OH, Saddam! - Russ Bedord

Oh, Saddam, dear Saddam

now you are dead

trouble we started in Iraq

may come to a head.

Bin Laden, Bin Laden,

says kill the infidel—

this kind of attitude

takes him straight to hell

About Israel and Palestine,

I cannot stop a grievin'

That trouble won't be over

'til the body count is even.

War on drugs, war on crime

war on terrorists—

War on war on war!

Anything been missed?

He has since denied it,

though what was really meant

when Alfred E. Neuman said

I'm a war president!

Set up screens, check IDs,

stop them at the borders

Anything else frighten you?

Issue executive orders.

Consume, consume. Pollute the air,

we're proudly capitalist!

Yeah, right, that's what we are,

like Stalin was a socialist.

Capitalism is the norm,

but if you're really wise,

and really want democracy,

some things you socialize.

Our politicians suffer

the corporate disease.

These ridiculous rising prices

are caused by subsidies,

We subsidize all right,

the poor give to the rich.

This is a form of socialism

with a capitalist twist.

I'm scared, I'm really scared.

Fear has invaded my thinking.

Eating something might settle me,

or I might keep on drinking.

I might just buy something,

take a trip in my SUV,

count my blessings but worry,

is there enough for me?

Who created this nation?

Not those welfare mamas,

without a penny to keep

offshore in the Bahamas.

Wealth there is away and safe,

from the sick, lame, and dying,

No one stops the establishment

from covering up by lying.

You are a commodity,

like stocks, money, or bacon.

People are a commodity,

more so the less they're makin'.

About a real issue,

Kennedy got the vote,

saying that a rising tide

raises all the boats.

Don’t worry ‘bout a thing,

I hear that you’re insured:

but avoid getting injured:

Your case can be deferred

The entire medical field

on insurance and drugs is hung:

in most medical ratings,

we’re near the bottom rung.

Think I’m over-reacting?

Think I have twisted views?

My philosophy comes 

from watching the evening news.

I want peace—I breathe peace:

to some I seem naive.

They say if you don’t like it,

exercise choice and leave.

You have to wake up early

to see both right and wrong

not automatically play

some dogmatic song.

You must choose sides:

don’t straddle the fence—

The strongest men in history

used nonviolence.

Ready answers are for those

who face problems head on

Through extermination,

they think the problem gone.

Denial and prejudice:

that’s the name of the game,

creating the kind of policies

that, at their best, are lame.

And here we go again,

using the language of war!

Let's honor those who keep peace

not those who merely keep score.

Do you want honesty?

First, find a steeple.

Then don't ask the priest,

always ask the people.

How long will we accept

these politics of contention?

Creating reasonable answers

is not a new invention.

  *****

The Bird in the Bowl - Beverly Koepplin

I do not speak your name often.

It lies in my soul

in a bowl carved by pain,

smoothed by tears,

fired by fury.

Someday your name will take wing

and will fly from me,

splitting my heart in two,

cracking the bowl it bred,

and I will be left all in pieces.

Until then, I hold your name

silently in my heart,

still and brooding you rest there.

I do not dare to call to you;

even to free my soul, 

I will not willingly break fine china.

             

                            ***

BROTHERHOOD -Robyn Makaruk

Leo was an energetic twelve-year-old when his father, a Parks Ranger and Wildlife Conservationist, took a job in Arizona. The family would be moving to a different environment from the Pacific Northwest where they had lived for over fifteen years. The boy had grown up among the area’s wildlife, and with his father’s guidance and mother’s knowledge in her veterinary medicine practice, Leo had become quite a naturalist. He learned how to safely rescue injured birds and animals, treat their injuries and in most cases release them back into the wild. While in rehabilitation, some of the rescues would almost become his pets. He named them and they would come when called and even after being released back into their natural habitat, he would often see glimpses of some of his rescued friends. Before the move south, he had a crow with a broken wing, a raccoon that was badly mauled by a trap, and a pair of piglets whose mother was shot by a hunter. The piglets, Pamela and Porky, would be raised by others and returned to the wild, and Rocky the raccoon was well on the way to recovery, but Kevin the crow was going with him...no way would he leave him behind. Besides, Kevin was family and Leo knew that he would adapt to the new desert environment. 

