The Curlew Store

This song (the tune) was written by Danny Rash, arranged by Ted Lombard (my music teacher) and I wrote the lyrics.  I have memories of walking, hot summer day, down to the Curlew Store, hoping there would be a letter waiting for me, as I was 14 and had a boyfriend in another state.  I lived and died for those letters.  That’s what this song is about.  About being a kid.  Experiencing a small town, experiencing something hoped for, and being let down.  A sweet memory of a tentative time.

 

Down to the store 
On a hot dusty day
Past the long wooden bench 
For waiting

It is cooler inside
Down the tall walls of goods
To the back of the store
The wall for mail

Turn the dial to the right 
Stop at 7, and then
Spin it round to the left
And I peer in

The letter I hoped would be there 
Had not made its way 
For waiting

The letter I hoped would be there 
Had not made its way 
On this hot dusty day 
Past the long wooden bench
For waiting

I’m waiting…..

 

By Danny Rash

Arranged by Ted Lombard

Lyrics Lisa Boyl-Davis

 

 

 

 

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Flipflop Blues

I’ve never experimented with writing children’s songs.  Here’s my first attempt.  The tune was written by Danny Rash, and arranged by Ted Lombard.  It has the sound of hurried feet headed out the door – off to go fishing:)

 

7 dusty flipflops go’n fish’n

7 tired flipflops headed home

7 lazy flipflops on the back porch

Where to find the other one?

Look’n under

Look’n over

Hunt’n clover

Where’s that shoe?

Look’n under

Look’n over

What’s a lonely foot to do?

7 muddy flipflops in the bathtub

7 shiney flipflops in the sun

7 flipflops ready for adventure

Where to find the other one?

Look’n under

Look’n over

Hunt’n clover

Where’s that shoe?

Look’n under

Look’n over

What’s a lonely foot to do?

Someone sing’n flipflop blues….

Oh ya:)

 

Song Written By Danny Rash

Lyrics By Lisa Boyl-Davis

Arranged by Ted Lombard

 

Biking Next To You

Evening summer

Passing shadows with you

 

When the sun drops down

Hiding all our troubles

Biking all our troubles far behind

Biking next to you

 

When the sun drops down

Hiding all our troubles

Biking all our troubles far behind

Biking next to you

 

This ole hill has blocked our view

so tired to the bone

You and me, we’re almost there

And now we’re coasting home

 

When the sun drops down

Hiding all our troubles

Biking all our troubles far behind

Biking next to you

 

Lyrics by Lisa Boyl-Davis

Music by Danny Rash

Arranged by Ted Lombard

African Rain Samba

The steady rains are here again

The washout wide across my path

Journey’s longer

Me and the downpour

and

tears

The steady rains are here again

The showers sting my feet

Journey’s longer

Me and the downpour and

tears

on

my

face

Rains came when

we

went

our

way

 

Rains came when we parted ways

Went our way

…Away

So far away

lyrics by lisa boyl-davis

 

Lyrics by me,

for a beautiful tune written by Danny Rash who plays one mean trombone,

arranged by Ted Lombard who plays some beautiful jazz piano.

The Abusive Treatment of Body and Narcissism

I am reblogging this. This past year I went through another bout with cancer. The reaction I had to radiation was straight off a freak show. I was unrecognizable – swollen and a real mess. Practicing kindness has allowed me to manage cancer, now, the third time – with kindness I slowly move toward healthy. A mean spirit toward myself does nothing but drive me toward the things that don’t allow me to heal. Kindness opens up space for healing. I’ve tried this approach over and over, and it’s real. Kindness is a diet of its own:)

...because healing spreads

The way we treat our bodies in this culture is the way a Narcissist treats everyone. Like something to use.  Narcissistic people are motivated by one thing.  Will this benefit me?

Let’s say I’m a Narc and I’m deciding whether I should say hello to you or not.  The thought process is simple. 

Will talking to you benefit me? 

Will talking to you make me look better? 

Will talking to you give me more power, or make me look smarter?

Will taking my time with you give me an edge in any way? 

Of course there are spiritualized versions of this. 

Will talking to you be worthy of my time?  My time really belongs to God, and after all, you didn’t listen the last time I told you what to do.

When relationally oriented (non-narc) types makes a decision, ‘Will this benefit me?’ is one of…

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Bill Died Yesterday

 

Yesterday Bill died.  Bill, our friend.  The Bill with a smirk, always a wonderful smirk on his face.  The mischievous tinkle.  The face I always looked forward to seeing, I’d search for Bill across the crowded Sunday Morning service.  Worried he’d someday be gone.

What will the world be like without Bill?  Our kind-hearted friend.  The guy always with time to listen.  Who loved to see me.  The smile he’d get when he saw our kids.  The stories he and Ted shared, standing out in the church parking lot, unhurried – they would talk.  A car where they were standing needed to back out, they would move to one side, and keep talking.  They’d have to move again.  And still, so much to say.  Never too busy to share another story, he and Ted could talk about anything at all.  Bill holding onto his stick (“It’s not a cane”, he’d say) – his son had carved it for him.  He’d tell about the trips across the states.  All about the adventures.  About the wind at one of the rest stops so strong someone had to help him to the restroom.  Into his 90’s, he was still on the go.  He’d tell about his flying days.  He was a flight instructor during WWII.  Ted and Bill both loved airplanes, they had that in common.  Ted knows which planes he flew.  I can never remember. 

