The Walking Dead : Zombie Catharsis

It has been an unusually cold winter so far, with extreme temperatures in many places, here,
in the Northern Plains, and now in the deep South, in places like Georgia, Alabama and the Carolinas.
I am at the beginning of Season Five now in The Walking Dead TV series, and the story and characters only are deepening and increasing in richness and complexity. The challenges and setbacks the richly layered story has the actors deal with is now adding a new dimension of humanity, warmth, determination and tenacity under excruciatingly difficult circumstances that seem to encompass all the horrors of war, cruelty, genocide, greed and power. The world right now seems to be at the precipice of a very dangerous drop into a potentially disastrous level of worldwide conflicts reminiscent of World War I and more poignantly World War II. The Walking Dead touches very graphically on all the gruesome aspects of an apocalyptic war, as Carol ( Melissa McBride) has to save what is left of Rick ( Andrew Lincoln) 's group from a monstrous compound where the leaders are actively conducting a selective genocide that is a chilling echo of the monstrosities the Nazis perpetrated against the Jews. Carol, who had been excommunicated from the group for a transgression Rick thought was unforgivable, single handed saves everyone in an act of formidable courage and resourcefulness, and is as a result forgiven by him and the entire group. It was a powerful moment of catharsis, of transcendence on her part and on the part of the group as to the standard definitions of right and wrong in the face of impossibly twisted circumstances and dilemmas. It is a cliche that war brings out the worst and the best in people. But in war, the lines are stretched beyond what good and evil encompass, what they each can bear. I have lost a lot of close family, under absurd and tragic circumstances, and I found myself getting renewed strength and insight and dignity watching Carol's struggles and the very brave and bold decisions she finds the heart to make, as a woman who previously had no voice, no presence as the wife of a vulgar, brutish and physically abusive husband. She voices the change very succinctly : " No, that was not my shadow, just my husband's." She becomes free, free to act and be strong, decisive,
courageous, unafraid. I know it was a struggle for me to get from underneath the shadow I felt trapped under by my manipulative and alcoholic mother, and I remember the thrill of standing up to her, to call her on her lies and games, and to just say " NO" to her and some of the other members in my family who thought I was just putty for their manipulations. I felt a strength wake up in me, one that has only gotten more determined with these last ten years. It was an awakening, that got me to start writing, to stand on my own unafraid, my own person at last. My declaration of independence was met with insults, threats and contempt, but the price of rejection  and its resultant solitude was well worth my dignity and humanity, my self determination and freedom. The Walking Dead does a wonderful job showing how people can claim their freedom, their courage, their heart, their destiny in the face of circumstances that do everything to tear down that determination, that desire, that basic human right. The ugliness of the endless zombies and their distorted, twisted faces, sounds and bodies I have come to see as a symbol to transcend, to reach our hopes and dreams regardless of, in spite of, and sometimes even, because of the nightmare that pushes us beyond what we can endure, to break free, renewed, bruised and worn out, but exhilarated at the realization we came out of the horror alive, wiser, kinder, stronger. The Walking Dead is ultimately about hope and its necessity if we are to live free and with dignity. I so look forward to what other lessons I will learn as the series and its characters keep moving forward, always fearless no matter what monsters, dead or alive, might be lurking about.

Le Parapluie

Il est toujours agreable de recevoir un cadeau par la poste,
plus si c'est un geste gentil d'une amie aimee,
qu'on connait depuis longtemps.

La distance des oceans jamais moins importante
que dans ces moments joyeux et encourageants,
la camaraderie plus forte que les annees et ses incertitudes.

Cette fois, tu m'as envoye un parapluie,
avec les couleurs d'un oiseau tropicale.
Vert, rouge, bleu, orange, blanc et noir.

Un sourire m' echappe en ouvrant ce parapluie
et toutes ses charmes, qui comme une tournesol eclatant
son energie et lumiere, me rapelle un parapluie de mon enfance
quand j'avais huit ans et qui etait bien trop bombaste et grand.

Ton parapluie est moderne et elegant, il a les couleurs de la terre
et de ses musiques du monde vibrant, il me peint ses dessins
et ses reves pleins d'espoir, courage et dignite.

