once upon a life

letting go

I am a day late for Wishcasting Wednesday, but I thought I’d just peek in and see what Jamie’s prompt was for yesterday. Oh my! “What do you wish to let go?” I actually laughed out loud when I saw those words. Once again, the Universe is hard at work making sure I “get it.” I have been going through an intense, yet somehow gentle,  “letting go” process since early September. I didn’t set out to do it, it just happened. But this particular post is not intended to write about the specifics of that.

Earlier today I posted the following writing by Ernest Holmes on my facebook page. Coincidence? I think not! I would just simply like to share it with the rest of you…

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“She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go. She let go of the fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a book on how to let go… She didn’t search the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of all of the memories that held her back. She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go. She didn’t journal about it. She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope. She just let go.

 

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go. She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn’t call the prayer line. She didn’t utter one word. She just let go.

No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. It was what it was, and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.”

- Ernest Holmes

596 days

(warning: this post is raw, unedited and unrevised)

Today marks 1 year, 7 months, and 18 days. That's 596 days of processing, accepting, and healing. Today I am angry and heartbroken. Anger is not an emotion I am comfortable with. My heart breaking into a million pieces is something much more familiar to me. My heart shattered on February 2, 2008 when my sister, Connie, passed away (unchartered territory). I have cried, crawled, stumbled, gotten up, smiled, laughed, and at some point, I guess I was doing something that looked vaguely familiar to living again. Today, I'm not sure.

It's her birthday weekend, and today I am angry. No, I'm furious! I recognize that this emotion is the only thing that is going to keep me from completely losing my mind. So, I am hanging on to this rage for dear life. With my entire being I am screaming at cancer. I want to beat it dead. I want to rip it to pieces. How dare you touch my precious angel! You hateful bastard! I hate you!!! Do you hear me? I hate you!

I'm familiar with the "work" that needs to be done on a broken heart. Time. Time. More time. Today, time is my enemy. I know I need to love and be gentle with myself. Allow the feelings to flow as they come up. Honor the process, Max. But grief is such a very strange thing. There is no rhyme or reason to it. I've come to a place of peace with her loss, over and over during the past 596 days. Suddenly, with no warning, the floor opens up and I'm being swallowed by the realization that she's gone.

I ache from a place so deep that I didn't even know it existed. It's hard to breathe. My body aches throughout. My mind is spinning out of control. I cry for me, for our mom, for her son, for her grandchildren, and for my children and grandchildren. She was iconic in our lives.  She was, and always will be my very best friend, my protector, my voice of reason, and my reference for unconditional love. She was my big sister, and at times a mother to me. She was everything gracious, loving and beautiful. She was my hero.

I knew this darkness was coming. It has a very familiar approach. Sort of like when you know you're getting sick. I've tried for the past few days to ward it off. To go to that "happy place" your mind automatically takes you to. That mysterious place of self-preservation. I made plans for the weekend knowing that I needed to stay busy. That just ain't gonna happen. There will be no "big game," no cook-out, and certainly no dancing. I don't like being here. It hurts and it's so scary. Nothing soothes it. I notice I'm doing that "rocking" thing. Gently swaying front to back. It's what I've done to comfort myself since I'm a child. I don't always realize I'm doing it, but it's happening now. Connie knew when I did it, just as she would point out when I was "picking" at my fingernails. She knew.

I have said her name everyday for 596 days. She remains alive in so many ways, and yet is so very gone. It's a roller coaster ride that I did not purchase a ticket for. I hate roller coasters! I am flailing around certain that I will fly off on this plunging drop. Today, it seems there's no end to the ride.  There's no predicting the next climb or plunge. When you're on the Grief Roller Coaster, you have in your hands a life-long ticket. I've heard that sooner or later the ride gets smoother with only an occasional dip. I can only hope.