Moving day was both exciting and traumatic. Their belongings were loaded on to the moving van and were on the way to Arizona. The family loaded their gear as they were driving by road, a two-day journey. Their plans included a stay in Phoenix until the moving van arrived. Kevin the crow traveled with the family in his custom crate, and at their destination was boarded at a nearby vet’s clinic. Leo visited him every day where they had their own conversation about the situation at hand, which could include whether the food was adequate and tasty, where the moving van was, when he could get out of this antiseptic-smelling place and the like. They had their own language. Leo told Kevin that although he had looked forward to the new adventure, Phoenix was not all it was cracked up to be and was proving to be a big disappointment. It was a sprawling concrete jungle, with vast freeways leading to malls that seemed to be cities unto themselves. How that American President from long ago chose to name the place after the Egyptian bird who rose from the ashes to be better than ever, was a mystery to him. 

Leo’s father assured him he’d like their new home, as it was located over a hundred miles northeast of Phoenix, on the edge of the Sonoran Desert and there would be all kinds of new wildlife to enjoy. The house and surrounding outbuildings sat on a twenty five-acre spread and his mother would be opening a new veterinary practice just a few miles away. His father’s new responsibilities would cover a larger territory than before, and the opportunities to use his knowledge and experience of the land and wildlife were much greater. 

The family received word that the moving van would be arriving at their new home by the end of the week. They picked up Kevin from the vet clinic and drove north to camp out the night before the van arrived. When Leo saw the new home he was astonished at how beautiful it was in the desert sunset, with all new fauna and flora to be learned about. He also knew that Kevin would easily make this his home too, although he would still need care from his human brother to fully heal. It took only a few hours to unload the household belongings and the family settled into a new lifestyle in an arid place. It was not without beauty...the glorious sunrises and sunsets, the heat of the day and the coolness of the nights. Oh, and the desert night skies....Leo had never seen anything like it and was determined to study the night sky to understand his place in this new territory. 

In the coming weeks, Leo and his sidekick, Kevin would wander the environs of their new home, discovering all kinds of critters. His curiosity never waned in learning about the animals and birds that made this place their home. Kevin would hop along on the ground vocalizing his own approval or disapproval of the new discoveries. He was not yet able to fly on his own and Leo kept a keen eye on him as he was still vulnerable to some of the large predators like turkey vultures or golden eagles. 

Late one afternoon, Kevin went missing. He had been wandering around the yard foraging for tidbits and testing his almost-healed wing, when he just went off on his own. When Leo saw he was gone, he went out calling to him....”Kevin, boy, where are you? Did you finally get to fly, or were you distracted by a girlfriend? Kevin? Kevin?” Leo followed his distinctive footprints in the sandy track until he came upon blood, some fur but nothing else. Kevin’s footprints continued on with another set of prints, one of another species. 

It was getting dark. The prints cast deep shadows, but with the fading light, Leo was not prepared to go on a night trek without preparation. The tracks led down to the river at the bottom of the nearby canyon, and then followed to the rocky cliffs where they disappeared. Leo kept calling to his crow, but his voice just echoed off the canyon walls. Nightfall brought down a velvet blanket, so Leo waited until the sky brought forth the light show of stars. It was nearing a full moon, so there was light along the trail that brought him to this place, but his understanding of where he was brought him to the realization he should retrace his steps and return to find his crow brother the next day. 

An anxious night with little sleep prevailed. He arose before sunrise, and prepared to find his crow brother. His parents were told of the previous night’s search and Leo was given a digital location device to signal their help. With water and food for himself and Kevin, he set off, retracing the previous evening’s tracks. When he reached the river at the bottom of the canyon, he saw his own footprints and where he had turned around the night before. With careful observation he looked to where the crow and other footprints had moved on, but the rocky cliff face offered no clues. He called, “Kevin, Kevin, where are you?” All he heard was the echo of his own voice, until, a long while later he heard the familiar chatter of his brother crow. It appeared to come from a distance, and from higher up on the canyon rock face. Leo kept calling, and the answers became more frequent as he moved towards the sounds. 

