Altered Memories

My children have a habit of telling stories about me and the things I did to them that I swear are not true. More than that, I sometimes say that they are making things up. Then this morning, I remembered something I used to do to my children and thought, "How could any loving mother do that to her children?" And I am a loving mother. I always put the welfare of my children first. Yet, there it was, my memory of me doing something I would not want posted on Facebook.

It occurred to me how easily I recall my childhood and the ways I thought I had been mistreated. But when it comes to recalling my parenting, those memories are harder to access.  And because my children's memories do not match the image I have of myself I negate them.

Our memories are selective and reflective of our own subjective experiences. Much like the dozen witnesses who all see something different at the scene of an event, what we hold to be true is merely our perspective. Forgiveness is the key to freedom. 

I forgive ______ for not being what I needed them to be to me at that time. 

Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could have been any different.

Still letting go...

Namaste

The Wedding Party

After a summer of drought, Issac brought the rain. Rain, rain, and more rain. So much of a good thing...

Today was the gathering for flower arranging for tomorrow's wedding. It sounded like fun and was a huge push for me to move beyond my home and socialize with new and interesting people. Besides, my friend is getting married. Let's go see...

Fresh picked organic flowers from the farm and neighbors

The table of completed center pieces with an artist still at work.

The musicians and officiates for tomorrow's ceremony

My creation. You're going to see a lot of this as I posit ideas about the arrangement.

Another table of arrangements.

After we finished, we had the flower parade and took photo with our creations

We were given the greenery, clippers, and thousands of flowers to create our master/mistress pieces. There were refreshments available - beer, sparkling water, cheese, hummus, crackers and pita chips. The musicians played as we worked, talked and socialized. It was a fabulous way for family and friends to met and share time and space.

However, because of all the rain, there was even more work to get ready for a farm wedding...

Inside the tent we spread straw to cover the muddy ground. Later we set up the tables. Tomorrow, we will arrive early to hang decorations, set the tables and prepare for guest. I was not actually planning to return before the wedding, but if you had seen the sad look on this guy's face when I said that you would understand why I will.

This is good for me. I am strong, capable, and competent. I may as well get out of bed and go help all the other people who showed up have a fabulous day. They came from Iowa. Me, I'm just thirty minutes down the road.

Awakening on a Spiritual Path

My days are filled with work and wonder. Spring delivers bright breezy days, but little rain in my area. I plant, weed, mulch and water acknowledging my gratitude for the time and energy to live so freely and clearly.

I have returned to work - part-time, this month, and find that I have little attention for writing. My thoughts are occupied with the past and my family of origin. I still make that journey home at least twice a month. It is a world filled with expectations and ideas that did not need my needs and thus, I have not fulfilled. In my contentment I travel to a place that challenges the essence of who I say I am.

This family values worldly accomplishments over inner peace. Money over values. Possessions rather than love. However, the siblings who earn the big money, are featured in Money Magazine and headed to Oslo for new jobs are not the ones who show up when crisis calls or there is work to be done. It is not their absence that affronts me, but the admiration for their public assent that astonishes. Since this is not new revelation, I merely acknowledge what are now very old feelings and find my place in that moment.

I sat at the window and listened to the breeze move though the trees. I counted six varying bird calls. I smelled honey in the air. My coffee fresh and hot accompanies my novel and I follow the detective into the Moors. My only happy childhood memories are of spring with its sights and sounds. The house felt empty and quiet and at peace.

Acknowledgements of a Spiritual Shift

• I allow life to carry me, rather than trying to make things happen.
• I smile easily.
• I feel connected to everything and everyone, without exception.
• I live in gratitude.
• I think in the present moment and act from Now rather than from my patterns of hurt and distress.
• Worry is absent. Guilt dissolved.
• Conflict has lost its attraction.
• I release myself from my opinions about what others have done. It is none of my business what they think of me.
• I judge myself and others less.
• I forgive us all.
• I love as an act of giving.
• I say what I mean. I mean what I say. I do what I say I am going to do.

Live. Love. Laugh. Often!

Being in My Happy Place

From California and Hyde, in San Francisco

It is an understatement to say I am in my happy place. I am utterly delighted. And what's more, I get to share this joy and excitement with a being who by design is open and accepting to joy, wonder, and excitement. DA, my four year old grand-daughter, goes skipping along the city streets, looking up and down. She asked about the buildings, the birds, the sky. She noticed the sparkly specks in the sidewalk. I observe in her behavior, questions, and enthusiasm, my very own feelings. 


