An Inspirational Hero: Trevor Roach

My daughter, son-in-law and two granddaughters have a large and very close circle of friends. This group of families gathers together frequently: camping, celebrating birthdays, supporting and sharing life with one another; the kids have pretty much all grown up together as one large, extended family.

Trevor Roach is the 12-year-old son of one of these friends, a boy with the biggest smile you can imagine (well, you don’t have to imagine because you can see it above) and a heart to go with it. Skateboarding, riding dirt bikes, playing Legos – a kid filled with excitement and joy; all boy.

Trev was initially diagnosed with cancer (leukemia) on 12/29/10 when he was just 9 years old. He fought the cancer with courage and chemo, went into remission after 1 - 2 rounds and continued his treatment session. He was doing so well that he had the line removed in September 2011. Before Christmas 2011, his mom Belinda saw the signs that the cancer was back, but the blood tests said otherwise. On 1/11/12, his blood tests finally caught up with the signs his mom was seeing (a mother knows her child) and his cancer was back in full force. He was once again admitted to the hospital and the line was put back in.

Chemo was started immediately. His doctors suggested that a bone marrow transplant was his best hope for beating cancer for good. On 2/28/12, a donor was found who was an 8 out of 10 on the matching scale. On 4/27/12, Trev had his bone marrow transplant and was “re-born.”
 
Although his health improved after his transplant, his donor cells never fully took over his body. At the end of August, just 125 days after the transplant, Trevor’s cancer was back with a vengeance. This brave, young boy fought the cancer this 3rd round with every chemo drug known, even ones that haven’t been used in years; his doctors had to get FDA approvals to use some of the medications. Nothing worked to keep the cancer at bay. It aggressively took over his body.

He was able to go on a big family-and-friends camping trip for New Years 2013 and rode a quad with boyish joy from sunrise to sunset for three days straight. Then it was back to the hospital for platelets and more tests. Friday 1/4/13: young Trev was readmitted into the hospital—his body 93% cancer-ridden—and it was estimated he had a few weeks left. Another round of treatment helped to prolong his life for a few additional weeks. He was able to go home to spend good times with his loving family (mom, dad, older brother and younger sister). Trevor was readmitted on April 6 for the last time. The cancer spread to his spleen, then to his liver and on April 18, shortly after midnight, Trevor beat the cancer by leaving it behind in his body. It may have conquered his body, but it could never, ever conquer his courageous spirit.  

Trevor Roach had the hugest amount of fight in him and was always smiling, even on his bad days with fevers and sickness. He had the best time he could have on his good days, loving dirt bike riding, trains, remote control cars, boats and trucks and especially Legos. He was the Lego master!

Countless people were touched by his story and fighting spirit. He was visited in the hospital by sports celebrities and others, including Brian Deegan, Kyle Loza, LA Sheriff’s SWAT, Wheelz, a few members of the Ducks and many others.

In his last few weeks at CHOC, there were over 30 people a day from his extended circle of friends visiting Trevor, giving him their love and support. He loved it! He was surrounded by hundreds of family friends, teachers, nurses, children, sports figures and all who grew to love him and his strong spirit.

At the celebration of his life on April 28, the mortuary was packed to overflowing with hundreds of people whose lives were touched by this hero-child; the chapel was filled, the courtyard, the foyer and overflowing outside. The mother of a little girl who also had cancer and shared a hospital room with Trevor told of how this rough-and-tumble little boy would get on the hospital room floor with her daughter to play tea party; so kind-hearted and generous.

My daughter and her family weren’t here for Mother's Day today ... and for very good reason. In young Trev's last days, he asked his mom if they could go to Big Bear Lake one last time. As sick as he was, she had to tell him no, but “we’ll meet you there afterward” at the first opportunity. So, Trevor's family, my daughter's family and other close friends went camping in Big Bear this weekend to meet Trevor and celebrate him in the beautiful mountains he wanted to visit again.

 

Our Divine nature

"How do we allow God into our minds, bodies, relationships, and life? We stop squeezing the divine out through our preconceived notions of what is sacred and what is profane. When we assume the mind-set that everything is ultimately divine, though sometimes more disguised than others, then we can see that all of our thoughts, impulses, and desires arise from and can bring us back to awareness of the sacred." ~David Simon

“… your essential nature is pure consciousness. Beyond the disguises of ego-mind and the physical body, you are pure awareness, pure joy and pure potentiality.” – Deepak Chopra

When we drop away the ego and the physical, we realize that our essence—all of us—is a Divine nature, and the Divine doesn’t have a physical body. We inhabit our physical vessel for such a brief period of time and yet, some people spend far too much time noting the differences between our bodies instead of the sameness of our souls.

You don't have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body.
~ C. S. Lewis

We are not our bodies. When our mortal vessels can no longer live and we are released from our body, we will no longer have gender. We will no longer have skin color. We will no longer have sexual differences. We will no longer have handicaps or illnesses.

All these require a physical body and without a body, we then fully and completely realize Truth: in our essence, we are the same.

One.

