Stephanie's Birthday

I went down to Ft. Fisher to see my friend, Stephanie, this afternoon. She would have been 60 today. She missed this special birthday by less than a month, which really is a shame because, somehow, sixty seems a much more appropriate age to die than fifty-nine. Fifty-nine just speaks of unfinished business...the business of life, you know? Sixty is acceptable. Sad,...but acceptable.

It was afternoon before I even realized what this day was, and that has less to do with my thoughts of Steph and more to do with the fact that I’ve turned into one of these old ladies who never know what the actual date is. But, that’s another story.

So, I went on Steph’s facebook page and sent a message because I needed to do something to acknowledge the specialness of her birthday. But, somehow that just didn’t really reasonate within my heart, and I had this nagging feeling that I needed to get myself to Ft. Fisher. I tried pushing it back because I had so much to do and was horribly behind in everything I was supposed to be doing. But, as the afternoom went on, the feeling just got stonger and finally, I listened to my source, followed the directions, put on my flip flops and headed out the door. Didn’t even make it to the bottom of the steps, when source tells me to go back and get my camera...I didn’t even question it...just went back and got it.

Got to Ft. Fisher, not hoping to connect with Steph, just knowing that I would. Like before, it didn’t take long. I got there, slid out of my flipflops and walked towards the beach. Just as I reached the ocean’s edge, here comes a beautiful pod of pelicans, and they weren’t quite in their “V” formation, but, obviously working towards it.

Close your eyes and picture the pelicans zooming in over the ocean...think of the “V” formation...the lines are formed but they’ve just not quite come together in true “V” formation. Imagine the pelicans on the top of the almost “V” formation, and then imaging the ones on the bottom, flying up to meet the top crew.

Got it? OK...now the lead pelican, of the bottom crew, starts flying in a downward direction and for half a second her crew follows, but she takes an even deeper dip towards the beach and her crew doesn’t follow, but moves towards the upper crew, which, I would guess, is their goal.

This wayward pelican flew right where I was standing and didn’t go any further inland, she just flew right over me and then rejoined her crew...and resumed the lead position. She didn’t come close...didn’t lose any altitude, but she flew right over me...on the beach.

Well, of course, it was Steph. I knew it the minute I saw the pelicans. I knew it because I had seen her riding the pelicans the day her spirit left this planet. But, this time, I didn’t think so much that she was riding the pelican...she was the pelican.

Is this hard to believe? Not really. I just finished a book that spoke of the messages that people, who have died, leave for those of us who are still here. In one incident, the very young person, who had passed, left a message via a movie which happened to be in a DVD case that happened to fall off the shelf just when her special friend was in the video store. The writer made it seem very real and, I’m thinking, if someone who has gone to the other side can send a message in this form, why would I not believe that my friend couldn’t, or wouldn’t, send a message via a pelican at her favorite beach.

Dave wrote a wonderful story of a man whose deepest wish was to be a pelican for a day and eventually he happened upon a peilican who has a similar wish..only to be a human for a day. So, long story short, they find a way to make that happen. My feeling is that Stephanie is a pelican right now, or at least she was when I was there.

Her message was the same as before........all is well. I’m fine...I’m free.

So, I waalked the beach for a while, kinda looking for shark’s teeth, but not serious looking...I knew that wasn’t why I was there. I told Steph how much we loved her and missed her. She knew.

I left the beach and drove down to the end of the island to watch the sunset. It was incredibly beautiful and the vitality of the colors were just amzing... but what else would I expect...after all, it was Steph’s sunset.

We may lose the physical presence of a special person, but we never lose the love. This, I do believe.

Stephanie...part 2

In my last post, I told you about my friend, Stephanie, but didn't want to make it too long by adding these writings from last week. I hesitated in sharing these, not being sure how they would be received, but realize..it doesn't matter..it's not about how they're received..it's about expressing and sharing my heart....my own truth.

Oct. 17: I walked on the beach with my friend today. Yes, I know that according to the mindset of our world, she died this morning, but I’m here to tell you...she was there. Let me explain how it all came about, and then I think you’ll understand.

This morning, I woke up with a pit in my stomach, an ache in my heart and a sense of heaviness throughout my whole being. Many of us woke up with the same feeling because we knew that Stephanie’s life, as we knew it, would end that day. Our collective hearts ached for her and most of all, for her guys.