The scene in the photo above has been my favorite. I have it as the wallpaper on my computer. While we were planning this trip, DA knew that she would stand in this very place and take her own photo. That's her, doing exactly what we planned.

Accept your natural wonder; pose for the camera.

We are collecting bird pictures. They are everywhere. We have flocks of pigeons eating crumbs on the street, sea gulls at the bay and in the city on roofs. DA get excited by their presence even as she squeals at their approach.

Some days I am amazed at the blessing to be here and share this experience with DA and my Z. We walk and ride about the city finding each step interesting and enticing. Even as we fall in bed aching and exhausted, we find that our days are filled with love and joy.


Open to the extra-ordinary moments. 

Namaste.

A Study in Inconsistencies

The house is quiet this afternoon as all have parted to rest after the funeral, graveyard, and repasse. I've kept up my writing though not my posting as I need some space of review before I share the work in progress. The series titled Notes From the Rabbit Hole, chronicles various aspects of reconnecting with my family of origin in the town where I lived from sixth through twelfth grade. On any given day I am assaulted by people who insist that I remember them even in the face of my blank expressions. I have been gone for 37 years. I did not socialize when I was here and was not attracted nor compelled to return.

The niceness patterns are overwhelming for me. I want to shout, stop pushing at me. No, I will not stay in touch. In my gentle voice, I say, thank you for your concern. No, we have plenty of food today. If you could save those dishes for when I leave it will be so helpful. Let me of here. I don't say the last part. I think it. People corner me and have conversations with the same stories I have heard the night before. They have no real interest in me at all. I just realized, I look exactly like my mother once did. Maybe they are just working out their grief. (Wow. I was probably low on love and compassion. I smiled a lot fighting to subdue my cross face - also my mother's.)

I am always pushing for some genuine interaction but it is slow in arriving. Even when I say that I have not been here for 37 years AND that I live two hours away, no one challenges that point. Where were you? What were you doing? How come you didn't come back? We are your relatives and we don't know you? Why are you even here now? How was your relationship with your mother?

They don't ask because I will answer. I am clear of the reasons and willing to share my feelings and opinions. I am thankful to have walked along the river and talked with my brothers. As hard as I thought my life was, theirs was awful. Even as I saw they had extensive privilege extended to and for them, they endured at least nine more years of misery and the continued distress associated with maintaining connection. I was saddened to learn of their mistreatment. I would have beat the shit out of people who were mean to my children the way my brothers suffered.

In thirty-six hours, I will be the only one here again. Well, I will be the one providing conscious support to my father. We will have thank you notes to send for the flowers and gifts. We will keep cleaning out the house of my mother's stuff. We will focus on one day at a time. My father said, well, that's done. I made it through this much. I replied, that's all that is required. As we learn to live each moment as it comes, we will find peace is already here.

Laughing in the Face of Death

My aunt says I can't go about upset and crying all the time. We need a break. We need a bit of levity. Me, I would rather we adopted the Jewish ritual of sitting shivah - the seven day period of obligatory mourning by the deceased relatives. Cover the mirror. Give up the façade. Wail at the wall. Cry aloud. But I say start ASAP, rather than waiting.

I've been working on the levity piece. While I was talking on the phone with my Z, a man tried to sell her some crystals. She says it happens more often that you think. I believe it. She is in the city. Then she shared that a man kept calling at her and approached with a cardboard with something hanging on it. He was selling panties. I've got some here that might fit you. They look to be your size. No thank you, I have mine on. Here have a look. These would look good on you.

That's what I want to buy. Some body's panties tacked to a board. On the other hand, I am excited about capturing those enterprising ventures on film when DA and I travel to hang with Z in SFO. I hope we see someone that interesting. I'll post pictures. Just the thought lifts my mood.

There are preparations to be made as family gathers for the funeral. I have my own family as well, and a house, and commitments. I cancelled everything so my mind would be free of obligation and my focus on these task. Traveling back to my home I noticed two cars parked on the side of the road. As I passed them, I saw what they were watching. Thousands of starlings lifted from the earth - a murmuration. I like this video:

I'm tired and of all the things I wanted to share, I am going to end with the need to recognize balance. There are ridiculously ugly things happening by self possessed controlling egomaniacs in the guise of love. It is not new. We are merely living the patterns that have been previously established. On the other hand, there are deep kindnesses - food, loving prayerful phone calls, offers of support.

