The Rest is Silence - Family

[6 Sep 2012 – As frequently happens while doing Family Research, my thoughts pause and ponder the 'doings of the folks' that came before me.  So much will NEVER be known about their lives -- births and deaths, marriages and children, loves and hate, successes and failures, triumphs and challenges—just so much is LOST.]

INTRODUCTION

 

I have so MANY questions that will NEVER be answered about my Family!!

 

WHERE did I come from?

 

WHO were my forebears?

 

WHERE did my forebears live?  WHY did they relocate?

 

WHO are these people in the Family photos, drawings, paintings, and documents? 

YOUR LIFETIME AND YOUR PASSAGE

 

We all come here as newborn children of our parents, each a unique creation from God’s own hands, our births celebrated by Heavenly Angels and Earthly Family and Friends.

 

Our Passage through Time as ordinary mortals is painted with colors of love and hate, grief and joy, gain and loss, and more, with all the lessons of a Lifetime that affect one's choices on our Earthly and Moral Journey.

 

The unique Life Story of every individual is recorded in the people whose Lives one touches, in the memories of one that linger in others, and in the mark one leaves on the land and events.

 

But, I have to ask:

 

WHAT will your Life Story tell?

 

WHO follows to tell your Life Story?

 

HOW will your Life Story be shared (internet, ipad, iphone, DVD, blog, twitter, facebook, diary, television, movies, letters, documents, photos, mementoes, souvenirs, or ..)?

 

On the other hand, WILL your Life Story remain untold after death, and "The rest is silence".  {Hamlet, Act V, Scene 2, by William Shakespeare (1564-1616) an English poet and playwright}

So many times as one approaches Life's Final Chapter, a clearing-out of letters, documents, photos, and the like is performed.  This culling process is often painful for you or even for the person doing the process for a decedent.  It is often the case, that many Pages of one's Life Story are LOST.

 

When my maternal Cousin Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (1830-1896), an American poet born in Amherst, Massachusetts, passed away, so many of her prose, poetry, and letters were found and saved.  To this day, there are international societies, classes, tours, museums, facebook and web sites, books, and memorabilia of her Life and Time.

 

This LOSS, of a Family History or Story untold, unsaved, and silent, may not be apparent to the current generation(s), but can be felt keenly by the next generations that will ask the same questions that I myself ask.

                                  [Photos source: Google internet images]

IN CLOSING

 

That being said, consider NOW a GREAT TIME to 'turn over a new leaf this Autumn 2012.

 

Take a photo and add a caption (date, location, occasion, and people in photo).

 

Save a memento, letter, document, or whatever, and attach a description.

 

Fill in the pages of the Family Bible with births, marriages, deaths, and more.

 

For example, to record my Life's Story and my Family's Story, I use:  a digital camera, a scanner and printer, Google BLOG, www.Ancestry.com for family tree posting, www.findagrave.com for cemetery and final resting place posting, and I label and caption a lot.

 

Use your creativity and imagination to record your Life's Story and that of your Family.  DO it NOW!  Make a START!  Make a difference!

 

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr]

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HOW DO I LOVE THEE

                    [Photo Source:  GOOGLE online images]

(1 Feb 2012 –  Below is a poem written by my maternal Cousin Emily Elizabeth Dickinson where she speaks in poetry of LOVE not understood – despite the use of words or wisdom.  ENJOY the genius of this poetess!  dht)

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[Emily Elizabeth Dickinson Poem #568] 

We learned the Whole of Love –

The Alphabet – the Words –

A Chapter – then the mighty Book –

Then – Revelation closed –

But in Each Other's eyes

An Ignorance beheld –

Diviner than the Childhood's –

And each to each, a Child – 

Attempted to expound

What Neither – understood –

Alas, that Wisdom is so large –

And Truth – so manifold!

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How many words are needed to tell those you LOVE what is in your HEART?  How long the verse?  The Chapter?  The Book?  Perhaps LOVE cannot be explained in words -– the Language of the HEART!  

The saying is in the showing – not the verb!  

