Hurdles - Present and Past

I have a thirsty fish in me
that can never find enough 
of what it's thirsty for!
~ Rumi

This was my father. 

He passed away 5 days ago. He was 75 and I loved him very much and I know he loved me.

And even though I have 2 years experience in the grief department and because I have this much experience in the grief department I am aware this means almost nothing. 

Grieving is a slippery character that creeps up unexpectedly and in a surprisingly different number of ways! So part of me is OK, part of me is on guard and cautious, part of me is angry at the timing and part of me hurts. And in this order... I think.

Unlike with my husband Michael's death, with whom I had a much more intimate relationship, my father's passing feels OK-er. We lived hundreds of miles apart for the majority of my life and I have not depended on him for anything since I was a teen. There was this distance both geographically and emotionally so I admit I might not be having strong feelings at the moment. But I suspect there will be 'karmic' repercussions that must be felt.

And unlike Michael, my father's death is more in keeping with natural expectations. He lead a life full of invention and inspiration and that life in him had begun to wane. For this reason I feel his soul may actually be in a good - or perhaps even a better place - with more flexibility and possibilities for growth. I am assuming our souls are continually learning.

Just working on the timing of this thing in regards to my own healing. I had just gotten back in the saddle, was on the horse and was learning how to trot. And while trotting I could SEE myself cantering and I was joyously anticipating some galloping soon!

Then this - a new hurdle - so I must readjust.

Now I am working on accepting what is and allowing it to unfold as it must. Its gonna do it anyway. I just have to get comfortable, hang on to the reins and go for it. 

Go up and over
     and thus continue forward 
          no matter what
     on this
my new path.

I just love a good metaphor - don't you?

Tag Your It!

2013 Grief Olympics

Here is a recount made last year to a friend about things as they were unfolding for me then. Remembering where I was gives me clarity on how far I have come!

"I made it past 3 of the 4 challenging events - Mike's B-Day, my B-Day and the fact that my B-Day was such a milestone - I am 50 years old on Aug 3.

The retreat, which my sister insisted I attend with her, was a great place to be during this highly charged time. A friend of mine from HS drove down from SF and took me to Pebble Beach for a birthday dinner celebration. We drove through Carmel first where he insisted on getting me a birthday gift ( some sandals). And then we stopped by the place where he had deposited his fathers ashes years earlier. On the last night of the retreat a dance was held. There I danced like I haven't danced in years. It was unforgettable...the way I turned 50! And so unexpected as well.

BTW - retreat was at Asilomar Lodge in Pacific Grove CA. There lots of nice people gathered to do workshops and have a great time otherwise. Not stuffy ideologues, but wide open folks wishing everyone find their own path their own way.

So had a great time and am now preparing for final summer challenge in Lani's Grief Olympics - taking Mike's ashes to beach exactly 1 year after his death. I will have loads of family support and we will make it happen.

I had an urn made by a potter friend of mine. Mike loved the color yellow. I put his ashes in it this evening. It is all so surreal...One minute I am up and next I am curled up in a weeping ball. Just keepin' it together these days is all I can manage. I am so grateful for every one's giving-ness of their time and their attention."

Do you have a way to gage your here & now wonderfulness?

Tag You're It!

Tell Me Everything will be OK

A deer chose my house this week. He found a soft pile of leaves on the protected side of the yard, a refuge in the tightly bound space between two fences and my house. There was a complete break. I saw the bone to his back left hoof jutting out from his leg. The pain must have been immense. The struggle must have been bloody and hard. The instinct must have been great to seek shelter and repose. A deer chose my house to lay down by and die. 

I hope my house was his sanctuary. I hope the deer found some peace from his pain in this harborage protected by love and law. My house is a sanctuary for me. I too have lain down curled up by pain to just be. I have lain down and bled tears until I, or the pain, subsided. Yes this is how the deer must have felt as he chose my house to lay down by, but not die.

Tell me there is purpose to enduring this rough and raw spillage sifting through us. Right thinking and meditation and reading and listening to music and painting and crying and writing these and many other words are powerful tools for healing. But nothing replaces another soul vibrating beside you, holding your head and stroking your face.  

I am so sorry I was not there to tell the deer...

   "Everything will be OK."

    "All is well."

    "The first cut is the deepest."

    "Come away with me and I will ease your pain."

    "Your way of being is in tune with all things."

    "I love you."

Tell me everything will be OK...



Can we really ease the pain of another? 

Tag You're It!

Allowing the Now

Was it courageous for Michael to choose not to seek treatment? Was it courageous for me to be by his side and help him as his illness ran the table? Not knowing if we had 6 weeks or 6 months - it was a time of uber conscious living in the Now.

