cared too long. So what! I don’t care! I’m outta here! Don’t bother! I’m done! You can’t know that I care. You can’t know that you hurt me. It’s easier to keep my distance. I know you’re toxic, But I’ve cared too long. So what! Stop! Quit calling! Quit stopping by! We’re done. You can’t know that I care. You can’t know that you hurt me. It’s easier to keep my distance. I know you’re toxic, But I’ve cared too long. So what. I miss you. I don’t want to want you. I don’t want to need you. You’re gone. It’s good.
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Hate Seeps in like a gas into a chamber. Grabs hold as a snake chokes its prey. Anchors down like evil taking root in a heart. Changes within as a spider molts away its skin. Creeps out like blood from a wound. Attacks on as a virus assaults on a cell. Creates chaos like revolutionaries start riots. Damages all as war demolishes families, cities, and countries.
Doubt, a sly little bugger, slipping into my mind. Little by little, gleaning from the gray areas of my existing questions. Twisting my confidence with whispered deceit disguised as truth. Doubt takes root burying deeply weaving into each crevice, corner, and chasm. Seesaw of my thoughts and emotions, battling back with tenacity and against the qualms of it all.
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Puer Aeternus eternal boy Dardanos, a man trapped within a boy, with all the constraints possible. He will never change, ever living in the now, always in the present, never looking back, never looking within intolerant to boundaries, indignant to limits. But… He desires to feel more not excess, but emotions. He observes others with extremes, Triumph from failure, Thrills from fiasco. Dardanos takes a quest, a journey to seek the Truth, a probe of honesty, even Hope. Looking back, behind and within the eternal child, lenient to memories, indulgent to exposures. And… He is fascinated with feelings sensations anew introspective, revealing self, Celebration from nil, Ceremony from naught. Dardanos, a man, with all the usual constraints. He’s dynamic, improving, changing living in the now, examining own’s history looking around, looking within tolerant to certain boundaries, curbed to some limits. With… Experiencing life daily, the best parts, the ugly parts: Dardanos comprehends interactions, Joy experienced, Joy felt.
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Nature
“I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery – air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, ‘This is what it is to be happy.’” Sylvia Plath
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Suddenly Alarm failed to go off. Cell died. Toast burnt. Coffee’s cold. Tripped up the stairs. Finally, putting on my coat, grabbing my keys and purse, rushing out the door. Once outside, suddenly, I’m stopped... with the silence No cars zooming No dogs barking No birds chirping Only quiet like a sleeping babe under a warm blanket. The fog hesitantly fades in and out, revealing glimpses as nature plays hide & seek... with the peace My breathing slows My heart calms My head stops I find myself in a moment of tranquility.
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Fire Strike a match/slicing on a rock A flaming flicker/yellow tendrils Searching, seeking fuel/red underglow Initial moment/blazing/only to lower Bouncing around tiny tinder/fine & dry Consuming/embracing small sticks A pyramid of yellow, red dancing lights Devouring/bonfire warming heat/perfect element
Raining A drop. Another drop begins falling steadily with a pitter-patter onto the roof, creating a monotone backdrop to the day, soothing out any tension, until more drops cascade down to enhance the baseline of the previous drops, now adding drops, now adding a touch of apprehension to the air, as winds pick up, the chimes ringing to the clashes of thunder echoing over the hilltops and shaking all the trees as more rain builds up until suddenly—everything slows down—as quickly—with the rushing drops to some drops to a drop. 13
Faith
“Faith is unseen but felt, faith is strength when we feel we have none, faith is hope when all seems lost. Catherine Pulsifer
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Faith An assurance of the unknown; a belief without needing proof Except sometimes receiving without asking Proof comes whether looking or not. Proof comes whether believing or not. Belief is not determined by it. It’s expanded by it. Pleads, prayers, pauses Begging, bribing, beseeching Or Serenity, stillness, silence Peace, patience, perseverance Belief is facing obstacles, Allegiance deepening. Proof comes whether looking or not. Proof comes whether believing or not. An unquestionable understanding; a trust without necessary return; However sometimes blessings gifted abundantly.
