A Friend’s Visit

At the beginning of January, one of my forever best friends came from Oregon to Southern California to visit his mom, who is ill and may be preparing to transition. The distance makes it hard to be as available as he’d like to be, but he’s wonderful about keeping communication flowing with his dad and brothers and family. I pray for his mother and the family, that they all be blessed with grace and peace during this sacred time.

This friend, Paul, is a deeply spiritual soul, connected to earth, the elements and Divine in a wonderful way. I treasure his friendship and I treasure the easy way we can talk with one another. We’ve been friends for over 35 years and spent much of our 20s seeing each other nearly every day, forming a very close bond with our small group of friends. When we’re young and still forming, those deep friendships we make during that time became part of our formation. Who I am is partly due to his and our other friends’ influence. We all vacationed together, celebrated together, grew together, shared a whole lot of time and laughter together. It was an amazing time we shared!

During his visit, Paul couch-surfed a couple of nights at my place. It was wonderful to have him here! Since he’s like family, it felt very comfortable to just let him do whatever he needed to do while I went to yoga, church and to my company holiday party. (I did feel kind of bad, though, that I was in the midst of a bad fibro flare, hurting pretty badly.)

Paul is an artist, too, and teacher. He’s studied shamanism extensively and creates beautiful smudge fans, rattles and other instruments to use in ceremony. (You can see some of his original handcrafted work at his website: www.crowingcreations.com. He also takes custom orders.)

While he was here, he had his stuff neatly set aside out of the way, except for a silver box that sat on the island. I didn’t want to be nosy, so I never peeked in the box, until the 2nd day when he asked me if I’d opened it yet. It was a gift for me! So exciting! He’s always amazingly thoughtful with his gifts; previously I’ve received a turtle rattle, owl feathers, sage, a mix CD, hawk feathers and other thoughtful, caring gifts. I opened the box and pulled back the red cloth inside. Paul had made a CD for me and had brought me a DVD (The Big Kahuna). But I especially loved these gifts: an abalone shell to be used for smudging, various sages, sweet grass and resin incenses. He also made an amazing smudge fan! It has owl feathers, peacock feathers, leathers and amethyst stones. Amethyst is my birthstone (February) and amethyst is also known as a healing crystal, which was great, too, since I was in pain. It’s a piece that I will treasure all my llife!

His work as an artist is just so amazing; Paul puts in so much detail, energy, love and blessing into every piece he does. I’m hugely honored with these gifts. The fan is sitting on a shelf in my living space where I can enjoy it and think of our friendship. Love you, Paul!

The feathers are so beautiful.  

The end of the handle holds another large piece of amethyst surrounded by smaller stones.

The Trumpeter on the Beach

After my (now ex) husband left our daughter and me in 1980, I spent a lot of time sitting on the beach. I was so lost, so betrayed, so filled with grief. How could the rest of the world continue on when I was hurting so much? How could people smile and laugh and go on as if my heart wasn’t shattered into pieces?

So I sat on the beach, watching the waves move in and out, trying to get my bearings again. The waves always came to shore and then always pulled back, ever constant. Watching the waves and seeing the world continue on was a salve to my broken spirit.

As I sat there crying one wintry day, a man walked slowly up the shoreline toward me, passed me and then stopped a few feet away. I noticed then that he held a trumpet in his hand. Putting it to his lips, he played that trumpet, the music carrying into the air, over the waves, into my soul. Listening to his music, my heart calmed, my spirit was washed and cleared and I felt a Divine sense of release. I felt my body relax as my eyes closed and I surrendered myself to the moment …a holy moment that shifted my soul and gave me peace. His song finished, the man continued his walk up the beach without a word or a glance at me.

I was in awe at what had just happened. I believe in angel visitations, which, to me, are either people who are divinely guided by their angel guides or who are actual angels manifesting on earth. I didn’t ponder too much over which one my trumpeter was, but I was thankful for his gift to me, a lonely girl crying on an empty beach.