[Dorothy Hazel Tarr]

BY WHAT NAME -- TRUTH

*** BY WHAT NAME -- TRUTH ***

(On 30 Aug 2011 — Just thinking about the many perceptions that exist within my logic and Heart; then thinking about the many perceptions of others through Time and the Ages. What is absolute for one in a Time, can be known by a different name by another. "Truth" is but a myth transported by Time and borne on the 'wings' of Eternity.)  
[dht-2011]  


Truth — is as old as God —
His Twin identity
And will endure as long as He
A Co-Eternity —

And perish on the Day
Himself is borne away
From Mansion of the Universe
A lifeless Deity.
[~Emily Elizabeth Dickinson, #836]

"Yet, Truth and God exist on a different 'Plane',
Whence Time and Nature portent."
[~ dht-2011, DNA Cousin of Emily Elizabeth Dickinson]

(SPECIAL NOTE:  Emily Elizabeth Dickinson is my DNA Maternal Cousin)

AUGUST'S CANTICLE

In 21 Aug 2011, I was thinking about the poem #1068 written by my DNA Maternal Cousin Emily Elizabeth Dickinson.  There are many documented versions of this poem, and I have posted one version here. 

Since discovering my Family connection to Emily (we share the same many Great Grandparents Moses Payne (1581-1643)  and  Mary Benison Payne (1585 – 1616)),   I have been reading her writings and about her life and times.

Below is a short 'reply' to the poem #1068, that I wrote as if it were to be part of a letter that I would send to Emily.  As I have been reading her writings, I find them affecting me in different ways, and frequently I feel that she is writing to me, for our lives are similar in so many ways.  Anyway, here is the 'reply' that I would include in my letter to her.

"As August cools, Haunting Dreams of wild imaginings burn as blue flames, Memories ripe, cannot Ferment fast enough for the intoxicant Day Dreamer."

[-dht-2011, DNA Cousin to Emily Elizabeth Dickinson]

AND, below is Emily's poem #1068

Further in Summer than the Birds
Pathetic from the Grass
A minor Nation celebrates
It's unobtrusive Mass

No Ordinance be seen
So gradual the Grace
A pensive Custom it becomes
Enlarging Loneliness.

Antiquest felt at Noon
When August is burning low
Arise this spectral Canticle
Repose to typify

Remit as yet no Grace
No Furrow on the Glow
Yet a Druidic Difference
Enhances Nature now

[-Emily Elizabeth Dickinson, Poem #1068]

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When also thinking of August, one of my favorite songs comes to mind, "Scarborough Fair", a hauntingly beautiful ballad with powerful lyrics that are larger than a single voice, expressing a special message only the Heart hears.  [dht-2011]

Song History and Lyrics link

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scarborough_Fair_(ballad)

  

YouTube link

Scarborough Faire Canticle - Simon and Garfunkel {SONG and HYMN}

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SfqpAWPx6T4

[PHOTO SOURCE: Renaissance Fair 1975 California with my daughter and myself dressed "haute couture"]

Everyday Words - Everyday Thoughts

Your thoughts don't have words every day
They come a single time

Like signal esoteric sips
Of the communion Wine

Which while you taste so native seems
So easy so to be

You cannot comprehend its price
Nor its infrequency

[~ Emily Elizabeth Dickinson, Poem #1452]

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DEF: "esoteric" Adjective: Intended for or likely to be understood by only a small number of people with a specialized knowledge or interest.

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In this poem, my Maternal Cousin EMILY Elizabeth Dickinson (10 Dec 1830 - 15 May 1886), says to ME that there are NOT words enough to describe every feeling and emotion that float through my mind every day. Moreover, that the meaning of some thoughts is confusing to some who do not know my circumstance or me. In addition, some 'words' when said or written have a 'price' that is a toll paid by the author for their effect on the emotions and attitude of self and others.

EMILY did not follow the typical path of a woman of her time for she never married. She lived a solitary life in her parent's home taking care of the household and her parents during their lifetime and illness and after their deaths living alone in the homestead in Amherst, Massachusetts. She spent many hours in conjugating the mental processes and writing down some of her feelings and thoughts about her life, nature, faith, love, death, and other topics. In over 1700 poems and writings, that are known about, she recorded on paper by hand (no computers or MSWord) her thoughts in 'words'. Today she is considered a genius with the use of words, and there are college course, books, museums, and historical societies that are dedicated to reading her 'words' and analyzing each punctuation, phrase, topic, and nuance.