“Imagine all the people living life in peace. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us, and the world will be as one.”-John Lennon

"I look forward confidently to the day when all … will be one with no thought to their separateness as Negroes, Jews, Italians or any other distinctions."- Martin Luther King Jr.

One.

I caught a few minutes of “Driving Miss Daisy” recently; there’s a scene where two Southern cops call Hoke “boy” several times, in that superior, swaggering, dripping-with-honeyed-hatred manner some Southern whites of that time held. That accent toward anyone has always turned my stomach. I also just finished reading “Island Beneath the Sea” (Isabel Allende), a story of slavery in Sainte-Domingue (before it was Haiti) and then later in New Orleans. Brutality toward any other being is so difficult to read about or watch.

One.

When Fear rules and guides a person—instead of Love—anyone who is the “other” (not like “us”) is to be viewed with suspicion, instead of welcomed and embraced with kindness. Witness the separateness and segregation of early immigrants: Jews, Italians, Irish with their foreign languages and customs; the separateness of women, requiring new laws to break that separateness; the separateness of Cuban refugees; the separateness and segregation of blacks, of the hatred and brutality they endured; the separateness of gays; the separateness of Latinos, those with legal status and without.

One.

The elimination of separateness seems to move through four stages:

• Tolerance 
  No one really likes “them” in our schools and society, but the “other” is tolerated, allowed limited contact
• Acceptance 
  At some point, it’s accepted that the “other” is here, like it or not, so just make the best of it.
• Integration
  Beyond acceptance, there comes a measure of equality and the “other” becomes more integrated into society, less noticed as different.
• Ignorance 
  The most complete acceptance is when the “other” is so fully integrated into all facets of life (work, schools, business, politics) that one makes no distinction at all. There is no longer any difference that fosters fear as before.

Ignorance of any difference is the goal, of course, where there is no fear or suspicion, no separateness. It’s the place where we truly become One. We see a person as tall, short, black, white, one-armed, male, female, gay, straight, etc., of course, but we make no judgment or criticism. We make no assumptions based upon the physical make-up of a person.

One.

“… your essential nature is pure consciousness. Beyond the disguises of ego-mind and the physical body, you are pure awareness, pure joy and pure potentiality.” – Deepak Chopra

When we drop away the ego and the physical, we realize that our essence—all of us—is a Divine nature, and the Divine doesn’t have a physical body. We inhabit our physical vessel for such a brief period of time and yet, some people spend far too much time noting the differences between our bodies instead of the sameness of our souls. We are not our bodies. We are not our bodies. We are not our bodies. When our mortal vessels can no longer live and we are released from our body, we will no longer have gender. We will no longer have skin color. We will no longer have sexual differences. We will no longer have handicaps or illnesses.

All these require a physical body and without a body, we then fully and completely realize Truth: we are the same.

One.

.

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. 

dancing in the mirror …

This morning as I laid in bed, still in that beautiful, open, in-between space between sleep and wakefulness, my mom was suddenly and surprisingly on my mind. I instinctively started saying over and over "I love you. I love you. I love you." As love filled that golden space between, I sensed her as a young woman – so pretty! - dancing in front of a mirror. The image was so clear: She wore a long, creamy movie-star-style dressing gown, swaying prettily in front of a full-length mirror, a glimpse of leg peeking out from the dressing gown as she moved and danced. The energy of it was just so beautiful and I felt so filled with love between us.

I get these mind/heart images or thoughts or energies about her from time to time, and they’re usually from before I knew her, not as I knew her after I was born. It’s as if she's telling me more of her story, the parts that I wasn’t here for yet, as if she wants me to know who she was here outside of her narrow definition to me as “Mom.”

You should know that Mom was a champion swing dancer, winning many contests with one of her brothers as her partner. Oh, she loved to dance! Seeing her moving in front of that mirror as a young woman this morning seemed so natural, exactly as I would imagine her doing at that age.

As I said, these sensations occur from time to time, and usually not in that in-between time in the morning. I’ve had sensations when I’m doing something completely random - maybe cooking, or shopping, or seeing something interesting on a walk or while driving – and there’ll she’ll be in my heart/mind, her energy of love so instantly recognizable. I’ll feel a sense of how she experienced something very similar to what I’m doing in that moment, how she experienced life when she was pre-wife and pre-mom; I’ll get a sense of her wonder or her delight or her surprise at these things.

Crazy? Odd? Maybe. I don’t sit around and mope about her being gone; I know and trust that she is in a place of utter love and beauty and is purely, abundantly happy. So, I don’t think I’m manufacturing these sensations from a sense of loss. I don’t know. The energy seems to come to me unbidden, in the most random of circumstances.

It’s interesting to me that she chooses to show me her story. They’re not messages of guidance to help me on my own journey or warnings of some future event. They’re more like a sense of knowingness in my heart/mind, very sweet, very comfortable, very wonderful. I smile when they happen and say to myself “Oh! I see! Thank you” and I feel that I know more of her story through her own energy.

