Harmony and Balance

I took a walk this morning and noticed how all the plants, bushes and trees are suffering because of the heat and lack of rain. I remembered that even though the grass and flowers die and turn brown, their roots go deep into the soil and eventually, when the rains come again, they will return as beautiful as ever - if not more magnificent.

Recently I learned there are scientists who think they have made the discovery with the necessary proof that there is a perfect dimension that co-exists within our world. That we are the two dimensional image, living in an “unreal” place. We’re a reflection of something better, something more, something without the flaws that we make for ourselves.

As a body worker who constantly observes and notices and sees imbalances in human forms, I immediately start making all kinds of connections. When a person’s physical body is in perfect alignment, they are able to be fluid, to go through life and daily events with good health and a stronger ability to do what their passions and longings guide them to do. When we send out roots deeply into the spirit of creation that surrounds and resides in us, which supports our feet, no matter what adversity or hardship comes along, we find a way back to proper alignment, we eventually receive the water we need to nourish and correct our “posture”. I had an “Aha” moment this morning. I believe some people are incredibly successful and happy because they live their lives in perfect alignment with that perfect dimension. And the rest of us who struggle and feel tormented do so because we’re still trying to find the way, the path that brings about “lokahi”, alignment. We feel it calling us, we get glimpses, but for us it’s more difficult to keep our structure straight and tall – maybe because life or past lives have worn away at us and whittled away bits and pieces that are difficult to replace or regrow.

I’m thanking my mother this morning. For planting seeds in me that have carried me this far in life. For giving me roots that go so far sometimes it feels they reach the very center of the earth and the furthest corners of the universes. She placed inside of my heart the place in which I can always return, even when she isn’t present. Belief? Love? Passion? God? It can’t really be defined in words.

I’m finally learning how to listen to the voice inside of me. The one that tells me to stand with my shoulders back, my heart, eyes and ears open. The voice that says “get help from someone who knows” whenever I feel a shift happening that is taking me away from where I need to be.

Some moments, like this morning, I feel I’m swimming inside of “enlightenment”, inside that parallel dimension of the perfect us.

So grateful.

Thank you, mom.

Depression and the Damage Inflicted

You’re angry with me

Because I am me, not what you want me to be

Lashing out at something you can’t even place your finger on

But I know what it is you feel

What you see

In me.

You.

I pull the covers over my head

Shut out the light

Please someone just make the pain go away

I’m angry with you, too

Because you’re you, not who I wish you could be

Me.

Inside myself so completely I can’t come out and face the world

Where I feel I’ve never belonged

Tuck myself more into my cocoon

Of blanket tangled up and twisted

Keeping me unable to rise and get myself up and out.

I know what you’re angry at

My inability to function in a life full of dysfunction

My inability to make you feel my arms wrapped around you while you hit and bite and push me away.

Maybe I’m the same.

Maybe I need to be held, to be loved, too.

Like you.

Even when I lash out and shout and push you away.

You think I run

From what is hard to take, hard to place, hard to feel, hard to fake.

You couldn’t see me slowly dying.

You can’t see me now, struggling for life, for love, warmth and safety.

All your eyes know is that I have always been removed from you.

Abandoning you.

When all I’ve really tried doing is figuring out which door to open and walk through in order to keep putting one foot in front of the other. So the shell of me at least can be here, supporting you however I am allowed.

The only way I can.

Being me.

Breathing one breath after another breath.

I’m so caught up inside of me

Under my covers unable to rise.

How can I find strength to carry you

When I can’t even carry me into the next room?

I’m angry too.

And understand so much more than you can ever imagine.

Maybe you’re supposed to hurl your disappointment into my chest

Maybe in some way, like the blankets wound around my ankles

That will make me push

Through

And back

To you.

Inside Out and Outside In

I’ve spent my entire life wondering why bad things happen. If there is this wonderful loving God up in the sky or buried inside our cells, or swirling and surrounding everything everywhere all the time, why would He allow the things that go on that are so destructive, so unkind, so opposite of what those who blindly “know” Him profess? I’ve spent countless hours trying to figure it all out. Why do beautiful people die ugly, painful deaths from cancer? Why do we break one another’s hearts? Why does the earth shake, quake and bake innocent beings, both human and all other. Why is there this constant tearing down of everything? Why does Life have its own Death wish? Why does anger permeate and rip out and tug at our feelings of positive-ness? Why does hate seem so much stronger than any force encompassed by a woman’s heart? Why is there greed, neglect, war, rape, murder?

