To those touched by sorrow …

Being the Pollyanna that I am (“let’s play the Glad Game!”), I simply don’t understand the depth of despair and darkness that one must be in to take one’s own life. What a horrible place to be in! Without hope that things will ever get better, in such mortal pain that even knowing that others will be enormously hurt by the act of suicide doesn’t dissuade the person from ending his or her life.

What makes the people of Haiti—many pulled from the rubble, many with amputated limbs, many with no homes or businesses to go to—what makes the Haitians able to continue to struggle on, even to sing as it’s been reported? What makes the Amish families who lost their daughters in a heartless massacre capable of not only coping, but to find forgiveness in their hearts and move on through the pain? What makes any of us reach the depths of despair … yet still trust that things will change, that we won’t always be in this dark place, that even in the worst of circumstances, there is still hope?

And yet others who appear to be in less dire circumstances (emphasizing appear) are incapable of coping and making it through to the next minute. What makes one person resilient and another person fall apart? If we only knew.

I can only sense that it must be beyond any pain that I can possibly imagine, a place where a person feels they have no other option left. My prayers go out to the Osmond and Koenig families as their hearts cry in sorrow for their losses. May grace and peace touch their hearts during this time.

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. 

Shower the people you love with love!

Shower the people you love with love.
Show them the way you feel.

Ahhhh … James Taylor, telling it like it is. And it doesn’t apply to only romantic relationships; in all our relationships – family, friends – we should be able to tell those we love that we love them, to be able to share with them how much their presence means in our lives. Rain down the love, people!

As my granddaughter Jasmine wrote when she was about 7:

Love, love
I love to love
My heart goes with me
So I can love
Yes it is true
Because I love you!

There is powerful energy in love, an energy that spreads beyond the people who are sharing in that love. (I read recently that committed couples actually improve the conditions of their entire community – government, schools. churches, retailers - and are a stabilizing factor in it.) I believe that when two people love, their love energy is magnified and spreads beyond their relationship, like happy colorful balloons floating gently out into the world.

Singles (like me) exude a powerful love energy, too, and we love with as much intensity and passion and strength as couples do, but couples—through their intensely personal commitment to be a life partner to another person, to be an involved witness to that person’s life—have an additional capacity to multiply the energy of love for all the world. I love the line from “Shall We Dance”:

“You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness'."

That is a profound responsibility for one person to take on for another. Wow. There is power and strength in that kind of love for another. I admire people who have found that one person who makes them “zing!” enough for them to want to take on that responsibility, for better or worse, for ever and ever. And I thank people who have found that and made that commitment because we all benefit from it.

So thank you, couples! And even as a single, I will always, always make sure to shower the people I love with love. The more love energy we all put into the world, I believe, the more love there is to counteract the hate and violence of some. Let the love rain down!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * *

Tomorrow’s my birthday! I love birthdays and being able to celebrate another year of living a wonderful, blessed life. I am abundantly grateful for my mind, my circumstances, the people in my life, the opportunities, the beauty that each day affords.

Last February 15, I wrote the following on the blog:

Thank you, dear friends. You remind me of all the various parts and history of who I am and who I have been. Each of you holds a different piece. I am abundantly grateful to have you share some part of my life's journey with me. How happy you make me!

Still so true this year, too. Thank you for your presence!

Namaste

My Super Bowl Sunday

Don’t you love that title? LOL! Sounds like something a third-grader would title a writing assignment, doesn’t it?

I feel like I’ve been so absent here; seems that I haven’t written in quite awhile. I really miss visiting my favorite blogs, too. My new job starts much earlier than my previous jobs did (and still ends as late), so I don’t really have any computer time until the evening. Even then, several nights a week I’m not home until 10pm or later due to yoga classes or visiting my daughter 50 miles away. Weekends are busy with cleaning, groceries, gardening, errands, home maintenance, emails, phone calls, etc. Time flies …

I’m really appreciating that I had the time previously to spend time enjoying others’ blogs, reading their thoughts, their ideas, learning new ways of looking at things. I started Jan’s Meditation Challenge with the best of intentions, but haven’t been able to do it daily. I don’t beat myself up over it; I spend time when I can and honor the practice when I do it. I am going to find a way to get back to reading and enjoying my favorite blogs again. Just have to adjust to the new rhythm and move things in my life around a bit.