I think it’s wonderful that she’s done this for me from time to time. We’re here so briefly; in a couple of generations, the small details of our stories – favorite flavor of ice cream, our first kiss, our delight at a specific smell – will be lost. There will be no one left to tell our stories. And I’m fine with that. This is not our eternal life here; it’s just a pit stop where we do some work, live, laugh, love. But maybe after we’re gone, we’ll do like Mom and share those stories with our loved ones energetically (if that’s what’s happening; I’m still not ruling out “crazy” as a possibility, or, as my dad says, maybe I’m just “getting swimmy in the head”).

Do you ever have a sensation of a loved one who’s crossed over? How does it feel to you?

Without a doubt ...

It’s after 1am. Very quiet outside as I sit at my desk by the window. A helicopter flying overhead. The trickle of the fountain next door. These are the only sounds.

Then a cool breeze comes in through the window, brushing against my arms, wrapping around my legs, brushing through my hair, enveloping me in the night air from my head to my feet. Instinctively, I say “thank you, Father,” instinctively because it is naturally on my lips several times a day. “Thank you, Father.”

I pause and feel the embrace and allow the presence of the Divine to fill me in the quiet night. I feel Love envelop me. I feel Peace. I feel wholeness and completeness. I feel Grace. It’s good to just sit and absorb the sensation. Sitting in that space between heaven and earth, sensing that I’m a part of each, partly here, partly there.

Why is it that I have such a trusting faith? Why do I accept without question the presence of the Divine? Do you ever ask yourself those questions? I sometimes wonder where faith comes from. I don’t question at all whether the Divine exists; there is not the tiniest sliver of a doubt in my being that the Divine exists for me. But why am I so absolutely sure?



I’m not very Bible-smart; my faith doesn’t come just from the Good Book. There are so many interpretations and translations, words written for a specific time and place and audience and socio-political system. To honor those words and the Gospel message, they must be taken in context and not blindly applied without a full understanding and study.

So why do I accept without question the existence of God? I can be a doubting Thomas in many areas of life; I’m meticulous about getting the facts straight. Every chain e-mail is checked on Snopes. I check spelling on dictionary.com if I have the slightest doubt. As a QA Manager, my job was to verify and validate software requirements. “Trust, but verify.” And yet, without any empirical evidence to prove it, I believe fully and completely in the Divine … just on faith. If you’re a believer, do you ever wonder what it is that gives you that faith?

I believe we are each called to have our very own intimate relationship with the Divine … or not. That's between you and the Divine. Each of us has a different relationship; like snowflakes, no two are alike. I cannot tell you what to believe; I can only share what I believe. I don’t know your journey, your life experience, the way the Lord touches you in your soul. You own that, not me. I stay on my own mat. Whether you have a belief in the Divine or not is your personal journey.


Britt-Arnhild, who has a most wonderful and enriching blog, asked recently “What is your God like?” My answer:

My God is beyond definition, beyond boundaries! Wild, Alive, Joyful, Chaotic (God has no limits, after all), Light and Love, Wonder and Beauty. My God is not human, my God has no gender, but is pure in spirit. My God is the Divine that I see in all things and the Divine spirit I see within me.

My God is the breeze that floated in the office window right now on a cool, dark night and touched me with Love. I’ll go to sleep happy and content, trusting and at peace.

Love and Trust photos from Tracy

a moment's sunlight ...

We are but a moment's sunlight
Fading in the grass ...
- Get Together, The Youngbloods

We are so busily engaged in the daily acts of just living each day, that we sometimes forget to acknowledge and honor the fact that we have an expiration date. You, me, the next guy ... we don't remain in an earthly vessel forever.

We've all seen those e-mail chain letters about living life "between the dashes" (dates of birth and death); we've all seen Randy Pausch's Last Lecture video and maybe read the book. We know that each day and each moment is a gift, a fleeting thing, here and then gone. Babies grow, friendships change, love matures ... and then - for one reason or another - we are done with our living here.

People usually aren't comfortable talking about death. Some people believe in the finality of death; that's it, kaput, fini, done, and perhaps that scares some of them, while others are quite comfortable with that concept. The End.

Others believe we are souls temporarily journeying in a body. John Edward once likened it to a person who gets in a car, drives to a destination and then gets out of the car. In the analogy, the person is the soul and the car is the body. We arrive at our destination, leave the car/body and move on.

At my cousin's funeral last week, it was inspiring to see so many family members, friends and friends’ families come out to honor, to share, to remember this life together. Keeping my cousin's spirit with them even though his earthly vessel has served out its useful purpose. The little chapel was overflowing, with about 20 of us standing along the side aisles. After mass, we all proceeded to the gravesite, with a light drizzle of rain coming from the gray skies overhead. We all stood solemnly and in honor as the ceremony was conducted and then everyone still lingered afterward, despite the wet weather, reluctant to leave the cemetery to go to the reception.

My cousin had a very close-knit group of friends, many of whom he'd known for many, many years. They shared so much together in their lives, and it was beautiful to see how much he'd meant to them. He was obviously much loved by his friends as well as his family. His life, his personality, his friendship had made an impact on every person gathered in that chapel.