And then a day like today comes along. A day when I’m scared, feeling completely lost. Feeling alone. Wishing I could somehow fix everything broken in those I love and within my own body and soul. Then quietly entering into the dark comes one little beam of light after another. An “adopted” son’s text, reassuring me that everything will be fine. That he’s there, hundreds of miles away, but “there” sending love and positive energy. A friend’s phone call and a gentle voice reassuring me, adding fuel to my strength reserves. A re-aquaintance (long lost friend) letting me know thoughts circle around me. A niece giving me her laughter and her ideas and her passions. Sharing love. And standing here by the window, looking outside while choking down tears and fears, something stirs inside me and becomes perfectly clear. Even if it’s just for a singular moment that will fade away. For that instant I KNOW. I know that without the traumas and the disappointments and the discouraging, heart wrenching things that come hurling our way throughout this life experience, we wouldn’t feel the intensity of the small gifts presented today. Right now.

One of the things I’ve appreciated about mom and where she is in her aging process is how she seems to be able to let everything pass in and through without letting it stay too long inside of her. She’s more accepting. More detached, yet at the same time somehow more powerful in her ability to let things completely go, while letting everything else completely in. It’s been precious for me to observe.

I’m a little overwhelmed today, thinking I’m reaching even farther out on the end of the spectrum of emotions. Feeling an intensity of love and gratitude I haven’t yet felt before. It makes me actually a bit more thankful for the challenges… for the heart aches. I’ve been so focused on letting things go, I’ve not appreciated enough the impact and importance of letting things in….

Life. Death. Rebirth.

It is difficult, actually impossible for a woman to accurately describe the childbirth experience to anyone who hasn’t been through the process. The mind relinquishes itself to the body that somehow goes from resisting and fighting against to accepting and allowing. The lungs grasp for air in a way never fully known prior to that moment. The muscles begin reacting and moving seemingly without any prompting from the normal places in the brain. When you have a baby naturally, without the standardized epidural or pain relievers, you can’t shield yourself or protect yourself from the sensations of pressure, bones being forced apart, ripping, tearing and slicing. While at the same time a feeling of complete and total release. A letting go of everything known and familiar. Everything safe. I remember thinking it must be similar to dying; surrendering into some life force that we all own, we all respond to, we all come from and go back to and that circles us while we are awake and while we sleep. And that energy takes over and takes charge and there is nothing that you can do anymore; simply experience it.

A child letting go of a mother. Life. Death. Birth.

A mother letting go of a child. Life. Death. Birth.

A place where endurance is a must. Where strength has to be present because there is no other choice. A hovering between life’s first breath and life’s last. That sensation of absolute “not knowing”. I sometimes wonder if we don’t all walk death’s edge from experiences we go through. And through it all, one HAS to believe in something bigger. Someone greater. One has to believe it’s all leading to some kind of new life, even through tears and sometimes screaming out loud from the pain.

I’m glad I’m a daughter and I’m glad I’m a mother. From inside my heart I know what true love is. What can take it. What can break it. What can tie it up into knots.

And sometimes it's about stepping away, stepping back and allowing something else in.

I surrender.

Again and again.

The Human Condition of Always Wanting More and Not Seeing What We Have

A patient was waiting in the front area where my desk is this evening and we ended up talking “philosophy” more than we had ever talked with one another before. I’m always amazed at moments like that. Times that seem perfectly designed and dropped into my existence at just the right minute, bringing with it a feeling of "reason" or "purpose". Somehow I’m reminded, gently, to re-evaluate, re-think and re-establish.

Out of the blue this gentleman stated the obvious. “Have you ever noticed we always end up wanting more, even after we get what we thought we wanted? Ya gotta be careful what you wish for and appreciate what you have.” We dissected his statement back and forth for awhile, talking to one another, yet talking out loud (I’m certain) to ourselves. How often do we wish for, chase after, long for, push towards, pull, tug and twist trying to receive something or someone into our realities? Only to find after unwrapping the gift that is given that it doesn’t quite measure up to our expectations? And quite often leaves us emptier than before and once again seeking out the next, and the more perfect thing?

The conversation led me to a memory I have. One I can’t really shake, even though I’ve tried.

