What it feels like to turn 30

30
I didn’t used to know
Why people were afraid
To be thirty.
Why it was over the hill.
When I was a little girl
My father was so handsome,
My mother so beautiful.
I wanted to be just like them.
So, I raced to the top of the hill.

Now I am at the summit and
I can see down both
Sides of the peak.
My mother is not here.
She’s with my daddy a ways
Down the other side.
Our gap is just as wide as before.

Look what I’ve done to my mother!
I’ve aged my father,
I’ve sapped their strength.
I took their place.
My daughter is climbing the mountain.
I can’t hold her back.
I want her to succeed.

When descending a mountain
You really dig your heels in.

Oh, Look! Another summit!
There’s my Dad ascending.
And my mom is with him, too.
If I race after them,
What will it do to them this time?

-Carroll
July 1977

To my brother Greg upon his criticism of The Artist’s Way on Facebook

Oh my!  Our old dinner table style discussions on facebook!  The whole idea of creativity is to share our unique individual souls in a tangible way.    If someone is willing to bare their soul and that tangible result is ugly or crude or degenerate, the fault lies not in the art, but in the soul. Criticism is a waste of time. If you care for the souls of others, you spend your time lifting souls.  If the problem is not the soul, but expressive skills, then lead the way.

That is what the author of The Artist’s Way has done for many who want more expressive ways to live.  Glean what you can and keep going.  If you can truly learn one new helpful thing in a day, you are ahead. 

I say, either get in touch with your feminine side or show more of us how to find something positive about our masculine side.  Masculinity is currently exploited as violent, competitive, destructive, power-hogging selfishness.  Show manhood in a creative positive light.  Right now we could use some good art that shows the strong healing power of righteous manliness.  Or is that only found by getting in touch with our feminine side?  This is not as sarcastic as it sounds, but an honest question.  From a loving sister.

We grew up at the end of the Seattle-Tacoma airport…the house is gone…

20003 17^th Avenue South
The yard is protected now
with blackberry thorns.
No footstep breaks our hallowed ground.
My childhood is preserved from the
Intrusion of foreign lives
by a chain link fence,
Chain and Lock.

No laughter or tears
from other people’s children here allowed.
No layering of generations
On this sod.

We were the first that we know of
To live here.
We are certainly the last in our lifetimes,
it seems, to have an abode on this piece of land
We once called home.

The street that claimed so much skin
from our elbows, knees and chins
Lies with a row of blue wildflowers down its center.
The asphalt has stalled the blackberry vines;
their assault against the street is only delayed.
Trees line the alley that once was our playground.
Our seedling fir, how huge.
Holly wandering from places we planted.
Weidenhalf’s Madrona sprouts offspring by the road.

Airplanes still dominate the noise of
cars up and down the hill,
but I hear the echo of laughter
and the taunting of children playing ball
or teenagers’ shouts of kick the can;
the squeals of racing down the hill
on the heels of the mailman’s truck.

All of us doing the best we knew how.

August.  The blackberries are ripening
as though in fulfillment of their purpose.
The Greater Good, however, is the
Sanctuary they provide for my youth.
The pain and joy are preserved and undisturbed.

-Carroll
August 18, 2002

Warm on the Inside

Warm on the Inside

Warm on the inside,
Cold on the outside,
My bare feet
on the cold tile floor.
Sliding into bed
between the cold sheets;
Cold air on my arms
getting up at night.

Sea wind blowing me
as I walk the beach.
Safe.
On my adventure.
Some never know the
secret joy I feel;
Warm on the inside,
Cold on the outside.

-Carroll
Feb 1976
Bangor, Northern Ireland

Daffodils

Chinese Proverb:  If you had two pennies, you’d spend one for bread and the other for a daffodil.

“Hey, Powell, come here!”

“Hey, Powell, come here!”

You robbed me of my boy today
Without a thought and roughly, too,
You called out, “Hey, Powell, come here!”
“How dare you call him Powell?
I named him Jared!”
My heart sprang back.

But off he ran to you,
Glad of his new name
And I learned to bend.
Tomorrow, will he come
For his bath when I call,
“Hey, Powell, come here!”

-Carroll Powell
27 May 1977

What does it mean to be a loving person? 1 Corinthians 13 translated by Carroll

We are told to liken the scriptures to ourselves (http://scriptures.lds.org/en/1_ne/19  see verse 23).  This is my version of Paul’s explanation of what it means to be loving.  It is my goal, not my accomplishment.

If I could speak in every language including the language the angels speak in heaven, but I feel mean and angry with myself or others, I might as well be ringing a gong or jiggling some bells for I will not be able to communicate with anyone since I don’t care about others, just about myself.

And even if I could speak for God and knew everything there is to know and had faith enough to move mountains, if I don’t love people around me and wants what’s best for them, all my accomplishments and callings are wasted efforts.

And if I created the world’s largest charitable foundation to feed and clothe and give free medical services to all the poor people in emerging and developed countries and even became an organ donor and donated any leftover parts to science but did it all to make myself a legend, people would recognize that I was only doing it for myself and even God would say that I had my reward on earth and it wouldn’t impress Him or get me any favors in Heaven.

When I love someone, I stick with them through their troubles and am kind to them.  I’m not jealous of their accomplishments; I don’t seek to be better than anyone else or to get glory for myself at another’s expense.  When I am a loving person I don’t go around being rude, telling others off, or making fun of others.  I realize that it’s not all about me.  When I’m a loving person, I don’t feel insecure and I don’t get mad easily;  I’m not a negative person with a gloom cloud overhead.

When I’m a loving person I don’t enjoy getting into trouble, but I love learning and being honest and truthful and open.  I am secure during stressful times.  I have a sense of what’s right. I am full of hope and can get through whatever comes my way with God’s support. 

This kind and generous spirit is engrained in me because I have felt the Love of God.  It is just part of me and I can’t get any pleasure from other’s pain or weakness.

My other traits are not so consistent.  I don’t’ always open my mouth to say the things I feel inspired to say.  Sometimes I’m a lousy communicator.  I am forgetful.  These other gifts may come and go, but this perfect love that I have felt from God and now feel for others will eventually enable all of my gifts to be part of me at all times.  It may be in the next life, but I will be able to be perfect  if I develop a loving heart.

When I was a little girl with dark hair, big eyes and chubby cheeks, I did all the little girl things.  I giggled and was shy.  My thoughts were simple and naïve.  But now I am a mature woman who has to deal with real life.

Even now I don’t understand everything as clearly as I would like, but when I meet Christ face to face during this thing called death, it will be the most real time of my life.  Now I only understand life from my perspective, but then I shall see the whole of it and be able to have a full understanding.

After all is said and done, I do have faith and hope in Christ and a Christ-like heart, but of all these, the thing that means the most to me and has been part of every good experience on earth has been when I felt loving, kind and generous toward others and have been able to act on those feelings.