Then he saw his brother crow at the mouth of a crevice about six feet above the canyon floor. He was hopping back and forth and chattering in his crow voice that indicated he was involved in a desperate situation. Leo thought Kevin was trying to help or protect some animals in the crevice behind. He found a ledge to climb closer and was amazed to see a ringtail female with her brood behind him. Kevin allowed Leo to reach inside to inspect the condition of the female who had what looked like talon gouges along her back, that were bleeding. She was obviously in distress, so Leo backed away, sent out an SOS signal to his parents, and returned home for their help. When they learned of what Leo had encountered, they prepared a crate and other medical supplies and set out to rescue the ringtail and her babies. 

This became Leo’s baptism of fire in his new home. When the ringtail’s wounds had healed and she had weaned her three babies, the family was released back to the wild. 

Leo grew up to become a noted naturalist and conservationist in his own right. The hero of this tale though, was not Leo nor his parents, but Kevin the crow, a corvid of supreme intelligence and endurance. He had followed the wounded ringtail back to her den and protected her until his brother came to rescue them. Leo and Kevin remained brothers for many years and shared many great adventures. 

NOTE: The Ringtail was officially designated as Arizona’s state mammal in 1986. It is not a cat as commonly known, but a member of the raccoon family. They are small mammals, and although the bane of some chicken ranchers are accepted as the harmonious nocturnal occupants of desert regions. 

                                                             ***

War - Joan Brady

So, what do I say to you
Old enemy
Tapestry woven in the hair of the dead 

Voice promising
To rid the world of...
To make the world safe from... 

(Fill in the blank) 

You are an ancient promise 

Made by faces
On school walls
On statues 

On money

You live on the blood of the young 

Whose names you chisel
In stonewalls
To show you remember 

To show you care 

And I see you 

And I hear you 

By action
By belief 

By silence
Telling me
You are ready for another feeding

And I listen
And I see the walls multiplying 

And I know
Soon they will bury us

And I promise you
When we meet again
I will not embrace you
I will not welcome you
I will name you
And I will call you out
For the nightmare that you are 

And I will continue and continue 

Until all that is left of me

Are ashes 

               ***

When I am - Ellie Portner

when I cannot hear

I am seduced by silence

and become my mind

when I cannot see

I abandon my mind

and become my body

when I lose my hair

I will wear a hat

and become a spy

                                         ***

El masaje de sanación de mi abuela - Noris Binet

¿Cómo puede alguien explicar el contacto sanador de las manos de una abuela - un contacto que da energía a cada fibra de tu cuerpo transformándote de una manera que seguirá apoyándote durante toda tu vida? Ese fue el contacto que recibí de mi abuela cuando yo era apenas una niña.

Cuando en el medio de la noche  un niña/o sufre de una fiebre muy alta en el campo donde no hay un médico o una enfermera disponible, sólo se tiene el recurso natural que puede funcionar urgentemente y a tiempo. 

Recuerdo esa noche, cuando mi madre había intentado todo tipo de remedios para detener mi alta fiebre, pero nada funcionó. Yo estaba acostada y escuchaba suaves murmullos a mi alrededor, gente que pasaba cerca de mi cama, deteniéndose, poniendo su mano en mi cuerpo y diciendo las palabras "No, no ha bajado". Entonces  mi madre me ponía el termómetro debajo de la lengua para verificar la altura de la fiebre. Yo sentía que mi cuerpo estaba en llamas y la incomodidad me hacia gemir con frecuencia.

Ya que los remedios de mi madre no habían podido bajar la fiebre, supongo que fue cuando llamaron a mi abuela  que vivía a sólo cinco minutos de mi casa caminado, pero sólo 30 segundos para mí cuando iba corriendo como una gata salvaje.

Al principio no sabía que era Mama Carmela, mi abuela materna, que me estaba tocando. Lo que sí recuerdo que era el tacto más suave que se puede imaginar. Ella tomó mi cuerpo desnudo frotándolo de arriba abajo con un contacto  relajante y reconfortante, que me transportó a un lugar donde me sentí profundamente cuidada y querida. No recuerdo haber oído su voz, pero sentí que ella me hablaba profundamente de una manera que no había experimentado antes.

