"Need" - Original Song by Jonathan Thwaits

Many moons ago, I worked more particularly with an extraordinary group of young women in my ward in Tucson.  First, I was blessed to be their Sunday School teacher; and when that class completed the year, I was called to be Laurel Advisor to this same group of wonderful gals.  I became quite close to most of them.  Connections formed with these young sisters of mine have kept my heart and mind grounded through the years.

One of these former young women of mine is Marisa.  At the time, Marisa's last name was Henderson.  Marisa has always struck me as being a most sensitive soul: reflective, down-to-earth, willing and ready to sacrifice, slow to anger and judgment, a peacemaker, a loyal friend, and a romantic.  In high school, she was also one of those stand out kind of gals in that she wore clothes that highlighted her as an individual, rather than just conform to the fashion norms.  Marisa was Alternative Rock, when Alternative Rock wasn't cool.

Marisa ended up marrying this guy with an oddly-spelled last name whom I never knew: Jonathan Thwaits.  For years, I didn't even know how to pronounce that name, and was rather challenged to not do painful somersaults when my tongue stuck to the sidewalk during the attempted roll of the "Th" part of the name.  As in THUD!  Come to find out, you just drop the "h"-sound  altogether.  You sound it out like waits, but you put the big, bold "T" ahead of the wait.  As it should be.  Marisa always has been amazingly patient, yet incredibly bold at the same time.  It makes sense that she would not only find a guy who suits her in so many compatible ways, but that she would find a guy with a last name that fits her personality, too.

Well, just like Marisa, her guy Jonathan has turned out to be quite a winner in my book.  Unpretentious, intelligent as all get out, playful, a dreamer with enough steady grounding to provide lovingly for his family while reaching for those dreams, a creative genius, and a soulful musician.  Through his music, I've come to admire the man that Jonathan is.

I have likewise been lifted up in spirit and continuing hope for the future of my former young woman, Marisa.  Yes, even as her blog title declares, All Good Things Come to Them that Thwaits.  She has made me a believer.

Here is one of Jon's original songs entitled, "Need."  This one touches me on a personal level and fits the theme of my own blog, Becoming Skinhorse, so I gladly include it here.  I hope you enjoy it and end up checking out some of his other songs, too.  He actually has his own blog with more of his original music.  But, for now . . . I hope you will enjoy this one at least half as much as I have.

Taking Risks

To laugh is to risk being a fool. 

To weep is to risk appearing sentimental. 

To reach out to another is to risk involvement. 

To express feelings is to risk exposing your true self. 

To place your ideas, your dreams, before a crowd is to risk their loss. 

To love is to risk not being loved in return. 

To live is to risk dying. 

To hope is to risk despair. 

To try is to risk failure. 

The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, and is nothing.  They may avoid suffering and sorrow, but they simply cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, or live.  Risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.  Only a person who risks is free.

- Leo Buscaglia

As a high school Junior, I lived in Sierra Vista, Arizona and was enrolled in Buena High School.  (Well, truthfully, as a Junior, I was enrolled in high schools four different times: in Tucson first, then Sierra Vista, then Safford, then back again to Sierra Vista.  These moves all followed on the heels of two high school enrollments in 9th grade and five more in 10th grade.  Mom wanted to move yet again just before the end of my 11th grade year, but I glued my feet to the floor and basically said, "You go; I'm staying."  Oh, but I digress.)  I managed to stay in Sierra Vista my entire Senior year and ended up graduating from Buena.

I was blessed to have an extraordinary teacher while at Buena: Dixi Dougherty.  We all called her Ms. D for short.  She loved her students and loved teaching, and it was part of her natural teaching style to regularly share profound quotes and other significant ideas.  The above quote by Leo Buscaglia is one that I remember her having shared during my high school years when I was taking her Psychology, Sociology, and U.S. Constitution classes.  I found it refreshing that her teaching style did not change despite the fact that the subjects were so different from one another.

I think some of the key gifts I received from Ms. D were her consistent messages about mankind's need for one another, our humanness, and just simple validation that the emotional patterns already apparent in my young life made sense and were worth something.  I dared to vulnerably share a few things when I was young.  I risked my heart.  She offered safety and understanding as I did so, and greatly enlarged my vision of self-worth and worth to others whom I might encounter in future days.

So, over the years, I've continued to do my share of risking in different ways, just as Leo Buscaglia and Ms. D counseled.  I've been able to discern reactions to me and my willingness to risk from several souls, too.  Those reactions have run the gamut—everything from downright suspicion, fear, and rejection to whole-hearted acceptance and love.  Because of the tangible pain repeatedly handed me as I have dared to risk, I have been tempted to mind my emotional Ps and Qs, to conform more, to blend in, to fade out.  But, the strongest part of my inner self continues to teach me, even scold me, saying, "Such thinking is not right.  Keep going.  Keep trying.  Keep sharing."

A few good handfuls of people along the way have spoken words to this general effect after observing me in action a little while: "Jacki, I just don't know how you can do and say some of the things you do and say.  I would be scared to death.  I could never do that. How do you?"  A lot of times, I have to ask for more specifics, because I just can't quite grasp what they are referencing.  Once they tell me, I am usually rather surprised that the particulars are such a big deal to the person.

As it turns out, the more critical and worthwhile question is one that I might ask them!  "How do you NOT say and do some of these things?"  It makes a whole lot more sense to me that we seek to allow the best parts of ourselves breathe free—even in the face of potential pain—rather than allow ourselves to be stifled, muffled, and even suffocated by real or portended fears.  Much more comes of life as we do so, especially when there are loved ones by our side to steadily share in the journey.

Click here for more wisdom on the subject: 
"Our Deepest Fear" - (April 18, 2009)

Skinhorse Poetry: "The Sand of God’s Grace and Genius"

Quiet solitude, joyful rest,
Reveal the genius and the grace
Of Him who always loves me best,
Who moves the pallor from my face;

And touches me, a trav'ling soul,
With faith and fortitude aright
To reach beyond the shallow shoal,
Lending strength for the mortal fight—

Pressing me toward higher spheres
Where compassion doth overtake
All company of bitter tears,
Offering healing for my sake.

Heartened, take I Gilead's Balm:
Similitude of Sacrifice.
Caress hope in another's palm—
Deliv'rance from a wound-filled life.

Persuaded through that gentle touch,
Love undulates till ocean's end.
Dearth's want collapses under such.
Breadth, length, depth, height doth it transcend.

Now, truth prevails and is prolonged
In this wanderer come home to see;
God's grace and genius, like the sand,
Flows, unmeasured, in one like me.

- Jacqueline J. Hancock

Skinhorse Poetry: "The Path to Love"

Should love's limits
be defined
to exacting perimeters
so cautiously placed
by those who
fear
to search deeper,
reach farther,
risk more,
so that their hearts
might hurt less
in their so-called quest?

And in the discovery
of new love,
must there be
edges marked
and barriers raised
to show
only
the trodden path
where love's carefully
sowed garden ends
and unseen wildflowers
begin?

What shall it be then?
To keep the
respectful distance
and leave to imagination
where limits,
if there be any,
may lie?

Or defy
definitions
of love's limitations,
and challenge the distance--
believing,
and understanding also,
that only in the
stepping over of edges
and sharing of that which is
untrodden
does the truer path
to love
set in?

- Jacqueline J. Hancock