Be Here Now…Take My Hand

When Freddie died, I ran. I’ve always been a runner, but never long distance. My longest run before he passed was ten miles and that only happened twice. But after he died, I had a lump in my throat and an invisible hand covering my mouth, keeping me from gasping and gulping in the grief that I feared would never end. So I ran… half marathons, 30Ks and then two marathons. I was training for an ultra when the arthritis in my feet and knees quit responding to steroid shots and sidelined me. But the act of running – breathing hard, gasping for breath, sweating profusely allowed my whole body – every cell of my being – to cry.

Then I threw myself into the formation of a local nonprofit. I took the love for my brother and carried it to people in my community, delivering groceries to families. The same way I pushed through 26 mile runs, I pushed through days of illness and sadness and family emergencies to deliver these goods. During seven years, I missed one event because I couldn’t get off work.

I spent my money, my time, my love on that project.

Sadly a series of unfortunate events and lack of communication convinced me that I needed to step away from the group. Then six months later the charity as I knew it, dissolved. My heart was broken. I felt lost. I’ve lived from mission to mission. Where do I go from here?

I ran to cry and carried food to love. But there is so much more…

The next step is to BE HERE NOW. Suddenly my world is inundated with reminders that my mission is just this…this breath, this step, this moment, this tear, this heart’s flutter.

“Take my hand. We will walk. We will only walk. We will enjoy our walk without thinking of arriving anywhere.”

Thich Nhat Hanh

A return to Peace

We chanted “Love, not hate, makes America great!”  marching back and forth along the sunny Texas sidewalk, carrying handmade protest signs. I was full of self-righteous piety, wearing white not only in honor of the suffragettes but also to reflect the peace and love I believed was my crown.  Then “SHE” touched me again.  Another group – the “OTHERS” — had collected near our protest zone. We’d filed for the first permit but when “THEY” heard, they immediately filed for their own permit that would put them next to us. We’d been warned not to engage but this woman kept touching me. Her fingers, I experienced as claws, on my shoulder, vying for my attention so I could hear her side.  Even louder, as to shatter her eardrums, with all the conviction I could muster, I continued to yell that love would strengthen the nation, while in my heart I wanted to turn around and deck this stranger.

                For weeks after the rally, I could not forget the hate I’d felt in my heart while I was supposedly marching for love.  I remembered how I turned to her, the stranger, and seethed through clenched teeth, “May God bless you and bring you peace.”  It was in a later guided meditation that I saw a truth…I wanted to be a “warrior for peace,” such an oxymoron.  In the dream-like vision, I saw myself instead, sitting cross-legged, peacefully meditating while chaos erupted around me on that same sidewalk.  But instead of fighting and yelling, I just “loved” and “sat.”  In the vision, the scene calmed as I calmed. I shudder even today because I know this is my truth.

                For years after that imagery, I talked about wanting to learn nonviolent action but the courses were always too expensive or too far away or “TOO” something else. I had so many excuses. Enter Covid-19 and a chance click on the Pace e Bene website  A friend and I signed up for the online Engaging Nonviolence class taught by one of the actual co-authors of the Engaging Nonviolence book, Veronica Pelicaric and one of the spiritual leaders in the field, Robert Ferrell 

            We read about the lunch counter protests in the South during the Civil Rights movement.  The protesters were trained to endure all manner of offense, from name-calling to physical assault.  And here I was ready to punch a woman for touching my shoulder. What a contrast! I read the story of David Hartsough, who when threatened with a knife held to his throat by a segregationist, courageously expressed, “You do what you feel you have to, brother, and I will try to love you anyway.”  The man with the knife was visibly shaken and just walked away.  Even typing this now, I find myself sighing and shaking my head, still amazed at the power of love

              

           Veronica  asked the class to reflect on the following thought: “I wish that every human life might be pure transparent freedom.”  I sat there looking at the Zoom images on the screen of amazing individuals from all corners of the world, committed to peace, and I looked over at my dear friend, Deb, sitting beside me, and all I could see was light.  These human souls were divine!  I shared my insight and Robert responded with a quote by Thomas Merton,

“There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun. Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God’s eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed. . .  I suppose the big problem would be that we would fall down and worship each other.” 

              No more us and them.  No more good guys and bad guys.  I hope in the future I will look at the stranger grabbing my shoulder and see the light of the Divine in her.