Me aplicó un ungüento que enfriaba mi cuerpo, calmando el fuego interno, lo que me permitió respirar más abiertamente mientras se relajaba todo mi sistema. Me sentí completamente abrazada por su amor. Me masajeaba de  arriba hacia bajo a través de mi pecho y hasta los pies. Fue un abrazo cálido donde todo mi cuerpo estaba envuelto con una vibración que no tiene nombre y no se puede poner en palabras porque esta más allá de lenguaje.

Mama Carmela era una mujer de carácter fuerte; sencilla y directa rigió su casa con gran orden y eficiencia. Pero aun tan estricta como ella era, nunca gritó o incluso levantó la voz, que yo recuerde. Siempre supe qué esperar de ella en su forma clara y directa, y al mirar ahora hacia atrás, me doy cuenta de que  apreciaba mucho su forma  porque sabía exactamente cómo comportarme en su presencia ya que con frecuencia fui castigada en mi propia casa, por mi comportamiento donde las reglas eran vagas y caprichosas.

Ella tomaba la siesta todos los días sentada en su  mecedora en el comedor, al lado de una persiana que daba al camino por donde se iba a la casa de su madre, mi bisabuela, Mama Toñi. Nuestras casas estaban en terrenos que colindaban uno al lado del otro, y para ir a la casa de mi bisabuela tenia que pasar a través del terreno de mi abuela. Muy a menudo, exactamente durante la siesta de Mama Carmela mis hermanos y yo tratábamos de cruzar por su terreno para ir a jugar con algunos de nuestros primos. Nos agachábamos para que ella no pudiera vernos a través de las persianas, pero por lo general antes de que pudiéramos pasar desapercibidos, su voz se oía desde la casa con la típica pregunta: ¿Quien va? Y no respondíamos! Una vez mas ella preguntaba, ¿Quien va?  Y ya sabíamos que la segunda vez  teníamos que responder, y entonces ella nos decía: "vengan aquí" y sin nosotros decir una palabra nos daba un caramelo y nos enviaba de regreso a nuestra casa. 

Típicamente nos regañaba diciéndonos que la siesta no es el momento de estar visitando a nadie o para los niños andar corriendo y jugando molestando la tranquilidad de los adultos durante esa hora tan especial. Y eso era todo! Hoy en día nos reímos de sus formas y nos regocijamos de que teníamos una abuela tan especial.

Mama Carmela poseía una elegancia natural en la forma en que ella caminaba, se movía, se vestía y se comportaba. Sus viajes semanales a la ciudad para ir al salón de belleza a arreglarse el pelo  y las uñas de los pies y las manos eran sagrados. Ella tenía bien definido su lugar en el mundo. Como mujer del campo estaba enraizada  en el ritmo de la naturaleza y subordinada a sus obligaciones familiares. 

Vivía su vida tan natural como la vida misma, desde las hojas  del árbol de naranja que cortaba  en el anochecer para su té antes de acostarse, como el levantarse muy temprano cuando el sol despuntaba y disfrutar la mañana con el café recién molido de la cosecha de su familia. Existía una relación estrecha en su casa entre los humanos, animales y plantas, donde los gatos merodeaban  en busca de comida y las gallinas explorando sus alrededores caminaban sobre el fresco colorido piso del mosaico italiano de su casa. La galería alrededor  de su casa estaba adornada de hermosas plantas ornamentales y flores multicolores. Todo el escenario producía  un ambiente rico, armonioso, donde todo y todos parecían prosperar.

No estoy segura de cuanto tiempo duró el largo masaje de Mama Carmela ¿Fueron unos minutos, una hora, o quizá toda la noche? Todo se sentía borroso y difuso y yo empecé a sentirme más ligera como si hubiera sido vaciada de todo lo que me había sucedido. A través del contacto sanador de sus manos la fiebre se disolvió  gradualmente a lo largo de la noche a la vez que el vapor que emanaba el ungüento penetraba mis poros trayendo un alivio refrescante.