Bill would come along on church campouts.  He’d join the kids for the campout bike parades.  He’d decorate his bike up fancy too.  And always the twinkle, the smirk. 

Bill, such a thoughtful guy.  I remember telling him one Sunday that Marty, our son, who he was fond of, had graduated from H.S.  I invited him to the graduation party.  I really didn’t expect him to make it.  His wife had passed away and doubted he was getting out much.  He came walking up, a bit unsteady on his feet even then, but came to congratulate Marty. 

Losing his wife I think was so hard on him.  He’d tear up anytime he talked about her.   The wife he’d spent a lifetime with, raising so many children that at her funeral I lost track of the count.  Their children, birth children and foster kids.  A lifetime of giving love to each other, and to their many kids and friends.  Grace had a stroke and for years Bill took care of her, bringing her to church in the wheelchair, his patient easy-going ways.  It was definitely true love.

Bill would steal purses.  You’d be chatting with him, and get distracted.  A few minutes later you’d realize your purse was gone.  After scrambling, you’d notice across the room, your purse and a few others hanging from Bills shoulder.  He did this enough times that the church finally presented him with his own purse, which he faithfully wore with his Sunday best. 

This story, it happens everyday.  Good people are born, live, then they die.  He was 96, after all.  And still, I can’t make it OK in my head that it will work for Bill to be missing.  I suppose that would be due to the significant lack of Bill’s in this world.  The eyes that see you from across the room.  The sideways smile.  The twinkle.  The dry jokes.  The smirk. The trust to share a story.  Taking the time to do so.  The interest in others. The caring questions.  The lifetime of giving and loving.  A man whose choices benefited so many. 

I suppose he stole things other than purses.  Like hearts.  It’s a habit.  Whenever I find my seat in church, I hunt for the site of Bill.  Bill died yesterday.  Finally with Grace again.  The twinkle.  The smirk.  Though he’s gone from us, he’s where he’s been headed all along.  A little support through the windy patch, and he’s arrived.  

 

All I Ask

by Gordon Jenkins

Beautiful girls, walk a little slower when you walk by me

Lingering sunsets, stay a little longer with the lonely sea

Children everywhere, when you shoot at bad men, shoot at me

Take me to that strange, enchanted land grown-ups seldom understand

Wandering rainbows, leave a bit of color for my heart to own

Stars in the sky, make my wish come true before the night has flown
And let the music play
as long as there’s a song to sing
And we will stay younger
than Spring

Functional Forgiveness

 

A quote from Google:

Psychologists generally define forgiveness as a conscious, deliberate decision to release feelings of resentment or vengeance toward a person or group who has harmed you, regardless of whether they actually deserve your forgiveness.

The topic of forgiveness could take many moons to cover.  Most of us have heard the way the body benefits from forgiveness.  How dangerous cortisol is.  Though there is much to explore on these points, I will be taking another direction. 

When I think about forgiveness, I think of why we are afraid to forgive.  This might seem like a rabbit trail, but what I’m about to say relates.  In my work with clients, often I will get a question about whether trauma treatment warps memory or not.  I am an EMDR therapist, and the client asking me this question is trying to understand what will happen to their thinking by receiving the treatment.  What I’m being asked is ‘will this process change the way I feel about what happened to me?’  This question is not saying ‘I hope I don’t feel better when the treatment is all over’  It is really asking ‘Will I agree with the perpetrator and all the others who minimized what happened?’  ‘Will I become nonchalant about things so horrible that now I can hardly put words to?  I don’t want to be OK with the molestation, with the beatings, with lies.  I don’t want to agree with all those who would not take seriously what happened.’ 

This desire to honor what has happened is related to the struggle with forgiveness, and is misunderstood by those who either distance themselves from hurting others as a way of distancing from their own pain, or by those have not been harmed (since there are very few of these types, I’m guessing it’s usually the first.)

  Comments will be made –

  • you love to live in the past
  • just a wallowing in your pain, aren’t you
  • get over it

And so we work hard to get over it.

Many of us who have been hurt have not realized it, but we have agreed with the one who harmed us by working hard to “get over it”.  We also agreed by taking on the blame ourselves.  If I had just acted differently, if I had said something, if I had been more quiet, I should have known he was in a bad mood.  I should have left the house.  When I do not squarely place the blame on the abuser, I am living dishonestly. 

A person who is living dishonestly about what has happened becomes what we call symptomatic.  When I lie to myself, my body decides it has to turn up the dial – trying to get my attention that I’m off track, kind of like the way I feel when I start to veer over the line on the freeway – my anxiety my go up, my depression may increase, my sleep becomes troubled, I overeat, I drink, I use drugs, I become angry, I become resentful and hurt – and still, with all these symptoms, don’t allow myself to identify clearly what has happened.  It’s at this point that someone sees my misery and suggests that I forgive my abuser. 