We are all filled with the Light of the Divine, every one of us.

Bittersweet, blinding dark

“Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death like autumn leaves” – Rabindranath Tagore

Christmas morning I walked my dogs in a dense fog and was enchanted by the hundreds of spiderwebs decorating the wintery landscape.

Spider webs symbolize so many things….the strength of fragility, the wisdom of nature, the patience of the spider and on that Christmas morning, as the world celebrated birth, the webs symbolized the nonduality of birth and death. I say “nonduality” because I realized that I could not honestly stand there, gasping at the beauty around me, and judge the spiders’ efforts to catch prey as “bad.” I only knew that at that moment, with my dogs on Christmas morning, nothing felt more important than admiring the glory of nature. Noticing every web seemed like a holy act.

Several years ago, my husband and I faced a series of deaths that spanned two years. The first loss was when our brilliant nephew decided to end his life. Then a few weeks later, my stepbrother died in a tragic trucking accident. My other nephew died. My husband’s mother died. His brother died. Then my baby brother died. There were others in between – close friends and family, averaging a death every 2-3 months.

Every loss and every birth changes us radically. I’ve never witnessed a birth, but the night I stood next to my brother’s hospice bed, holding his hand as he gently breathed his last breath, was as profound as any birth.

My brother died surrounded by family and friends. We stood in a circle around his bed, knowing it wouldn’t be long. One time he sat up and looked into the distance, pointing at a spot where nobody stood and asked “Who is that?” He smiled and relaxed. We talked and sang and even prayed around him. Then his breathing changed. The transition was so gentle…there were longer and longer pauses between breaths. Finally, as softly as a sigh, he was gone.

Symbols of life and death – the living spider, the rising sun, the dead foliage and web’s death trap.

But even with that final breath, I felt him there…his warmth and presence…the way you know somebody is in the room though you can’t see them. He “stayed” for a while…maybe 15 or 20 minutes and then the air changed and I knew that he moved on.

My brother could have possibly lived with a liver donation. I offered to share my liver with him but for a variety of reasons, that wasn’t going to work. After his death I wanted to do something to remember him and make a difference. So I worked to raise awareness for organ donations.

I would run a 30 kilometer race one year to the day he died…”running to remember.” The race was the culmination of a month-long campaign to sign up donors. Because the race’s location was a distance from my home, I stayed at a ranch closer to the event. On the eve of the race…and the eve of his death…several of us sat on the back porch when my phone beeped that I had a missed call. No number appeared but the phone indicated I had a voicemail. I want to mention here that my local cell phone carrier had made sweeping changes the year prior and all my saved voicemails had been lost. The robotic voice informed me that I had one new message. I played the message and felt the blood drain from my face. My brother’s voice brightly wished me a “Happy New Year.” He was sad to have missed me but went on to advise me not to try to call him back because he was going out to party. It was an old message from a few years prior. I played it again…and then I played it for my mother who cried with disbelief. But when I tried to play for the other people on the porch, the message was gone. And yet the MESSAGE itself was so clear. He’d moved on and wanted me to move on too.

One foggy morning in the back of the pasture near Lost Creek.

I have only shared that with a very few close friends but I feel compelled to share it on my blog. I know only two or three people will probably read this but I needed to write it.

His transition showed me how the cycle truly does continue…that spring turns to summer and summer to fall and then in the winter, we think everything is dead…but just under the surface, life is preparing to re-awaken. Yes, cliche and a little bit cheesy but such a profound truth that I still shudder a tiny bit. Death and life are the same. Bittersweet light and dark, blinding me and lighting the way simultaneously.

Side note: If you are not signed up to do so, please, consider registering to be an organ donor. https://www.organdonor.gov/sign-up

Butterfly Navigation Systems

Monarch and Queen on Zinnia taken in Voca

October saw the beauty of migration.  What seemed like millions of monarchs floated overhead on their long journey to Mexico.  They were like feathers on the wind, so graceful.  I am always astonished at how such seemingly fragile creatures can endure so much and travel so far.