Cuando el nuevo día surgió en el horizonte mi bienestar volvió y me desperté completamente restaurada. Después de esa noche Mama Carmela ya no era sólo mi abuela, pero ahora la miraba con asombro y maravilla por su capacidad mágica para sanar a través de su contacto. Ella se convirtió en más grande que mi propia madre, alguien que posee cualidades misteriosas que la elevó al rango de la Gran Madre.

Durante los últimos cuarenta años, en que periódicamente estuve visitando la casa de mis padres en la isla de la Republica Dominicana, fui testigo de cómo el proceso de envejecimiento produjo en ella más y más sabiduría y un don de gracia. Se relajó su carácter estricto de los años anteriores, se reía del sin sentido de las pretensiones de los que estaban a su alrededor y me transmitió enseñanzas vitales que eran directas y claras. 

Una comunión profunda se desarrolló entre nosotras, ya que compartimos nuestra mutua sabiduría, la de ella adquirida por una profunda conexión con su lugar de pertenencia en la naturaleza, de la cual nunca salió, y la mía por las experiencias con diferentes culturas ancestrales, lugares exóticos y viajes por el mundo.

Durante una ceremonia chamánica, que facilité con Mama Carmela y su hermana Titatina ha petición de ellas, me quedé humildemente  asombrada cuando ambas se referirán a mi llamándome hermana. Durante el ritual se creó un triángulo de energía entre nosotras que profundizó nuestro vínculo espiritual y nos conecto a un nivel que nunca podrá romperse. 

Durante los últimos diez años de su vida ella se aparecía repetidamente en mis sueños y me prepara para su muerte, transmitiéndome su energía. Y sin saberlo ella se convirtió 

en mi maestra Zen. 

Finalmente a la edad de 101 años, como un dulce pájaro precioso, salió de este mundo naturalmente, quedándose dormida exactamente como ella había aprendido a vivir, obedeciendo fielmente el movimiento de la vida, sin mucho alboroto o argumento.

Anoche volvió a mí; su presencia  fue tan poderosa que me infundio con la conciencia de la Gran Madre arquetípica, que con su potencia radiante fomenta la transformación y el renacimiento. Me desperté llamando su nombre, Mama Carmela, Mama Carmela, Mama Carmela ... trayendo a mi mente el dulce recuerdo de su contacto sanador!

   

                                                              ***

My Grandmother's Healing Touch- Noris Binet

How can anyone explain the healing touch from the hands of a grandmother--a touch that energized every fiber of your body transforming you in ways that will continue to support your entire life? That was the touch I received from my grandmother when I was just a youngster.

When in the middle of the night a child suffers from a high fever in the countryside of an island nation, where there is no doctor or nurse available, there is only one resource that can work when urgently needed and on time.  I remember that evening my mother had been trying all kinds of remedies to stem my high fever, but nothing worked. I have a memory of laying down on my bed and hearing soft murmurs around me, people passing close to my bed, stopping putting their hand on my body and saying the words “No, it has not come down,” then my mother putting the thermometer in my mouth. My body was on fire and the discomfort I felt made me groan frequently. 

Without my mother’s remedies being able to break the fever, I suppose it was then that my grandmother was summoned from her house only a five minute walk away at her age, but only 30 seconds for me when I was running around like a wild cat.

At first I didn’t know that it was Mama Carmela, my grandmother, touching me.  What I do recall was the softest touch that you can imagine as she took my naked body and caressed it from top to button and bathed it with a soothing and comforting touch,  transporting me to a place of feeling profoundly cared for. I don’t recall hearing her voice but I sensed her speaking to me deeply in a way I had not experienced before. 

She applied an unguento ointment that cooled my body, and calmed the fire within, allowing me to breathe more openly while relaxing my whole system. I felt completely embraced in her love. She was going up and down through my chest and all the way to my feet. It was a warm embrace where my whole body was enveloped within a love that has not name and it couldn’t be put into words either, it was beyond words.

