I have my reasons to keep on truck’in, going down the age path, considering $5 haircuts, walking with heavy feet, tired still on antibiotic legs 3 miles for 2 days, listening to my husband sound like an aging pug dog, because he caught my cold, and I have my reasons to keep on going, even though some say “We’re in the dark heart of humanity’s age,” “Yeah, tell it like it is sistah,” and grab life as it comes, and I have my reasons to see everyone a soul, even the guy out of his mind and shouting outside of Starbucks because I betcha he’s schizophrenic, and that’s the hardest disease to cure.
I have my reasons to keep on going to walk into the future, not, trying to figure it out ahead of time. Because I had my reasons why I did. Poverty follows wealth; wealth follows poverty, and I’m rich inside, but to tell you the truth, I was worried as to how long we could live in a special place and afford it, worried about being a burden to someone, anyone, until I realize I used to worry about everything.
I had my reasons to worry as a single mom, and I worried about making the rent, finding out where I belonged, and added to that worry about weight, everyone does; assume your portion of worrying whether you’re the perfect woman.
I had my reasons to struggle thinking of myself as a woman; not that I wanted to be a guy, but because I felt so uncertain inside, and even when I drove on the freeway, the 405, I had to clutch the wheel of my car because I felt as if I’d leave my body.
But I have my reasons for being in my body, and facing life as it is. And my reason for living, because I think this here old earth is a training ground, and old shibboleths are falling, and in some ways we are in decline and fall, except the Romans don’t know about it.
Did you know the Hindus speak of this difficult time which I call a bleeding planet, as a horrifically difficult age, where crows would be in abundance, and I tell you crows? Now some Nana Babuk or someone said that, and yup, I can find the small blue booklet with English and Hindu writings which contains this mighty unusual fact, but I have my reasons just to keep on typing, because there’s a constancy of surety packing in my ribs by doing this.
And I have lots of reasons, mine and others, why we are all interconnected, and once when we really realize it; which will probably take several hundred years, we’ll change, and I have my reasons to continue, because I want to be a source of solace or light and love, and I want the children of the world to be safe.
Copyright © Esther Bradley-DeTally
Photo courtesy of NOAH
I teach four six-week classes on writing. My background training is from Oakley Hall, who was majestic novelist and teacher and co-director of Squaw Valley Workshop, and also from Jack Grapes, whose name is whistled in freeway corridors like a slick wind, a pied piper of a writing teacher. Both of these men earn my verbal praise every day. I have traveled from Moscow to Siberia, and to Ukraine, and then returned with my husband to live in Dnepropetrovsk, Ukraine, and Minsk, Belarus. I studied writing methods at UCIrvine, and also took several courses under a superb journalist, Joe Bell.
I teach a class on Tuesdays at The Women’s Room, a place that leaps with great words and giant hearts. The women are either volunteers, homeless or in transition, and it is a great place of support.
On Monday nights, I teach in the basement of Ten Thousand Villages, near California and Lake, from 4:30-6 p.m., for donation. That, plus a few on-line gigs and tutoring gig, plus Baha’i activities and commitment to racial justice, keeps me busy. I have a novel in the second draft process.
Esther has written two books, Without a Net: A Sojourn in Russia and You Carry the Heavy Stuff. Her blog can be found at SorryGnat.wordpress.com.