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Life seems different, yet the same Old room looks different, yet the same. Smaller? Faded? Just… less? Memories are flooding into my mind. Some are sweet ones; some are sad ones; mostly all good ones though. Trying a new life routine for a new me? Slowly. Weirdly. Feels odd. Parents seem different, yet the same. Older? Translucent? Just… there? Memories are given to me. Some are funny ones; some are angry ones; mostly all good ones though. Trying a new life routine with a new me? Patiently. Honestly. Feels odd. Friends seem different, yet the same. Here? There? Just…gone? Memories are shared with me. Some are silly ones; some are awkward ones; mostly all good ones though. Trying a new life routine with a new me? Quickly. Artificially. Feels odd. I seem different, yet the same. Just less? Just there? Just gone? What? Memories are fleeting, out of my mind. Some I asked for, some are offered to me; mostly all asked for again though Tried my new life routine and it’s not me! Uncomfortable! Unreal! Feels odd!
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Why Me? Why me? Why this? Why that? When does it all stop? Life is good. Life is bad. Everyone tries to deal with it the best they can. Health issues can make it difficult. I don’t get why I keep having this condition or that. It always seems like something. Why me? How many doctors? How many tests? When does it all stop? More questions than answers. This MRI. That blood test. I don’t want to think the worst, but how can I not help it. It seems like it may be something. Why me? What is this? What did the doctor say? When does it all stop? The doctors are talking. I only hear white noise. I cannot believe what he is saying. Tell me it’s not true. It is something. Why me? Where’s the tumor? Where’s the damage? When does it all stop? No! I have to be dreaming and dreaming badly. The doctors want to cut into my brain. I have a month to get ready, putting my life in order as they say. It is really something. Why me? When can I go home? When will I feel back to normal? When does it all stop? Hospitals are all the same. Food is bland. Roommates cry and snore. Everyone visits with plastic smiles and acts too nice. It is all not real. It is something that’s now gone. Why not me? I am strong. I am brave. I am alive. When will I stop questioning? Despite the diagnosis, the shock, the surgery, the hospital stay, and the prognosis, I am here. I feel different. I’m learning the new norm of my life. I will be ok. Despite not understanding the answers to all the questions, God is here. He does. I am something… something else.
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Daily Living
“If you abandon the present moment, you cannot live the moments of your daily life deeply.� Thich Nhat Hanh
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Memories of Love Walkin’ with Mom down Main Street in West Baden on a crisp, clear fall day with big leaves - orange, red, and yellow dancing and scattering on the sidewalk, kicking and stomping on ‘em, wanting to hear them crunch like when Dad rolled down the car windows while driving in the Winter, listening to the tires crushing over the fresh-fallen snow sharing with us it’s Mom’s favorite sound. With the cashier outside in the boxed booth, we’re heading to a movie theatre Love Story showing, a romantic tragedy between Oliver and Jenny getting caught up with falling in love and me falling in love with the idea of love, but only to be devastated by Jenny’s death. As I walked introspectively, as a young girl, promising myself never to fall in love.
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Doorway Oval topped, oak stained, open wide to the outside. A cool breeze flows in, sun streaming in as scattered rays lighting its way between the maple and oak branches. Sending me to those hikes at Clifty Falls— woodsy path roaming around on the hillside with sun beams slicing through the scattered trees. I stand in the doorway, absorbing the cool warmth, just being, listening to the coos of the mourning doves and the cardinals’ chirps, calling for the dawn’s quiet conversion into the present. Like those early morning walks on the cool sand On Clearwater Beach, absorbing up that first moment of dawn. Drinking my English breakfast tea and nibbling on a chocolate chip muffin, I enjoy this moment of moments. Watching brown, bushy-tailed squirrels, skittering from tree to tree, stopping occasionally, scooping up acorns. I smell the evergreen standing next to the front porch, reminding me of past holidays. When my father bought our first live Christmas tree permeating pine throughout the house and I found baby pinecones on its branches. Shutting off the scene to the beautiful start of this day, convincing myself that my day will be just as perfect.