After making his choice, Michael worked half days. Passing off his life's work to others was important to him. He wanted it done right. After about a week he could no longer drive and took to our bed. He was fairly self sufficient and I continued to work. About a week later I received this email, "You will have to make sure to be home to let the hospice nurse in at 5:30. I can't make it down the stairs anymore. I am sorry."

Things were moving quickly, but we did have enough time to plan an open house. Lisa, my best friend, and her husband came down from Baltimore. We also got help from good friends Jen and Tim along with my sister Alice and Michael's brother Andrew. It was a good thing too. 138 people showed up! There was a line that started at the staircase, ran down the hall into the kitchen and out the back door. Jen became 'the hostess' so folks did not have to wait in line. She made a list and sent folks upstairs in groups of 5 and 6. 

And there was lots of food!  It was so crowded Lisa was trapped at the kitchen sink. She told me later that at one point she had to go to the bathroom but couldn't make it out of the kitchen. So she just kept doing dishes and after a while, she said, "It just went away!" I was not really aware of any of this at the time. I generally stayed by Mike's side, in our bedroom, making sure he had an advocate with him at all times during this, what my sister was now calling, a "Living Wake". 

Michael was in total control that day. He passed on his meds to make sure he would be present for everyone. As 3:00 approached, our cut off time for all visitors, Michael asked how many were left. About 15 we told him. "Send them up in two groups," he commanded. "I want to make sure everybody gets seen." After the last group left I took a private moment to clean him up and give him his morphine. He wanted to thank everyone personally for their help so he asked the 7 of us to come up and be with him as he fell asleep. I asked him how he thought the day went. Michael thought for a long moment. "It was like a real tough football game...but we won." 

"Get some rest." I told him. "You don't have to do anything else. It is all done. I love you." "I love you too," he said as he slipped off to sleep. That was Saturday. He slept straight thru Sunday. On Monday, after Alice and I changed his sheets, I kissed Michael and told him I loved him.  "I love you too", he said. These words seemed to come from another place. Not from Michael. Not from this room. "Alice, did you hear that?"  We were amazed as we wept. Somehow we both knew these might be his last words. The next day Michael died.

Einstein said, 

"I think the most important question facing humanity is, ‘Is the universe a friendly place?’ This is the first and most basic question all people must answer for themselves." 

  

Even after the sudden loss of my husband to illness - call me Anne Frank - I still believe the universe is a friendly place. Just like I made sure my husband was totally supported and loved, I believe, when we work with it, the force that governs our universe does the same for us!

Yes,  I grieve daily. But everyday I am grateful for a more mature understanding of Love and for the unconditional Trust that are now part of my being.

Ours was not a special brand of Courage. We had only an average every day every man's kind of Courage. We had the Courage to chose to allow the present moment to just unfold...without judgments and without expectations. We had the Courage to give up the need to know what tomorrow looks like

You don't have to have a terminal illness to be Courageous. I believe if you choose to live in Einstein's friendly universe and from this you begin to cultivate an unconditional Trust that you are always safe and all your needs will always be met you will be living a Courageous life.

What kind of Universe do you live in?

Tag You're It!

Is the Universe Friendly?

--by Albert Einstein (May 07, 2012)

Listen To Reading!

What kind of universe do you live in?


Tag Your It!

Like never before

Even though I am just a confused as ever, I am ready now to find right work. And I choose a project with soul in mind…one that directly conjures higher expansion.

I came across a term recently that grabbed my attention -  "The bardos." Bardo is a Tibetan word which literally means "in-between." and connotes the wisdom of uncertainty. It includes the transitional states of birth, death, dream, reincarnation or afterlife, meditation, and spiritual lightness of being. The term bardo can also be used metaphorically to describe times when our usual way of life becomes suspended. In the bardo I recognize myself.

What comes after the bardo?

Finding right work. 

Our work is a reflection of self, a means of loving ourselves and others, our place in the world. My work will both satisfy the very root of my being and be a tribute somehow to Michael and our life together. Whatever my intention for my life, I want my work to be both simple... and grand. 

But my vision is constrained. It is bound by context, experience and belief. Am I setting a trap for myself by aiming beyond what I can currently know? Or have I been living in a trap - in only that which appears to be attainable? 

What you see is what you get. I can see what is directly in front of me. I can see what I can conjure in my imagination. But from my transitional space as I aspire to higher expression, how can I CAUSE expansion of what I believe possible? 

My Opus awaits, my Love awaits, my next chapter awaits. I declare the cat out of the bag, the chips fallen, the dust settled, the chickens well roosted at home, the carpetbaggers welcome and fed, the clowns out of the car and my sweet lover kissed goodnight. 

What Truth do you declare for yourself?

Tag You're It!