For myself, I believe EMILY'S 'words' and her poetry and writings can be best enjoyed when applied to my own life and experiences. In this way, I am internalizing her whispered words that murmur to my heart and that put a 'period' to my feelings and thoughts. Sometimes, I find that by reading something she has written, I am better able to gain clarity on a point in my life. Clarity helps remove the confusion and shadows that intrude and hinder the 'walk of life'. There are enough 'boulders' and 'rough seas' that make the journey difficult!

I am reminded of a time that a DEAR FRIEND helped me to reach clarity at a time, a couple of years ago, when I was baffled and confused. My friend listened to me describe my status and said that it sounded like I was experiencing DEEP GRIEF. This was a welcome realization and helped me put into perspective the many confusing feelings and thoughts that floated through my mind and heart and fell softly on to my wet cheeks. Grief is a personal process that no 'words' can explain, but 'words' in a Poem, a Prayer, or from a DEAR FRIEND can help the healing process through the solitary feelings from loss of loved ones.

[~ DOROTHY HAZEL TARR, dht-2011]


[PHOTO SOURCE; GOOGLE online images]

Three Butterfly Theme Poems

[PHOTO SOURCE: National Geographic online images]
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From Cocoon forth a Butterfly – A poem by Emily Dickinson

From Cocoon forth a Butterfly
As Lady from her Door
Emerged -- a Summer Afternoon --
Repairing Everywhere --

Without Design -- that I could trace
Except to stray abroad
On Miscellaneous Enterprise
The Clovers -- understood --

Her pretty Parasol be seen
Contracting in a Field
Where Men made Hay --
Then struggling hard
With an opposing Cloud --

Where Parties -- Phantom as Herself --
To Nowhere -- seemed to go
In purposeless Circumference --
As 'twere a Tropic Show --

And notwithstanding Bee -- that worked --
And Flower -- that zealous blew --
This Audience of Idleness
Disdained them, from the Sky --

Till Sundown crept -- a steady Tide --
And Men that made the Hay --
And Afternoon -- and Butterfly --
Extinguished -- in the Sea --

[~ Emily Elizabeth Dickinson, Poem #354]

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PHOTO SOURCE: National Geographic online images]

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Some such Butterfly be seen – A poem by Emily Dickinson

Some such Butterfly be seen
On Brazilian Pampas --
Just at noon -- no later -- Sweet --
Then -- the License closes --

Some such Spice -- express and pass --
Subject to Your Plucking --
As the Stars -- You knew last Night --
Foreigners -- This Morning –

[~ Emily Elizabeth Dickinson, Poem #541]

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[PHOTO SOURCE: National Geographic online images]

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Two butterflies went out at Noon -- A poem by Emily Dickinson

Two butterflies went out at Noon --
And waltzed upon a Farm --
Then stepped straight through the Firmament
And rested, on a Beam --

And then -- together bore away
Upon a shining Sea --
Though never yet, in any Port --
Their coming, mentioned -- be --

If spoken by the distant Bird --
If met in Ether Sea
By Frigate, or by Merchantman --
No notice -- was -- to me --

[~ Emily Elizabeth Dickinson, Poem #533]

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A SPECIAL THANK YOU to my Kindred Spirit and Counsin "C",  
for a PERFECT gift and remembrance -- A Book of Poems by Emily Dickinson.

Thank you for the gift, with warm affection, respect, and friendship, Dee
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Rainy Days - and - Rainbows

(Inspiration and sentiment for this writing, 25 May 2011, arrived from the rain that fell this morning over my roof, and set the leaves to sparkle in the sunshine -- the sunshine has come out and the sky that is 'chuck' full of glorious RAINBOWS! )

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A drop fell on the apple tree
Another on the roof;
A half a dozen kissed the eaves,
And made the gables laugh.

A few went out to help the brook,
That went to help the sea.
Myself conjectured, Were they pearls,
What necklaces could be!

The dust replaced in hoisted roads
The birds jocoser sung;
The sunshine threw his hat away,
The orchards spangles hung.