I was with a friend last evening in Walgreen's. Bam! There it was...an entire display of "As Seen on TV" products. Connie loved those things! I used to make fun of her and her obsession with having such ridiculous things. I stood there and pointed out which items Connie would absolutely have to have, and why. Even if she didn't need it, she certainly knew someone who would appreciate it and make good use of it. Good enough reason to buy 2! I really wanted to buy them all. Felt like I needed to. I stood there and quickly "processed" the idea that buying these things for her was insane and certainly not going to bring her back. Yet, at the same time I also wanted to demolish the entire display. Just throw everything to the floor and stomp and scream! Talk about extremes! Instead, I just walked away. Grief doesn't make sense, and it has no mercy...on anyone.

There's a place in my mind that I know for certain I will survive this. I know that this gaping hole in my soul will eventually heal. I know that time will lessen the pain and fear of living life without my sister. I know there will come a day when the anger I feel will not be a necessary emotion. But not today. Today I want my sister, and I'm pissed as all get out at the son-of-a-bitch named cancer that took her from us. Today I cried out in agony, covered my head, blocked anyone from coming near, punched the pillows, screamed into the pillows, threw a glass just to hear it shatter, opened cabinet doors several times just to slam them harder, and cried some more.  Then, I sat in total silence...for hours. The silence of nothingness. I sat with my emptiness, my sister, and my God.

I don't go to the cemetery very often. I don't feel the need to. I talk to and visit with my sister everyday. She's a part of everything I do, and the driving force behind what I do. But come Monday, I think will sit with her at her grave site. I will go and bring her something pretty and shiny, because that's her. And I will sing Happy Birthday really, really loud, because I really, really can't sing and that always made her day.

Happy Birthday, sweetheart! I love you!!

my feathered friend

I found this injured bird trapped in the hurricane fence. He was upside down and had apparently met the fence with great force. At first glance, I was certain he was dead. Either way, I knew I couldn't just leave him there. After quickly donning a pair of gloves, I gently began to pry his claws from the fence. His little body fell limp in my hand.

I had no clue what to do with a severly injured and/or dead bird. My first thought was the very least I could do was to "dispose" of it in some dignified manner. Afterall, it is one of God's creatures. As I held the bird in my hands, I instinctively began to give it Reiki. Suffice it to say that a lot took place in the one hour that I held this fragile creature.

He eventually flew to the open field next to me. I watched in absolute amazement as he returned, perched on the fence rail, ruffled his features, and stared intently at me (what an incredible exchange!). Then off he went...

wishcasting wednesday

According to Jamie Ridler, "Wishcasting Wednesday is a safe haven for wishes, a fertile field in which to plant wish seeds and have them witnessed and tended lovingly. It’s a place where magic begins." I have been wanting to take part in Jamie's weekly ritual for months now. I have also been trying to get my blog up and running for the same amount of time. I don't have an overwhelming desire to write, but my "spirit counsel" will not take no for an answer. And it's certainly not because I think my life already "rocks." It's because, overwhelmingly, everyone "up there" has long been whispering and pushing about the hotly anticipated arrival of what little 'ole me has to say. Go figure! So, here I am facing a huge fear of putting it all out there, and casting a wish at the same time! Whew!! I knew today was the day for me to face and embrace the giant that I once feared so much. Deeeep breath...

Today's prompt question was "What do you wish to learn?" Geez!! Are you kidding me, Jamie? LEARNING is a "button" for me. I've sat in my seat, held my hand down, kept my mouth shut, etc., because I thought I still had so much more to learn. I refused to hit post on a blog because I hadn't "learned" about about blogging. Now I'm doing both in one shot!

I wish to learn that what I know right now is all I need to know for now. This concept may seem simple for some, but for me it's what holds me back from living my life wide open. It's a frustrating cycle of wanting to fully embrace all that is unique and beautiful about myself, and the haunting need for perfectionism and all that that issue entails. The TRUTH is, I know that I know what I know! Period. I also know that I will never stop learning. But what good does it do me, or anyone else, if I keep raising the bar on myself?