All these years, I’ve remembered that day and the trumpeter on the beach. I always knew it was real, but was it a divinely guided person or an angel? And then I read this story earlier this week, about a man named Andrew Arnold, a body surfer who was known to play his trumpet at the beach where I sat that day in 1980. May your reward be great in heaven, Mr. Arnold. I’ve never forgotten you.

http://www.hbindependent.com/news/tn-hbi-me-1114-andrew-arnold-20131112,0,5652113.story

Gramma’s Home Again

Saturday was All Souls Day. Saturday was the day that Gramma’s body died and she was released from her earthly bonds to return home again, just as she’s been wanting to for awhile. She was born on October 3, 1915, so at 98 years old, she has an awful lot of family and friends who were already there ready to greet her with open arms, loving kisses and cheers of joy.

I imagine there were a few “hallelujahs!” and amens in the mix, too. Gramma loved to go to a nearby Baptist church where the sermons were passionate and the congregation filled with joyful hallelujahs. When she couldn’t drive any longer, she had to switch to another church that she could walk to. She told me that it was nice but, leaning in conspiratorially, that it “wan’t as nice as the other one. They’re much quieter.” She preferred her church to be loud and boisterous!

Elizabeth Sears was a tiny little thing, with a head of red hair and sparkling blue eyes. She had a flirty, fun way about her; a twinkly, happy, we’re-all-gonna-have-a-great-time kind of way. If you met her, you loved her. She was utterly and profoundly irresistible. For the last two months as she was in hospice care at home, her neighbors all visited and asked about her. Everyone loved “Mrs. Sears.”

She was a farm girl and darned proud of it, too. She grew up in Kansas and had that hardy Midwestern attitude, never complaining but just moving through life’s challenges as they came up. If problems came up, she didn’t waste time on complaints; she simply worked on a solution.

When I visited the last few years, we’d have coffee and talk. She had such wonderful stories to share about her life, about being married four times, about leaving her first husband and taking her two daughters to California to make a new life. Gramma worked during the war as a “Rosie the Riveter.” She was very proud to be able to buy her house and said that she was finally home and would never leave it. She never did.
 
Her storytelling is legendary in the family. She was always smiling as she shared her memories. Gramma’s entire being would light up and she’d chuckle delightedly about funny little things that happened. I loved that part, her lighting up with delight. Her delight was utterly infectious and you found yourself drawn into her smile and personality and that light that she radiated, glowing with happiness around her, an aura of colorful vibrancy.

The last few years, when we’d talk, she’d tell me that she’d lived a very good, long life and she would be happy to go home to God any time. She’d tilt her head and shrug her shoulders and say that she didn’t know why God kept her here, but she’d smile and say that it’s up to Him and she was fine with that. Another time when I visited, she pulled down the neck of her turtleneck and showed me her neck, saying how she just didn’t like the wrinkles that she had there now. Then she simply pulled up her turtleneck again and kept on telling her stories. Another time, she showed me how her fingers on her right hand had curled due to arthritis, making it hard to grasp her garden clippers. Gramma told me that she found that she could uncurl them just enough with her other hand to put the clippers in her right hand and once she had them in her hand, she could clip away! She just never wasted any time feeling disappointed in anything in life.

I could tell Gramma stories all day. I loved her beyond and beyond. She was actually my ex-husband’s Gramma, but I loved her the instant I met her and she loved me. When my husband and I had our daughter Amber and made her a great-grandmother, she gained a new nickname: Great G. After I divorced, nothing changed between her and I; we were still family to one another. We corresponded, I visited, she always always sent gifts to my daughter (her great-granddaughter) for holidays and birthdays, I sent her pics of Amber growing up through the years. When my daughter had her daughters, I told her we had to go visit Great G so they could all meet since Great G was now a great-great grandmother.

And now Great G is dancing in heaven, just as she’s been wanting. I’m so happy for her joy and for the reward of heaven for her. I’m happy to have had her in my life and look forward to being reunited once again when I’m called home, too. I expect she’ll greet me with a hearty “hallelujah!” I love you, Gramma!