The morning was hard and heavy and sad. I lit 3 candles...one for John, one for Steph’s boys, and one...it was purple...for Steph. They burned most of the morning and I decided to put them out...first I blew on the two white candles...they went out immediately, but the purple one fought it and sputtered and spat and, finally, the flame did go out, but the smoke continued to hang around for a while. That should have been my first clue.

In the afternoon, I followed my plan to go to the beach so I could feel a connection with Steph and maybe say goodbye. I went to my favorite spot at CB and, as I walked the beach, I was thinking maybe Steph would lead me to a shark’s tooth. All of a sudden, I felt as if I’d been slapped alongside my head and this voice says...WTF are you doing here? Go to Ft. Fisher. And it’s one of those 'duh' moments, you know? That was Steph’s beach, so, of course, I needed to be at Ft. Fisher...what was I thinking???

I get to Ft. Fisher and immediately realize I’m in the right place. Steph was here waiting for me...and she seemed to say...what took you so long? As I walked the beach, I was looking for shark’s teeth and really believing that Steph would help me find at least one. My feeling was that I needed to find a shark’s tooth for Steph.

Funny thing happened....the further I walked, the more I came to understand that it wasn’t about the shark’s tooth....I couldn’t continue her legacy by becoming a super shark tooth finder....or any other special treasure from the sea. It was about paying attention to what I was feeling during this walk.

When I finally got that message, I realized I was smiling, and had been since I got there. It was a happy smile, not just a semi...it’s ok smile. I felt a lightness of heart and soul that I hadn’t felt in such a long time, and I knew...the kind of knowing that goes all the way down to your toes...that I was right where I was supposed to be.

I began to feel Steph in the gentle breeze and the whiry wind that would come and go. I watched her dance in the offshore waves and as I watched the seabirds flying around and playing with the ocean’s waves, I thought I saw Steph riding on their backs. In every sense of the word, my friend was one with the sea. And....why not???? Where else would she be?

And what she said was...I’m free.....it’s all good. So, after a while, I said goodbye, in the worldly way and, in letting her go, I felt no sadness for Steph because I knew she was fine and had finally found her peace. One thing I knew for sure...we never really say goodbye to the people we love.


October 18. I got a message from John saying that Steph was still alive, but was continuing to lose her abiity to breathe...then, a couple hours later, another message that she had died. It was like a second wave of grief because we had all believed that she couldn’t live more than an hour or so without the vent and assumed that she had passed on Monday.

At first, I questioned my experience at the beach the day before, but finally came to understand that the connection with Steph at Ft. Fisher didn’t really have anything to do with the actual state of her phisical being. It was her spirit that was with me and even though her body lay on a bed at Hospice, the part of her that really mattered was already free.

Late that afternoon, I decided to go walk on my beach, which is much closer than Ft. Fisher, but as I drove down the beach road, somehow my car just kept on going right past the turnoff to my beach. I figured Steph was at the wheel again and felt, once again, I was doing just what I was supposed to be doing.

Got to Ft. Fisher and followed my instincts toward the path to the right. The day before I had followed those same instincts and took the path to the left. I hadn’t walked very far when I looked up and right in front of me was John, Matt, Jason, Tim, and Johnnie...Steph’s guys. They were just leaving the beach. I was surprised to see them, thinking they would have been there earlier in the day. But, as John said, where else would we be? And, I thought the same thing myself...where else would I be? So, we shared hugs along with funny and sweet Stephanie stories.

Chance meeting? No way. I knew Steph was directing the whole scene and she was smiling and saying to me...watch out for my guys....and reminding them that they were not alone. They left to go to dinner at Steph’s favorite restaurant and I walked on the beach for a while just soaking in all the peace and love I felt from this encounter. And, I knew one more thing...Steph could finally breathe again...on her own...beside, in and around her special beach.

Stephanie was the real deal...she answered only to her own truth and that was her gift to me down at the beach.....not to find the shark’s teeth, but to find and claim my own truth. I have a feeling that when I forget, she'll find a gentle way to remind me.

Thank you, Steph......you made us all the better for being a part of our lives. Dance in peace, my friend.

My friend, Stephanie, died last week. She lost her battle with ALS, but then, being a nurse, she knew she didn't have any hope of winning that particular battle. She knew exactly what was in store for her from the day of diagnosis to her final day of taking the last agonizing breath. She knew and she was terrified, but she still fought like a champ and, with the love and support of her husband, John, made the very best of the last two years of her life.