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Whose Trash, Whose Treasure Driving in neighborhoods unknown, slowly searching for any clue, any sign, any sale. Excitement waiting around each corner, each driveway, hoping to find the one Thing that can’t be passed up. All those in the car, yell, “There’s one! That house! Stop!” The driver slows even more, believing he can judge if the sale is worthy of our efforts. All the passengers are like horses in the Kentucky Derby, positioning themselves at the starting gate waiting for the cue to be the first one to find that Thing. Cordial greetings exchanged. “Morning! Good day for a sale!” While eyes wander across the hidden treasures, seeing lawn mowers, ladders, and tools - boy toys. Pointing them out to Dad while I am find prizes more to my liking, my pace continues to slow. Picking up item after item, quickly weighing it’s worthiness. Until, finally, finding It, acting nonchalantly but giving Mom the Look. She knows. She’s there. Agreeing wholeheartedly, as we walk away, bountiful.
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Sales at JoAnn’s By using her pattern as a compass, Grandma circumnavigates through the waters of JoAnn’s avoiding the choppy currents of holiday themes tacking to the mountainous bolts of fabric designs. Docked ashore, shelves and shelves of skeins of yarn in assorted colors piloting around the crochet and knitting needles mooring over bobbins of threads of different counts yaws toward the isle of seamstress’ dreams. Casting off from the pier of accessories, ebbing tides through pins, hooks, and rulers diving for the perfect pearl -a pair of scissors.
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Pets
“The dog is the god of frolic.” - Henry Ward Beecher
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Lady Morning rush, realizing it’s Christmas! Prayed earnestly for a certain gift; walked into the living room smiling, glanced around once, twice, thrice. Not seeing but presents galore. Face falling, taking one more look around. Seeing a red desk with a matching lamp. Packages wrapped in bright greens and golds. Wondering how Santa could have failed as tears fill my eyes Suddenly, in my peripheral vision a slight dark moment catches my attention. Moving toward the blue hamper, seeing a little black ball. My prayers answered.
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Izzy Arriving at the airport on a rainy, windy, cold day. Dad driving, Bill shotgunning it. Me in the back. Anxious. Excited. All hopeless, not knowing where to go. After several attempts, finally locating the pick-up. Upon seeing the cage, reaching in. Pulling her out. Tiny. Shivering. Scared. Pulling her close to my chest. Love instantly. Heartbroken. Rough introduction. Riding home. Giving her reassurances. Keeping her warm. Loving her with everything. Her silky black hair. Fuzzy short whiskers. White paws as dipped in paint. Brown eyes sharing her love. Bouncy. Playful. Investigating. Both falling asleep with her on my chest.
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The Game Izzy patiently, eagerly waits for a chew, sitting pretty and yet, so alert. Eyes not moving away from my hands as I speak sweet nothings by telling her “she’s my girl!” Once the goodie passes into her mouth, she runs into my room, again, begging in her pretty, alert sit to get onto my bed while dropping her treat back in my open hand. After lifting Izzy into my bed, I fake hide her chew under my pillow and covers, telling her to find. Seeking all the places where the chew had been, finally finding it, only to use her nose to “re-hide” it at the very spot.