How quickly things change …

A couple of months ago, I was thinking about how nice and quiet my life is, no drama or Big Events, just a contented, happy life. Things can change so quickly, though, and so dramatically. In the last two months:

• I left my job
• My dad’s wife passed away
• My daughter was in the hospital for tests related to her lupus
• Dad’s dog had to be put down
• A good friend/neighbor passed away

Worst of all, my dad is no longer speaking to his family.
When Dad’s late wife was in the hospital, my brother and I spent time with him each day there; my brother usually took him in the morning and then I went in the evening to sit with him and then take him home. In spite of the circumstances, it was wonderful to be with my Dad again and listen to his stories, talk with him, share conversation and jokes.
After my mom passed away in 1990, we spent a lot of time with Dad, but after he remarried 16 years ago, that changed. We’d invite him and his wife to get together and were told they already had plans with her family. We’d invite them to holiday gatherings; at first, they’d come for an hour or so, then leave to spend the afternoon and evening with her family. One Christmas, we pulled up to my brother and sister-in-law’s home just as Dad and his wife were leaving so we had to give them their Christmas presents through the car window, with the car engine running and his wife telling us to hurry. Eventually, they just stopped coming to our family’s holiday gatherings so they could spend the time with her family instead. It was sad for us and we missed our Dad tremendously, but there wasn’t much we could do.
(Eight years ago, my Dad and his wife became legal guardians of three of her grandchildren, who have been living with them. Two of them, an adult grandson and a minor granddaughter, still live with him. He’s no longer legal guardian of either. I’m very proud of my dad to have stepped up to help raise his wife’s grandchildren, even though he was already in his 70s at the time.)
When Dad’s late wife passed away in May, my brother and I spent each day with Dad, helping him with finding bills and other paperwork, getting things organized so he could handle things more easily. (Dad’s had some strokes and suffers from memory loss at times.) We also wanted to be sure the home was safe and healthy for Dad. It was a mess (a lot of hoarding): paper piles everywhere, medicines and medical equipment in multiples of multiples, multiple kitchen appliances, boxes of food on the floor, a lot of things on the floor, actually, instead of put away.
And the kitchen – when Dad and I checked the produce drawer, there was rotten, blackened, moldy food filling the drawer, with rotten tomatoes that had gone to liquid in the bottom. A container of flan had an inch of mold growing on it. The freezer was completely stuffed with freezer-burned food. You get the picture. Not a safe place for a man with memory loss. He could’ve eaten the rotten food or mistakenly taken the wrong medicine.
My brother and I worked at cleaning up the kitchen and the bills, etc. for over a month. We took him on errands, getting prescriptions, making appointments, having lunch, taking him grocery shopping for foods he wanted. We started looking at services who could come in to cook and clean for him. We had a wonderful time finally being able to be with Dad, gathering his stories as we worked together to have a safe kitchen area for him. Kitchen surfaces were greasy and dusty; we knocked down cobwebs from corners and walls. As we cleaned, I’d ask Dad “Do you want to keep this?” If he did, I’d say “OK, let’s wash it and honor it and display it nicely.”
I took him to my cousin’s retirement/birthday party one Saturday and he had a wonderful time seeing family he hadn’t seen in many years. He accepted our invitation to attend my granddaughter’s/his great-granddaughter’s birthday party on 6/16 and we made plans to go to the pier for breakfast on Father’s Day 6/17. He also accepted my daughter’s/his granddaughter’s invitation to join the family at an Angel game and he was looking forward to all of these.
On Friday, June 15, I brought a family album with me for Dad to enjoy. He asked my brother to please make copies for him because “I don’t have any pictures of my family in the house.”
One of the appointments we took him to a couple of weeks before was to see his trust attorney, who reviewed the trust with him. When Dad reviewed it, he protested and told the attorney that he wanted changes made to it, including giving my brother Power of Attorney and  making sure that his children and granddaughter were included in the trust. (Dad’s original trust was changed in 2009, after he’d had his strokes and memory loss. The previous trusts for each of them provided that his wife’s family received her estate and Dad’s family received his, including the home that he and Mom had bought and paid off. The 2009 trust gave everything to the three grandchildren, which Dad said he wasn’t aware of.) The attorney suggested that Dad think about the changes he wanted made and to come back to make all the changes at once. My brother later prepared a list of Dad’s wishes so Dad could review and make certain of what he wanted changed.
So on Friday, June 15, everything was wonderful with Dad and I again confirmed I’d pick up him at 1 for his great-granddaughter’s birthday party the next day. On Saturday, I went to pick him up; no answer. I called the house; no answer. I called his wife’s family members; no answer. I went to the neighbor’s house and she didn’t know where he was, either, but was finally able to contact another of his wife’s family who said that Dad was safe, but wouldn’t share where he was. The next day was Father’s Day and my brother planned to pick him up; called the house; no answer. On Monday, he came to pick up Dad for his doctor appointment; again, no answer.
I was extremely worried about him by this time. We hadn’t heard from him for three days and didn’t know if he was OK or missing or what. I called the police, who met me there. Dad was OK, but the grandson and granddaughter were yelling at me and saying that they didn’t have to answer our calls about my Dad, that we never visited Dad (they probably didn’t know their grandmother always had other plans so we couldn’t) and that Dad didn’t want to talk to us. I left in tears.
And so it’s been like that ever since. We thought we could finally have Dad back in our lives and after two months of joy with him, we’ve been robbed of that again. My daughter took Father’s Day gifts to him two days later and although he came to the door (his late wife’s family was there), he didn’t let her in or give her a hug or kiss. My daughter and my dad used to be like two peas in a pod, super close and loving; as a kid, she accompanied him everywhere; after Mom passed and we’d visit Dad, she and he would snuggle closely together, her little head tucked under his arms wrapped around her, watching TV.
I don’t know how my Dad is doing. I wake early each morning, praying for his well-being and for a safe home for him to live in, with . I send him loving thoughts through my prayers. I miss him and am broken-hearted that no one has a kind heart to let us know how he is. Our primary concern is for our Dad’s well-being, that the home is clean, that he’s eating good food, with no rotten food or things on the floor he could trip on. I know that deep down, my Dad still loves his family, each and every one of us. I pray that we can gather together again some day and share our family’s love again.