This summer she was still searching for shark's teeth to add to her collection of well over a thousand. The difference was...she was doing it from a beach-access wheelchair, which John provided through whatever system he was able to connect with. Still, she found them..tiny sharks teeth... even from the chair...amazing.

In her last three months, she lay in a hospital bed in a wonderful room, in her home, with windows to look out so she could watch the birds and the squirrels and whatever critters happened to wander into the yard. She could see the flowers and the trees and all the nature that was visible from her window. Steph was a lover of nature and I mean a real lover of ALL nature....even bugs. She loved spiders and no one was allowed to kill a spider if Steph was around. If there was a roach in the house, it had to be covered with a paper cup and gently guided outside. Mice? No worries, she could hear them in the walls and would just smile at her boys, as if to say, they are a part of our family and have every much right to be here as we do.

During this time at home, she was on a vent, which, essentially, breathed for her. She hung on for three months, and all that time, she was surrounded by the love and beautiful care from her husband, John, and her sons, Matt, Jason, Tim, and Johnny. There were nurses there to provide her physical needs, and they were wonderful, but her guys were the providers of the food for her soul. And, oh, did they ever provide. As a mom, I watched the interaction with her boys, and it was beautiful . They were totally with her...in her... and for her... throughout the whole process of her dying. John was there and he provided the loving care for Steph and his boys. For three months, everything he did, every thought he had was for his wife and his sons and what he could do to make it all better.

Steph was taken to Hospice last Monday and she died Tuesday morning. Thanks to John and Hospice, she died in dignity and without suffering or pain.

So, now, we all move forward. But, with us, we take the spirit of Steph and we carry on with her causes. Wherever there is a wrong, we will stand up and try to make it right. That was our Steph...advocate for the underdog...believer in justice for all...fighter to make this country/world what it can be and what it should be. She believed in the best of us and loathed the worst of us. I believe her spirit will stay with us, and if we lose focus, she'll be right there... encouraging us to love our family, our friends, our critters..whatever they may be...and standing up for what we believe. We are one... is what Steph believed. And, I believe it too...even as I struggle with the spiders.

Bathroom of the Right

Sometimes, I simply don't know what I think I know. I get these ideas that just seem to make so much sense and then....wham...out of nowhere... something comes along to make me question everything about my original thinking. That sets off a whole litany of WTF issues for me. It makes me question many of the whys, whats and wherefores which, over many years, have accumulated in my brain, much like the old vines that used to cling to the trees in my back yard.

Ok, so in my typical meandering thought pattern...here we go. I used to think that once a person reached a certain age, they would just naturally inherit a deep sense of wisdom and grace. Now I realize this just ain't necessarily so. It can happen...I've seen it happen, but I've also seen the total opposite. I've watched folks get older, but instead of getting wiser, they seen to get dumber. Instead of getting kinder, they become more greedy and selfish. Instead of expanding minds, it seem their minds are getting smaller and smaller and scarier and scarier.

Back to this simple fact: I really don't know what I thought I knew.

Take our country. The United States of America. As the daughter of a Navy man, I grew up in a Stars and Stripes kind of environment. Quite simply, we believed in our country. We believed in John Wayne, goddammit, and we were taught to hate Commies, the Japs, and anything that challenged our idea of America. But, as I grew older and became more aware of the flip side of certain issues, I began to think...are we really what I though we were? And, as we digress from one war to another war, I am more and more concerned about, not only, who we have become, but what we were.

Meandering a little further...religion. I grew up Methodist and attended MYF. After marriage #1, I switched to Presbyterian and taught Sunday School where I got called out for not following the "Predestination" dogma. I dared to suggest to my class (grades 5-7..ish) that there was a little bit of free will there and if they could find their own path, it might make life a whole lot easier for them. Ooops!

Maybe I take things too literally, but I thought if you were a Christian, at least a true Christian, you tried to live by the teachings of Jesus. The older I got, the more I realized how terribly naive I was and finally, I realized I couldn't really call myself a Christian anymore because I was no longer sure just what it meant. I still don't know.

