Over the years, I have written different types of compositions. On this blog I hope to share excerpts from each of them. The dates on each blog simply signifies when the writing took place. Allof them have drawn me to the oneness of the human family.
ANNE'S WRITINGS (1954-2009)
Starting in junior high school I began writing, sometimes a poem, a short story, a one page exploration of a theme of an idea that compelled me to write it. I gathered these and printed them for my immediate family as a gift in February, 2009, during the Baha'i gift time called Ayyam-i-Ha When I quote something from this I hope my family will bear with me on rereading sometimes from this collection.
TRINIDAD, WEST INDIES, REMEMBRANCES (1970)
In 1970 my son and I went to the island of Trinidad intending to make our home there. I had accepted a job but the country had a civil revolution and all work permits for aliens were recalled. I stayed only several months, until my money ran out. These time were amazing and life altering toward oneness.
WISDOM OF OTHERS (1980-2010)
A collection of AHA! moments from other writers.
COLORS OF MY WORLD (1996- still in progress)
My autobiography as a southern white woman to find and celebrate the oneness of my human family.
@RACE UNITY.COM, LOVE IN THE STRUGGLE (1996-2002)
I participated in an email forum for about four years which was a free flowing exchange of the exploration of race unity and its inherent issues. My responses to some of the questions or thoughts of others is compiled here. I did not quote others because I didn't have their permission.
CHEROKEE DIARY (2004-2007)
Pretty self-explanatory, though it's first entries are my exploration of my Indian ancestory before I moved to the Cherokee Reservation. I noted many meaningful events and am in the process of completing this small book.
MY BAHA'I COMPILATIONS AND WRITINGS:
LETTERS TO FAMILY AND FRIENDS ON WHY BAHA'I? (1969-1970)
My first year as Baha'i I wrote explaining why I had made this life altering decision to be a Baha'i.
ASCENDING ORDER (1998-1999)
A compilation of Baha'i quotes (not my thoughts but my research and organization) giving a planned exploration of the nature of God, His Prophets, Man; the life story of the central figures of the Faith; the institutions, various themes and prayers. This book has been approved by the Literarure Review Department of the National Spiritual Assembly of the Baha'is of the United States for publication, though not published yet.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
TALKING CIRCLE
Upon retirement I began in earnest to find my spiritual connection to my Indian roots. I moved to the Cherokee Reservation in the western mountains of North Carolina. Intermittently in the future I will post a blog describing one of the learning experiences in that joyous time of my life. Unfortunately, due to health reasons I had to move closer to my family and doctors, but this was indeed one of the most wonderful times of my life. TALKING CIRCLES (written 11-7-08 but experienced in 2004) I went to a conference in Cherokee called Healing 500 Years of Pain. I will tell you more of this conference later but wanted to share this at this time.
TALKING CIRCLE
One of the most fascinating and enriching experiences I have had in the Indian community is participating in what is called a "talking circle". The Indian culture appreciates and practices cooperation over competition (except in games). This is reflected in the rules of the "talking circle". One talks, then listens. A very efficient method of seeing that this happens is by use of an object- such as a carved stick, a feather or something meaningful. The only one who has the right to speak is the one holding the object, until that person passes it on, no one else may speak (they must listen). If someone speaks overly long a discrete cough may be done to indicte a wish for a yielding of the object to another. Most of the time the object is passed in a circle so that all may speak. If someone wishes to be silent in that particular round they just pass the object on to the next person. Sometimes a general subject is presented to the group for discussion or a free exchange of anything on someone's mind may be done. After all have been allowed to speak the object can be passed to anyone who holds up a hand to request being next. in any and all of the "talking circle" one is allowed to speak "whatever is on your heart".
I was part of a women's support group who used this method to share their thoughts and feelings.
In the Healing and Wellness Conference which planned and presented the "Healing 500 Years of Pain" a set time after each lecture was held for "talking circles" shring of however that particular lecture had affected the participant.
The groups are best served when the group is small but it is still effective if a large groups needs to consult on something.
Try it at a family reunion for an hour or at a group you usually find consultation to be difficult. it is surprising how effective it is.
TALKING CIRCLE
One of the most fascinating and enriching experiences I have had in the Indian community is participating in what is called a "talking circle". The Indian culture appreciates and practices cooperation over competition (except in games). This is reflected in the rules of the "talking circle". One talks, then listens. A very efficient method of seeing that this happens is by use of an object- such as a carved stick, a feather or something meaningful. The only one who has the right to speak is the one holding the object, until that person passes it on, no one else may speak (they must listen). If someone speaks overly long a discrete cough may be done to indicte a wish for a yielding of the object to another. Most of the time the object is passed in a circle so that all may speak. If someone wishes to be silent in that particular round they just pass the object on to the next person. Sometimes a general subject is presented to the group for discussion or a free exchange of anything on someone's mind may be done. After all have been allowed to speak the object can be passed to anyone who holds up a hand to request being next. in any and all of the "talking circle" one is allowed to speak "whatever is on your heart".