When we attend funerals for our loved ones, or go through a period of mourning, or sit shiva, or wear black armbands – we proclaim our witness of the person's life. We honor and acknowledge the person's journey, with memories of smiles and laughter, of barbeques and parties, of calls and cards, of illness and of death. Some don't like to attend funerals. I've been to many funerals (large family) and find it very comforting and life-affirming to share with others, to celebrate the person who has moved on, to show respect for the soul that joined us for a time while on their journey here.

As we go through life, we all leave footprints behind. We matter to those who love us.

variations on a theme ...

It's always interesting how when I'm supposed to learn a lesson, I get messages from more than one source reinforcing the lesson. Guess the Universe/God wants to be sure I get the message - lol! So here're more messages I've received the past couple of days about personal power ...

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I received the following e-mail the other day:

One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches! The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. I mean, he was really friendly. So I asked, 'Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!' This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, 'The Law of the Garbage Truck.' He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you.

Don't take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets.

The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. Life's too short to wake up in the morning with regrets, so ... Love the people who treat you right. Pray for the ones who don't. Life is ten percent what you make it and ninety percent how you take it!

Added 10/8: Chris added a comment that David J. Pollay is the author of The Law of the Garbage Truck™ - Beware of Garbage Trucks™! Read the original story on David’s blog davidjpollay.typepad.com. Thanks, Chris!

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And today, my Daily Om message reinforced the same theme about Avoiding Negative Vibrations and taking on others' negative energy. Excerpt:

"... The energy of laughter from a newborn baby, the feeling of joy radiating from someone in love, and the frequency of calm emanating from an enlightened teacher are just some of the energies coming from others that you may want to have around you."

http://www.dailyom.com/articles/2008/15487.html

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I've posted before that I try not to make assumptions about others' intentions; if I'm going to assume anything, I'm going to assume positive intentions until proven otherwise. Most of us probably do the same thing, cuz who wants to carry negativity and suspicion around instead of positive energy and hope? All people really are basically good, so let's treat one another that way.

Here's hoping that others only give you the most positive, loving energy today. And may you see the signs and learn the lessons being given to you, for you.

Namaste.

Keeping personal power ...

Master Kan:
Is it not better to see yourself truly than to care how others see you?

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It seems there's always a mean girl or two in every school. A bully who tries to put down others, or exclude from her private clique. Someone so insecure that the only way she can feel superior and confident is by stepping on others who she perceives as weaker and "less than" she is. (I think we can agree that some mean girls grow up but don't outgrow their predatory behavior.)

My daughter had to deal with her fair share of mean girls in school. I always taught her "Never give away your power to others." I told her that when she ignores others' remarks, she keeps her power; when she answers back in hurt or anger - when she attaches her energy to the situation - she has lost her power and has given it to her tormentor for her tormentor to now use against her. Stay detached. If you don't engage, if you don't invest yourself, you don't give away your power.

This may seem silly, but Super Nanny teaches the same lesson. When a child is having trouble sleeping in their room, she has the parents place the child in their bed, say "It's bedtime now, honey." and then leave. If the child gets up, put them back in bed, say "It's bedtime." and leave. If the child gets up again, put them back in bed, without a word. In other words, don't engage with them, stay detached. Eventually, after seeing that you aren't giving them your power - by giving the child your attention, fussing over them, reading or getting drinks of water - the child just gives up and stays in his room and sleeps. It's not a fun game if only one is playing. Same with bullies.

My granddaughters spent the night Saturday so we could go to our church festival today, and as always we spent a lot of time gabbing, with me asking them about friends, school, etc. My youngest told me that an older girl at her school called her "Ugly." Fortunately, she didn't seem overly concerned about it. She knows she's not ugly, with her long lashes, crystal blue eyes and button nose. But I told her the same thing that I told her mom: ignore it. Don't engage, don't give them your power. You know your own truth. You are not ugly and her saying you are doesn't make it so.

The other day, as I was sitting at the light to make a right turn, a guy came up on my right on a bicycle, glared at me and yelled "b*itch!" I ignored him. I know I'm not one and him calling me that doesn't make me one. He yelled it again, as if daring me to respond. I don't know if he was mentally ill or thought I was his ex-wife or something, but I just didn't engage. I told a friend about this and she said "Oh, I'd have told him off! How dare he! That's just rude!" She would have engaged, given the bully her power and had an argument with him. Why? What would be accomplished by that? She'd just be upset and angry and then she'd have that negative energy attached to her. I stayed detached and went merrily about my day, free of his energy because I'd simply ignored him and didn't let his words attach themselves to me.

Other's opinions can be valuable when offered in a helpful manner. They help us learn and grow if our hearts are open and able to sift through the opinions to find those words that speak to us with an honest voice. We can learn by listening to others. But we have to listen with discernment, careful to listen through our hearts, discarding those words that don't resonate with us, never giving away our personal power.