Et voila, comme ca ton parapluie m' annonce un Nouvel An
encore une fois, et m' acompagnera sur ces jours ou le soleil se cache.
Et le courage je le rencontrai alors dans mon coeur fort et dans
le lien de notre amitie qui reste jeune et rassurante apres plus de trente ans.


Trudi Ralston.
January 4th, 2017.
Pour Catherine Bouchacourt.

Les Vents D'Hiver

C'est rare pour nous ici d'avoir des hivers ou le vent n'arrete de crier sa tyrannie,
jour et nuit.
On dirait un fantome secouant sa colere dans l'hauteur des arbres muets et blancs.

Il fait trop froid pour meme le silence qui se cache dans ce qui reste d'un ciel clair et aveuglant.

Il parait qu'il  n'y a ni anges ni diables dans cette danse feroce dont s'occupe le vent sifflant,
qui traine son haleine comme un couteau sanglant sur toutes les doutes humaines.

Les grands du monde se regardent dans leurs miroirs brises ou se refletent
leurs yeux vides sur le coucher du soleil rouge et brulant de la terre et son ame mourant.

Le futur est la chanson d'un oiseau bleu et courageux qui risque se perdre dans les nuages
et miseres d'une autre guerre mondiale et ses spectres du neant.


Trudi Ralston.
" War is the ultimate madness."
Leonardo da Vinci.
January 4th, 2017. 

 

In Praise of The Walking Dead

I have never been a fan of horror drama, but the consistent praise I heard about The Walking Dead TV show currently enthralling audiences intrigued me. My college aged son introduced me to the series, and I hesitantly checked it out, not being a fan of zombies as an aesthetic squeamish sort. My curiosity soon gently shoved aside any initial nauseous feelings I had when seeing walkers or zombies meet their unnatural state's graphic second demise. I began to notice the great acting, the very convincing cinematography, the suffocating isolation the plague forces upon the protagonists and their entourage, the sincere and powerful dilemmas the characters face. I have seen my share of dystopian movies, and many of them are entertaining and clever. The Walking Dead is in a class all its own. It is normal to develop sympathies for certain characters when watching a series over a large number of seasons, but I notice that with this show I feel like I am one of the actors, like I can choose one or various actors and put myself there as them. I think it is because these actors are all so very talented, from Danai Gurira to Norman Reedus to Andrew Lincoln, Steven Yeun, Lauren Cohan, and Chandler Riggs, Melissa McBride, Sarah Wayne Callies, Jon Bernthal, Scott Wilson , David Morrissey, Michael Rooker, and Jeffrey DeMunn, Laurie Holden, IronE Singleton. The acting is superb, because the characters they portray become part of us, in the sense that we feel their dilemmas credible, possible to our hearts and minds, were we to be in their awful positions. It is not just that an empathy develops for their excruciatingly precarious and horrific circumstances and challenges, but you feel like this is all happening to you as a viewer as well. You feel right there beside them. These actors play people that up to this point had led very ordinary lives of very little consequence or magnitude, and who find themselves delving deep into their resilience, their ability for courage, leadership, ingenuity, strength, compassion, many of them surprising and surpassing themselves. The villains too have a depth of character that is hard to dismiss or ignore, no matter how loathsome their goals and methods, we are fascinated by them. The usual clearly delineated categories of good and evil become very blurred at times, and that hesitancy, that doubt wreaks havoc and destruction, both physically and emotionally. The show asks moral questions in a brutally honest way asked by ordinary people put under mind and body breaking stress and chaos. Most of them are able to hang on to their humanity. Others fail miserably and horribly, but always with the weight and pathos of a Shakespearean character. The characters of Shane ( Jon Bernthal ) and the Governor ( David Morrissey ) are haunting, in the destruction their deranged egos create, both being monsters whose obsessions tragically impact  people's lives and deaths. The psychopathology of the ones who get lost in their delusions, like Shane and the Governor, is portrayed in great and patient and credible detail. The heroic characters are portrayed with equal depth, showing the evolution of their insight, determination and courage. Rick Grimes ( Andrew Lincoln ), Dale Horvath ( Jeffrey DeMunn ), Glenn Rhee ( Steven Yeung), Daryl Dixon  ( Norman Reedus ), Hershel Greene ( Scott Wilson ),  Carol Peletier ( Melissa McBride ), Maggie Greene ( Lauren Cohan ), the formidable Michonne ( Danai Gurira ).  All are people who found a deep core of impressive resilience, determination, intelligence, compassion and courage that perhaps under ordinary circumstances would have remained dormant. They make us believe, want us to believe we would equally rise to the occasion. They are inspiring but in an attainable, believable way. They give us hope. We may not have to deal with walking dead ( yet... ) but this stressful, unpredictable world with its many challenges socially, politically and globally gives most of us pause. The actors portraying the strong characters in The Walking Dead give us a scenario where we could make the best of very uneven odds. The writing by Frank Darabont, Robert Kirkman, Charlie Adlard and Tony Moore is brilliant. This is one comic book series that Robert Kirkman as the originator transformed into a very smart TV show that is truly impressive in every way. As one who joined The Walking Dead enthusiasts a bit late, and is only halfway season three, I am riveted and eager to catch up to the current season seven in this outstanding show.