I was part of a women's support group who used this method to share their thoughts and feelings.
In the Healing and Wellness Conference which planned and presented the "Healing 500 Years of Pain" a set time after each lecture was held for "talking circles" shring of however that particular lecture had affected the participant.
The groups are best served when the group is small but it is still effective if a large groups needs to consult on something.
Try it at a family reunion for an hour or at a group you usually find consultation to be difficult. it is surprising how effective it is.
Friday, August 27, 2010
ALL HUMAN BEGINNINGS
I...believe that racism is a spiritual problem. I believe that race is a misnomer. We are all human. We just had different characteristics develop due to thousands of years of adaptation to climate. The migratory pattern of humans into certain regions many thousands of years ago and the further settlement into these regions, then the gradual change to adapt to the climate in that region for survival has led to the way we "look". The basic humanness of us all did not change. We were all created to find God and that search has led us down some different paths but a sincere seeker after God shows certain characteristics. The search for truth in all arenas of life, a way to serve others without demeaning the other or need for self-aggrandizement, to build a better society for all of its members and to find an inner peace and connection to our Creator. None of these characteristics have anything to do with the way we "look".
When we look into each other's faces we need to look for the spiritual qualities and the common link to our Creator. The differences in our outer exteriors are like the flowers in a rose garden, each color enhances the beauty.
Love in the struggle,
Anne
11-19-97
When we look into each other's faces we need to look for the spiritual qualities and the common link to our Creator. The differences in our outer exteriors are like the flowers in a rose garden, each color enhances the beauty.
Love in the struggle,
Anne
11-19-97
Thursday, August 26, 2010
HOPEFULLY
HOPEFULLY
I find myself in a very uncomfortable place inside. Most of my life I have struggled to come to grips with the horrendous treatment of my darker skinned family. When I let myself feel my feelings I am angry, frustrated and have an uncomfortable lump in my throat. When I see or hear of a child who receives a subtle or overt action which causes a diminishing of his/her self-image of nobility because of the complexion of the skin I am incensed and depressed. When I see the obvious difference in the level of decent housing and safe neighborhoods I cringe. When I see the indoctrination of despair and hopelessness and acceptance of society’s inequalities manifested in a teen pregnancy or a youth headed down the path of violence, crime or drugs I want to scream.
When I look at the beautiful faces of my grandsons who have a blond blue-eyed father and a dark brown-eyed mother I desperately yearn to change the world – to fight the demons – to slay the dragons. I want to watch my grandsons grow strong and noble and princely – not doubting their right to be all their talents and abilities urge them to be.
I only want to find good friends and enjoy the sharing and caring. No grand and glorious charges up the hill, just a quiet chat with my pal who looks different but we share the same dreams, and hopes and pains. I am brought back to a sense of humility and guilt at a quieter approach. I long for the energy of the early years of my struggle.
Is this old age, depression or inertia? Yet, what can one shy, old southern white woman with no “degree” or exceptional talent do? I feel so inadequate and limited in my own growth, in my effectiveness or ability to help others grow. How dare I presume to think I’ve made any progress? I’m weary and shy. I can’t “do” very well but I can “love” very well. For a while shyness lost its grip but now it is returning. Who am I to say I can “do”, I seem to only feel now.
Hopefully, my writing efforts will stir another soul to open the door of friendships wider.
1999
I find myself in a very uncomfortable place inside. Most of my life I have struggled to come to grips with the horrendous treatment of my darker skinned family. When I let myself feel my feelings I am angry, frustrated and have an uncomfortable lump in my throat. When I see or hear of a child who receives a subtle or overt action which causes a diminishing of his/her self-image of nobility because of the complexion of the skin I am incensed and depressed. When I see the obvious difference in the level of decent housing and safe neighborhoods I cringe. When I see the indoctrination of despair and hopelessness and acceptance of society’s inequalities manifested in a teen pregnancy or a youth headed down the path of violence, crime or drugs I want to scream.
When I look at the beautiful faces of my grandsons who have a blond blue-eyed father and a dark brown-eyed mother I desperately yearn to change the world – to fight the demons – to slay the dragons. I want to watch my grandsons grow strong and noble and princely – not doubting their right to be all their talents and abilities urge them to be.
I only want to find good friends and enjoy the sharing and caring. No grand and glorious charges up the hill, just a quiet chat with my pal who looks different but we share the same dreams, and hopes and pains. I am brought back to a sense of humility and guilt at a quieter approach. I long for the energy of the early years of my struggle.