I am blessed to be able to show up as myself. I have grown beyond the need for outside approval so can face the mountainous task before us. I am blessed with loving children and friends. And today, I understand how very important it was for me to wade through the feelings in November, for I am clearer today. I could still slap a ... but I understand that Love and Compassion are there for me when those feeling arise.

I need to laugh. I look in the mirror and at times face a death mask. I am a well upholstered lass, but my face looks thin and frail. Fat adds fullness, health, sustenance to the skin and structure. So, I will keep looking for the lighter side of each moment. A few tears of sorrow, some more of joy. I'll get tickled with DA and her need to eat constantly. I'll support her brave attempts to make friends with new people and her search for sanctuary within my skirts. And I will watch my favorite funny clip:

Every End a Beginning

My mother died the afternoon of 03.02. I took my father to see her that morning. It is increasingly difficult for him to get around. This process has exacted a heavy toll on him physically and emotionally. It was nice to see the hospice staff today. I thought I might miss them and knew it would be the last time. Today's visit would include the bath I had put off yesterday. As the nurse sang, my father prayed. I had the feeling of it being the final act, as in preparation. My mother was more vocal during the visit. For days she has been non-responsive unless being suctioned. The nurse felt she knew he was there. Maybe... I decided to go with it and tell her good-bye.

To his dismay, my father had to be wheeled from the hospital room and to the front doors. Exhausted, he agreed to rest and allow me to complete the monthly shopping. Having found each item on his list, I returned, put the groceries away, and started dinner. I had planned to drive home and return in the morning. Instead, the phone rang. From the area code I knew my mother had passed.

There are few to call who can come and relaxedly be here. I am thankful there was one. We gathered in the house to occupy the first four hours. Then we all parted to attend our tasks. This collecting and yes, hoarding of stuff is my mother's idea. My dad began immediately offering me things to carry away. As freaked as I feel about taking a bunch of stuff home, I feel worse knowing he has a big trash bag just pitching things in. I have these same patterns.

Oh, the waste. This is another place for me to let go. I have now spend the last four hours digging through a container or stuff to reach the bottom and find unopened expired items. Lots and lots of what was really good stuff just gone to waste. I have sorted things to keep and share, stuff to sell or give away (donate), trash, trash, trash, and recycling.

Along the path today, I realized that sometimes Love and Compassion are the buffer between my bitch mature and someone else's donkey behavior. While I was comforting my father, I did not have attention to execute what would have been a deep jab in the eye of my controlling self-righteous sister. When the missed opportunity was pointed out to me I shrieked. It would have been the coup de grâce.  Pun intended. 


I am distracted by the inability to leave italics, so, I'm off to sleep as tomorrow is already here and I am traveling in just four hours. What was I thinking?

I knew a man who once said, "death smiles at us all; all a man can do is smile back."  ~From the movie Gladiator 

Compassion in Action

I am traveling again to visit/support my family. My mother had never come home from her last visit and instead went to a skilled nursing facility, then back to the hospital with an infection. While there, she got another infection, was on isolation and is now on the hospital hospice program.

My sister has been orchestrating her care and insists that things be done to her specifications by all in her hearing - physicians, nursing staff, and family. I watched her boss around the professionals and calmed my mind with the realization that she was getting on a plane headed west and she doesn't have my cell number.

I spent last night in the hospital room with my mother as she gurgled through globs of mucus in her throat. It was barely noticeable when I arrived early in the afternoon and the instructions were to leave it be as it had no effect on my mother's well-being. By 2AM, she was struggling for breath, and the nurse suggested that she be suctioned. I asked about scopolamine, which dries secretions and the nurse said that while she knew the patches were generally part of end of life orders, they had prescribed another drug.

Eventually, respiratory therapy came to suction my mom's throat and the nurse gave her atropine. It took hours, and additional suctioning and medication, but but 8AM my mother was resting peacefully and stayed so the entire day. We left the hospital in the late afternoon to head home.