For three years I spent hour upon hour with my grandmother who had to be put into a nursing home against her will. I hated that she had to be there. And she reminded me over and over how much she hated it. One day I was particularly tired and she started speaking her familiar loop again. “Everyone I love is gone. Everyone who mattered is dead. They’ve all left me here all alone.” I felt like an invisible six year old, neglected and forgotten. Inside I was screaming, “But I’m here, grandma! Open your eyes and see ME. I matter. I love you. I’m here. I’ve never gone anywhere and I’m standing right beside you.” I would even sometimes give her a gentle nudge to think that direction. “Grandma,” I would say light heartedly, “Look! I’m here! Emaleigh’s here with us! You have so many people who care for you and come and visit you and take care of you.” But no matter how much I reminded or spoke to her, her own Alzheimer’s infected mind couldn’t see what I saw. Couldn’t experience those who surrounded her, who were there holding her hand and sharing her space and time. Present with her in her here and now. I remember talking myself out of being devastated and hurt by her lack of being able to see me for who I was and for what I offered and gave to her.

I’ve decided over the years we spend hours and hours, days and days training our brains how to think and how to connect with our emotions. And unfortunately, so many of us don’t really see. We don’t see the gifts that are right next to us, placed directly in front of us, so close we stumble over them.

I love that the patient at my office reminded me to stop. Breathe. Open my eyes and be thankful for all the people and things that completely enfold me, wrap me up in the arms of life. I would like to be more appreciative and less worried about whether or not I need to keep pouting to try to “get my way”.  Let go, Rhonda. Let go and trust the universe more. Just learn how to be and exist and open up spaces for what I already have that can add to my life the most if I simply take a peek a little deeper inside…

A Portion of Our Brain Power

I was hanging out with my niece last night, watching a movie together. Ended up talking most of the way through it instead.

She’s nine.

And when she was only a toddler her mother committed suicide while my (step) niece and nephew were in the other room. As an adult, I can barely find a way to process that entire situation. I don’t know how to explain it, how to rationalize, how to “be with”, how to accept the reality.

But here was this young child, sometimes seeming years older than she really is, telling me last night something that totally blew me out of the water.

She told me she has decided something and wondered if I wanted to hear.

She started talking about how we all only use ten percent of our brains. And in turn, we only use ten percent of our potential. She believes her mother, free from the restrictions of a human, physical form, a form that only actualizes ten percent of all potential during an eighty year lifespan, is now completely free to use all the potential that ever was and ever could be. Nothing holding her back. So she can give herself to Audrey in a way no one else can. She can do things that Audrey can’t “see” because her mom is “behind the scenes” and working beyond what she could have done trapped and locked in a body that was racked with pain and swallowed by addiction. Her best friend now protects and guides and helps her more than she could have if she were here. She ended her little speech by saying, "I really do think everything happens for a reason. Everything."

I’m impacted hugely every day by the family I’ve been gifted with. Amazed sometimes. Rendered speechless often.

Shaking Off a Little Dust

Today I found out someone I care a great deal about is losing her great grandmother.  I have watched all of my grandmothers leave this world, unable to cling onto the ones they love most... their granddaughters and grandsons, their own children.... their "familiar loves".  It breaks my heart, knowing now that I'm on the flip side, never going backwards to the place where unconditional, loving embraces wrap around, hold and protect and where life holds a certain untouchabe innocence.

I also know that I have several friends whose lives are at a crossroads.  And as much as I would LOVE to try diving in and rescuing them... I know they have to go through the fire, to a certain extent, alone.  Unable to hang on to any one else's securities.  Unable to hold onto hands to pull them out of the quagmire.  They have to somehow figure out where to go from "here".  Like we all do when life throws its curve balls and road blocks our way.

We can support and love and encourage each other, but basically, we each have our own paths to walk.

I remember once, I was so worried about one of my sons.  So I called my mom, asking for advice.  I'll never forget her saying that we are all on our own path, all of us walking our own journeys, even though we share the same space.  No matter how hard I try, I can't shelter my own flesh and blood from the frailties and the pitfalls of "life".  I can't keep them from experiencing pain or failure, trauma, disappointment.  I can try to soften the blows, lessen the punches.  But basically, there comes a point where I have to surrender and trust that they are strong enough, capable and very much able to  rise above.  We all come out on the other side.  Somehow.  Even when it feels like we'll never be able to inhale again without help of some kind.

I'm inspired daily.  By those who could easily stop trying.  By those who could choose to give up on life, on themselves, on love..... but they somehow manage to find a way to pull up their bootstraps and show the rest of us how to be brave.

I'm feeling blessed by life's tragedies and how they are sometimes the most powerful ways to find connection and common threads running through our lives.  Threads that tie us together, weave us into something better, more beautiful.

"Cheers" to a brighter day.  And may we all be lucky enough to recognize the pearls that can be dusted off through hardship and trial.