Is this old age, depression or inertia? Yet, what can one shy, old southern white woman with no “degree” or exceptional talent do? I feel so inadequate and limited in my own growth, in my effectiveness or ability to help others grow. How dare I presume to think I’ve made any progress? I’m weary and shy. I can’t “do” very well but I can “love” very well. For a while shyness lost its grip but now it is returning. Who am I to say I can “do”, I seem to only feel now.
Hopefully, my writing efforts will stir another soul to open the door of friendships wider.
1999
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
FOCUSING THE KALEIDOSCOPE
Reconciling my heritage. Who am I? My search.
Even as a child it seems I was always watching from the outside. Some would say trauma could cause a shell of protection around the heart and mind. Mayhaps, the physical, mental and sexual abuse I know to be a part of my earliest days caused this very real part of who I am.
Inside the shell I know just how tender and fragile yet fiercely striving my heart and mind are.
Always I remember searching.
What was I searching for? - my unique place in the universe.
One thing I seemed to always know, God was within me, loved me, nurtured me, protected me in even the most horrendous of times.
When I gave my heart it was completely. It was returned to me battered and sore. Still I think to give it again.
From my family the traits of many cultures formed the kaleidoscope of who I am. Getting the picture in focus has been my life's quest. My feeble biased guesses tell me of the parts.
From the English I get the compulsions, the inclination toward living in the head rather than the heart, and the need for the image of perfection.
From the Irish I get the romantic notions, the thrill of the mysterious breezes and flutters of the butterfly, the quickening of my heart when I hear the whispers of the fairies, the raucous delight in the laughter of my children, the weepiness at the sigh of the stranger.
From the Scot I get the stoic, the persistence, the grit to put one foot in front of the other even though the path is thorny and around the corner may dwell danger and pain.
From the Jew maybe I get the sense of martyrdom, of being put upon by life's changes and chances, of persistence in my faith, of the desire for a culture that defines me yet is so illusive it shimmers distantly in its many forms and colors like a mirage.
From the Indian I get my center, my connection to the green, the wind, the sound of the rustle of leaves, the sense of the solidness of the earth, the soothing fluidity of a lake or ocean, the kinship to the animals who have their special purpose, the sense that there is a deep spirituality reflected in all of God's creation on this physical plane. The beat of the drums echoes my heartbeat, the piercing poignancy of the flute lifts my soul and causes it to soar and dip and throb. I sense an eternal wisdom in the still, calm acceptance of life's lessons and yet a fierceness of purpose in remaining true to inner understandings.
Who am I? Will my later years find me softening the shell and coming forth from my chrysalis to fly freely, toward the sun and the flowers and perchance be willing to rest on your shoulder?
Anne Hunter Respess
Nov. 2002
Even as a child it seems I was always watching from the outside. Some would say trauma could cause a shell of protection around the heart and mind. Mayhaps, the physical, mental and sexual abuse I know to be a part of my earliest days caused this very real part of who I am.
Inside the shell I know just how tender and fragile yet fiercely striving my heart and mind are.
Always I remember searching.
What was I searching for? - my unique place in the universe.
One thing I seemed to always know, God was within me, loved me, nurtured me, protected me in even the most horrendous of times.
When I gave my heart it was completely. It was returned to me battered and sore. Still I think to give it again.
From my family the traits of many cultures formed the kaleidoscope of who I am. Getting the picture in focus has been my life's quest. My feeble biased guesses tell me of the parts.
From the English I get the compulsions, the inclination toward living in the head rather than the heart, and the need for the image of perfection.
From the Irish I get the romantic notions, the thrill of the mysterious breezes and flutters of the butterfly, the quickening of my heart when I hear the whispers of the fairies, the raucous delight in the laughter of my children, the weepiness at the sigh of the stranger.
From the Scot I get the stoic, the persistence, the grit to put one foot in front of the other even though the path is thorny and around the corner may dwell danger and pain.
From the Jew maybe I get the sense of martyrdom, of being put upon by life's changes and chances, of persistence in my faith, of the desire for a culture that defines me yet is so illusive it shimmers distantly in its many forms and colors like a mirage.
From the Indian I get my center, my connection to the green, the wind, the sound of the rustle of leaves, the sense of the solidness of the earth, the soothing fluidity of a lake or ocean, the kinship to the animals who have their special purpose, the sense that there is a deep spirituality reflected in all of God's creation on this physical plane. The beat of the drums echoes my heartbeat, the piercing poignancy of the flute lifts my soul and causes it to soar and dip and throb. I sense an eternal wisdom in the still, calm acceptance of life's lessons and yet a fierceness of purpose in remaining true to inner understandings.
Who am I? Will my later years find me softening the shell and coming forth from my chrysalis to fly freely, toward the sun and the flowers and perchance be willing to rest on your shoulder?
Anne Hunter Respess
Nov. 2002
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