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About the Author I, Kim Owen, am a non-traditional student at University of Indianapolis, in my third year on this campus (even though I am a senior). After a life setback, brain tumor and surgery, I returned to college in hopes to ignite a new career as a PTA (physical therapy assistant). Because of my various English courses, I acquired another love – writing short stories and poems. I have written a few short stories which I love. This semester I experimented with poetry which, to my surprise, I love as well. My poems touch different areas of everyday life whether it be quiet or chaotic; getting to sleep or finding a garage sale bargain; or reminiscing about life and faith. I strived to stretch myself through a variety of prompts and lessons in order to capture my own poetic voice. As it has been expressed to me from different students and faculty, my poems capture elusive moments and bring to live mundane times as you found in my eChapbook, Doorway Between Mundane & Elusive, which I am extremely proud to share with family and friends. I would like to take a moment to say thank you for all who have encouraged me during these past three years as well as before, in order to get to this point in my life to write it all out. Thank you to my parents, my extended family, my friends, the other students in class, and my professors. I thank my Lord since I am here despite all that life has thrown at me. He’s constantly with me. Thank you for reading, Kim Owen
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Author’s Note My e-Chapbook’s poems began as an inspiration from of my poetry course, introducing me to a love of writing poems. Each week the students were given a prompt from other students, hoping to spark a poem. I found success from those prompts – majority of the poems in this book. Part of our weekly assignment included searching the library or online for a published artist’s poem that touched us. I found one poem, “Sanctuary” whose poet became my favorite, Jean Valentine. I found that we write about the same things and my style is similar to hers. I’m honored by it and plant to continue to study her poems after this semester. Studying other poets enables new poets to learn more about their own style which Paige Lewis, a visiting poet on our campus, encouraged the students to do. Between the discovery of new poems and the prompts in creating our own poems, we started the process of finding our own voice. Taking advantage of this course’s opportunity in trying different styles and techniques, I began to write poems with my own voice. This book broken into different sections, Beginnings, Peace, Emotions, Nature, Faith, Daily Living, and Pets, show different aspects of that voice. Between each section, I included a quote, some are well-known, and some are not. Each quote encompasses the theme that I have written in that section. In Beginnings, you find two poems, falling under the mundaneness, reflecting my title: “No Longer Welcomed?” and “Morning Rhetoric”. “No Longer Welcomed”, I wrote from my first prompt in class, a prompt to write a poem about a sign on campus. The second poem was written over a weekend, a friend challenging me to use humor in a poem. Peace contains three poems, falling under the elusiveness, reflecting my title. I enjoy writing and experiencing peace, stillness, and tranquility. Hopefully, when you read these poems, I shared a few elusive moments for you to experience. The titles are “Spa’s Melody”, “Silence”, and “Sleep”. Emotions is the next section. I like the challenge of putting words to concepts. Of course, situations involving feelings become a tad easier to illustrate. I hope you understood “So What”, “Hate”, “Doubt”, and “Puer Aeternus” in some degree. Nature draws out my five senses and emotions. I love capturing it all in words. The next three poems, “Suddenly”, “Fire”, and “Raining”, are derived from prompts as well as experimenting with some new techniques as you read in both “Fire” and “Raining”. In Faith, I introduced this section with its namesake, “Faith”, followed by two of my earliest written poems, “Life Feels Different, But the Same” and “Why Me?”. “Faith” is first though because I want you to know, even though I asked some heavy questions in those other poems, I do so without anger. I have my faith. Out of my faith comes my peace. I live daily with both.
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In Daily Living, where the mundane exists, includes four poems, “Memories of Love”, “Doorway”, “Whose Trash, Whose Treasure”, and “Sales at JoAnn’s”. Each poem states a personal experience. I wish they touched you, bringing up a good memory from your own life. In Pets, I wrote without the class prompts. The poems arrived from my love for my pets. The three poems, “Lady”, “Izzy”, and “The Game” share a bit about my two dogs, Lady and Izzy. Lady was my first puppy as a child. She will always have a special place in my heart. Izzy, my current dog, brings me so much joy especially since she has been by my side during turbulently times. As I have touched on my medical history, I strive to live each day in the present. I found joy in writing and my voice. The moments I’ve captured with my inner eye, those poems reveal my thoughts and views about my faith, emotions, and memories. The other poems portray moments that I have seen around me in my daily living, in nature, and my dogs. Standing in the doorway between the mundane and elusive, between daily life and faith, I stay positive. When I feel a certain emotion during certain times, a verbal snapshot is what I try to capture, the little details that can’t be contained. Writing in free verse gives me more freedom to describing sensations and flashes of time by applying a variety of literary devices: metaphor, simile, imagery, structure, spacing, consonance, enjambment, and tone. I will continue to challenge myself to use different devices and to get more control with my voice. By now, I believe you understand the title of my book. I wish I can say that I came up with it, but no. In workshops during class and with suggestions posed from Professor Whitacre, comments made about capturing the elusiveness of moments and emotions and the capture of joy out of the mundaneness of life; hence, the title. My true prayer is that you enjoyed reading this book to the point that you will want to read again as well as share it with others that will enjoy it too.
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