Dad … selfless devotion

 

I got home from the hospital last night around 11:30pm. Normally (although there’s nothing really normal at this time) I take Dad home first then I drive the 40 minutes to my home, but he wanted to stay with his wife at the hospital and not leave her. It was hard to leave him there.

She’s been in the hospital for over two weeks now. My Dad has been there with her, sitting in his chair by her side every single day from 8am until after 8pm when I take him home. Every day, 12 hours a day, sitting there with her. It breaks my heart to sometimes arrive at the hospital in the evening and see him sitting there alone, although I know other family members have been there before me. I’m humbled by his devotion and love. My heart is shattered that he will be losing her soon.

More than almost anyone I know, Dad has this beautiful capacity for living fully and completely in the moment. A couple of weeks ago, I was asked if he realized she might not come home this time. But Dad doesn’t consume himself with “what ifs.” He doesn’t get lost in worry and thereby lose the present moment. At this moment, his wife is still here on this side and so he talks to her, strokes her arm and face, calls her “Sugar” and simply loves her through this.

She was a little responsive last night after they moved her and took her off all meds except those that will keep her comfortable now. She could speak a little and look at him, at her daughter and her grandsons. She looked at me at the foot of her bed and said hello. I blew her kisses and told her I loved her.

Dad has barely left her side these past weeks, not eating much, not wanting to leave her. Such beautiful, loving, profound devotion! He stands by her bed and talks to her, tells her she needs to get well and come home … come home … come home … He comforts her, reassures her, keeps devoted watch over her … right now … cherishing the present moment while all else stands still.

