How Do Miracles Happen?

Still life by Vera Belikh, my friend in St. Petersburg, Russia

***

Full Bloom 25 January 15, 2017

I’m learning on my own body and 
soul how miracles happen. I can
only do so much and give it my best,
but others keep rushing in to help.
If that’s not God, I don’t know what is.  – Full Bloom 12

Why do partitas soothe in spite of
their sadness? Bach conveys hope
when despair feels normal; order
when loss threatens, beauty after
the hurricane has whipped and torn
all the leaves. –Full Bloom 14

It is perhaps the best
gift we earth-dwellers can give each other
while we live, suffer, and win our way
past terror, doubt, feelings of inadequacy.
Such transformations are sufficiently common
to be recognized but rare enough to feel like
miracles.  As I lose some, if not all, of my
powers, these moments come more often,
and their wings lift me past my fear. – Full Bloom 15

I notice changes. I’m not the same, yet 
the deep I am is still there. The panic 
that corroded my confidence is in
abeyance. I forget, but memories return. 
My mind lulls me to sleep when I want 
to be bolt awake. I reach out to old friends, 
and they are glad. Why did I wait so long? 
My mind imitates the weather, playing 
one trick after another, yet I live, I enjoy 
people, I write and learn new tricks. 
They see an old woman, still lively.
I always did escape harm, crawl through 
hedges that kept everyone else out. 
So many people love me: what have they 
seen? Or did they simply feel seen, known,
valued? Is that my secret, and as I age,
it saves me? I live well, and people 
help me because I see? Am I like 
a Bach partita? Maybe so.

The Soul Blooms

Backyard zinnias and cosmos in full bloom 2009

***
Full Bloom 24 January 8, 2017

If we listen to our deep wisdom and 
follow where it leads, after years, 
we reach full bloom. There’s no way
to evade this. The soul blooms, 
then the body. It’s that simple.
–Full Bloom 1

We live in difficult times, but we’re 
up to them if we keep hope alive, rev up 
our ingenuity, trust our deep places, and 
allow ourselves to reach full bloom.
–Full Bloom 9

Full bloom means we’re closer to death,
Part of life, yet it feels like the enemy.
If we’ve done our work, even death
need not disturb us. Many kind people
now have their eyes on me. I will be
alone but not abandoned. I have the
knack of letting people in if they want
to know how I do it, even though I
myself don’t know. Ultimately, the
things we most want to know elude us,
hide their treasures even when we
experience revelation. How do I even
make the walk to the hen house when
I am prone to falling? Slowly, one 
careful step at a time, holding on,
walking on unsullied snow, my mind
on the hens still in darkness. I let in
some light, leave the north-facing shutters
up until the sun is stronger. They stay in,
fear their now white yard. Later I’ll
scatter stale bread to coax them outside.
The neighborhood birds, feathers fluffed,
dart at the feeder. Sunflower seeds keep
them alive. I have the heat pump, the
woodstove and wood I cut or was given, 
blankets, warm clothes, hot tea, my inner
beacon leading me where I’m, for some
reason, determined to go.

Formaldehyde, Rooster is out

Formaldehyde, Rooster: The Fourth Penny Weaver Mystery 

Penny Weaver, a post-menopausal poet, returns to her village of Riverdell, N.C. after a relaxing summer in Wales with her long-distance husband, Kenneth Morgan, a detective inspector with the Swansea police.  She learns that 1) her daughter, Sarah has left her husband and moved into Penny’s room; 2) Ralph Andrews, an unsavory politician, has taken over their community group, ActNow and 3) the local particle board plant, Sampson Pine, is a major polluter of formaldehyde, which is making people sick. After a forum with the Department of Air Quality and the Sampson Pine executives, Penny is roused from sleep with the news that Andrews had a heart attack and died on the way home from the meeting. The next evening Derek Hargrave questions Penny’s housemates who were at the ActNow meeting, and Penny learns Andrews was killed by a massive dose of digitalis administered in his coffee. Her dear friend Cathy is suspected because she gave out the coffee at the forum.

***

Formaldehyde, Rooster is a lovely mystery seasoned with a warm local community, love, family crisis, activism, and murder. Not only has the ActNow group been taken over by a car salesman, but Riverdell is dealing with serious air pollution. Penny Weaver shows us again the strength of the soft power of detection based on acute observation and deep understanding of the politics and culture of her community.  She reminds us that nicely drawn characters do not have to be dark and twisted creatures. Every new chapter has been a high point of my day.
 –Pete MacDowell, community organizer and poet

***

Hogan’s new mystery affirms that people who are self-serving and provoke conflict reap the consequences and good people don’t die although they may struggle.  Penny notes that the middle class life may seem more secure but security can’t be bought against things that hurt human beings so much.  Besides the actual murder, Shagbark people are slowly dying from formaldehyde emissions. Enjoy this mystery with a twist and many interesting turns.  
–Mary Susan Heath, Goldsboro writer and poet

***
Formaldehyde, Rooster came out December 1, 2016. $15 paper, $2.99 Kindle. Available on Amazon and at local Triangle area (NC) independent bookstores, or from Hoganvillaea Press, P.O. Box 253, Moncure, NC 27559. $16 (with tax) to pick up; $19 to have it signed and mailed. Checks to Judy Hogan.

