Fertile Flux©

Fertile Flux is the term that occurred to me for a concept at a time when almost all that mattered had been snatched except a will to go on. At times, that was questionable. There were moments of serenity, moments of joy and hope, before, during and following the final tragedy which ripped it all apart. But, especially following it, when, alone and stripped of much of life as I'd known and to which I'd given myself for 18 years, relatively 'good moments' often gave way to extended moments of bleak or muddy uncertainty, even a sense of indescribable hopelessness.

I was 40, but something within me wouldn't, couldn't accept that things were hopeless, though while in process, there seemed at times to be simply no clear path or 'way to go'; and barely questionable reasons to find one. Faith never deserted me. It was enough to sustain me during an unendurable situation for all those years; and it found its own expression at times. I continued to write poetry, which had become my confidante, friend, mentor, strength and clarity over many years of tribulation and betrayal. It continued to help distill the truth and clarity, even though sometimes those consisted of identification of the confusion itself as a starting place.

Whenever those murky times moderated, as they always did eventually, giving way to new discoveries of strength within me, baby-steps in radially seeing possible alterations for external limitations and paths for proceeding became highlighted. Of course, it was rejuvenating,- till the next period of feeling the earth crumbling beneath my feet and obscuring vision of what to do or even of who I was, almost becoming unclear why I was alive. But I was. Like an unquenchable candle, brighter and more enduring each time.

After several of these experiences, this name for the uncertain times came to me! Seemed that once it had a name, it lost a lot of its murky power and effect! If it started coming on, I could already start to think to myself, "Oh, it's one of THOSE! - Just a Fertile Flux!" - so that the process picked up momentum through and out of the uncertainty and distress and on to more upward discoveries and energy for LIFE and living.

So I decided to share some of this process, along with some poetry, from then especially, and also from current times, to illustrate its reality and its effects.

If I seem serene, fortunate or "light", it is because of some of those lessons. I don't have all the answers. I have NONE, in fact! But I needn't have them all! To live is to discover.

Here I still am, still experiencing life and still learning from and about it. Perhaps it's my legacy.

Back in my little apartment, the only music available was from a few vinyl records I'd salvaged and what I played on the piano I'd persuaded the music store to sell me, having no credit standing of my own and no money but meager salary from making draperies in a 7th floor department store 'sweat shop'. They must have taken pity on me. I HAD to have a piano to keep me going. After work I played it all evening and most of my day off.

I love the swishing sound

Of cars

On rain-glistened city street,

Teasing my heart.

With every beat

Listening for

Another song to start~

But - when?

______© Nellieanna H. Hay

Why I'm still alive

I really do not know.

But

Here

I

Am.

______© Nellieanna H. Hay

5-5-73

Sometimes

I'm too ready,

Yet repel.

I struggle.

Nothing seems to fit

Or fits too well.

Even then,

The poems I write -

Lack flow.

It helps to simply

Spit it out - as is -

And know.

______© Nellieanna H. Hay

3-7-73

Caressed into soft ripples

Or churned into a tidal wave

Onto the shore

The fluid surface

Always calms

And comes to rest

Once more.

______© Nellieanna H. Hay

9-9-72

Crowded barrenness-

Mute cacophany -

Illusive reality.

Not light

But light itself.

Not life

But life itself.

A distorted shadow

Of light.

A distorted pageant

Of Life.

______© Nellieanna H. Hay

9-6-72

Free Fall

Futile dreams divide

Realms emerge, sequence

But soon subside.

Substance which seems malleable

Becomes intractable.

It fades away.

Poems from whence

Lack flow,

Illusion blocking clarity.

Perhaps the stuff

Is at my fingertips

But I don't know.

______© Nellieanna H. Hay

9-7-72

Joy arises

Not because of

What is happening.

It's self-originating,

The cause of

Whatever happens

And effects.

Tonight, arisen

It is happening.

______© Nellieanna H. Hay

9-9-72

Upon a hill

I climbed one day

By accident,

I found my soul

And recognized it

Instantly.

I could have

Just as easily

Missed it

And gone another way.

_____© Nellieanna H. Hay

9-9-72

Perhaps

It all looks better

Right-side-up.

______© Nellieanna H. Hay

8-8-73

Fertile moment

Passes,

Followed by

Another one.

______© Nellieanna H. Hay

1-9-73