Ruthless purging …

Happy 2012, friends!

Periodically, I do an assessment or discernment, asking myself:
Am I holding onto anything that no longer serves my highest and greatest good? Is there anything in my life that no longer serves a purpose in where I am currently in my life? Is there any burden that I’m carrying that needs to be released?

I’ve used this technique over the years to release all kinds of things, from just excess stuff to jobs and even relationships. Releasing helps me to make transitions in my life, to make shifts that hopefully help me to open up and grow by not clinging to things that no longer serve a purpose.

Right now, I feel the urge to purge—to lighten up, clear out, freshen up—and declared last Saturday Ruthless Purging Day. It’s carried over into Sunday and now today, but boy am I making happy progress in going through all this stuff, clearing, cleaning, organizing. Whew!

First, I finally sold my china cabinet. Too big, too cramped for seating. Helped carry it out with the guy who bought it. Heavy! Of course, then I had to go through the contents and toss/donate/store everything.

     

Mom’s china is going to my brother so I went to the Container Store and got china storage packs. (And other stuff; that place is dangerous.) Packed up Mom’s beautiful china. (Being from Texas, she loved yellow roses.)

Then I went through everything downstairs—cabinets, drawers, closet—and kept filling bags. A friend is going to be taking a rug, a floor lamp, a table lamp and the coffee table in about a month, so I’m releasing those to live a new life in her new home. I gave her some stemware, a wireless modem and a large tray, too.

Cleaned and rearranged stuff downstairs and I just love the new, more open look of everything. Today, I’m working on the upstairs bedroom and office, filling more bags to toss or donate.

It feels great to lighten my load and release things that no longer serve me and my  needs well. I think we need to take a look at things from time to time and get a fresh, new perspective, whether it’s stuff or behaviors (another aspect I’m working on) or the people in our lives. When anything has fulfilled its purpose in our lives, it may be time to let it go and live another life.

May every thing and every one in your life serve your highest and greatest good. If something/someone doesn’t serve you well any longer, release it to be of better use to another perhaps. May you be blessed with love, happiness and the freedom to be authentically YOU.

For Dickie

I recently read To Bless the Space Between Us, a book of blessings by one of my favorite authors, John O’Donohue. He has this way of capturing the depths of a soul, the vulnerability, the inner doubts in the midst of certainty. I wanted to share his poem On Grief in honor of my cousin, Richard Oropeza, Jr., who we loved as Dickie. Maybe you’ll resonate with some of the sentiment he expresses. It’s beautiful, honest and says the things we often feel when a loved one’s body dies:

"No one knows what has been taken from you ...
Gradually, you will learn acquaintance
With the invisible form of your departed ... "       

I believe that we do learn acquaintance again with our loved ones whose bodies have died, a new way of loving them while we remain temporarily in physical form. This acquaintance is such a beautiful and loving gift.

A body is temporary. We are not.

I love you, Cousin Dickie. You have left your footprints on our hearts and we are forever changed.

For Grief

When you lose someone you love,
Your life becomes strange,
The ground beneath you gets fragile,
Your thoughts make your eyes unsure,
And some dead echo drags your voice down
Where words have no confidence.

Your heart has grown heavy with loss;
And though this loss has wounded others too,
No one knows what has been taken from you
When the silence of absence deepens.

Flickers of guilt kindle regret
For all that was left unsaid or undone.

There are days when you wake up happy;
Again inside the fullness of life,
Until the moment breaks
And you are thrown back
Onto the black tide of loss.

Days when you have your heart back,
You are able to function well
Until in the middle of work or encounter,
Suddenly with no warning,
You are ambushed by grief.

It becomes hard to trust yourself.
All you can depend on now is that
Sorrow will remain faithful to itself.
More than you, it knows its way
And will find the right time
To pull and pull the rope of grief
Until that coiled hill of tears
Has reduced to its last drop.