Did you have a good Super Bowl Sunday? I’m not into football but I love Super Bowl Sunday because it’s a great day to run around and do errands without the usual weekend customers. Love it. Went to a movie this morning, Up in the Air. Really enjoyed the majority of it. I related very much to George Clooney’s character in the first 95% of the movie; I live very much like that, free to do what I’d like most times, relatively unemcumbered, living life according to my own rhythms, utterly content and thoroughly happy.

Later I ran errands at several stores and enjoyed the light customer traffic and the extra attention the associates could provide in helping me find items. In the afternoon, I met my goddaughter and her mom for mani/pedis. Again, few customers, and the associates were extra-attentive; very relaxing, very enjoyable and my toes and fingers are a happy shade of poppy pink!

I went to a department store to return a blouse and the store was nearly a ghost town. I enjoyed a nice chat with the returns guy and then leisurely took my time browsing through clothes and jewelry.

Time for mass: Wow! Where was everyone? Parking was easy; I got a spot close by instead of out in the field. The church was maybe half-full; usually seating is all taken, and there are a number of people standing in the back. It was really nice and I enjoyed the extra personal experience of participating with a smaller group of people.

It was a smiling-all-day kind of day. I enjoyed every experience of the day, from popcorn to communion. I just spent a little computer time helping one friend with a QA test plan and another with her resume. I plan to spend some very enjoyable time visiting my blog friends this week and catching up. But now it’s very late and morning comes much too early!

Good night!

Owning the journey …

“I need to talk to you.”

“Can I come over?”

“I need to be in your space.”

I imagine we all get those calls from time to time. A friend who needs an ear, a troubled soul who needs a hand in sorting it all out, a hurting friend who needs a hug.

A good friend called me and said I was the only person he could talk to. He said that I was the most grounded person he knew; “wise” he said.

In my younger years, that would have inflated my ego and I would’ve puffed up thinking that, with my help, my friend’s problems would be solved. Thankfully, getting older also includes getting wiser (I hope!) and releasing that puffy old ego more and more with each passing year. I was touched that he reached out to me, but I know that I can’t solve anyone’s problems.

I can listen, though. I believe I’m a good listener. I’ve even taught workshops on “Active Listening” as part of a previous job. I’ve probably mentioned that I had speech problems as a kid, often so embarrassed that I just tried not to talk much. So I listened. I looked a person in the eye, moved my body to face him or her, and listened attentively with my whole body and mind.  I’d note the inflection of speech, the body language, the facial expressions; all deeper clues to what the person was trying to convey than the actual words they were saying.  (Speech therapy classes taught me some of these skills.) Even before I knew the expression, I knew how to be fully present to another.

I don’t usually give advice, though, even when the inevitable “but what shall I do?” is asked. (It would probably be my own ego talking.) I’ll share my own thoughts and experiences, but I really make an effort not to tell the other person what I think they should do. Instead, I’ll ask questions (speaking to their higher self) to help the person consider their options in a healthy, constructive way and determine their own next move.

Each person owns their own journey. I constantly remind myself of that. I can listen, I can hold a hand, I can hug or cry or laugh; I can share and encourage further thinking. But I can’t own another person’s journey or solve their problems. Each of us owns our own journey. No one else is responsible for solving our personal problems. No one else is responsible for making us happy. Each time I get that “I need to talk to you” call, I remind myself: Each of us owns our own journey – and I try to get my self out of the way so I can be fully present for the person calling.

I am praying for my friend, praying that his talking/my listening helped him in thinking through some things. I pray that his journey improves and that his heart and spirit move into a healthier and happier place. It’s up to him. I wish him happiness and lightness of spirit.