Meandering back to the vines....they have their own life, you know, and it's a selfish one because their survival depends on the tree they occupy. They don't offer anything in exchange...just take and take and take. Eventually, they kill the tree and it's a slow, smothering kind of death for the tree because it restricts, and eventually, prevents the tree to grow. The tree has no room to spread it's beautiful branches because the vines weigh them down with their own agenda. If one, be we tree or person, loses the opportunity of growth, we eventually die, right?

I feel like we, and I mean the global we, are being smothered by the vines. We've drunk way too much of the kool-aid...all of us...whatever our religion, or lack of...whatever our political affiliation...whatever our whatevers...essentially, we've lost our way.

There's an old Creedence Clearwater Revival song called "Bad Moon Rising". For years, I thought the bad moon out tonight was the bathroom on the right, and when listening to the lyrics, it all made sense. Well, as much sense as a whole lot of lyrics make. Then, I read an article about the people who though, just as I did...the bathroom on the right. Huh? How can I be so wrong about the lyrics of one of my favorite songs? However, it was kind of nice to know that I wasn't the only one who thought that...I mean, stupidity loves company, right?

But, I guess it also left me wondering about the many other things I thought I knew. And the wondering goes on. Maybe what we're really all about is...the bathroom on the right.

Authenticity

How do you think we can find the path to our true authentic self? Are some people just born with it? You would assume that, wouldn't you? I mean, we meet some people who just seem to have it all together and they speak their piece as though it were "The Word". And, they seem to believe it, right? I don't know about you, but I've always wondered just who these people really are and WTF enables them to have that self confidence.

Most of my life has been spent in awe of these people and not so much wishing I were like them, but just sort of wondering why I was not? How did I manage to miss that boat? Usually, I just figure that I was simply preoccupied with other issues like how can I keep myself relatively sane, and therefore, not focused on the issues that really mattered. You know, ..career...life goals...financial stability, Life 101, etc.,etc.,etc.

Recently, I had a wonderful visit with my son and his family, which includes my, near perfect, grandchildren. During the visit, it became necessary to assist their sweet, ancient dog, Syd, in her escape from this earthly plane to a better, and less painful, resting place. It was difficult for everyone, but especially so for my 9 year old grandson, Finley. He struggled with the idea of putting Syd down and made a strong statement about the fact that we didn't do this to people, so why would we do it to dogs.
He referred to the vet as a dog killer. Much as I wanted to argue that point, I understood how he felt and truthfully, as nine year old, I probably would have felt the same way. It was arranged for the vet to come to the house to put Syd down on Friday and my son and his wife talked with Fin and let him know that he had an option of going to spend the night with a friend. We all tried to help him understand that he didn't have to be there and it would be totally ok for him to say goodbye to Syd before he left for camp that morning. He remained undecided until Friday morning.

When we woke up, he came and got in the bottom bunk with me, and I asked him if he knew what he wanted to do. His answer amazed me. "Syd was here when I was born, right Grandma?" "Right", I responded. "Well, since she was here when I was born, I want to be with her when she dies." Whoa! That comes from a nine year old? Is that not totally profound? Did he maybe skip to Life 102 in that moment? All, I know is that, in that moment, he became one of my heros.

So, if at 9 years old, we still have a firm grasp on our authenticity, when do we begin to lose it? I think it's gradual, and I say this because I'm beginning to see a wee bit of it with my 13 year old granddaughter. It's like this precious child has been kidnapped by the teenage goblins. She seems to know what's happening, and she tries to recapture the innocence and sweetness of her 10 year old self, but the teen goblins just won't allow that on any permanent basis. So, to my way of thinking, this is the first step into the inauthentic zone.

From there, it just seems to go downhill. At least for quite a few years. The "outside" dominates us and we almost cringe from our authentic selves because we are so afraid we won't fit in or the "important" people won't like us. We get so stuck with what we think we should be that we forget who we are.

Suppose we just declare a re-authenticity day. Actually, it may need to be a week, or even a month...maybe even longer. Let's say we allow ourselves however much time we need to reclaim our own authenticity. Maybe we could start by recapturing our nine year old selves and just listen to the speakings of our heart. All we need to do is make the jump from Life 101 to Life 102. That's where our real selves are waiting.

Can you imagine what a beautiful world we might create?

Live curious. That message popped up on a TV commercial for HD programming. When you really think about it, it's an extremely profound statement, don't you think? Live Curious. Actually, I can see that as a bumper sticker. I'm thinking it could be a life-changing bumper sticker, as in, maybe it would ignite a conversation with the folks in the car behind. Imagine what the conversations might be.

