This weeks topic on Photo Friday is “isolation”.
Solitude is the profoundest fact of the human condition. Man is the only being who knows he is alone. ~ Octavio Paz
Category Archives: spirit
lessons in peace
My book club read Three Cups of Tea last month. It was a fascinating read, particularly now with the Middle East in the news so much. It’s the story of an ordinary man who begins an extraordinary journey with a simple goal, to build a school for boys and girls in a remote village in Pakistan. After a failed attempt at climbing K2, Greg Mortenson wandered into the rural village of Korphe where he was nursed back to health by the impoverished, but generous people of the tiny village. Before he left he asked to see the village school and was shocked to see children huddled outside, scratching their lessons into the cold dirt. He vowed to return and build them a school. Greg Mortenson has since become director of an international non-profit organization that has built 80 schools in Afghanistan and Pakistan that not only educate children, but also help promote peace and tolerance in a volatile region that has become the focus of the war on terror.
When I look into the eyes of the children in Pakistan and Afghanistan, I see the eyes of my own children full of wonder – and I hope that we each do our part to leave them a legacy of peace instead of the perpetual cycle of violence, war, terrorism, racism, exploitation and bigotry that we have yet to conquer. ~Greg Mortenson
one more hug
A few nights ago I was dreaming that I was in strange apartment at some kind of family get-together. There were small round tables set up and I was scanning the people at the tables, looking for my mom. I walked over and peered around a half wall and saw her. She appeared how I remember her at the end of her life when she was very ill and I didn’t want to see her that way so I went back and sat down at another table. When I looked up she was sitting across from me, healthy and young, younger than I have conscious memory of her. She tried to say something but I couldn’t understand her so we got up and moved toward each other and we embraced.
I was going to tell her that I wanted her to give me a sign or come to me in my dreams so that I would know that she was okay. But as I wrapped my arms around her and felt the softness of her short curly hair against my left cheek, I suddenly understood what seemed to be happening so instead I simply said, “I just wanted to tell you that you were a great mom.” I woke up with my lips moving and I heard my own whispered voice speaking out loud, “…a great mom.”
missing mom
My mom’s dog Ellie on her perch keeping watch
For many months now my family has been struggling to understand why my seventy-four-year-old mother was so sick and what we could do to help make her better. She has a somewhat rare form of COPD called bronchietasis, the cause of this illness is not well understood and unfortunately the treatment for it has been limited and unsuccessful. For quite some time we have been walking that heartrending line that those with serious illness and their families must walk, that difficult path where hope and acceptance meet and retreat then meet again. My mother has grown weary of the dance. She has stepped over to acceptance and she is asking us to do the same and so we are going to begin hospice care.
I sit and talk with her about her death now. She wants to know how long it will take. I tell her I don’t know but we will do everything we can to keep her comfortable. She says there are things she wanted to do, get organized. I tell her that she is still here and we can still do them. She says she wanted to write each of her children a goodbye letter. I tell her that she can dictate the words and I’ll write them down for her. She says she wanted to clean out the desk and throw away old bills. I reassure her that my dad will take care of that. She told me that her little dog Ellie is going to miss her and I said, “Yes, you’re right mom, she really is going to miss you.”
I could add a few words of wisdom about now, something about it all being okay because it’s the natural cycle of life, or she’s crossing over to a better place, or she’s had a good long life. And sometimes that is how I feel. But the truth is, most of the time it’s not okay. My mom is dying and any way you look at it…it is simply unacceptable.
*I wrote this post the day before my mother passed away. It’s been two months now and I just came across it while cleaning up my draft files on WordPress. This Saturday we are having a big open house in honor of my mom and I really do look forward to seeing family and old friends we don’t often get to see anymore. I’m still searching for those words of wisdom that will make everthing okay, but the thing is I want to lay my head down on my mother’s lap, feel her stroke my hair gently, and hear them from her.
wise
The Illustration Friday subject this week is “Wise”. I wasn’t going to post this because I was afraid you would think I’ve totally lost it, but it fit the subject perfectly so here it goes…One morning this past September I was laying in bed meditating. As I came out of the meditation, just for kicks and truthfully never expecting anything to happen, I asked to see my guide or guardian angel. Immediately a woman appeared in the center of my field of vision. She reminded me of the actress Christina Ricci, she had pale skin and black hair cut in a Cleopatra like bob. It scared the crap out of me at first but the moment I felt the fear she “zapped” me in the chest and I felt this warm, happy energy charge through my body. This energy removed all fear and left me feeling calm and centered.
As you probably know my mom died on September 30th. Before she passed away I had several experiences, including the one I’m blogging about today, that enabled me to stay present and be helpful to my mom and dad. I believe that we all have the opportunity to connect with our God, our guides, our Source, whatever you choose to call it in your own personal belief system. We simply need to slow down, breathe, ask and then be still and listen. The answers may not always be what you expected, or even what you want, but they will come.
soul quiz
You Are a Dreaming Soul
Your vivid emotions and imagination takes you away from this world so much so that you tend to live in your head most of the time. You have great dreams and ambitions that could be the envy of all…but for you, following through with your dreams is a bit difficult.
You are charming, endearing, and people tend to love you. Forgiving and tolerant, you see the world through rose colored glasses. Underneath it all, you have a ton of passion that you hide from others. Always hopeful, you tend to expect positive outcomes in your life.
Souls you are most compatible with: Newborn Soul, Prophet Soul, and Traveler Soul
What kind of soul are you? Take the Quiz here…
skywatch friday
I dreamt this sky and green field, although my attempt to recreate it falls a bit short, it was much more vivid and beautiful. The entire scene was draped in a misty sunlit rain that was falling both down and up, very cool:)
The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul, which opens into that primeval cosmic night that was soul long before there was a conscious ego and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach. ~ Carl Gustav Jung
lullaby and goodbye
Two weeks ago today I was sitting in a darkened room in a hospital ER, my hand gently holding my mother’s wrist, my index finger feeling for her fading pulse. As the fragile beats grew more distant, then seemed to stop, I glanced at my sister who was sitting next to my mother’s head stroking her hair. My sister is a nurse and I looked to her like a child looks up at their mother after they fall down to see how to react. Was this it, was she gone? My sister didn’t say anything though, so we kept talking.
I don’t remember now what we spoke about that afternoon, it doesn’t really matter. I think me and my sister and my father just wanted to erase the sounds of the hospital and fill it with our own hushed voices, a lullaby to a dying mother, wife, and grandmother. Sometime later a nurse floated silently into the room and quietly asked us if we needed anything. My sister shook her head no, then she said that mom had passed away about ten minutes before. So that was it then – no trumpets blaring, no final gasp, no last words, no dramatic goodbyes. Unlike the spectacle of birth and that fierce first breath, there was just sleep for my mother, deep and peaceful, a measured crossing on a whispered river of words.
bookbabie 