Gradually, you will learn acquaintance
With the invisible form of your departed;
And when the work of grief is done,
The wound of loss will heal
And you will have learned
To wean your eyes
From that gap in the air
And be able to enter the hearth
In your soul where your loved one
Has awaited your return
All the time.

~ John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us

Time to be together …

The last couple of months have been very busy, some event or gathering every weekend, getting together with family and friends, multiple events on the same day – just an unusual flurry of activity. (Boy, my home really needs a good cleaning – lol!)

A dear friend married her love at a beautiful garden ceremony at a luxurious hotel in Los Angeles. The garden was beautifully set in a Chinese theme with pink and white paper lanterns overhead; the food was delicious. Most of all, I was thrilled to see my friend looking so radiantly happy with her new husband! I caught up with an old friend there, as we all—friends and (very large) family—celebrated the happy couple.

Another friend’s daughter celebrated her First Communion, a beautiful milestone in her religious education; everyone—adults and children—got together in the family’s home afterward to celebrate with a big spread. I had a great time!  Recently, I was also lucky enough to attend the dance recital of another friend’s daughter; I loved it. She danced beautifully, was very comfortable on stage performing, and I really enjoyed all the other dance numbers, too. The littlest ones are always so cute!

We spent a weekend in Three Rivers, California (near Sequoia National Park) to share in my sister-in-law’s (my ex-husband’s sister) 25th wedding anniversary. They renewed their vows on a wooden bridge over the Kaweah River.  The husband (they’re both in theater) sang to his wife during the ceremony; oh, it made me cry, hearing the love in his song! A reception followed, with slideshow, music, flowers, food. The family all stayed to clean up, washing pans and utensils in the big church kitchen, packing the extra food, everyone horsing around and laughing. We all went back to my sister-in-law’s home, which sits with the river at their back door, talking and laughing late into the night. The next day, my daughter, son-in-law and two granddaughters and I went to Sequoia National Park to visit the giant redwoods. Were we surprised when we got up there and it was snowing! Fun trip!

A friend drove out from Arizona with her daughter and mother for a short visit, so myself and 4 other friends drove out to Playa del Rey to have dinner with them. Non-stop gabbing – lol! We had a great time!

Several of my old high school chums have met again on Facebook, friends I haven’t seen since high school back in … some time ago. One friend came out from North Carolina to visit so we planned a beach party mini-reunion so we could all get together in person. Omigosh! It was like we were all teens still in high school, teasing, telling stories, laughing till my stomach hurt! I had a perma-smile on my face from all the happiness; at one point I looked at my old friends, gathered talking and I looked at the sky, the beach … felt the warm sun and the breeze … and my heart filled with utter joy and contentment.

Today, my cousin David was buried. David, bigger than life, a man who lived every minute of his life with absolute gusto and enthusiasm. To him, a big family gathering was the norm, whether it be at the house or on a camping trip or a vacation or just being with family. When David was at the party, you knew you were going to be laughing. My dad would say he was “full of the devil.” What a great storyteller he was, too, adding just a little embellishment to make the story even better. He reminded me of Dean Martin when he smiled, his eyes disappearing into starry twinkles at the corners, his dimples dotting his happy smile. He adored his beautiful wife, Linda; it was written all over his face when he looked at her. David was so full of life, that I think it makes his absence from this world even more apparent. He was a semi-truck driver and he was killed last Thursday in a tragic multi-vehicle accident. His sudden and unexpected loss has stunned the family.

We all got together on Saturday, seeing family that I hadn’t seen in years, meeting family that I hadn’t yet met, being with other family that I see more often, too. It’s always good to gather together with family, even under these circumstances. Normally, everyone has their lives, their day-to-day family and friends, but everything stops when something like this happens. We cancel our plans, we make calls, we get together and cry and hold one another, and we also share stories and laugh, because that’s what families do. The rosary and vigil was last night and it was wonderful to hear the tributes, everyone nodding in recognition as people remembered my cousin, his generosity, wonderful spirit and great stories.