Scenario 1: The car behind is inhabited with a couple who have been arguing about the same issue for years and years. They're heading to dinner and essentially, no one is speaking because they're both in their own little world. The love is there, but, somewhere along the way, the communication connection was lost. They take notice of the bumper sticker and each, in their own way, compute the message...Live Curious. They get to the restaurant, order their food and as they sip their wine, one of them...probably the wife...says..."so, what do you think that means...live curious?" And so, the conversation begins and, in time, the connection is restored. Happy ending, of course.

Scenario 2: At the next stoplight, a, single mom and her 2 children are in the car behind. She's taking them to school and running late and the kids are fussing and she's majorly stressed...but the 3rd grader notices the bumper sticker and asks Mom what it means. Tired, though she is, she manages to connect with this message and tells him it just means to ask questions about things you don't understand. So, from there, they begin a slow recovery to become the family they want to be.

Scenario 3: A guy , in a truck, is deep in thought about the economy and worried about his job and his home and his future. He's behind a car at the stoplight and takes notice of the bumper sticker...Live Curious. He thinks...WTF??? . Botttom line...he's overwhelmed.

Many scenarios come to mind, but it takes me away from my point.

Live Curious. Hmmmm. Do you think many of us have lost the art of that? I think so. In the last decade, it seems to me, there is less inclination to think about issues because we're so busy and so scattered in our thinking, it's just easier to have others think for us. We listen to the chatter of the media and the pundits who are just more than happy to do our thinking for us. And, we tend to trust the ones we listen to, so... be it politics, left or right...or religion, pro or con...or our health or how to spend our money or raise or kids...or...or...or.

Did we just give up on Live Curious? Did we age ourselves out of that concept? Are we simply victims of information overload and so now we're just like the truck driver in scenario #3...WTF??? Gimme me a break, for crying out loud...bring on the reality shows and partisan "news" shows...religious TV shows.......ANYTHING...just please don't make me think. Let them do it for me.

Live Curious??? Maybe if we ask, really, really nicely, our children...or, our grandchildren, will teach us.

Is all well?

Today, a friend responded to an email I had sent earlier and asked..."is all well"? "All is well", I responded. But, I lied and even as I wrote it I knew it was a lie...simply because it was the easier way. And, I knew she was inquiring about me...just me.

Essentially, all is well with me... so far as my very simplistic life goes. With almost every fiber of my being, I love my husband...we do well on most days. My Sadie dog is awesome....most of the time. For a soon-to-be 68year old, my health is wonderfully well....except when it's not. Financially, all is semi-well...for now. I have majorly awesome friends who keep me afloat more that they can ever know. Also, I'm blessed with a truly awesome sister... and I wish every woman I know and love could have one just like her. And, two brothers who love me and I love them and I breathe all the better just because they're in my life. I am truly, truly blessed to have an incredible son who is my true hero and there is never a day in my life that I don't thank the greater beings for allowing me to be his mom. My grandchildren are, of course, perfectly and incredulously outstanding in every way.

As we go down the line of priorities...I live in a house...six blocks from the beach and we can hear the ocean in the wintertime and we can feel the breeze, watch the majestic pelicans, and listen to the chattering of the sea birds all day long. This was my dream, ever since my family left Miami when I was 12. I still remember getting on the plane, heading to NC, with my mom and baby twin brother and sister and telling my sad and terrified self that someday, I will get back to the ocean. So, yes, all is well with me and my, very self-centered life. There are issues, to be sure, but for the most part, all is well.

But...is All well? How can I answer this in the positive when I know these things:

As most of you know, I volunteer in an inner city elementary school in Wilmington. This is the last week of school. On this last week of school, I've learned some things about a few of the children in my class that have left me feeling... just plain raw.

One girl lives with her great-grandmother (think about that) because her mom is in prison and no one seems to know anything about her father. She has other siblings...I hate that term...sisters or brothers seems so much more real... but this great-grandmother could take care of only one, so her sisters or brothers live in a foster home. This little girl is sweet, smart and ever so huggable, and her great-grandmother is doing the best she can, but, needless to say, her funds are very limited. Now that school is out, where can this child go? Who's going to take care of her non-physical needs this summer and make sure she reads and continues to learn?