Namaste

A bit of creativity with stuff on hand

View from the pier, Christmas Eve 2009

After 9 months of being home and having all the time in the world to do whatever I needed to do, I need to work on my time management skills now that I’m working again – lol! The week and the weekend really got away from me so this will just have to be a quick post and I’ll try to carve out a bit more time next weekend.

With a tiny Christmas budget for 2009, I had to get the ol’ creative juices churning and figure out what kind of gifts that I could create myself that would be (1) pleasing to the giftee, (2) inexpensive to make, and (3) would be something I could do fairly well. (Sewing projects would be out of the question. Yes, I have a sewing machine. In a closet. In a box … that’s never been opened.)

Quite fortunately, I had several different frames on hand that I’d collected for other “one-day-when-I-have-time” projects. Ah ha! [Insert lightbulb icon here.] So each of my brothers got a framed pic of us all together on Dad’s 80th birthday. Dad got a pic, too. I also had a small photo book printed for Dad with family pics, juxtaposing certain pics for effect: a 70s family portrait on the same page as a more recent family pic; Dad walking me up the aisle next to a pic of Dad walking my daughter, Amber, up the aisle. I tried to put some real thought into the pics I selected. I think he really liked it, cuz he kept saying things like “Oh, would you look at that.” and other Dad-like expressions that indicate he likes something. Dad isn’t an effusive type, but his comments assured me he was happy. In fact, he went through it at least three times while we were together. [Insert my smile here.]

I also had a photo book printed for my daughter and son-in-law of our vacation to Mexico in June. It was fun to see them all going through it, laughing at sunburns and remembrances of the fun we had. And one of the frames I so fortunately had on hand had 4 inserts so I put in some of our Mexico pics plus a very cute pic of the girls taken recently .

In addition to frames, I also had two shadowboxes on hand, bought years ago with the intent to make something cool for the girls. Now was the time! Still staying with the Mexico theme, I made a shadowbox for each of them with different colors and stickers, some flowers and shells (some that their mom and I’d collected over the years) and one of my favorite pics from our trip: a rear-view of Jas and Bri in their swimsuits, walking across a footbridge, with their arms around one another, carefree and happy. I was really hoping they’d like them; I wanted to make these nice and memorable for them.

On Christmas morning, I watched Jas’ face closely as she began to open her shadowbox: her smile got bigger and then bigger and then spread like sunshine all over as she opened it. Bam! She looked so darned happy! [Insert my smile here, too.] She loved the picture and she loved how I decorated the boxes. Yay! Bri loved hers, too, but Jas had the biggest reaction.

In yet another very fortunate stroke of good luck, Jas asked for a painting by me for Christmas and it so happened that I had an extra blank canvas already in the closet. Inspired by a painting I’d found on an art site, I painted a light, happy floral for her:

With a mix of creativity, some things on hand and a desire to do something special for those I love, I managed to stay within budget and had a lot of fun making and creating memorable gifts for my family. A very happy Christmas! 

morning peace

shanti shanti shanti

peace peace peace

I slowly sense that I am awakening, still straddling that space between sleep and awareness, gently transitioning into a more conscious state.

Eyes still closed, I sense the early morning darkness in the room.

Eyes still closed, I slowly become aware of the sound … and a smile spreads across my heart and across my face. My breathing slows back into a gentle rhythm, my body relaxes in the warmth of my bed.

The sound … like the soft roar of a jet passing overhead.

The sound … saturating the quiet of the morning, softly, insistently.

A gentle, soft din the only sound this early morning as the day slowly awakens—as I slowly awaken—smiling inside and out. The occasional light crack (or is it more like a boom?) like far-away thunder.

The ocean, the ocean. I lie in bed, warm and at ease, eyes still closed, listening to the soft roar of the mighty Pacific Ocean, a gentle, ambient sound; rhythmic, like my breathing, as I remain relaxed, eyes closed.

Wanting more, I rise and open the window, then ease back into my bed and close my eyes again, hearing the ocean more clearly now, feeling it within me like life-giving breath, spreading a warmth of love and peace. A good start …