If a bully says that I'm a terrible person, and I don't think that I am, who is "right?" It's all perception. I can listen to his/her criticisms carefully and thoughtfully, but ultimately, the way I perceive myself is what counts, and I won't allow myself to be put into a labeled box that someone else tries to impose upon me with their words. How I react to the mean girls is up to me.

Namaste

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added 10/6: At the bottom of my blog I have a self-meditation widget. Today's self-meditation seems to affirm today's post. Ironic. Excerpt:

Happiness and suffering are dependent upon your own mind, upon your interpretation. They do not come from outside, from others.

May all your interpretations today be positive and happy! - Rose

talking to my self ...

Randy Pausch's body could no longer sustain life and so he left it and crossed over this week. Thank you, Randy, for showing and sharing so generously what you've learned on your journey.

Last year, I first learned of and watched his "Last Lecture", as so many others have; like others, I've watched it many times since. I've read several articles and watched Diane Sawyer's special with Randy and his wife, Jai. Although his body was being killed by pancreatic cancer, he was one of the healthiest of people, with wisdom, grace, dreams, spirit, acceptance, understanding and love to sustain him.

He had an incredibly graceful acceptance of the situation and was even able to find the humor and irony in this life transition. We all go through many trials in our lifetimes. We get sick, experience great loss, have our dreams shattered. Some people become destroyed by their sorrows; others become stronger, learning the lessons and moving forward with greater knowledge and awareness and new skills for coping with the vagaries of life.

How do we cope with such things? I remember on the Diane Sawyer interview, being impressed at how Randy's wife, Jai, told of sometimes drifting down into the sorrow of the situation and then stopping herself with a quick and effective "Not helpful."

"Not helpful." Two short words, but with so much meaning. Jai would use those two words almost as an automatic reflex, drawing herself back from the edge of despair because there was nothing helpful or positive or encouraging in that darkness. Self-talk often helps us get through trying circumstances. Helpful words to encourage our selves or to prevent us from negativity.

"Not helpful." I think many of us have phrases, self-talk, mantras, prayers, sayings that we repeat to ourselves, sometimes reflexively.

Mine include:

Receive what you have been given (to rremind me to accept and embrace my circumstances)

I have everything I need (a good reminder to have a grateful heart)

Everything's temporary (things pass us quickly, both the good and the bad)

Everything always works out (one of my personal favorites because it's absolutely true. It may not work out the way I want it, but it always works out nonetheless)

I am perfect just the way I am (a phrase given to me by a friend)

Five years from now, no one will really care about this (a reminder when I'm tempted to work much too late)

Do only positive things (this one got me through the first few months after my husband left)

Not helpful (I find Jai's phrase incredibly useful in many situations)

And one of my favorite meditations when I'm forgetting to connect with the Divine within:

Be still and know that I am God

Be still and know that I am

Be still and know

Be still

Be

What phrases, self-talk or thoughts help you connect to the center of your self and get you through the tough times?

drink your tea slowly ...

Drink your tea slowly and reverently,
as if it is the axis
on which the world earth revolves
- slowly, evenly, without
rushing toward the future;
Live the actual moment.
Only this moment is life.

- Thich Nhat Hahn

Like so many of us, I live a rather hectic life. My workdays are usually 10 hours, working against deadlines, juggling multiple projects, dealing with client expectations, which can change from day to day. Most weekdays, I'm not home until after 9:30pm, either because I go straight from work to yoga or I go to visit my daughter and family over an hour away. I never make dinner; there's no time and it's too late. With such a packed week, all the chores are usually crammed into the weekend.

Some weekends, though, I try to claim for myself. These are weekends where I feel the need to do nothing, despite my lists of cleaning and fixing and planting; of oiling the chairs on the patio, posting my excess on Craigslist, replacing the worn flap on the toilet. I just want to recharge my batteries, to decompress, to release and renew - and ignore the nagging of those lists. They can wait.

This past Saturday was one of those days. I felt lazy most of the day, happily, contentedly lazy. I did a few little things after my morning walk and my yoga class - played piano in a contented reverie - but mostly I just hung out in my courtyard doing a bit of plant clean-up, reading, sitting and thinking – just being ... and just being happy. My heart was just filled with gratitude for everything: for the home that keeps me sheltered; for the courtyard garden with the white butterflies fluttering about and the little birds drinking from the fountain; for the water that comes right out of the tap just by turning a lever; for the ability to choose when and what I will eat, at whatever time I am hungry; for the washer and dryer that clean and dry my clothes with so little effort on my part. I am abundantly grateful for the abundance and ease in my life.

On my lazy Saturday, I felt very much "in the moment." No rushing about, no calls or e-mails to answer. I felt fully present to the air, the sun, the sky; to life.

We only really live in the present moment. We don't live in the future; it's not here yet, so we cannot live in it. And yet, we sometimes invest considerable stress and worry about an imagined future that may or may not come to pass. More likely than not, when the future becomes the present, it's very different than we imagined it would be.

Drink your tea slowly and reverently ...