This is all part of the journey, being with people, sharing happy times, comforting one another in loss. I’m sometimes tempted not to accept invitations to events or gatherings, to put off getting together for another time, being too busy, having too much to do to make time for others. I’m quite content with my own company, but I also love to be with those I care about. I have to remember that we’re all temporary. I have to say Yes more often, Yes to those good times, Yes to laughter and stories … and I’ll take time to experience and enjoy that wonderful sense of deep peace and contentment that comes from being with good people, people I love. I am so grateful for their footprints on my own life journey.

namaste

It was 20 years ago …

On February 24, 1990, Mom’s physical body died of a massive heart attack, releasing her spiritual self fully, no longer tethered and limited by the physical needs and limitations of a flesh -and-blood body. It’s hard to imagine what that moment of release must be like, but I sense that it’s a glorious and wonderful moment of immense joy and love. I hope it was—and is—that way for Mom and for all our loved ones who have loosed their earthly bonds and transcended the physical world. 

There are those who believe this physical life is all there is and there’s nothing after the body dies. That’s their personal truth. My personal truth is what C. S. Lewis wrote:

“You don't have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body.”

It occurred to me earlier that when Mom was alive, our relationship was with both of us in physical form; pretty easy to communicate. Currently, one of us is in a physical body and one of us purely spiritual energy; more challenging to communicate. Eventually, our relationship will be with both of us in purely spiritual form; this will probably be the easiest to communicate, with no egos involved, just pure love. That will be pretty incredible, assuming that I have any of this right at all. It’s just something I got a sense of earlier and it seemed like an interesting thought to consider.

Senses – For those who are sensitive to such things, have you ever noticed that sometimes a scent, or a taste, or a touch of breeze can suddenly bring to mind someone who has crossed over? For me, it’s often through my senses that I get a sense of a loved one’s presence. Sometimes, though, there’s no obvious trigger that causes me to sense someone. I’ll be doing something random and my Tia will pop into my head and cause me to smile, sensing her love and maybe smelling her tortillas on the stove. On Saturday, one of my little cousins was wearing a dress with a bow in back and I sensed my Tio Luis and remembered—as if it was happening in present time—how I always preferred that he tie the bow on my dress as a little girl. His brown workman’s fingers were gnarled and twisted; that’s just the way I always knew them, even when he was playing piano. I didn’t know what arthritis was and never really gave a thought as to why his fingers were like that. But with those crooked, bent fingers he’d take his time and tie a big, full, absolutely perfectly straight bow on my dress. Gorgeous!

I took flowers to the cemetery on Sunday to honor my mom and the anniversary of her passage. A lot of people don’t like cemeteries; many say we should bring flowers while our loved ones are still alive. I did bring Mom flowers, and other gifts, too, during her world life. (I read that the Sufis distinguish between “world life” and “soul life.”) One of the first gifts I chose and bought for her was a small plastic statue of the Virgin bought from the religious goods store after catechism one Saturday morning. In my mind, I can still see it on the windowsill where it sat for years and years. Over time, we used to buy one another “for no reason” gifts; I’d see a vase I think she’d like, she’d see a sweater perfect for me. (She was always trying to get me to wear a sweater.)

Since she’s living her soul life, though, I can’t buy her a Mother’s Day card or a vase or a pair of earrings. (What use would she have for these anyway?) But I can honor her by taking flowers to the place where we buried the body she used to hold me, to kiss me, to care for me and for all she loved. And I can sit in the sun, scrubbing her headstone with love and respect, spraying it with polish and rubbing and rubbing until the stone is gleaming. I can clear out the overgrown grass and leaves, put fresh water in the container and trim the flower stems to fit. I can kneel and pray and thank her for her presence in my life, for the way she taught me about the Divine and about love, and good times with family and friends. I can let the sun warm my skin … and I can sense her presence when I feel the breeze unexpectedly growing stronger and running through my hair as I kneel and pray—a caress from my mom, my beloved mom. My heart fills with love. 