The breezes brought dejected lutes
And bathed them in the glee;
The East put out a single flag,
And signed the fete away.
[~ Emily Elizabeth Dickinson, Poem #794]


{A VERY SPECIAL THANK YOU to a VERY SPECIAL FRIEND for the VERY SPECIAL GIFT OF A BOOK OF POETRY and WRITINGS of EMILY ELIZABETH DICKINSON.  Emily was/is my Maternal DNA Cousin, and my very special friend that made me the gift of this book, and put a personal inscription inside,  is my Maternal Cousin and Kindred Spirit "C". [~ dht-2011] }

OR why didn't you just say so (Emily's poem):


It seems Emily's poem #794 is about a summer rain shower and how it refreshes and changes the land as the water cycles (a chain of nature as a chain of pearls in a necklace) through nature as rain, streams, rivers, seas, oceans, then evaporation and storms and rain again.   How the land is blessed, kissed by the rain, decorated by glittering raindrops, and dust is settled.   How the rain makes soft and cheery sounds on the roof and birds sing their song.   How the sunshine 'gave it up' and the clouds and rain prevailed in rain shower festivities (fete), until the sun came out again from the East and displayed a rainbow (flag).   How the rain and wind washes the leaves (pear shaped leaves like a lute).
[~ dht-2011]


[PHOTO SOURCE:  National Geographic Online image of Rainbow]

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson – Dawn and Doors

[Photo Source: My photo, my camera, my backyard capturing a fleeting beautiful Dawn.]

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POEM about 'Dawn and Doors'

(Below is a short poem written by my maternal Cousin Emily Elizabeth Dickinson that I first read 5 Feb 2011.  I have a fondness for poetry and prose that use "doors" and "sunrise" for thoughts and feelings.  A door used with sunrise, to me, means 'beginnings'.  Enjoy this short poem, again or for the first time, and let's see what it means to YOU !!)


Not knowing when the Dawn will come,

I open every Door,

Or has it Feathers, like a Bird,

Or Billows, like a Shore –

[Emily Elizabeth Dickinson, Poem # 1619]

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Emily Elizabeth Dickinson -- (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886) "The Belle of Amherst", was an American poet.  Born in Amherst, Massachusetts, to a successful family with strong community ties, she lived a mostly introverted and reclusive life.  After she studied at the Amherst Academy for seven years in her youth, she spent a short time at Mount Holyoke Female Seminary before returning to her family's house in Amherst, Massachusetts.

Although Dickinson was a prolific private poet, fewer than a dozen of her nearly eighteen hundred poems were published during her lifetime.  The work that was published during her lifetime was usually altered significantly by the publishers to fit the conventional poetic rules of the time.  Dickinson's poems are unique for the era in which she wrote; they contain short lines, typically lack titles, and often use slant rhyme as well as unconventional capitalization and punctuation.  Many of her poems deal with themes of death and immortality, two recurring topics in letters to her friends.

Although most of her acquaintances were probably aware of Dickinson's writing, it was not until after her death in 1886—when" Vinnie" Lavinia Dickinson Norcross  (1833-1899), Emily's younger sister, discovered her cache of poems—that the breadth of Dickinson's work became apparent.  Her first collection of poetry was published in 1890 by personal acquaintances Thomas Wentworth Higginson and Mabel Loomis Todd, both of whom heavily edited the content.  A complete and mostly unaltered collection of her poetry became available for the first time in 1955 when The Poems of Emily Dickinson was published by scholar Thomas H. Johnson.  Despite unfavorable reviews and skepticism of her literary prowess during the late 19th and early 20th century, critics now consider Dickinson to be a major American poet. 

SOURCE:    [ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emily_Dickinson  ]

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Tribute to Cousin Emily – A Kindred Spirit


I am honored to share with Emily Dickinson the same many-Great-Grandparents (Moses Payne [1581 England-1643 Massachusetts, USA] and his wife Mary Benison Payne [1585 England-1616 England]); they were my Maternal 9th Great Grandparents and they were Emily's Maternal 6th Great Grandparents.  I feel as a kindred spirit with Emily for we both endured the day-to-day tasks of keeping house while caring for dear ones and making time to pursue songs of our heart.  Emily was an artist and used her genius to write beautiful poems as she used words to weave her thoughts and feelings of nature and life.   

Emily enjoyed the early hours of the day, and wrote many descriptive passages that included imagery of nature, sunrise, birds, and the hopes of what would be revealed in the new dawn.

WHAT THIS POEM sings to my heart

The newest addition to my bookshelf is a book of Emily Dickinson's writings.  It is a wonderful way to spend a few moments in the early hours opening to a random page and letting her poetry flow over my heart as she shares her thoughts on her daily life with poetic observations of time, nature, death, love, hope, society, and dawn.

In this particular poem, I can feel the myriad possibilities and opportunities that are available anew with each sunrise, as a 'new door is opened with the dawn of a new day'.

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