Verses of Peace

May 22, 2025

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Examen

By Peter Yaremko • May 23, 2025
I received word last week that my poem “Examen” will appear in the Spring issue of Time of Singing, A Journal of Christian Poetry. I can’t decide if my ditty is simply a morose self-portrait of a grumpy old man readying to meet his maker – or a surprisingly hopeful entreaty for one more, perhaps final, love. One thing is sure. My poem was written by a guy who has too much time on his hands, pondering the ravages of age that are manifesting themselves before his eyes. The Daily Examen is a core practice of the Jesuit religious order. It calls for prayerful reflection on the events of the day in order to detect God’s presence and discern his direction. It’s a technique formulated by St. Ignatius Loyola the founder of the Jesuits, in the sixteenth century. Here's the poem. It's not the Examen Ignatius had in mind, I know. Examen I watch my body deteriorate daily, my personal slack tide far behind, that static moment when the body ebbs and yields to inevitable decline. My face is yeasty as risen dough, and flesh slides down to turn my smile to frown. Knees that jammed my Trek up mountains are worn and weary. Equilibrium goes rogue, and I clutch handrails both up and down. Eyesight disappoints, memory humiliates me at every turn. And my feet. My feet. Spawn of an alien strain whose mildewed digits disgust even veteran mycologists. A fleshy, fragile creature now, I’m wary of falling, that unwelcome herald of death spiral. Where’s the wind that powered me when I gobbled up 26.2 miles and left the pack to chase behind? Where’s the muscled mass of me that moistened the fair sex by mere presence? Turned to sponge. Only my soul remains fixed and fresh. And I’m awake to it. Awake, also, to the expectation of seeing you soon face to face. Which calms the night and floods my day with light. I’m at that awful stage of life when family members and friends are shuffling off one by one into eternity. Like lightning bugs on a June evening, their radiance seems to last just a fleeting moment, then they recede into the dark. Before the advent of helicopter parenting, we kids were allowed to play outside until it was too dark to see a thrown Spaldeen. We were creative, and made up all sorts of ad hoc games and activities. At least in New Jersey that’s what we did. When the lightning bugs appeared, we’d catch them in our hands and – using needle and thread supplied by our unknowing mothers – we’d try to string the tortured little wretches into glowing necklaces. We wanted to keep them gleaming forever like living, luminous pearls. It never worked. (Image from original oil painting by James Coates.)

WWJD?

May 22, 2025
The program was titled Living With Spiritual Integrity in an Age of Fragmentation. We attendees voiced a common goal: to have a day of respite from witnessing the criminal dismantling of everything we hold dear. Our guide was Mark Kutolowski, the founder and co-director of Metanoia of Vermont. His work there focuses on recovering the Christian contemplative tradition, exploring the role of nature as a path toward deeper union with God, and fostering the connection between prayer and the body. His counsel to our group at a conference center near Hartford, Connecticut, was simple – pay attention to how Christ modeled a peaceful heart in the midst of chaos. This was counter-intuitive and difficult for my Type-A personality, which is prone to seizing a problem by the throat and shaking it until it cries “Uncle!” Remember, Mark noted, there was a reason Christ chose to be born into Roman-dominated Palestine, with all the de-humanizing treatment of the Jewish citizenry by a rapacious occupying force. To answer the pop-religion question of What Would Jesus Do (WWJD?), Mark traced how Christ did the exact opposite of what I – and you, perhaps – would do. Christ taught radical love, as in love every person who comes before you. And by the way, pray for the welfare of your enemies. Because that’s what “Love your enemies” means. Christ preached downward mobility, as in radical detachment. He urged his followers to accept suffering, as in turn the other cheek. He demonstrated utter dependence on God, as in trusting that five loaves and two fish would feed five thousand. Then He took a second look at the thou shall not list that Moses brought down from Mount Horeb. And presented His own list – thou should: · Embrace being an unimportant person · Engender gentleness · Be reconciled to, not resentful of, pain and sorrow that come your way · Live in alignment with God · Show active compassion · Free yourself from earthly comforts · Nurture a peaceful heart · Recognize that there will always be a cross to bear 