We don't live in the past, either. Those hurts and disappointments, events and feelings are not in the present moment where our breath and our heartbeat are. Too often, though, we stuff our sorrows and our victimhood over past events into a big old knapsack and hoist the full weight of it all over a worn shoulder. Thus encumbered by events from long ago - events that are done and gone - we face the purity and freshness of our present moment burdened and stooped under the load, as if we've forgotten that it's our choice whether to carry those burdens forward with us ... or to release them and fly freely like an untethered balloon through the air of now, feeling how much lighter and clearer everything is, how the sunlight sparkles, how the white butterflies dance, and how our heart shines throughout our being.

Live the actual moment.

There really is only this present moment. And then it passes ... and now we're in this present moment. We are not past, we are not future. We are truly only present. It's good to take time to get off the hamster wheel that life can become and just Be; happily, contentedly lazy if that suits you in the moment, noticing each breath and each butterfly and filled with gratitude.

Only this moment is life.

suspicious minds ...

“As human beings we all want to be happy and free from misery… we have learned that the key to happiness is inner peace. The greatest obstacles to inner peace are disturbing emotions such as anger, attachment, fear and suspicion, while love and compassion and a sense of universal responsibility are the sources of peace and happiness.”
~ Dalai Lama

Lotus Pond - Bruno Baumann


The other night after yoga, I was speaking with another student, discussing his hip problems and the spondylolisthesis of my spine and how yoga is so helpful. He told me of a therapist in LA who'd really helped him and that he'd give me the man's number. I thanked him but told him quite honestly that I probably wouldn't drive all the way up to LA and that a friend had recommended someone who was closer.

The man's response: "Well, you must not be hurting that bad if you're not willing to drive to LA."

I thought it was an odd comment at first, and then I gave it my full consideration, thinking about whether there was any truth for me in his observation.

Some might have thought his comment was insulting. This was the first time we'd spoken and he didn't know me or what I've been through with this condition, as well as other pain issues (from fibromyalgia, sciatica, scoliosis, transitional vertebra). Maybe he was being intentionally rude ... or maybe not. I don't know and really what does it matter if he was? The only one who knows the intention behind that comment is him. Any speculation on my part would be just that: speculation.

I'm not big on speculating about other people's motives for doing or saying what they do. I know of people - co-workers, family, friends - who often second-guess other's intentions: "I know that he did that just to spite me." "I know she did that because she wants his money." Uh, no, you don't know.

One person in particular is prone to spinning her theories and suspicions as if they're the absolute truth. When I gently counter with the fact that she doesn't really know, she insists that "well, it's obvious what she was trying to do. Anyone can see that!"

Hmmm ... I think I may be missing the "righteous indignation" gene ...

Have you ever had anyone misread your intentions? I've had a couple of occasions where I've said or done something with the best of intentions ... and later found that the other person assumed something entirely different than I'd intended. I would apologize for any hurt feelings and discuss the issue with a listening heart to both explain my intentions and also to better understand the other's perception.

Many misunderstandings arise from an incorrect perception. I could have perceived the fellow student's comment as rude and thoughtless, but that would be merely my perception, and not his truth, which only he knows.

These kinds of assumptions can really damage a relationship, so I try to never speculate about the intent behind another person's actions. Well, that's not entirely true. I do make one assumption: I always trust first in others' positive intentions. And I hope that others trust in my positive intentions.

I believe that it's very rare that anyone would be intentially malicious and hurtful to a friend. Am I being naive? Maybe. I've been told that I'm too trusting of others. Do I miss signals when someone is truly intending to be rude or disrespectful? Probably so. But what harm is there in that?

If someone is being rude, that's on them and has nothing to do with me or my happiness. I'd rather be naive and trusting in my happy little bubble of bliss than be suspicious and hurt for no good reason other than my own misguided assumptions. I'm much happier feeling that everyone in my circle is a good, kind, loving person and that we all have one another's best interests at heart. It's a nice way to live.

Namaste

remember ... remember ...

I must be self-indulgent today and write for myself. I am filled with thoughts, feelings, experiences, triggered by my uncle's death. My thoughts have been ajumble with memory and sharing with relatives-seen-too-seldom for my taste. Time is such a thief. "I'd love to see you more, but you know ... so busy, so little time." Such a thief. And then the door closes and you realize that we gave Time our full permission to steal from us. Complicit in the crime, we just leave the door wide open and our wallet on the table. We're temporary; each moment is precious. Engage with those you love.

I'll likely be rambling through the rest of this, just needing to get my thoughts on paper*. Feel free to abandon ship right now and not read any further, if you wish. But be fairly warned if you choose to continue. I didn't make you do it. Thanks!

*I love expressions like "thoughts on paper" and "I'll cc you on that." We don't really often put thoughts on actual paper and when was the last time you made a carbon copy of a note? Adages that have evolved from their meaning when I was a kid make me smile.

