Meeting David

interesting aside : when i was in the first grade, the teachers wanted to skip me to 3rd you know - genius and all :0).

my mom was fearful that i would not be socially comfortable (like i ever was anyway) so she said no and i stayed and did all 12 grades as ordered. the funny part of this is that David is one year younger than i and had i skipped the grade i would have been done with the 2 yr jr [t c jc] college when he enrolled - and we may not have met at all. i have wondered if my mom ever thought of that - that she made the decision when i was 6 that led to her dismay when i was 19...meeting and loving David.

..anywaaaay.....i was working registration at school for the work-study program and between crowds we would visit with other students who were working there too. i noticed a guy at the next table who kept looking at me and smiling. i smiled back.

as we talked we found we had a lot in common and enjoyed each other's company. David started sending cute notes to me and it was like being little kids again - and fun. he had such a great and somewhat innocent sense of humor.

i wanted to be friends, he wanted more...told me shortly after we met that we would marry - i was NOT going to get married to anyone...that was my plan. focus on art and school and ....over the year and a half or so he asked several more times if i would marry him [sometimes just stating again as if it was fact "we will get married"].

but i was really having fun just learning about life and did have a pretty big crush on another guy so i continued to say no!!!

but God would have it otherwise. during that school year our permanent work placements just happened to be [you can guess] in the same location...the library.

we occasionally took the same break time and became closer friends.

once, in his determination to win me over, D did some card tricks for me in the back of the library.

somehow :0} these tricks led to an innocent game of 'do you trust me?' i said yes and he said close your eyes and i did [knowing all along what would come next] and he kissed me ever so softly on my cheek.

i soon moved into an apt with a roommate just a few blocks from where David had moved - a commune called "Hurley House" - i hung out there as much as i did at the apt. ..so many good friends - it was a magical time... a time when i was accepted totally as i am.
and the friendshp grew and over time (way over a year) i began to see David differently - we had hung out as friends doing friend things but now it felt like more.

just being seen in public together drew unwanted and sometimes very rude, even dangerous attention - the prejudice of the time was a bummer but we cared too much for each other to split up.
thinking we could use a change we decided to go down to austin and stay with friends there to see how we liked it - maybe live there. we did like it - it is one of my favorite places today.

then one bright austin morning i lay watching David sleep and it came to me what i was feeling ..much more than friendship ... it was real, true love. the kind that just keeps growing stronger and changing/evolving ~ becoming what makes the day more worthy of waking.
so i woke him and said "does that offer still hold?" it took him only a few seconds to know what i was talking about. his face lit with a sort of inner sun and i must have been half way between giggles and tears.

he said that of course it did and he was soooo happy. we began to talk about our life together and make all those promises and plans.

stay tuned for the next chapter as 39 years is a lot of fodder for story time.

The Bus Driver

today i was presented with an example of what i was saying about how to let go of trying always to MAKE peace...but rather to just ALLOW peace.

again on the bus [can a bus be a muse? i am inspired each time i ride it and some writing comes from it] i sat just people-watching. a woman had gotten on behind me but did not come directly to a seat and instead began some sort of tirade directed at the bus driver.

i did not catch it all as i had been listening to a baby a few seats away trying out a few new words.

it seems the driver had not stopped in the spot the woman expected...she is apparently picked up routinely at a specific spot. mind you he stopped at the official bus stop only 8 feet or so from where she had been waiting.

but this was not right in her opinion and she was not kind in her assessment of his bus-

driving etiquette. i began to pay attention when she raised her voice and started gesturing.

the driver at first said nothing, but listened to her complaints.

then he calmly said "oh i did not know that".

she stood for another few seconds and then headed toward a seat, mumbling and still angry.

so the driver said, "thank you for explaining that to me. i will know next time. i appreciate it."

wow.

think about what a person driving a bus must hear and see and, yes, smell all day long. think of how uncomfortable that seat must become after several hours in it. think of all the crap he probably had taken from others today. and how about the HUGE responsibility? - the transporting of all these riders to their destinations safely...through traffic and construction and quirky weather.