I was blessed to have two different hospice staff come to visit. The first listened as I cried through my struggling illusions that somehow my families issues would be resolved (by my mother) before her death. Watching her hour after hour I saw my illusions fade. She will not wake for the lucid discussion of how things got so totally fucked up, or even for a demented chat. My sister sat having long discourse over some plan and refused to even have the concept of death discussed. Me, I have been bringing it up since I started this journey.

I got to tell my story, to share my hurt, to unpack my distress with people who have no vested interest in this drama. I was affirmed in the joy of my life, directed toward forgiveness, supported as I seek a miracle in the healing of my father. It was a blessed release to cry and laugh and hug these women who actively commit to being compassionate, even in the most difficult of situations.

Last week, the doctors said, gather the family about. The end is near. We have been standing at the edge of this precipice for three months. Our toes are cramped. Our thighs ache. We are nauseous, short of breath, and exhausted. No matter how I feel, I still show up relaxed, for we are committed to allowing progression without interference. My mother's pain is managed and there is already in place a plan to keep it so, until the end.
 
We plan to return tomorrow, unless we are blessed to receive her here. This walk to the end of life is filled with questions and confusions. I am learning how to sort what needs to be tended each day, that I am free to let go without fear.

No matter what has happened in the past, it has shaped the woman/mother/friend/daughter I am today. In that case, it's all good.

Namaste

INSANITY

I am just returned from my family of origin and discovered that there is little truth to what I have believed all these years. One time when I was boo-hooing about being left out, my aunt told me that perhaps ignorance was bliss. I held that for years, but every now and then there would be an event and again I would feel slighted. On this visit, we talked about a particular family gathering that was stuck in my craw and she enlightened me with the facts. Nope. I am happy to have been neglected. The reality is, most things have worked out just fine. It has been my feelings of rejection that keep up the angst on my end.

As my mother's prognosis has worsened I have repeated these journey back frequently. On this one we relived oatmeal, lima beans, Father John's, and enemas. Each topic seemed to lead down a path deeper into some insane plot toward ultimate control. There were moments I didn't think I could bear to hear more and others in which I was fascinated at what I have believed to be true all these years.

The discussion settled on the deep hurts that must have been and the distress we perpetrated on one another (as children). As adults, those hurts have settled into our lives and shape the people we are. I want to write about the insanity, yet am too close to find any perspective today. It is still to raw for us to discuss as siblings, or we are still drinking the Kool-aid. Once you get used to it, it ain't so bad.

The doctors have called to gather the family. They have given my mother a matter of days. As we cross the threshold of origin, memories flood forth. There is no stopping what comes up. Well, I say that, but I know the coping mechanisms are already in place.

It is the season of review, release, and renewal. I am thankful to have made a commitment to this process.

My favorite movie for family drama (read dysfunction) is Daddy's Dyin Who's Got The Will. (Instant view on Netflix - VERY funny!)

Holiday Tears of Joy

When every situation which life can offer is turned to the profit of spiritual growth, no situation can really be a bad one.

Paul Brunton

This is my first year without my family at the holidays - all of them.  My Eldest moved to the West Coast and the others have occupied their time differently.  Even in this time of joy and happiness, I have a deep sadness with her absence.  I expected to be off work on the 24th so that I would be home and able to sleep the night in preparation for the 25th and our family time. I found out Monday night that the request was denied. Not only was I going to be working the overnight shift, but also would not have the much needed rest I had been planning.  I spent the next days a mess of angst and distress, and immense sadness.

As time passed, I decreased the complaining until as I was getting ready for work I found acceptance.  Standing before the mirror, my right mind weighed in.  “If I am in the right place at the right time, I had best show up and honor the blessing and the lesson.”  My last glance at Facebook found so many of my single “friends” at home, alone, drinking and waking, and drinking some more. 

Drinking to hide from feelings is not my issue, but being at home alone would certainly have kept me bawling for the night, until I was one swollen mass of ache – headache, sinuses, back and tummy.  I doubt I would have even been able to call any of my sweeties to send them my love.

I hauled myself into work and though tears fall like rain, I did call my daughter and shared both my sadness of her absence and my joy that she is living her life so beautifully. My other children, well, I did check in and we will gather in the afternoon after I have had some to rest.

I affirm that all that I need is flowing toward me. 

I am enough. There is enough. I have enough.

I am blessed in re-membering that which I know to be true.  And so it is.

\ Namaste  \