I wondered how far they actually travel and found this record:  “A tagged male monarch (Danaus plexippus), released by Donald A. Davis (Canada) at Presqu’ile provincial Park near Brighton, Ontario, Canada, on 10 September 1988, was recaptured on 8 April 1989 in Austin, Texas, U.S.A., travelling an estimated 2880 miles, making this the World’s Longest Butterfly Migration according to the Guinness World Records Ltd (Davis, 2005)

 But usually a single monarch doesn’t make the entire trip.  Monarch butterflies may take as many as five generations to make it from Mexico to southern Canada and back again (Main, 2013).  Each generation is made up of four distinct life cycles – that’s 20 separate states of being.  

Which came first the monarch or the egg?  (The Science of monarchs)

 So, this is where it gets spiritual for me.  Somehow the knowledge of the journey gets passed not from one monarch to another but through an evolution of existences.  There is a ONENESS…from the butterfly to the egg to the caterpillar to the chrysalis to the butterfly.  Five monarchs, five times in an egg, five caterpillars, and five times in chrysalis:  the journey just continues.  Is it really five different monarchs making the trip or the spirit of one monarch just trying on new outfits along the way?

And then I think about the swarms of monarchs making the trip…this knowledge…this “TRUTH” is within each of them.  I don’t know how they share it or how they hear it, but they all just KNOW.  Could the swarm of butterflies really be part of a greater being…all butterflies are truly one? 

In the Elm Tree across the Creek from my House

 

What is this monarch navigation system? How quiet the mind of a monarch must be to hear this mystical guide!

Sunning in the field

I was on the phone for an hour Saturday with somebody I dearly love. It’s funny because I NEVER talk on the phone…nonetheless for an hour. We talked about how we both suffer from relentless voices in our heads…there is never quiet…never space.  The voices drive us and push us in directions we think we SHOULD go.  We hear the directions society, our parents, our bosses, our lovers believe we should go.  They chatter, like multiple GPS guidance systems talking at once, constantly recalculating new routes.

I believe that like the monarchs, we don’t need a GPS. I think we are all born with monarch navigation systems that gently whisper the directions.  But the voice is gentle, never forceful.  So, I must learn to quiet my mind to truly hear.  I know there is a whisper for me…I can feel the loving call.  I just have to be quiet enough to hear.

I constantly try to photograph the butterflies in flight…this was closest I got that day

References

Davis, D. (2005, September). Meet Canadian Naturalist. Retrieved from Journey North: https://journeynorth.org/tm/monarch/DavisDonBio.html

Main, D. (2013, August 13). Monarch butterflies may take five generations to migrate to US . Retrieved from NBC News: https://www.nbcnews.com/sciencemain/monarch-butterflies-may-take-five-generations-migrate-us-6C10910055

The Science of monarchs. (n.d.). Retrieved from Chautauqua Bird Tree and Garden Club: https://www.chautauquabtg.org/life-cycle-anatomy/

 

 

 

 

Lesson Two: $2.49 Mussels

I rolled my forehead on the cool bathroom floor. I breathed, trying to calm the violent nausea. After throwing up for three hours, I decided I could do nothing more than wait.  I knew that regardless of the ending, this would not go on forever.

Sometimes you have to accept that your body is in pain, but you don’t have to identify with that pain…accept your body is aging, but not identify with the aging body.  Sometimes you just have to accept imperfections, but recognize you are more.

 

“You are imperfect, you are wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging.”
― Brené Brown

 

Seems more than coincidence that earlier that day, I’d lit my sage smudge and with a feeling of perfect peace, smudged myself.  I still felt a barrier, an old resentment to which I kept returning. I knew it was time to move on but something around my heart felt like a burnt-out light bulb. So I smudged myself prayerfully and went to the kitchen to fix those delicious $2.49 mussels I’d found on sale along with a light gluten free pasta pesto dish. I watched a short segment on Gaia TV enjoying my delightfully inexpensive supper.  A few hours later, I asked Barry to just bring a pillow to the bathroom for me.

That was Sunday night. I’m writing this Friday night and I still don’t feel 100% right physically.  BUT throughout this whole thing, I’ve felt peace. I think I vomited up a piece of resentment.

 

Finally letting go of those things I cannot change..

So what is my point? There is always another obstacle. There is always a problem to overcome, a friendship that is lost, a body that ages…there’s always a resentment to release or a fear to face.