The Edge

The outside is full of lines, like a fold up paper box, one I am in and also am
standing outside of.
Like moving squiggles of a cartoon that define the horizon and its depth,
I watch the lines fold and unfold all around me, a dance both bright and dark.

Time wraps itself around shadows the lines amuse themselves with,
as I push the box as far as it will go, with a sound like hissing summer grass.
Where will the lines take me, how will I know if I will get there at all?

Some journeys we take all alone, no matter how many seem to tag along.
Once or twice I thought I saw the road uphill not too far from where the lines became a star,
but I think I was just dreaming, I should have by now have reached that point.

Inside the lines are softer and have warm colours to ease my mind.
Might as well relax, I am not getting out of here, without a cracked line
running alongside the cracks in my whistle and my song.



Trudi Ralston.
December 27th, 2017.

The Roar

There is a roar outside my window, one of ebb and tide,
though no ocean is near me, the rhythm and cadence cannot be denied.
Summer, winter, it surrounds me, whether it be day or night,
all I can do is absorb it and wonder at its stamina and might.

There was a time when outside my window, bird and frog song were
all my ears would be amused with, there was no roaring monster anywhere around.
Yet the roar is not unpleasant, like a hypnotic beat asking me to join.
The only problem is I am happy with my birds and my frogs.

There are times the roar does annoy me, as I question its demands,
would that times were less somber, I see the trees stoic silence
and the sky's hazy sighs, time is marching forward, but who is
its master giving the commands?

I listen to my flowers and to the grass beneath my feet,
I delight at silence's wonders and their key to my heart and its path.
There is a roar outside my window, one of ebb and tide,
though no ocean is near me, the rhythm and cadence cannot be denied.

Would the roar was a drumbeat, full of hope, passion and delight,
one that leads us through the forest to where beauty, kindness and clan
were given to prosperity for all, not just for a few with steel and teeth in their eyes.

There is a roar outside my window, one of ebb and tide,
and on certain days it sounds like music, leaving fresh salt for my thirsty mind.


Trudi Ralston.
for Nicholas.
December 21st, 2016. 

Sugar Plum Reverie

Soft snow on the ground, fluffy, bright to the eye's delight,
as night turns to day, and the snow's palette adds a touch of cheer
to the grey clouds above.

Christmas lights sparkle gold and clear, red candles fragrant with cinnamon
and pomegranate scent, stockings hung by a cozy fire, presents teasing underneath
the tree heavy with sparkling ornaments of all kind, dolphins, starfish, smiling snowmen.

Music gently wrapping itself around my heart, " I'll be home for Christmas, ...
if only in my dreams..." reaches my mood and I see you, so far away in the spirit world.
Are you okay, are you sad? I miss you still and wonder why you never let us know
the way you were pushed aside. Your silence haunts me.



I remember the sugar plum fairy's dance and song, sweet to my child's innocent view,
warm and safe we were always with you, and now my home here is warm and safe, too.
I know you are pleased with that, we just never knew the sugar had  salt mixed in with it,
as children we could not see the shadows cast around the sweetness of the treats.

You were given a raw deal, the queen of your heart made sure of that.
A king without a kingdom, betrayed and left, the stage set for your tragedy,
Lear a beautiful name for such sadness and lonely misery.


May your heart and soul find solace way up there where the stars shine beyond the sleeping trees.
I know your sorrow will always stay with me.
Merry Christmas, papa, you are welcome here.


Trudi Ralston.
December 19th, 2016.