yet he did not respond as if anything was amiss. he took that moment to center himself and to reply respectfully to her; even giving her gratitude for her words. not only did his calmness and thoughtful response serve to de-escalate the situation but he actually allowed her to save face. his thanking her gave her the opportunity to walk away with some dignity.

i was so touched by his behavior that i told him so as i exited the bus.

he had allowed PEACE to happen. there were a lot of other ways he could have handled it. [and probably felt like saying other things, too.] he might have tried forcing her to be quiet or to go sit down....but he chose to use his tranquil energy to counteract the harshness of hers.

that is what i meant by rather than 'making' peace, i am learning to 'allow' peace...no force, no big dramatic gesture...as Nimisha commented: "just be".

and who knows why the woman behaved as she did. not i. not the driver. she may have been hurting or had to deal with some trauma also today.

the point is that these moments happen to us daily where we are gifted with a chance to make change, positive change, in our surroundings and in the lives of others.

Sharon part 2

so we became anxious to pursue this new chapter of our lives and i called the volunteer worker who was helping Sharon to search.
she was convinced by what i told her and her notes of the events that we indeed were sibs.
so convinced that she gave me Sharon's # and i called her. meantime the volunteer let her know to expect a call from me.

when she answered i just said tentatively 'Sharon?' and she said 'Linda?' and that was the beginning.

it was like opening a Christmas gift; slowly, layer by layer.

first the ribbon and the tape, then the paper carefully so as not to damage the contents.

such happiness comes to me now as i write this, that i am rewarded again.
we spent a bit of time on the phone comparing notes and asking questions. i was hesitant to be pushy & i held back [YES i did]. and i think Sharon was a bit blown away by my attitude of 'well of course i want you to be my sister'.

after that first encounter i had no question as to the veracity of the situation. i did not doubt and i was ready to meet and get to know her. we had missed so much!!

the only concern was, would she want us? Bruce told me, after i called him back to say 'yup we have a sis' and we are gonna meet her soon, that i should not tell her too much about mom and some of our more disturbing background until we knew her better. he thought it would scare her off. i'm thinking 'but its only fair to let her know how dysfunctional a gang she is a part of now.

but i agreed to be as reserved as i could when we met.

and i almost made it.
in that confusing spring of '05 we met our baby sister. at a church parlor. i got there first. then Sharon came in and i knew....i hurried over to her [& like Bruce said probably scared her] - i hugged her and said "you have Bruce's eyes!!!"

then he came in with a bouquet of lovely flowers for each of us. and he stood there, a bit like a deer in headlights, while i went on and on about the eyes - see you have the same eyes. see? see?

the volunteer had come along too - it was, we 3 later agreed, intrusive.

but she wanted to see the fruits of her effots and i could not blame her.

we just felt inhibited and not free to be ouselves. she did ask some pertinent questions so it was ok. we began to put some 'quirks' of moms together and it all came back to her obsession with the # 3.

OF COURSE, duh! there are 3 of us, 3 children she had.

3 she looked for in everything, even after she had forgotten WHY it was important or what it was she sought; she wanted her three.
the volunteer just blurted out [i still don't know why] as we discussed this 3: "what color is three?"

Sharon and i both, at the same time, said "RED". wow. need anymore proof? poor Bruce sat there going huh? "is that what happened - you 2 got all the color and i am colorblind!" { he is you know = color-blind }

so we talked about that for a bit. and agreed to keep close and learn more. oh and another funny thing- moms favorite color was/is RED!

while Sharon and i both love purple! funny funny things.
dna testing was discussed - i did not want it. i had what i wanted - my sister.

but that is one of those world things and a logical thing to ask. turns out the test can't be accurate w/maternal dna only if it is paternal and we have different fathers.

