Now what?

How does one, who loves to write, go from January to the end of June without writing? How does one who went deep into her being to find the courage to create a blog suddenly just quit? How does one who feels so passionately about so many issues just simply quit writing...I mean, all together, quit writing...not just a blog but everything...every single thing...email responses...facebook comments...journals....daily updates, etc.? Friends ask me, are you not doing your blog anymore? I say...not now, I'm just taking a break. I ask myself...why are you not writing something...anything??? I don't know how to answer...even myself. Yes, I'm a procrastinator and yes, I get occupied with way too many things which, essentially, makes it very difficult for me to focus on any one particular issue. But, what kind of excuse is that? That's been the story of my life for, well...my whole life. I'm in the middle of clearing out stuff and some of the stuff is really, really difficult to let go. Like my books. I could fill a medium sized library with books and parting with them is like parting with an essential part of me. But, I realize that, if I am to go forward and connect with the me that seems to need a break from stuff...the me who needs to create a space which allows me to simply breathe, I need to let go. So, I'm in the process of letting go and this is, essentially, a grieving process. The key seems to be that as I grieve, I also feel an opening, a light, so to speak, which bring promise of a clearer tomorrow...maybe, if I'm lucky, many clearer tomorrows. In a little over a week, I turn 69, an interesting age, to be sure, but as I approach 70, the one thing I know, for sure, is that I want to be less encumbered with stuff. Maybe it's the George Carlin in me, but mostly, I think it's just my need to be free and that's a little hard to do when I'm buried in stuff. So, back to my slackness in writing my blog, etc., I have this deep feeling that I need to simply admit that I'm going through a depressive period of my life. It's been ongoing for quite a while and I thought if I just ignored it and kept on keeping on it would magically go away. Silly me! Anyway, as I go though this process of letting go I feel a strong need to let go of my pretenses and my claims that all is well. All is NOT well! Life is a struggle for me right now and as much as it shames me, it's just the simple truth. And, I wonder why I feel shame, how ridiculous is that? I guess it's my fear of letting people down..people who seem to think I have it all together. I'm so sorry to tell you...I don't. It seems right to share this because there are so many of us in the same place. So, in clearing out my stuff, I'm hoping it's part of the process of clearing out me. I'm so ready to get beyond where I am and rekindle the energy to do what I want to do. Getting back to my blog is a crucial part of the process. I need to get back in touch with my meandering spirit. Thank you for listening. I wish you peace, love, and a bit of chocolate to soothe your soul.

Happy New Year!

I'm thinking that sending a "Happy New Year" greeting is good through the whole month of January and maybe even into the first week of February, but no longer, because then you have Valentine's Day, right? And, once you reach a certain age, say...65ish, you seem to go right from Valentine's Day to the July 4th celebration and shortly thereafter here comes Thanksgiving and Christmas, which lasts for maybe 3 hours.... and then it's another year. So, very quickly, before it turns into mid-May (30 minutes away), I want to wish you a very Happy New Year and hope that 2012 will be better than we ever thought it might be. Also, I hope it doesn't go by so quickly that we lose sight of our todays.

When I was a young girl, my grandmother, Munna, we called her, used to tell us that the older you got, the quicker time goes by. I never argued the point and, pretty much, chalked it up to the delusions of old people. After all, time was time, right? Be it 24 hours or 7 months or 25 years, it was still time and it was the same for everyone. I loved and revered this woman, but on this particular subject, I thought I needed to give her a little lead way...because of her age, don'cha know?

Well, now I get. Oh boy, do I ever get it. I wake up and get on Google to make sure the world is still functioning and in full motion and then onto my mailbox to be sure the President didn't need anything from me, in particular, other than $$$, of course. Then onto facebook, the true pulse of the world, just to see if anyone had posted anything that required my comments...after all, it's all our facebook tittering and dithering that keeps us alive, right?

So, then I do a few, and let me emphasize...few...chores to justify my existence on this planet. I fix a little breakfast and clean up the kitchen which may take anywhere from 3 to 25 minutes, depending on the crumbs my Dave has left behind and if there's any possibility that someone may come into our home for some strange reason. Guess that's sort of like the clean underwear mentality, right?

Then, maybe I take a shower and maybe I don't, but whatever, I find my way back to the computer, for an hour or so, to follow through with the activities that seem more important than anything else. Well, then I'm feeling a little sleepy so I take a little nap and when I wake up, the house seems darker than it should be and I look at my clock and it's 5:00...so, how the hell did that happen? And so it goes...wine time and then dinner time and back to the computer and maybe TV, depending on what's on, and, finally... closing out the night with reading a book until my sleeping pill takes effect.

Oh yes...yes..yes...I get what my Munna was talking about and she was so very wise. I feel better knowing that she experienced this phenomenon and shared it with me. Now, the really big question...do I share this insight with my grandchildren? I'm thinking yeah..probably should...maybe they'll think I'm a bit looney for a few decades, but someday they'll get it and remember that I prepared them. Score one for Grandma, right?

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

.

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?