Life is like a sit-com series – it opens with laughs then a conflict arises. By the end of the show, the situation is resolved and more laughter erupts.  A week later you do the whole thing all over again. Sometimes you get a break during re-run season but usually there’s always another episode. And it’s ok…because all that stuff happening is kinda the whole point.

A dear friend sent me the following meme after she patiently listened to my constant yammering for the past few months. I think this beautifully sums up the Lesson of the Mussels.

 

 

 

 

A new way

The November sky was a winter sky – painted every shade of gray with the wind’s brushstrokes leaving interesting patterns. The huge white stones in the pasture looked like sheep resting in field,  a scene from Ballykissangel. Three dogs pulled at their leashes, happily bouncing along the pasture trail.  But I was missing so much of it because I kept glancing at my Garmin.  My pace was too slow. I was frustrated as the dogs kept stopping  to sniff…or to pee…or listen for rabbits…

The struggle to control the run was overwhelming…and was just a reflection of how I try to control every aspect of my life.  This is what drowning might feel like. Fighting the current never helps. You have to let go and just float. I’ve never been a fan of floating – always afraid of that loss of control.  But the old ways aren’t working any longer so I need to find a new way.  I’m going float more and race less.

My knee is giving me problems again so my running is suffering. Instead of getting angry with my body, I’m allowing myself to run slowly or not run at all.  I’m allowing myself to walk when I need to.  And I’m leaving my Garmin watch at home. I’m not tracking pace or mileage. I’m just moving.  I’m not posting miles on MapMyRun and I don’t know if I’ll ever enter another race.

Shifting away from all these measures, scales, watches and clocks, I have to a chance to float freely…no guides, no maps, no public input. Just me.  I eat when I’m hungry. I run when I want to run.  I smile when I feel like smiling…and cry when I feel like crying. Floating along in my simple river…

This is my river…my beautiful, mossy, messy river.

 

 

Creation Story

My theory of reality/existence is based on personal experiences..on overwhelming feelings of oneness that changed me forever. Here is my take on…well…everything:

Once upon a time there was NOTHING except Supreme Love – God – Higher Power – Divine Beloved – the Creator – whatever you want to call Him/Her/It.  Since nothing else existed, this Creator had only its own “essence” to work with…and S/he exploded (BIG BANG) into fragments that became ALL THAT IS.

So every star, every planet, every piece of stardust is a piece of God. And to take it even farther…every being is a piece of God. Each cell is a piece of God…each atom.

In the Old Testament God is called I AM!  God ultimately IS…ALL THAT IS.

At the end of Yoga class, we use the phrase Namaste:  the divine in me sees the divine in you.

So here’s another thought that really blows my mind…99.999999% of each atom is empty space. So we are mostly empty space. We are empty space moving through empty space with a tiny fraction of matter… *note – this is not exactly accurate. See more information below if you’re interested.

What keeps us from merging into one another? Only electrostatic fields.  

When I sit back under my Bodhi tree and contemplate all this, I start to see that we really are all connected. There is only a vagueness that separates me from you. Remember in psychology classes when we were taught that babies cannot distinguish between themselves and their environments…well, maybe babies are right.

What if there is such a thing as reincarnation but with a twist? We are EACH and EVERY being  – we are the killer and the one being killed, we are the mother and we are the child, we are the lover, the beloved, and the hater…we are the Democrat and the Republican, the Christian, the Jew, the Muslim, the Pagan…we are the calf that is slaughtered and butchered and we are the one consuming the flesh…

Our karma means living all sides of all actions.  Our hell is created by us for us.  BUT we are also our own heavens…Each act of love  actually affects every other being. When we feed a starving kitten, we nourish All Beings.

Cut and paste from Wiki:  *The space between atoms may not have much matter (other than a few electrons) but it is still affected by fields – wiki check quantum field theory – which fill the space and impact upon anything that enters the space! So, the 99.9999999% is not really empty in the ‘nothingness’ sense of ‘empty‘! 

What if we decide to call that other stuff…that 99.999999%….LOVE ENERGY? Isn’t that a cool idea!

This changes so much for me…just by concentrating on LIGHT and LOVE, I can change the world. I no longer have to fight…I can just love.  That sure takes the pressure off.

So we are all ALL…and we can each change the world because all that “empty” space is something…it’s the love, the energy, we each manifest and move through…we swim in, inhale and exhale…we are God floating in Love creating more Love.

Namaste