Got some catchin' up to do!

You'd think that since I'm between jobs right now that I'd post more frequently, huh? I thought I would be, too - ha! Here's a quick recap of the last couple of weeks:

Intentions:

I set some health intentions for myself when I was laid off: walk every day, lose weight, get more fit, continue the 3x-4x weekly yoga practice, prepare more of my own food. (My ultimate goal is to lose sufficient weight to get off the blood pressure meds ... which make me gain weight, by the way. Nice.)

I love my morning walks, listening to the birdsong, saying hello to neighbors, seeing the neighborhood gardens. Initially, it was kinda tough with the fibromyalgia and my twisted spine/spondylolisthesis, but I strap on my brace each morning and I've been able to expand my route a bit (1.25 miles, which is awesome for me) and I'm not in too much pain by the time I get home, so yippee for that! On the downside, after seven weeks of walking I lost exactly zero pounds. Zip, zilch, nada. When they say it's harder to lost weight when you're older, they ain't kidding. Know this and pay heed.

When I get home, I usually head to my courtyard garden, cutting sweetpeas and roses, deadheading geraniums, enjoying all the blooms. Yesterday morning, after watering, I spotted a hummingbird wiggling around on the leaves of the camellia like he was washing himself. So cute!


I also set some project goals, which aren't going so well yet. I have to-have to-have to finish up the bathroom and the office. Bathroom: remove uber-stubborn silicone adhesive remaining from border removal, touch up paint, rehang fixtures. Office: Paint, arrange furniture, get twin bed, hang shelves, bulletin board, touch up chalkboard walls.

Speaking of the office, the jasmine in the courtyard below is blooming like crazy and just fills the entire house - top and bottom - with fragrance. Intoxicating! Here's a shot from the office window showing the jasmine and how it climbs over the pergola directly below the office window; all that scent just wafts dreamily into the office:


Work: I've also been very busy the last couple of weeks helping friends with some Web and writing work. It's been great fun working with them! Time to get back to my own projects now.

Job Intentions: There's been some interest in my resume and I've had an interview for a wonderful opportunity. Mutual interest on both sides. We'll see what happens there. I've also submitted my resume for a couple of other companies with really solid work in interactive marketing. I have a preliminary interview scheduled this coming Monday with one. I hope it goes well! I really like their broad client list and the fact that they do one pro bono project a year for a non-profit organization. That shows the kind of heart that I can relate to.


Funeral: A close friend's mom passed away last week. It seems like I've written a lot of posts about deaths, doesn't it? This is the third one in three months. I hope it's the last one for 2009. The service was beautiful. She'd served as a military nurse in WWII and was given full military honors. As the honor guard was carefully and meticulously folding the American flag, I was impressed how there was no rushing, no sense of urgency; they were completely focused on the task at hand and nothing else mattered. I think the world needs more of that instead of the constant maddening distraction of cell phones and computers alerting us to the next thing. We rarely have time to just sit and daydream. Daydreaming is where we create and re-create, where we re-charge our batteries and refresh our spirits. Watching those young men honoring this woman with their full undivided attention as they carefully folded and creased, folded and creased made me breathe a little more slowly, slowed my own pace in my spirit. Slow me down, Lord.



Memorial Day: On Monday, Memorial Day, I went to the cemetery. I learned earlier in the week that we have 13 Civil War Veterans buried there. As I drove in, I saw all the American flags waving across the hills of the cemetery, a stirring sight. So many who have served our country with honor and dignity. After I polished my mom's headstone and cleared away some overgrown grass, I knelt to pray, thinking of my mom but also of the many lives that were being honored by the presence of those flags fluttering in the ocean breeze. I was glad that these people had graves and hadn't been cremated because I would miss seeing the flags on Memorial Day, a reminder of people and places and events bigger than me.


Namaste