So, I wish to learn to TRUST my inner voice...that ever present wisdom that speaks louder than the ego...step out of my comfort zone by living, being, sharing and teaching what I've already learned!

strong words

(originally written 04/18/09)

My granddaughter, Gabby, was visiting earlier this week and quickly made her way to my home office workspace. I didn’t give it much thought since it’s something she loves to do when she comes over…play at my desk and rearrange all the “stuff.” The next time I sat at my desk to work, I noticed all of the paper clips were where they belonged, arranged by size and perfectly separated. I smiled. The pens, pencils, highlighters, etc., were all neatly organized, and of course, in color order. Again, I smiled when I thought of her sitting here, deep in thought, in her own little world, and perfectly content to be in my “space.”

She’s getting older now (almost 10), and I don’t worry as much anymore that she’ll disturb my mounds of paperwork, or disrupt my chaotic piles of notes, filing, books, etc. Truth is, I’ve gotten older too, and short of her having access to a shredder, there’s really nothing here that is all that darn important, or can’t be replaced. Come to think of it…I may buy a shredder.

Anyway, she did leave behind something that was not here before, and something I will treasure forever. Her handwritten words on a purple post-it note, neatly taped to my computer monitor. She didn’t just write the note and place it on my desk; since she’s apparently figured out I needed a better system by the obvious mess that was there already. No, she strategically placed it where I would see it every time I sit here…

Strong Words by Gabby M. : Truth, God, Love, Bless, Belief, Please, and Thank You

First of all, I love that she put the initial of her last name. That’s so I don’t confuse her with my other granddaughter I don’t have named Gabby. And I love that she drew a square around each word to draw more emphasis to each. In other words, pay attention!

I still have that sticky note. Each time I look at it, I think of my precious Gabby and my heart opens. I am reminded of how incredibly intuitive all children are, and I ask myself "have I acted upon those seven strong words today?"

unchartered territory

In November 2004 the world turned upside down and its very foundation cracked wide open. The sky was no longer in its familiar place and it became very, very dark. I have never known such gut-wrenching fear. I must admit my very first instinct was to hide, but I knew I couldn't leave my loved ones behind in this nameless darkness. My senses quickly tried to adjust to these foreign surroundings. The first faces I remember seeing were very familiar, but to my horror they reflected the same fear I was trapped in.

 

Could this really be happening? We were all scrambling to find our footing on this ever-increasing gaping hole. Now and again we would reach out in a feeble attempt to boost one another to solid ground. I then became aware of a pattern to this madness. The ground would begin to rumble beneath us again, and it would inevitably be followed by a devastating jolt of pain, leaving us stunned and scrambling, but unfortunately not numb.  

Those of us who were left hanging on immediately began to slide toward each other. At times it allowed us to reach out and pull another back to safety. Other times this very same slippery slope unwittingly slammed us into one another with a force that caused you to lose your footing even more. Another pattern emerged - recoil back to the safety of your own self-controlled insanity!
 
Suddenly, complete strangers began to appear. They were there to help. The first problem I had to overcome was trying to understand the strange language they spoke. I was not at all familiar with their words. I looked to the familiar faces for signs of relief, or at the very least comprehension, only to find none. I stared intently toward the strangers as they spoke, thinking I would understand something in their body language, but there were just blank expressions reflecting deep concern. More and more strangers began to appear, and in my horror, I began to recognize their language. From their mouths spewed words that were so vile they were incomprehensible. Tumor. Brain. Terminal. Three months.

 

Three years and three months later (02/02/08), my beautiful sister, Connie, transitioned to her Lord. Her journey is an amazing testimony of faith, courage, grace, and all that is beautiful in this world. One day, when I can adequately express such a love story, I will write of it (because she asked me to). Until then, I do all that I can to honor our secrets and promises to one another. Without her, I am traversing unchartered territory.  I find myself still leaning on her, and as promised, she is always there. Nudging...whispering..."you can do it Mackie." She is the reason I do what I do.