Aunties, Vikings and Mom

Several things draw me to the Hawaiian culture; the Aloha spirit (the actual word meanings of “Aloha”), the beauty of the natural setting and people, the way their islands produce a “laid back”-ness, but one thing I love most? No matter what the color of your skin, you immediately become known as “Auntie” to any child with which you come into contact. And with that simple little word comes all these huge emotions within me. All of a sudden, I feel instantly connected, instantly recognized as someone of value, instantly honored, instantly responsible for playing a role or part in that child’s life, even if it’s just a few moments of interaction. And any time I hear that word… “Auntie”… I am brought into the love I have for my own aunts, my own nieces and nephews, the ones who have helped shape and helped guide me, who continue to do so. Just like the word Aloha, and all Hawaiian words, there is a layering of meaning and not just meaning, but EMOTION under every word, every syllable. Intentional, like Sanskrit words. And that intentional flow holds energetic power and grace.

I spoke with my mom last night. I’m pretty sure I woke her up so maybe she felt a bit more disoriented than usual. She has struggled with pain most of her life and I’ve often wondered if that genetic link is part of my own cross to bear. During our conversation, she started describing her left arm, her left hand, and couldn’t remember what was “wrong” and why it is crippled up the way it is. I reminded her of Dupuytren’s Contracture… that darned ole “Viking’s Disease” that has made residence in her body. I’ve learned a valuable lesson from my stepdad, that somehow being light about heavy and dark things brings about more space for acceptance, healing, understanding… it brings joy into sorrow and light into darkness. So I played my humor card and made mom giggle at her own ailment. And through the laughing, we stumbled on a thought; maybe she was predestined to host that disease… a disease that can be traced back in time, a disease that only certain people with a certain blood line contract… maybe she has that disease because through her and through her experience, our family tree is being “healed”. Let me explain further; part of my training in Lomi Lomi has included the recognition that as healers we are challenged to be a bridge not just for other people, but for our own families, sending prayers of healing, energy and love into our heritages to cleanse and heal and make whole. Mom had the “eureka moment” of feeling THAT was why she suffered, why her body suffered; for the benefit of those who went before, for those who will come in the future, a physical manifestation of a way to purify. Then she laughed and said something like, “if that’s not the reason, at least it makes me feel better about it.” That way of thinking seems so simply profound to me and so hope filled.

So what do the two have in common? Being called “Auntie” and being called to heal our families? While meditating on both this morning, I find myself linked into the feeling of complete connection. We make a difference. Our choices, even the choices we make of how to spend our time THINKING (are we thinking on things that bring peace and love into the world or are we caught up in tangled up strings of panic, confusion, frustration, disappointment, etc?), our choices deeply affect one another. Our thoughts deeply affect one another. And I’m starting to see that we not only influence one another during this time and place, but we affect those in our past and those in our future. Oprah once quoted I think someone else… and I love this quote, “Take responsibility for the energy you bring into this space”. When being called Auntie by other people’s children who are trusting you with that name given, when caring for a mother and trying to gently be present and supportive, when contemplating whether we can make huge changes not only in the present but beyond, life’s energy - God’s love - encompasses me, sings to me, breathes new life and freedom into me. And I hope somehow I can take that gift given and pay it forward.

 Aloha kakou.

Pixie Dust and Fairy Wings

My mom has never discouraged me from letting my imagination soar. Something for which I am so grateful.

 I was thinking this morning that I used to really truly believe in fairies, leprechauns, magic, little people, invisible people…. angels. I would take walks through the trees, searching for their hiding places, would feel someone with me even when I was all alone. I used to think they left gifts for me because I would sing them my made up songs or the songs I loved. (Yes, son. Your mother has always been a tree hugging hippy at heart.) I would have a butterfly land on my shoulder. I’d find a certain type of shiny stone or a flower that had been dropped by a bird, or see a squirrel staring at me, eye to eye and thank the fairies.

It’s funny, the more we age the more we sometimes return to those things that made us up as a kid. It dawned on me this morning that sometimes I think I was trained in the way of the pixies. Sprinkle a little part of your soul (dust) on others. Leave some little thing behind, even if it’s a silent and whispered prayer. Try to make the world a slightly better place just because you flew through.

We all go through such traumatic events; physical ailments, pain, heart break, disappointment in life, no job, not enough money, homelessness, emptiness. And then a door seems to magically open and all of the sudden your life has been added to, expanded …. through someone’s grace, someone’s smile, someone’s touch. I’ve been the recipient. I’ve been the giver. Both impact life in a way that I think ripples so far beyond what we can see.

I’m challenging myself with new resolve to believe again. In the magic that softly falls and dances and coats a lonely world.

I like to think that while hurricanes tear apart and destroy, while the earth quakes and quivers with its need to keep changing and forming and re-shaping itself, that there will be those who continue to sprinkle light particles into the dark, who shine a little path through the darkest places in order to bring about transformation unlike we as humans have ever known.

Hope

“Hope reflects belief.