Mama Carmela was a woman of strong character; she was straightforward and ruled her household with great order and efficiency. Even as strict as she appeared, she never screamed or even raised her voice that I can recall. I always knew what to expect from her in her clear and direct way, which, as I look back upon now, realize that I deeply appreciated because I knew exactly how to behave in her presence, and I was often punished for my behavior in my own home, where the rules seemed vague and capricious. 

She took a daily nap sitting in her rocking chair in the dining room in front of a window facing the pathway to her mother’s house, my great grandmother, Mama Toni. Our houses were in separate compounds next to each other, so for me to be able to go to Mama Toni’s house I had to pass through my grandmother’s compound. Very often, exactly at the time Mama Carmela was having her afternoon siesta, my siblings and I would try and sneak across her compound to play with some of our cousins. We would squat down so that she couldn’t see us through the window, but usually before we could pass by, her voice would come out from the house with the typical question: Quien va? (Who’s there?). No one would answer! Again the question, Quien va? At this point we learned to answer and she would say “come here” and would give us each a piece of candy and send us home with her rebuke that siesta is not the time to be visiting anyone’s home or for children to be running around disturbing the quiet. And that was that!  Today we laugh at her ways and rejoice that we had such a precious grandmother. 

Mama Carmela possessed a natural elegance in how she walked, moved, dressed and behaved.  Her weekly trip into town to have her hair and nails done was a sacred duty, and her place in the world was well-defined. As a country woman she was rooted in the rhythm of nature and she was bound by her family obligations. Her life seemed to be as natural as life itself, from the leaves she cut from the orange tree for her evening tea, to her rising from sleep with the morning sun and enjoying her home-grown, freshly ground coffee. An interwoven relationship existed in her home between human, animal and plant life, where cats ran around looking for food and chickens crossed into her living room looking to expand their day by walking on the cool, colorful, Italian mosaic floor of her house. The surrounding porch of her home was adorned with beautiful, ornamental plants and multi-colored flowers. All together the setting displayed a rich, harmonious environment, where everything and everyone seemed to thrive.

I am not sure how long Mama Carmela’s massage of my body lasted. Was it a few minutes, an hour, or perhaps the whole night? Everything felt blurred and fuzzy and I began to feel lighter as if I had been emptied out of whatever had happened to me. Through my grandmother’s healing touch the fever dissolved gradually throughout the night as the vapor emanating from the ointment penetrated my pores and brought cooling relief.

As the new day broke onto the horizon my wellbeing returned and I woke up fully alive and restored.  After that night Mama Carmela was no longer just my grandmother, but now I looked upon her with a sense of awe and wonder with her magical capacity to touch lives in restorative and transforming ways. She became greater than my own mother possessing mysterious qualities that elevated her to the rank of the archetypal Great Mother.

Over the past forty years, as I have traveled back and forth to my island home, I have witnessed how the aging process produced deeper and deeper wisdom and grace in my grandmother.  She relaxed her strict character of earlier years, laughed at the nonsense of the pretensions around her and passed on to me simple teachings that were direct and clear.  A profound communion developed between us as we shared from our mutual stores of gained wisdom hers by a deep connection with her place, from which she never moved, and mine from experiences of new cultures, exotic environments and world travels.

  

Once, after a shamanic ceremony which I led for Mama Carmela and her sister, my great Aunty Titatina, I was humbly astonished that they referred to me as a sister. During the ritual a triangle of energy was created between us that profoundly deepened our spiritual bond and connected us at a level that would never be broken. For the last ten years before my grandmother died she appeared to me repeatedly in dreams preparing me for her death, energetically transmitting to me more and more of her wisdom, and she became my  Zen master. Finally at the age of 101, and at the end seeming to me very much like a sweet, precious bird, she naturally left this world, and fell asleep exactly as she had learned to live, directly and faithfully obeying the movement of life, with neither fuss nor argument.

  

Last night she came back to me; her presence so powerful that I was infused with an awareness of the archetypal Great Mother with her radiant power to foster transformation and rebirth.  I awoke calling her name, Mama Carmela, Mama Carmela, Mama Carmela… remembering her healing touch!

                              ***

vibration - Russ Bedord

While contemplating the light refracting through the ice cubes at the bottom of my glass, a comely young lady (I discovered later) sat next. “Pour another,” I said to the barkeep.