She is the one who tugs at my heart and the one who left me sleepless last night. The tragedy is that she is just one....one of the thousands of children who will be left behind because no one cares enough to make sure she has a place in our American society. She doesn't count as a human being and her crimes are ...being poor...and being black.

And there is another child...a little boy...cute... sweet and sad beyond anything we will ever know. His dad is in prison and he (at 7) is the oldest of 4 children. The mom, uneducated, lives off the government. But, there are those who think abortion is amoral and sex education is up to the parents, etc..etc..etc. So, we make them have the babies, but we cut off all help from the government to help them survive.

Is all well? No! Hell, no! Because, as happy as I am with my family and friends and beach house, I cannot erase the fact that we're all connected; like it or not...believe it or not...WE ARE ONE. Until we can accept that and live that ...maybe we need to rethink our answer when someone asks...is all well? Maybe we need to learn to speak up for ALL of us. Hell no, all is not well. What can we do make it better?

Our Inner Fairies

Don't you find it just so amazing that, at the advanced age of 67, one can still make discoveries about oneself? Wouldn't you think we'd know all there is to know about just about everything at this time in our life? Some people seem to be on that level of wisdom and knowledge, but I'm thinking they may be just bluffing. Of course, it's possible that they're just more advanced and have circled through the life experience a few extra times. Maybe they're incredibly quick learners of the ways of life. I don't have these answers, but what I do know for sure is that I'm not one of them. My guess is that I'm on a slower boat this go-round, and it's just where I'm supposed to be.

Recently, one of my especially special friends pointed out something to me. She said that on a couple occasions, she actually saw the Maggie me. Once, when I was particularly enlightened about something and the other when I was having one of my "Lucy" moments. (More about that on a future blog. ) But, for the first time, I realized why I try to keep my Maggie self alive. Maggie is lighter, more fun and ever so much more open. Lynn is the responsible one..the how -can -I- make -it -right- for- you person. Big Sister...responsible for the world. Ah! So serious!

But, don't we all have, at least, two sides to ourselves? I think when we evolve from one life to the next life, we carry our past selves with us, and sometimes we're able to separate one from the other, and sometimes we can't quite let certain pieces of our past persona go. To my way of thinking, this is how we become the person we are designed to be. It's sort of like a puzzle, we get a piece here and there and, somewhere down the line, we finally acquire the last piece that makes us whole. Then we can stop trying and just enjoy the ride...wherever it takes us.

Do you have a "lighter you"? How cool would it be to create a "Lighter Me" day? Obviously, it would have to occur, at least, once a week. On this day, we allow all the little fairies and elves inside us to come out and play. We dance and we sing and we just celebrate our very own "me". If we do this, it will free our spirit and allow us to go out into the world and do whatever we can to make things better.

Of course, I know it all sounds very Pollyaannaish, but hey, WTF...tell me something else that is more important than finding our special place in the world and then helping others to do the same. We really are all in this together whether we like it or not. Supposedly, the world was to end today...well, looks like most of are still around. I think we can all agree that, as long as we're here, we might as well make the best of it, right?

See...I think that's where our inner fairies come into play.

Maggie Mondays

Here we are in April and can someone please tell me how the hell that happened? A) Did I sleep through the first 3 months of 2011? B)Did I spend all my time in angst and feeling simply unable to function beyond the very basics of Survival 101? C)Did my inner lazy being just totally take over? D)All of the above?

My answer is D and that's about as honest and accurate as I can be.

But...I set in my mind that I was going to get back into writing on the first Monday in April because I needed to be clear of fickle March and since Monday is universally considered to be a relatively crappy day, why not make it Maggie Monday. Why? Well, why not? I seem to be coming from a contrary inner being these days, so it makes perfect sense to claim Monday as my day to be Maggie and just write whatever comes.

If you remember, from a blog way back, I told you I wrote in the spirit of Maggie and would explain that to you later on. It's taken a whole lot longer that I anticipated, but that's just life, right?

My maternal grandmother's name was Margaret (Maggie) Forrest. I was named after her and my maternal grandfather, Lynwood. My parents called me Lynn, a name I hated for so many years. I absolutely adored my grandmother...we called her Munna. She loved me beyond anything I had ever know...I never did anything wrong in her eyes. She even stood up for me against my dad...and that is something that stuck with me throughout my entire life.