The Report of My Death

May 22, 2025
I’ve gotten lots of reactions to my blog last week about death. People asking if my health is okay. Daughter sending me teardrop emojis. A friend writing: “At least your brain appears to still be functioning pretty well.” It’s understandable. Our entire being is oriented toward preserving our life, and every living creature, from flea to falcon, will fight like crazy to stay alive in the face of death. But we don’t think or talk about our dying very much. We shun that. We take out a life insurance policy and prepare a will, maybe, and consider ourselves prepared. All of which is foolish. We all seem to assume we’ll live to 70, 80, 90 or beyond. Most people do not. Yet we are convinced our own death is far, far away in an unknowable future shrouded in mists. Thomas Merton, the renowned Trappist monk, author, and mystic, wrote this in his journal in March 1966: “Thinking about life and death – and how impossible it is to grasp the idea that one must die. And what to do to get ready for it! When it comes to setting my house in order, I seem to have no ideas at all.” Less than three years later Merton would be dead, accidentally electrocuted by a toppled floor fan as he stepped from the shower. I am already past the average life expectancy for American men. Every day that I continue in this dimension is a cherry on the sundae of my life. But my attitude remains convinced that my passing is far in the future. My head swirls with projects I want to finish: a novel that’s under way, a memoir in the form of a book-length poem, a volume of my collected haiku. I want to expand my teaching of poetry as a tool for emotional healing. For almost three years I’ve worked with patients and their caregivers in Manhattan to guide them in writing poetry to address the stresses of cancer treatment. Last autumn I launched a day-long program at a Connecticut retreat and conference center along the same lines – how to write poetry to alleviate emotional trauma. I will conduct a second program next week. A group in Washington has booked me to do a program via Zoom this summer about writing poetry to move toward a more peaceful mindset in the face of chaotic current events. As a result I’ve caught myself negotiating with God. How about “maybe ten more years to finish all this?” Then what, Peter? You’ll be ready to lie down and breath your last? On June 1, 1897, the New York Herald reported Mark Twain to be “grievously ill and possibly dying. Worse still, we are told that his brilliant intellect is shattered and that he is sorely in need of money.” Twain was in London at the time, covering Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee for the New York Journal. The following day, the Journal skewered the Herald‘s account as false and offered Twain’s denial: “The report of my death was an exaggeration.” I can relate. (Image: “Death and Life” by Gustav Klimt, 1910.)
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Here’s some news that really isn’t news: a recent national survey by Ohio State University says forty-five percent of us are stressed by news or social media. 


Of this number, sixteen percent feel stressed every day. And we’ve slipped to our lowest ranking ever in the World Happiness Report.

So I’m happy to do my part in helping heal this sorry situation by conducting a free Zoom workshop in June – on writing poetry as a tool to cultivate inner peace. 


Verses of Peace is one in a series offered by the Sisters of Saint Joseph of Peace. Called Disarming Our Hearts, the series explores how we can cultivate peace within ourselves and bring it into the world. 


Each workshop, presentation, and retreat in the series features speakers from different backgrounds who bring insights into what it means to “be peace” in a way that transforms not only our own hearts but also our communities.


The series is offered at no cost. The Sisters fund all their programs through donations.


My two-hour Zoom program will be held from 9 P.M to 11 P.M Eastern time on June 18. The primary audience is a gathering in Bellevue, Washington, but the program is open to anybody who’d like to tune in. 


This won’t be like the English class you suffered through in high school. I promise. Nor is it an academic seminar that tries to teach you to craft the perfect poem. 


Verses of Peace is about feeling better, not writing better – a contemplative opportunity to explore healing poems that are easy-to-understand, beautiful, and uplifting. Our focus is on how famous writers have used poetry to achieve a more peaceful mindset. 

We’ll talk about what poetry is all about, and participants will be guided in writing their own healing poems and sharing insights. No prerequisites, no writing experience needed, and no critiques. 


Here's what some prior participants have said about my poetry classes:

"I so enjoyed your class last week. I have been writing poems and one haiku. Your class has opened a new world to me, and I'm so appreciative.”  -- Mike

“Your classes provided a very positive experience, opening up the possibility of using poetry to deal with the complex emotions felt by cancer patients. I will treasure these memories in the future, and plan to continue on this path of self-discovery and appreciation for everyday life.”  -- John

"Thank you for sharing your experience with us and sharing your passion for expressive writing. You have a gift for teaching and getting your point across in a special way.” 


-- Martha


Verses of Peace will be a safe space for participants to express their feelings without judgment and find comfort by using words as a path toward peace through the healing energy of poetry.

Here’s the link for more information and to register.


For those of you who don’t know me – or might want to recommend the workshop to your friends who don’t know me – I’m a former journalist, corporate executive, and owner of a corporate communications agency. I’ve authored four non-fiction books and a novel, write poetry that appears in numerous literary magazines, and publish a weekly blog. In conjunction with the American Cancer Society for the past three years, I’ve been teaching patients and caregivers to write poetry to better manage the trauma of a cancer diagnosis, and I lead day-long retreats exploring healing poetry.