In the Balance: Finding Stability in Shaky Times

By Jasper McGee

In a world where we are told we can really have it all, there are still many who are dissatisfied with their lives and achievements. In a modern society where it is becoming increasingly challenging to balance everything, peace and fulfillment can sometimes seem out of reach.

In his collection of poetry and other musings, Jasper McGee relies on his personal experiences to explore ways to stay grounded in life and work better together with others to find satisfaction in the balance. While reflecting on relatable topics such as time, loneliness, compassion, friendship, and selflessness, McGee shares a poetic journey with the intent of helping others gain a healthier concept of themselves, balance their lives, develop better relationships with those around them, and replace myths with real needs and realities.

In the Balance offers lyrical wisdom and reflections that will encourage others to search out and find balance in life, ultimately realizing the kind of happiness that helps make dreams come true.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491757925

Jasper McGee

Jasper McGee is a former probation officer, teacher, teen project director, business man, social worker, and a city commissioner on aging. He currently resides in Vacaville, California, where he mentors young men and women.

Book preview

Visions

Things

Time and time and time again,

I think of those things that might have been.

Your face, your eyes, your aquiline chin,

I think of things that could have been.

Honey-dewed lips and bared breasts, welcoming

Thighs encompassing soothing fire within.

I think of those things that would have been.

Health, happiness, and compassion without end,

I think of those things that should have been.

Seasons have changed, but my thoughts remain

Continuously recycled through time’s lens.

And now, time and time and time again,

I think of those things that might have been.

Loneliness Revisited

Ah, old friend, it’s you again.

Somehow I expected you today.

And as before, you always know

When it’s important you come my way.

Come, come, and sit here by the fire.

There is still a chill in the air.

It seems old winter’s ire

Continues melancholy and despair.

My movements constrained, my words halting,

But others appear to be joyfully waltzing.

And I wonder, is it of my plight they make merry,

Or do their actions conceal some blight they carry?

And this old house remains damp, dreary, and cold.

Love has gone, and loneliness now chills my soul.

Abandonment surrounds like a shroud,

And I mourn like the mother of a stillborn child

Of more pleasant things today would I rather speak,

But melancholy surrounds me, for it’s she my heart seeks.

So have you seen her—has she confided in you of late?

Ah, but if you sided, your value would dissipate.

For the strength of your worth

Is that your silence prevails.

And, it is said from your birth,

You have carried no tales.

Yester eve, while watching the

Fair regent of the night

Swing through saturnine sky,

Spied I a flock of geese in flight,

Encased her palled eye.

And it occurred to me that I, like they,

Should flee this barren clime.

But reason’s eyes see I cannot flee

Because this vacancy is mine.

In flight they as men appear a united group,

Organized for purposeful protection.

But in reality they are but singular swoop,

Headed in the same direction.

For it is singly the hunter’s gun each must brave

As each advances against the elements that rage.

Thus, it is also in man’s struggles, to me it seems,

Which we fight in numbers only in our dreams.

Ah, is that a knowing look I see in your eye?

You have relationships with even birds that pass you by?

And is that mirth I see playing on your features again?

Are wild geese also numbered among your friends?

Thank you so much for coming by today,

And I ask that you stay awhile, please,

For no one else ever comes this way

When you say good-bye and leave.

Throughout the years, though forgotten by others,

Time and time again,

You’ve stood by me like a brother

And proven to be my friend.

Approaching Her Figure Eight

Look! Look! Here she comes! Here she comes!

Excited about her coming birthday, number eight.

She is a special little maiden, and that is a fact,

A lovely ponytail that rides down her back.

And those twinkling eyes, so alert, alight,

Surrounding her sunny smile both warm and bright.

God has made everything beautiful in its time;

This is her time, and God has made her beautiful.

Ode to Lady Gail

Listen! I beg of you all!

‘Tis for this reason

Came I tonight to call.

A riddle have I conjured,

Mysterious, perhaps, but true.

So blithely now I submit

Sweet inquiry to you.

‘Tis the epic tale

Of the gentle and fair maiden, Gail,

Who is strong when toughness demands.

For, with her steadfast grip,

She guided Casey’s chaotic ship

When it needed a helping hand.

Grace and sensitivity attend her all the time.

Of these virtues she never tires.

Though harried by the furies, she stands bravely,

And faces fickle fate’s ire.

But sayeth thou nay, good storyteller?

This conclusion will never do!

To end the saga like this

Makes it appear to be untrue!

So, pray, I will question you.

Why does she not just quit the chase?

And give up despaired and discouraged?

Ah, my friend, you see,

‘Tis as simple as A-B-C,

Because, knoweth she,

That all her many endings

Are merely new beginnings!

She has an attitude.

She has her beliefs.

And she has courage.

Thus, as a warrior with uplifted head,

Her eyes emblazoned with light,

She mounts the great steed, hope,

And continues life’s fight.

Compassion Test

Good sirs, said he, I now stand to recommend a candidate for honor in this august, compassionate hall of fame.

Good, very good, citizen, said the chief judge of the chamber. What is this person’s name?

"Her name is Dame Sylvia, and in both spirit and deed, her commendation rings as regal as she.

So I’m convinced that this hall of compassion is where her likeness should be."

We would hear more, said the judge. "Tell us about this lady of whom you speak.

Indeed perhaps she is the kind of person that this chamber seeks."

"Yes, sir, but know this, her manner sometimes is subdued, almost shy.

But she is ever sensing and touching those who pass her by.

"She is a short-waisted elfin with a sliver of a body affixed to the lengthened legs of a doe.

Perfectly built for both speed and endurance, she is always on the go.

Answering cries for assistance, bandaging the wounds of hopeless despair.

With hours spent to address and serve them all, she has little time to spare.

"Intellectually speaking, a universal thinker perceiving things in the grand.

Yet by nature she is intuitively grounded in the specifics of helping man."

These things all sound commendable, said the judge, "but before this matter can rest,

The lady herself must enter this chamber and stand before this tribunal’s desk."

She stepped unsteadily into the chamber of black-robed judges and lowered her eyes filled with self-consciousness, fear, and respect.

The chief judge raised his long arm in slow motion and bid her forward to the bar,

A request she dare not reject.

"Good lady, we have today heard many good things of thee.

But many shadows, illusions, and fantasies daily do we hear and see.

There are many who desire this hallowed stage

Simply for their pride, egos, and statuses to parade.

"Most who come before this bar attempt to mask their personal agendas of shallow perception, form, or fashion.

Therefore, this court must sift through and examine all the chaff and pretense in our search for real compassion.

"So having said this, and without further ado, I will now question you

To find out if your motives for entry into this chamber ring true.

What words of instruction and hope will you leave for future generations to see?

And what activity would you leave to benefit mankind as a part of your legacy?"

Now, she stood unwavering straight from her seat,

Eyes fired with sincerity and squarely grounded on her feet.

Then, in a clear, resounding voice she forthrightly began to speak.

The power of her truth lifted the stately judges in applause from their seats

As her passion, principles, and values did she now so profoundly repeat.

Your honors, my good lords, said she, "I stand for the children,

The thrown-away babies walking hard, cold streets,

With no love, no place to go, and no food to eat.

"Abandoned they wander, empty eyes vacant of hope—

Some abused, some filthy, some merely surviving in the unreality of dope.

With little help and future, their lives ebb away in despair.

Someone must hear, someone must see, and someone has to care.

"Therefore, my answer today is such as it will always be.

Vacuous fame I do not cherish or relish nor do I need.

But I do pray Your Honor’s indulgence and assistance, please,

For those children who have been set adrift in life’s unrelenting seas.

"My prayers and my wishes are