besides, as we got to know each other more we just dropped the idea. and we have spent these last few years really making up for the missed calls and the missed birthdays and the missed everything...much later, when mom was very deep in alzheimers and she began to tell people at the nursing home about her 3 kids and the baby she gave up .. my faith was justified.
the best, the very best thing that happened was a conversation between mom and Sharon. [ we had introduced her to mom as a friend and mom loved her right away, saying later, 'could you bring that girl back to see me?' she said "I don't know what it is, but she feels like one of us!"]

then mom almost died in '07 and while in hospital Bruce & i told sis that if she wanted to actually try to talk truth with her it would be then... i don't know how Bruce knew, but he has some of that intuitive thing also, and he just knew a window was opening.

so Sharon came and we left her and mom alone in the hospital room to talk.

this is what Sharon wrote afterwards about that visit.

"I was afraid to say anything because she looked so peaceful and calm.

Not agitated like she had been all evening. Her eyes were closed, her hands still.
I leaned over and asked if she felt better. She smiled and said yes. I then asked her if she remembered her little baby. "Yes" she said, shaking her head. I told her that I was her little baby.

"I know" she said. I then told her that I wanted to thank her. That I knew what she did was hard, but that it was the right thing to do. That by giving me up, she had brought so many people into my life. And that she was very brave.

"Yes" she said. I thanked her again and she said, "thank you".
She then said quietly, "you remind me of him. We were going to get married and I was going to be a bride." I asked her if it was Joe I reminded her of. That was the only time she got irritated. She said, "well, yes" and started moving her hands. She started saying random words and numbers, talking about dirt and water.
She then got still and said, "I loved you every single day." I told her that I had loved her every single day, too.

She looked so serene, her eyes still closed, a soft smile on her lips. She told me that she remembered me eating and one day I'd be a big bride. Then her hands began working and she began talking to someone else in the room.
I then touched her forehead and told her I would visit her later. She said "I want you to come every single day". I told her I would see her soon and she said, "no, every single day."

It was then like I had been dismissed. Her attention turned elsewhere.
As I left the room, I turned back. She was "propped" up on the bed. Her hands in the air (waving and make motions like she was climbing a ladder). I realized today that she had to be extremely strong in that moment. She was propped up, yet not by her elbows or hands....they were in the air. Or maybe she was being helped by someone only she could see.
It was an amazing experience. I don't know if what she said meant the same thing to her as it did to me. I've been wondering if I might have "planted" things for her to say without realizing it. Because I wanted it so badly. A friend of mine told me today that it didn't matter. That I heard what I needed to hear, and with God's grace and mercy, she heard what she needed to hear, too."

the cross-over of MOM

i had been spinning my emotional and mental wheels for a couple of weeks....furtive phone calls and emails to friends, relatives, strangers...anyone i could think who might help with the issue of the nursing home folks putting mom in the wheelchair and letting her roll blindly [literally - she had her eyes shut tight for the final month of her life here].

she had fallen several times and run into walls and slammed her hand in a door.

and yet the rules are : "...she has a right to fall."

some rules just plain SUCK!

i demanded a meeting with the home staff and the ombudsman [whose job it is to remain impartial and see that the family and patient are heard].

i had confided in my boss, frantic for help, and she told me about the ombudsman and the role they play.

we had our meeting and i felt heard and many things came from it - it did give me a tiny sense of control.

turns out that i was not looking just to prevent mom breaking her neck falling from the chair or a better 'situation' for her. seems i was really searching for a little bit of control in what was happening - to her, to me, to our family.

AND, i was trying to prevent her death.

i did the "death and dying" steps, as i've mentioned before, all out of order and have gone back and forth with them.

it was not until the week she died that i did the 'bargaining' step.

i recall standing in the RR at work and watching myself, hearing myself as i actually said "what if i don't want her to die? how about if i find a great new drug? maybe just one more month will do it?" and so on.

and as i watched and listened, i thought how silly i must sound.

you see, knowing things, when something will happen, visions of events yet to be, is not always cool. in fact it is often a pain in the heart.

i had known for sometime that mom would die on the weekend of the intensive retreat at earthsprings.