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photo courtesy of Tracy

I. Yoga of loss

Last Monday, at the beginning of yoga class, our teacher, Maureen, asked if there was anything in particular we wanted to work on. "Hip openers," I said. I needed to release some of the sorrow I'd been carrying all week and hip openers are designed for releasing emotion in a big way. Just what my body was craving. We did several hip openers throughout class (including a wonderfully long pigeon pose) and as I breathed through each asana, releasing on the exhale, I could feel these sticky bits within me releasing their hold and opening up, sometimes with a soft "pop!" sound. I could feel my breath become fuller, my clarity more clear. I really love hip openers, even when I'm not holding any deep emotion. Bonus: they're a wonderful release from the spondylolisthesis and sciatica pain. Great stuff.

At the end of class, as were guided to lie still and relax in savasana - that state of surrender without attachment, being aware but not engaged - I decided I would like to softly think of my uncle and feel blessings for him during this time. I relaxed my body, closed my eyes, opened my heart and aimed my love at an image of him in my mind. As soon as I saw his image, though, I felt this sudden rush of love coming from that image ... and then very quickly, I felt others rush forward with him - my mom (oh, Mom!), my aunt, uncles, grandparents, friends - and they all hurtled love at me like an uncontrolled flow from a fireman's hose. I was briefly unnerved at first, sputtering against the unexpected flood, then I relaxed and opened my heart ("receive what you have been given") and I could receive it all, feeling it fill the spaces just opened up by the earlier poses in class.

Amazing experience.

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II. The Vigil-formerly-known-as-the-Rosary

Thursday night was the Vigil. Pre-some-change-in-the-church rules, we used to have a Rosary service on an evening prior to the funeral. Everyone kneeling, rosary beads in hands - some of those hands smooth and young, others gnarled with arthritis and wrinkled with time - the priest would begin each prayer and those gathered would complete it, in a call-and-response cadence. You do five decades of those - the prayers droning in a sonorous rhythm, buzzing in the chapel like bees on a hot summer day - and you're in such a wonderfully meditative state, feeling that interconnectedness with the Sacred within. (I can always use more interconnectedness with the Sacred within.)

Nowadays, though, it's a Vigil; you get a nice, small service and, for the Rosary part, it's one decade and you're on your way. Seems like my tio got cheated.

My mom had always said she wanted her full five decades when she crossed over, and my dad and brother made darned sure she got 'em when she crossed in 1990, by golly. My brother had to make a special request, but I'm so glad Mom got it the way she wanted. I have strong memories of sitting near her feet as a kid, with her sitting in the upholstered rocker (which now sits in my living room), her beautiful crystal rosary beads in her fingers, eyes gently closed, her lips slightly moving, the soft sussurous whisper of the prayers from deep within her soul. (I can feel the depth of her faith in those moments.)

At her rosary, we prayed every last prayer, moved through every single bead. After the service, several older women all gathered around Mom's open casket. In a bit of a semi-circle, they began to sing, a strikingly beautiful sound, a capella, with deep and powerful emotion. The tears silently coursed down their cheeks as they bravely sang for her. They'd been schoolgirl friends of my Mom and they all used to sing together in church choir. And now they gathered and sang for Mom, hands held together, arms around one another, singing her over to Heaven.

Amazing experience.

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III. Losing my stories

My mom came from a family of ten children. Growing up, we had a lot of tios and cousins that we'd visit with very regularly, some were on the same block when I was very little. All the family was very close and we cousins grew up together.

From those ten, there are now two uncles who remain on this side. Gathered together for my Uncle Art this week, we all shared a lot of "remember" stories -

"remember that time with the garter snake?",
"remember driving through those fields to tio's house?",
"remember how we used to ..."

remember ...
remember ...
remember ...

These are the only people who know my childhood stories first-hand, who have known me from my beginning on this side. As each one ages and moves on, they take my stories with them, one by one. Each one has a different piece of my story, various bits of my life's narrative ... each unique piece making a "pop!" sound as it is released and disappears. Pop! Fifty years from now - likely, less than that - there will be no human alive who knows my childhood stories first-hand. There won't be any memory of them left on this side.

Amazing experience.


Namaste

whispers ...

It’s healthy to have time to just be,

to listen to the rhythm of your heartbeat,

the wind sighing outside the window.

It’s good to have that time to listen

to the inner voice of God Within.

Our spirit selves crave peace and calmness

amidst the chaos of our physical lives.

It is said that prayer is us talking to God;

quiet meditation is us listening to God.

Be still and listen.

Be ...

Namaste

sensing grace ...

Maybe it's my stronger focus on my inner life during Advent ...

Maybe it's just the season ...

But, I'm finding myself more vitally aware of God's presence in all things these days.

Do you sense it, too? Slowing down, I take fuller, deeper breaths. I open my heart to the moment, extending my arms out wide and then back, like angel's wings, heart exposed. I'm finding myself stopping and paying a little more attention, seeing His grace in just every little thing.

