mermaidcamp
Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water
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You can scroll the shelf using ← and → keys

Wear and tear takes a toll on all of nature
Solid state to dust is a long tedious process
Nobody witnessed the disappearance
The whereabouts of those remnants, unknown


Eternal memories pass through blood
Seep into story dressed as presence
Dance through beliefs fast, no doubts
Leaving traces in modern mythology


Standing in defiance of nature and law
Needy figures try to dominate the landscape
Little do they suspect that the earth beneath
The apparently solid surface is revolting


Time capsules hang in suspense, dangerous
The weight of the revelations slowly increased
Until the fruits of the karmic past dropped
Leaving remnants of shocking facts
Hanging in the dark air without explanations


What interior means to the outer layer
Death means to the busy nature of life
Glory, fame, earthly power and pleasure
Disintegrate instantly at the end
Proceed with caution, proceed with care


Recently public discourse has been a great concern of mine. Some on line acquaintances have chosen to leave platforms or go dark. When one of my friends of many years announced his departure he published an excellent essay about living presence as opposed to on line activity. His words moved me but I was unhappy to lose a view of his daily life.
After consideration of his well written thoughts on privacy and awareness I decided to stay but make new use of the platform I have now. The poet who writes here is a part of my archetypal make up. It’s an artistic skill I want to develop as a tribute to my famous poet ancestor, Anne Dudley Bradstreet. I decided to channel myself into this practice in order to extract myself from the current political debate. I have not found participation in on line politics to be fruitful use of my time or energy. It seems to be a catalyst for social collapse.
I’m sticking with the idea that writing poetry is the most effective method of self care I know. It’s my current way to communicate on the internet without generating vexation. I certainly hope I become better at it, but for now it’s what I do. When I take care of dogs I sing improvisation dog songs in which my current client is the star. They often begin with so and so is a good dog, a funky good dog. They always get it and have no criticism of my work.


Accumulating karma is hard to avoid
Bringing to the surface the drama of secrets
Watching objectively as things claim space
Allowing debris from life to settle
We find fantastic reasons to let go

Sneaking up on us is an ominous sign
Shadows of ancient trespasses cloud the landscape
Which one of these aging issues
Is ready to explode into flames of violence
For the repressed ideas it represents?


Wonder into history for a glimpse
Into the way our ancestors were treated
Review how little was considered luxury
Remind yourself how they traveled
Imagine being part of the Wild West
Congratulations are in order for those
Who survived so we can be alive today

My eighth great-grandfather was born in Glamorganshire, Wales in 1678. Rev. Henry Nicholls received a B.A.in 1703 and an M.A. in 1705 from Jesus College, Oxford, Wales. He was sent to Pennsylvania, 1702-1708, during the reign of King James II. In 1707 he married my eighth great-grandmother, Elizabeth Gatchell of Chester, Pennsylvania.
Henry Nichols was the first residential missionary to Pennsylvannia for the “Society for Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts”, arriving in 1703. His churches were located in Chester, Concord, Radnor, and Montgomery. The Chester Church is described as of good brick fabric, one of the neatest on the continent, furnished with handsome furniture and rews. The members were regular and constant in divine worship, and they contributed 60 pounds a year toward their pastor’s support. The Radnor Church is still in excellent preservation, known as St. David’s Church and has been in use since 1708. Rev Nichols requested a transfer in 1708 and became rector at St. Michael’s Parish Church. Talbot Co., MD – a post he occupied until his death. For years, all records of his life were lost. The early church books had disappeared! Until June 1878 when workmen, employed to demolish the old church building, found his tomb under the Chancel in good preservation.
The following is a translation of the Latin inscription found on the slab over his tomb: “Here lies the remains of Henry Nicols, M. A., formerly a Fellow of Jesus College, Oxford, England, and a pastor of this church for 41 years – most unworthy. Born April 1st, 1678; died Feb. 12, 1748. Save his soul, O Christ for Thy own merits. Tread upon salt without savor.” (Henry has ordered these works to be inscribed before his death.) A number of his descendents still worship at St. Michael’s Church. They placed a tablet there to his memory where he ministered for so long. (From the Historical Magazine of the Protestant Episcopal Church, 1943, by Mary Clement, M. A., Principal of the Girls County School Board, Bridgend, Glamorganshire, Wales.)