Judy at a reading in Goldsboro in 2015,
taken by Mary Susan Heath

***
Full Bloom 22  December 25, Christmas Day, 2016

Full bloom is sometimes heavy.
You can't go back. You've become
the person you wanted to be, but
not everyone likes it. You have
authority now as well as confidence,
and you're not hiding your light
under a bushel, but there are rebels,
critics, and scoffers. Even friends
can be jealous.
--- Full Bloom 4

***
 Over the door in Dante's Hell is written
"Abandon Hope, all ye who enter here."
Hope carries us forward when we feel
blind. It's obvious in plants. What gives
us hope? That second sight sees the
hidden yearnings, past the fear that
won't deter the seed. All we have to do
is let it rise, enjoy its blooming, dine
on its secret fruit.
---- Full Bloom 5

***
I might fail, but given who I am,
it's unlikely. I accomplish miracles
by moving one step at a time, one
task at a time,one day at a time,
and by trusting that fabric of 
connection I feel to all the people
around me and all the wisdom
stored in my depths.
----  Full Bloom 8

My life will be what I asked for.
I  may suffer, and I will lose strength,
wits, and power, but the Spirit of Love 
that lives  in me will live on, now and
afterwards.
----Full Bloom 18

----
Do we ever know what our life means
before it's over? I do. Not completely,
but I see where I've been and where
I'm headed. There are others also--lights
in whatever darkness falls. I'm one, but
each light-carrier, or, say, catalyst, is 
a gift the universe gave to humankind 
to guide its feet, as much as any Star
of Bethlehem. It's simple enough. We
listen. We see inside other hearts,
notice gestures of welcome, eyes that
speak of gratitude, recognize fear in
the body's stiffness, hear trust in the
whispered words "We won't go back."
We witness enemies transforming
themselves into friends; a few simple
words of welcome become a magic
wand. We are not alone though we
may be the only one within our four
walls. We are so small, one among
so many. The grand power of the Universe
accompanies us wherever we go, or 
to whomever we speak. If this is true,
you will recognize it  and be changed.

WE MUST SUMMON COURAGE

My grandmother Grace Roys, Nanking, 1911

Full Bloom  21

This book is my tribute to my grandparents, 
a gift my maturity and sanity can give. I'll 
find the answers, and then my feet will return 
me into the light, with Grace, redeemed, beside me.
Full Bloom 10.

I did what felt impossible. I agonized:
so many computer tricks I could not do.
Yet I had a publisher. I could  not refuse. I 
must learn and seek help. I learned. Help 
came. Other women wanted to read this story 
of my grandmother Grace--gifted, lively, 
funny, and fragile. Even in doing this work 
of manuscript preparation, I proved I was
tough. I worked through my panic, gave
myself courage. I learned beyond what I
had believed myself able to learn. All the
pieces are in place but one. I long to
receive it, but someone else must provide
for this one piece, this last gift. Now come
two warm days into our winter life, with
more Arctic blasts to follow. We live
in perilous times; more storms, more
pollution, more hatred, more power
plays. It's tempting to turn away, throw 
up  our hands, say we're too busy, too old,
too scared. That way lie nightmares.
To turn those fearful ones around, we
must summon courage. It begins in terror,
inches slowly forward. We do the easy things 
first; ask help; move through one more
nightmare. People begin to follow, summon
their own strength and resilience, learn that
acting silences terror. There was once a
woman who danced on the way to the gas
chamber. We remember her. Here we may 
come to that last brave act. How many 
of us will dance? If we all dance, no one
will die. Dancing is more contagious than
submission to what we know is wrong.
Human beings know how to love. Isn't it
time we obeyed our inside law to love
our neighbors as ourselves?

We Shall Overcome

A wise man said that we are in the midst
of a cultural revolution.  Once only white
men with property could vote. Then slaves
were freed, but there were poll taxes and many
ways their votes were suppressed. Women won
the vote nearly a hundred years ago, then those
with darker skin, then eighteen-year-olds. Some
old white men got scared When we with the
vote put a black man in the White House, they
got angry, and set out to take rights away
from all of us. So now they mimic the Nazis,
going after blacks, gays, women, even clean
air and water in a frenzy of freeing polluters
from restraint. It doesn't occur to them that 
they'll kill off their descendants. Meantime 
we are not idle. We who hold the majority of
the votes now are re-grouping, re-assessing,
teaching democracy. Remember our pledge?
"With liberty and justice for all"? We renew
our promises, take our stands, work quietly.
We are a democracy, not a Fascist state. We
form a circle, holding hands, standing firm.
We shall not be moved. Skin color shall not
separate us, nor sexual orientation. We know 
He or She has the whole world in Its hands.
We may suffer, but so have those who came
before us when they fought for freedom of
speech, freedom from having our homes
invaded, our lives discounted. We were raised
to believe in our human rights to life, liberty,
and the pursuit of happiness. Hold tight. 
Don't ever let go. We shall overcome.

An age of miracles

Full Bloom 19  December 4,  2016

Focus on keeping your petals open 
to passing butterflies and honeybees.
Your immortality is already promised.
--- Full Bloom 4

The work on the new  book about my Grandmother Grace
has been all-consuming these months. It set off panic to
which I'm rarely subject. When I called, help came.
Now I see the end point coming. In ten days I can send
it to the publisher. Once more I stayed the course.
Anne says courage means you were vulnerable. I
learned to do what baffled me. Awake at 3 a.m.,
I wrote to re-find my courage. I even pulled the staff
of  the big New York and London publishers into
helping me. As I struggled for footing in a strange 
formatting world, and then my computer died, 
angels began to appear. Three knocked at my door. 
Doug came to set up a temporary computer so my 
book work could continue. My student Shirley,
gone a year for back surgery, stopped by, her hands 
full of egg boxes, soup, and honey. My neighbor Kevin, 
working with others next door to cut down trees and 
undergrowth, comes to show me how they cleared 
my land,too, and they want to do more, even cut 
firewood. Gratitude is inadequate to express what I feel.
I've lived within a gift-giving universe a long time, 
but now I'm in an age of miracles.