Some would say its never wrong to forgive, it seems to me, however that forgiveness can be premature.  In other words, for me to say I forgive you, I need to first tell myself the truth about what you did to me.  My body is trying to remind me of the harm by the triggers, the anger I feel, by the anxiety, by the sleepless nights, my body tells the truth, however I haven’t told myself the truth.  Encouraging a jump to forgiveness is often used to avoid the messy steps of dealing with what has happened.  The power of forgiveness is knowing the full ugliness of what actually happened, and from that place forgiveness is strong. I become strong when I forgive the fullness of what you have done.

Forgiveness is not forgetting. 

It is, in fact, quite the opposite. 

Forgiving is admitting that a wrong has been done. 

To forgive you is for me to admit that what you did was not ok.    

Like so many things in life, the idea of forgiveness has been misused as a way of diminishing harm done.  A quick, get over it, forgive kind of gesture we give to each other.  When really, forgiveness honors the harm done by its very nature.

An important reminder.  Forgiveness is not reconciliation.  Forgiveness does not mean I will ever see you again.  Reconciliation is possible after forgiveness, however it takes both parties to reconcile.  We won’t go into reconciliation here today, however, just remember forgiveness is not necessarily contacting the person who harmed you.  In many cases, it is not recommended that you contact that person.  Forgiveness is a choice you make in your own spirit about the harm done. 

A few additional details about forgiveness:

  1. When I forgive, I remind myself I also need forgiven (I admit to myself that I have caused harm to others at times, even if I hadn’t meant to.) 
  2. When I forgive, I am sending the message to myself that I don’t have to be perfect.  I give myself permission to make mistakes.  Because I forgive, I can be forgiven.
  3. When I forgive I don’t need the another person to apologize and ask for forgiveness.  I forgive even when the one who has done the harm won’t admit guilt.
  4. When I forgive, I am not forgetting, I am not condoning and I am not excusing offenses.
  5. When I forgive, I’m able to live in the present.  That provides me a chance to grow.  When I don’t forgive, I’m stuck.  Holding onto pain, resentment, anger, hurt does not harm the offender.  It harms me.
  6. When I forgive, it’s not a gift to another, it’s a gift to myself.
  7. When I forgive, I am allowing myself the opportunity for future healthy relationships.  It’s easy to see why I don’t want to forgive a monster, however when I don’t make a habit of forgiveness, all my relationships suffer, even the ones I care about the most.
  8. When I forgive, I don’t have to feel like forgiving.  I simply have to choose to forgive.  I might still have rage, loathing, even hate, and can choose to forgive.  Each time the feelings present themselves I can choose to forgive again.  That’s about the time joy peeks itself around the corner of my life.
  9. When I don’t forgive, I have a narrow view of life.  When I forgive, my view becomes broader. Both for others and myself.

In conclusion, the very thing that prevents us from forgiveness, the attempt at honoring the truth of our experience, is the thing that will dishonor ourselves the most.  Because not forgiving causes me to re-experience the harm again and again.  I shouldn’t have had to experience the harm once, let alone over and over.  Rather than forgiveness causing me to dishonor the harm that has been done, forgiveness gives be a wide and high view, allowing me to honor more deeply the meaning of what has happened, and allows me to have a better understanding of the perpetrator and myself. 

 

The Inheritance of Emotional Isolation

Aunt Margaret died today. Experiencing the full implications of her losses and what a strong beautiful woman she was in spite of the abandonment. So sad she has passed, and also thankful today she is with her loved ones who have already passed.

...because healing spreads

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What does it mean to crouch behind
A name that isn’t yours
Done changed the first one just enough for hiding
A date of birth, mostly the same, except for 10 years short
The lies –
like pebbles
in our shoes
we’re finding.

A Grandpa we thought ours alone
Still married to another
Abandoned darling wife and son,
And then there were the others
A daughter 8, and 6 and 4
This wife he’d never harm
Dark night they slept
Is when he left,
For some new set of arms.

As years they passed,
Wife looked for him –
Her girls – they had to eat
He’d hurry just a step ahead
Now working down the street
Then ‘cross the town
And round the bend
The changes helped him hide
He’d not be found, nor made to pay
“Won’t push ME to provide.”

Looking out for number one
His wife…

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Our Kids Are In Trouble

Our kids are in trouble

They killing each other

In an organized – thought out sorta way

And it’s all over

Cold hallway bloodbath

Dropn like flies

While we so smug

Hold onto our rights

I hold my ground

You hold yours

And now they’re gone

My right to choose any gun I like without a question

My right to watch what I wanna watch, without exception

Our kids at risk since a positive test

Their protection way down on the list

Both left and right

Responsible for this

And now they’re gone

Our kids are in trouble

We’re killing each other

In an organized – thought out sorta way

And it’s all over

Cold hallway bloodbath

Dropn like flies

While we so smug

Hold onto our rights

I hold my ground

You hold yours

And now they’re gone

by Lisa Boyl-Davis

Written Feb 22, 2018