In a dutiful manner he did, looking at me with fake enthusiasm, expecting me to say something, as most drinkers did. I did not. He looked relieved and sought boredom somewhere else.

“Hi,” she said to me. Surprised, I turned to look at her, and discovered then she was comely. 

“Hi, yourself.” I said, irritated. “I'm used to drinking alone.”

“I could see that, but I also see that you have a good vibration.”

“A good what!”

“Vibration. Vibration is everything—good vibes, bad vibes—all kinds of vibe. Vibe is  short for vibrations.”

“So my vibe is good, but don't you think you're a little young for me?”

“It wasn't that kind of vibe. It was like a lonely vibe, that you needed someone to talk to.”

“Oh,” I said, somewhat disappointed. I thought that if I were sending out any kind of 'vibe',' it would be more likely what I felt than what she thought. She apparently picked up something other than desire for a pick-up.

“Not that I'm against that kind of vibe,” she said. “That's what I come here for—but that's not what you need.”

Time for sarcasm. “And what do I need?.”

“Talk.”

“So talk.”

She hesitated briefly, then looked around. “Look at the people in here,” she said. “They all come here for different reasons, and each sends out different vibrations. It's like when you talk to someone because you know what's on their mind. If  you're aware of vibrations, you don't have to talk, just feel and observe.”

I picked one. “That man in the gray suit over there.”

She stared for a moment, then said. ”Poor, poor me vibe. “

“You can tell just by looking?”

 

“From feeling. From feeling, Then look to see if something supports the vibe you sense.”

“How so?”

“Look at him hunched over his drink like it was his alone. Probably a recent divorcee, or  had a falling out with his significant other. And it's all their fault—not his, of course, Otherwise there goes the reason for feeling sorry for himself. And he nurses the drink like an old grudge. Don't dare mess with his drink, like you couldn't mess with an old grudge. Right or wrong, who knows, because no one ever admits wrong. The hell with him.”

A well-built, well-dressed man approached the other side of her and said “Hello.” I quickly turned my attention away and focused on other bar attendees, hoping to test her 'vibration hypothesis.' A young couple looked like they were having a good time but they 'vibed”  insincerity. Maybe that was it! They thought they should because beer and liquor ads showed happiness if you just imbibed! The way they flaunted their Budweisers suggested I wasn't far wrong.

I hadn't heard more than a few mumbles from the young lady next to me and her male companion, and was surprised to see him stand up, erect as possible, and walk off without a backward look. To joke, I said: “Not a good vibe?”

“The worst,” she said, 'the worst. One of those dudes who acts like he's God's gift to women. The vibe he sends is: “I'm a user, you're a loser, so why don't we hook up.”

“I thought hook up was what you were looking for?”

“I am, but with a real person, not with a loser like that—who charms, talks nice, looks nice, and pretends to like you but really hates women. The purpose is to use, even humiliate, to justify a lousy attitude. Don't worry, he'll hook up with a loser carrying the same vibe. They'll be satisfied for a moment, at least.”

“You picked all that up from a vibe?”

“Sad to say, but from experience first. I wasn't the first person to have a rosy view of human nature. Experience taught me to trust the vibe—if it don't feel right, it ain't right.”

“What about that young man standing next to the bar over there”

She stared silently for a few moments. “He doesn't belong here.”

“What! He's here, with a firm hold on that beer bottle!”

“Yeah, but the vibe he's sending says; ‘I don't belong, I'm here because I think I'm supposed to; I look like I'm effusively enjoying myself, but I'm not.’ My guess is that he is from a family where drink had a prominent role to play, but in his life, it does not. Yet, his stance says here I am, look at me, I'm being one of the good guys, am I not? Yet still sipping really slowly, which tells the tale.”

I took a long, good hard look at the young man. Her analysis seemed correct, and I turned to deliver a compliment, but she had left only a hand-written note that said: Nice talking to you. I spotted her across the bar, sitting next to a lone gentleman. The vibe I got from him was non-threatening. 

I got up to approach and say something to her but decided to leave, feeling some satisfaction and a little jealousy.

                                      ***