Hope believes in the better, in the higher, in the possibilities. Hope rejects criticism. People with a higher level of hope believe that though events may not work out, they will not be defeated. Hope is the dream of a soul awake.”   (author unknown)

I’ve been struggling with so many things the past few weeks. Doing my usual questioning, my normal carrying of grief and sorrow for things that seem to be slipping away. Struggling with what I’ve allowed, what I’ve believed in that hasn’t served me as much or as beautifully as supportive situations and people would have. But I have honored the discovery and uncovering. Felt somehow comforted that I’m becoming “more aware” or something, even though often times that process seems so painful and uncomfortable.

Several months ago, my granddaughter’s little dog got hit by a car, fought for six weeks before a vet figured out her insides had been all shoved up into her rib cage, causing so much stress on her lungs that only five percent of one lung was functioning. Somehow she stayed alive long enough for corrective surgery. I firmly believe it was my granddaughter’s touch, her love and her blind faith that kept Bella alive during that period of time. Surgery was a success and our little soul was back to bouncing and being her full-of-life self again within another six week time frame. But a few days ago, the outcome changed drastically and our tiny fighter’s health plummeted. Seizures. Loss of muscle control. No explanation. Test results that expected a liver disorder or damage came out “normal”.

When everyone else was suggesting we spare her, put her to sleep, I’ve fiercely held on again. Part of me believing that I need to adopt my granddaughter’s determination, will and absolute knowing/faith.  I keep thinking, surely if she came out of it once, she’ll come out of this. Day after day the vets and staff have diligently tried, they’ve listened, planned and advised.

Last night I brought her home and realized how much she has been suffering, how much she is no longer “present”. After holding her all night, watching her in her misery, we allowed her to "go" this morning. Letting go of that little Yorkie opened up floodgates inside but I can’t help remembering all the blessings she gave to us all, the smiles and giggles, the orneriness and puppy breath in your face moments, kisses on the nose… As I was taking her to the vet this morning, it occurred to me that now her energy will be more free to move and maybe part of that movement will be a surrounding of my granddaughter that will serve Emaleigh better from another place, another dimension. Surely it’s that easy.

Yesterday as I was holding Bella; petting her, talking to her, it dawned on me that I am projecting everything into this situation. I’m transferring all sorrow for my mother’s stroke, for her aging process that I cannot control; for what it means to me as a granddaughter and daughter of women who suffered from Alzheimer’s. I’ve been placing the sorrow I feel towards things I can’t control with my sons… past hurts, past experiences with seizures, surgeries, past moments of panic when I was afraid I was losing one son or another for one reason or another. Lost love, lost home, lost livelihood. Things that have been lacking. Relationships that shattered and dissolved and disappeared without my complete understanding. The fear of not knowing where time is taking us all. Everything seemingly negative – all wrapped up in a little furry bundle that no longer was able to be her real self anymore.

Maybe we're all just supposed to experience the moment. Allow cleansing tears and questioning so it’s easier to live inside a new day. Surrender to whatever is present and right in front you. Maybe hope doesn’t equate a blind faith. Maybe it’s simply the ability to step outside, feel the sunshine on your face, drive your car down the street and order a large chai tea latte with extra chai.

When Life Circles Back Around....

I just tucked my mother into bed.

I also just spent the past little while cleaning and scrubbing and tending and taking care of her after she became unexpectedly and suddenly ill.

All the time it’s been taking place, she has been teary-eyed and apologizing, saying she’s sorry.

I keep reminding her I’ve seen worse, dealt with worse. But it doesn’t ease her mind.

While she’s sleeping, I’m spinning thoughts through my brain. While I can, while my mind is whole. I'll never take that for granted...

I can’t help feeling like somewhere along the way, I became mother and she became daughter. Or maybe, life affords us the advantage of switching things around periodically. So we more fully understand what words like “sacrifice”, “respect”, “dedication”, “commitment”, “honor” and “caring” really mean.

I haven’t seen her for several months now. And coming “home” to her presence has ignited internal conflict that I wasn’t prepared to greet.

I have the comparison of seeing my nieces and nephews, three months later; three months older; three months changed. It’s funny how we see children maturing and we welcome and embrace the leaps made. Why is it so much different then, to see changes in someone who is aging, getting older? There is a certain beauty to be found. A kind of elegance I see in her that quietly states, “No matter how scary it is, no matter how hard it is to walk or to talk or to remember moments past, I am alive and I am present and I continue to care.” I sense she is more in touch with how to let go. In touch with how to love. And how to just blurt out what needs to be said. There is some kind of strength and some kind of grace that seems to be gaining momentum within her; maybe it's simply a return to complete innocence.

But it doesn’t make it easy to accept that time keeps marching forward, with or without memory. With or without reasoning. With or without rationalization. With or without logic. With or without control.

I’m watching her sleep. Wondering how many times in my early childhood she did the same thing… Stood and lovingly watched me with my eyes closed, soft breathing that let her know I was all right.

I keep thinking life is a process of letting go and receiving in. Both being so difficult at times, so easy during other times. And I keep thinking how life feels like it is circling back on itself somehow. Where the child cares for the parent. Yet there is a lingering, long-ago-and-hard-to-reach-back-for memory of the parent caring for the child. Folding in on itself until it’s hard to know who is the child and who is the parent.

I don’t understand it.

I can’t.

I can’t even try.

All I can do is experience and move through the circle….

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….