I AM Where the Enneagram finds you, and points to.

Every day is one of evolution.

1 THE REFORMER The Rational, Idealistic Type: Principled, Purposeful, Self-Controlled, and Perfectionistic 2 THE HELPER The Caring, Interpersonal Type: Demonstrative, Generous, People-Pleasing, and Possessive 3 THE ACHIEVER The Success-Oriented, Pragmatic Type: Adaptive, Excelling, Driven, and Image-Conscious 4 THE INDIVIDUALIST The Sensitive, Withdrawn Type: Expressive, Dramatic, Self-Absorbed, and Temperamental 5 THE INVESTIGATOR The Intense, Cerebral Type: Perceptive, Innovative, Secretive, and Isolated 6 THE LOYALIST The Committed, Security-Oriented Type: Engaging, Responsible, Anxious, and Suspicious 7 THE ENTHUSIAST The Busy, Fun-Loving Type: Spontaneous, Versatile, Distractible, and Scattered 8 THE CHALLENGER The Powerful, Dominating Type: Self-Confident, Decisive, Willful, and Confrontational 9 THE PEACEMAKER The Easygoing, Self-Effacing Type: Receptive, Reassuring, Agreeable, and Complacent

I zealously pursue noble causes see the blacks, whites; But systems fail me. I desire from my heart But it turns tortuously inside me, conflicted - by desire for affirmation. I feel the place where I lay my head But I do not rest - that I might not recognize some success. I sense majesty in all creation, long to be empowered But find no completion. I listen precisely to intimate intimacies But remain aloof. I understand what is right: protecting, supporting, uplifting But I know no direction. I show, express, perform, teach with an eventful flair But know no certainty. I passionately lust ahead exaggerating the rightness of where I stand; But refuse to turn any corner. I hear the quiet of my pulse Like a secret, feeling it pounding out of time. I am at the foot of the cross brokenness awaits your resurrection in me.

I am diligently desiring good most tolerant of imperfection. I am generous of spirit extending and uplifting embrace. I am creating from within achieving great things in love . I am extraordinary in the ordinary present in all wonder I am discerning and the walk is daily. I am trusting deeply, drinking from the strength of truth. I am enthusiastically embracing wisdom. I am passionate for life championing social justice. I am profoundly tranquil confident, and at peace. I am whole head, heart and gut chains broken for this time and forever I AM.

De Journey to My Solstice

Imprecise memories mingle.

It is not obvious in my days 
what I tangle in my mind.

Fallible in skips, voids, 
misplaced in thought and keys

at midlife, still searching for luck .

Four-leaf clovers occupied my imagination

more than Barbie or Jesus. 

Suspecting luck, the kissing cousin of fate,

would - could - should hobnob;

leapfrogging me over necessity 

into a tyranny of urgent, of possible

with Art. Fractal Gobbled-y-gook:

What does one do with luck?  Get a snowflake’s

destiny! Help it along. Add a regal “de”

before the family name.

Vittorio de Sica, our acquaintance made 
in caressed pages of a shelf-long encyclopedic

book by wide-eyed ogling, me. Our name 
in local marquee lights. Comedic. The world 
is on show. ‘Divorce Italian Style’. A matinee. 
A man, nothing to do, nowhere to go. Fate’s 
finite area rhythmically repeats. Irony 
in cinematic modes of vision, unerring.

Serendipity, makes both true: choice and 
chance. I marvel. A celluloid masterpiece, 
directed by an infinitely distant cousin. Awake
from Winter an invisible Summer, an uncertain
man and his dog story, Umberto D (and Flike)

a disillusioned optimist’s real legacy.

My last triad, taking stock again of leaves:  
embracing the darkness of My Solstice and nature 
like a poet with cautions to heed: not to arrive 
with Blue Jay beggary I fold into the dark 
with thickened fur, to cherish the world and people
as they are, with all their failings, and faint
tender connections to the beauty of being. Space 
lurks in the tilted balance of my body clock,  

between same old things in infinite perimeter. 

Copious clover with three leaves belie the fact
that Life is truly a factor of four. 

By Adele Houston Week One and Two of 2017

The Writing Prompt: Use concepts of Transition, Solstice, New Adventure, Hero’s Journey, or other concept of change relating to endings and beginnings. Relate it to yourself, our world, religion, politics, or other situation that feels right. NOTE: Maiden name S.A.Sica

slowDancing

Here (Wallingford CT)

We are here, agreeable.

Entwined like vineyard vines; a village

with commons and parade ground.

A riverside place of Puritan roots, whole

tribes cleaned like fowl and fish

their proudest names in covert

remembrance as rivers, and trails.

We are here, agreeable.

Where crossroads of four corners, so rare

to be perpendicular among the confluence

of hills. Grandma Moses vistas; planted

steeples, barns, and seasonal trees

Elm, Oak, Yew and Chestnut. 
Each rival nature in long years. In-filled
with Evergreens and orchards, and streets 
lined with blossoming pear.

We are here, agreeable.

Sans many grandiose homesteads, inns and means.

Historic traces in pewter, silver, and smiths.

Parks and buildings ceremoniously christened.

Community beyond calamities, actual and imaginary,

Indians, beasts, famine, the great white plague;

a disease or Other, French, Dutch or Devil,

tornado and fireworks fire.

We are here, agreed.

Beyond ‘stretched to the highest tension’

of trains, of tracks, of cable, of speech.

An incubator for Masons, sanitariums, private

schools, societies - secret or just safe. Moose

Elk and Bear bridge the boundaries of heritage

and markers declare Americana: George

passed through – here.

We are here, agreed.

Sans dragoman, yet a King

An Emperor, Czar, a few godfathers

and Dragons among an army of partisans

Few foolhardy in dissent.  Bullets in descendant’s

hands; now needles in young arms.  As if

it were the fittest missionary. Still. Our history

brings hands to our ears.

We are here, central to all.
Gatherers of stone for fountains

and gazebos forsaken, updated or gone.

Protectors and poets. Creative bedfellows.

Winds rise.  Rain renews. 

Agreeable Souls take root.

A stone wall protects our dead.

Acknowledgement: The History of Wallingford by Charles Stanley 
LITHOGRAPHS

"Our Ancestors wrought in a magnanimous spirit of rivalry with Nature, or in kindly fellowship with her When they planted,they chose out her trees of longest life, the Oak, the Chestnut, the Yew, the Elm, trees which it does us good to behold, while we muse on the many generations of our Forefathers whose eyes have reposed within the same leafy bays."                                             HARE'S Guesses at Truth.

Wallingford Settled

Indians, wild beasts, famine, cold, the diseases that lurk along the borders of new     settlements, " the French, the Dutch, the devil," and all other calamities, actual and imaginary, that kept their faculties constantly stretched to the highest tension, gave them no time to look backward. Other men retreated from the world to avoid its cares;  they fled to the solitude of nature to begin life anew. 

Purchase of Indian Land:  

In 1774, there were but four Indians in Wallingford. When the town was first settled the Indians were very much disliked, and in more than one instance, when the hat or        contribution box was carried round in the meeting house for money to christianize Indians, instead of a coin, a bullet was dropped in, as if it were the fittest missionary.   Children were often quieted by the cry, "The Indians are coming "! 

Backes explosion Wallingford May 29, 1952. | Courtesy Wallingford Public Library

Backes explosion Wallingford May 29, 1952. | Courtesy Wallingford Public Library

Mattabesett Trail CT Blue Trail System Begins off Route 68. Has one of several George Washington Route markers.