... the rain yesterday
... the sunshine today
...the hellos that I exchanged with strangers when I took my walk this morning ... hello! good morning! ...
...the phone conversation with my oldest granddaughter last night, gabbing away and laughing at silly things
...yoga class this morning ... extending, strengthening, breathing ... holding stillness in the pose, holding stillness in the mind ... chatting happily with everyone after class

... the seagulls playing and calling to one another

... the music playing on this blog

... you ... I see His grace in you

I saw a photo earlier this morning of cats sitting in a window, watching snowflakes falling for the better part of the day. They'd change positions once in a while, but otherwise, simply sat there observing the dancing, whirling flakes, quietly witnessing without fully engaging, in the grace of the moment. We "stare out the window", metaphorically, more as kids than as adults, I think. As a kid, I'd become engrossed in watching a limey green worm inch-inch-inch across the grass, or be fully present as I observed a line of ants busily hauling things along the sidewalk's edge. Or simply witness the splendor of Nature below me as I sat on the edge of a rock atop a hill ... simply looking, and feeling my entire being fill with peace and grace.

I need to "stare out the window' more ... stilling the mind naturally by acknowledging and being present to the moment, the internal chatter on pause, breathing more fully, senses dialed in at the upper range of awareness, naturally aware of God's grace. There is no judgment, criticism, and barely any thought. Simply observant, simply aware of grace.

Fully present to the moment.
Fully present to the Grace of the moment.

In grace, there is a perfect blend of our dual natures, body and spirit in harmony. Everything we need to know, we already know. (Really.) Sometimes it's just a matter of slowing down and being more present to remember. We acknowledge the grace of God in each moment. We acknowledge our own divine grace, too. Blessed be.

Namaste

For my tio ...

Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord ...

... and let perpetual light shine upon them. Amen.

November is the month of Remembrance for our loved ones who have left behind their physical selves and have crossed over in their pure Spirit, no longer bound to the encumbrance of a body and it's physical needs. We are so temporary in this physical world; here for but a moment, really, and then free once again to return to our true Divine nature.

My mom grew up in a family of 10 kids: two girls, eight boys. On October 22, her brother - my uncle Alfred - crossed over, joining Mom and many of their siblings in Heaven. Some of my cousins called him Tio Freddy, but to my brothers and I he was Uncle Alfred.

To write of my memories of him, is to write about my memories of growing up in a family with loads of tios, tias (aunts and uncles) and cousins, cousins and more cousins. The Oropeza family and extended family is a loving, laughing, teasing, lively bunch and, although scattered widely, we gathered often when I was young. Weekends would find us headed up to LA or Oxnard, or out to Norco or wherever family was gathering. There were always new babies being born, baptisms to attend; as we grew older, there were weddings, then more babies and baptisms. I've tried to think of a way to convey how fun and funny and passionate our family is; I've tried to think of a TV show or movie to use as a comparison. But there is none. Laughing and teasing and joking with one another is as natural as breathing to this family, fully grounded in a strong family love, and in a liveliness and passion that fills most Latin families.

When they were young men, my tios were Zoot Suiters, and they carried that sense of style and poise with them after their Zoot Suit days were over. At more formal family gatherings, they'd all be elegantly dressed in very nice, well-cut suits, dark sunglasses, some with fedoras, their thick, glossy hair shining, their jewelry sparkling. Classy, my tios, very classy. It looked like a gathering of the Mafia, we'd laugh. I always thought they were like the Rat Pack (Dino, Sammy, et al) of the 50s, suave hipsters who could make a party happen by stepping into a room.

As a young girl, my mom used to go swing dancing with her brothers, winning dance contests in El Paso. She was a great dancer and her brothers were still her favorite partners as they all grew up and had families of their own. I loved to watch her dance with Uncle Alfred at our weddings and family anniversaries and other parties! They'd smile widely at each other, knowing how to move so smoothly together, dancing ever-changing patterns that kept all eyes on them. When Uncle Alfred retired from the Teamsters, there was a big party for him at a local hall. Someone videotaped him dancing with my mom at the party; I sure wish I had that tape, the two of them so natural together, with the same lightness they enjoyed in their youth.

When my Mom crossed over, he held me as I cried and told me "If you need anything .... anything ... I will be there for you." And I knew I could just ask, and he would be there for me. He and my mom were so close; in fact, she was supposed to go visit him and my tia that day that she crossed. She'd called him in the morning to let him know she and dad were coming later. That afternoon, I called him to tell him she wasn't. "No!" he said. "She called me just this morning. No ..." unbelieving, and making me cry even more as I had to convince him.

When my cousin called and gave me the news that Uncle Alfred had crossed over, I immediately got a sense that Mom was happy to finally greet him in Heaven, joining my tia and other tios and Oropeza family who are there. We'll miss him here and remember his deep, raspy laugh, his joking and the loving manner he had about him. I think he and Mom are already dancing ... smiling happily at one another once again.

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Fire update: On Saturday, the 3000 evacuees from the Santiago Canyon fire were allowed to return to their homes. Many had been camping in an Albertson's grocery store parking lot during the two-week evacuation. The fire is not yet fully contained, still burning in places and the infrared shows a number of hot spots in the rugged terrain. But at this time it is not considered a threat to the homes. Full containment is expected by Tuesday. Thank you for your prayers through this.