For so many years, I've wondered if my life would be any different if people called me Maggie. Actually, in college some did. The professors always called you by your first name, which led to classmates who called me Maggie. I liked that, but never has the courage to introduce myself as Maggie or even ask my friends to call me that. Keep in mind, this was 1962...way before I knew much about the empowerment of evolving. : )

So...essentially, when my sister and I were on our trip, we decided it should be Luna and Maggie rather that Donna and Lynn. Donna will need to tell her own story, but for me, Maggie made her appearance when I was writing...I felt her deep within my being, just as I feel her right now. Purely and simply, she helps me find the words and the confidence to just put them down on my computer and believe, in my heart, they are just what they should be.

I don't know where the hell she was when I was so fearful of the heights and the lonely road and whatever else frightened the very breathe out of me...but, I'm thinking, maybe Maggie was just as frightened as Lynn. And to maintain my "relatively sane" persona, it's probably good to acknowledge that we are one in the same.

So, now you understand that Maggie writes this blog, and I think it's because the Maggie-me is not so shy about certain things, she believes in the Lynn- me and loves me...just because. My meandering is about spirit, no matter where my physical me happens to be. Isn't that what we're all about? I mean..really deep in our souls? We meander...and that's how we discover our true self. Right?

A new year...

Do you ever wonder how it can possibly be the year 2011? Are you still feeling the sense of adventure and anticipation that came with our switch from the 1900's to the 2000's? I have to admit that I'm still a bit in awe of it all. Each year as I write the date on my checks or bills or notes...or wherever...01...04..08....10, I often think about the people, I knew, who wrote the very same number 100 years ago. That makes me feel old...really old! As we get further into the 21st century, I'm thinking....in 8 years it will be 100 years since my mother's birth....in 9 years the same for my dad. How can that be? How can the time, which went so slowly in my younger years, be going by so quickly now?

Ah..I know the answer to that! My grandmother, Maggie, or Munna as we called her, used to tell me that time goes much faster when you get older. As much as I adored my grandmother, I figured that's just what old people say and I gave it zero credibility. Silly me. I now, totally, understand exactly what she was saying. What is the saying...the days may seem long but the years go by so quickly? Well, now the days don't even seem long. I wake up in the morning and what seems like 45 minutes later, it's time to go to bed. WTF!!!! And now I'm truly realizing that there's so little time and so much to be done. This might just be the year to do some major transformation. Maybe.

Here's what I'm thinking....I'm 67 years old and this is going to be the year I finally learn to let go and practice non attachment to things. Well, to at least 364 things as I plan to let go of something every day of the year 2011. There are many reasons for this...#1...I have way to much stuff...#2...I need to lighten my load so I can better see the moon and the stars...and the real me....#3...it just makes sense and it feels good....#4....it will open me up to 2012 and give the good energies more room to find me.

I know some of you are really shaking your head at #4, but we can get into that later.

Everywhere I look all I see is stuff, stuff, and more stuff. Hard to believe that I've actually done quite a bit of "letting go" the past couple of years because there's still so much left. I don't need all this stuff and the sane part of me knows that...but on the clingy, sentimental days... it's more like...oh no...you can't get rid of this little whatever...it came from whomever or you might need it and then regret you let it go, and how wasteful is that for God's sake!!! Do you do that to yourself? Are we insane? Of course we are!

Yesterday, a friend told me that her word for the year is...Balance. Such a great word and intention, isn't it? Don't we all strive for that? Today, another friend, says her word for the year is... Intention. At first, I was thinking...now that's pretty broad and it allows quite a bit of room to err. But...does it really? If whatever you do is done with good intention, isn't that a level of consciousness that keeps you in the moment? We talked about "The Road to Good Intentions" and all the ideas behind that, but decided..the hell with them. It's another guilt trip "they" put us on, right? I love both of these "year" words and I'm still working on mine.

So, we've made it through the first week of the year and to be honest, I'm a little behind in everything I set out to accomplish. However, in respect of my age, I'm allowing myself to be Ok with that. So...I didn't do all I had planned for the first week...the good news is...I have 51 more weeks to get it right! Plenty of time to come up with whatever I think I need to do. What a freeing thought!

Please allow yourself the same latitude...you'll do what you need to do...just give yourself however much time you need to do it. It's not really procrastination...it's just allowing ourselves a little break...there are times to do and there are times to just be. Right?

And if our time runs out...oh well, we tried.