MELH had responded to my desperation on the sunday prior to the retreat with a wonderful pipe ceremony which brought comfort as well as confirmation of that knowing. Gratitude. pain and peace.

i had also known that i would be angry with my mama for dying when i was trying to have a good healing retreat. so when i got the hospice call as i sat at country kitchen with some of my spirit sisters, i was not surprised and YES i was quite ticked off! we were already on the road and now i would have to decide - many things.

one - do i stay and sit with her while she crosses?

another - do i approve even more medication which the hospice nurse agreed would not stop her death?

and - was i strong enough to walk away and let others handle the final 'arrangements'?

my sisters were willing to take me back to my house, but they felt, as i did, that i needed to be at my earthsprings home with my spirit "wrapped 'round with love" and acceptance.

so i made calls to my husband and to my brother and sister. and talked again with hospice and told them not to pump anymore poison into her veins.

everyone was encouraging me to, for this time, for this huge decision, do what felt best for ME.

and so i did - and on the way to earthsprings i was able to laugh and sing and have a good trip with my friends.

i was able to keep away the 'guilt-gremlins' and know that my physical presence was not what my mom needed at that point in her metamorphosis.

truth be told i may have been more of a burden had i stayed there at her bed.

so in my heart i reached out to hers and we agreed that we would never become disconnected again...that in this new phase of our relationship, we would bond strongly and communicate clearly in spirit.

that was friday morning into early p.m. when we arrived at the woods, LittleHawk met us and i told her 'mom is actively dying NOW'. she just enveloped me in a warm hug and said 'yes, and it is good you are here'.

those 2 weeks or so before this, that i was flittering around looking for help and for answers, i had been visited in dreams and visions by so many nature/critter medicine people. each with a comfort and a lesson for me.

think i shall do a post on each of them as they were wonderful to care for me that much.

do YOU know how much God/Universe/Spirit cares for you? i am beginning to know it and to absorb it. that is the 'great mystery' spoken of and it is no mystery.

late that friday night as we sat in the last of opening ceremony in circle i felt a tap on my shoulder ... a little hand laid gently on me saying it is ok. even as i looked i knew there was no earth-bound one to see.

it was most assuredly my mama's tiny little girl hand [as she had been in pipe ceremony] with a passing "ta-ta", "later gator" as she headed off with her big sis.

when i got ready for bed after that i just sat and waited for the call. i had made my hubby promise he would call when the time came and say the actual words...i needed to hear the truth and begin the next step.

and it came, in the quiet house. i heard LH answer and 4 of my sisters came to me saying it was for me.

so i stepped onto the floor and it felt like a stage. and i walked with my people to the other room feeling like walking in slow motion water. and i took the phone and said hi honey, to David, feeling so close to his heart and yet so very far away in space and time.

afterward, we sat, DF, LH, NL and i. for a couple of hours and i felt that i needed to say something. but not what...i was in a play and did not know my lines. and that was ok with them.

they talked and listened and waited with me until it was time to rest.

then, as my mother became one with the "Great Mother", i stepped into new roles too. elder. orphan. new identities.

someone mentioned 'grace' in describing me during that period of time and it was strange to me...i'd never thought of me like that. but that IS what i felt.

read a quote recently that 'graciousness can be learned, but grace can not' ... one has it, or not.

another aha and another new role for me.

my mom had a thing she would say when she was in great pain and thought that no one believed her or could understand it. she would say

"i wish you could feel this ... just for a minute, all this pain ... i wish you could feel this!".

on the day after she died she came to me in meditation and great ripples of peace poured over me. and i floated.

my mama's spirit was so calm and filled with true contentment. and she said

" i wish you could feel this...".

COLORS

i have a lot of trouble with colors and the holidays.
with St Patty's coming up i am reminded again how oddly situated some holidays are.
For instance, February is a GREEN month, and
yet Valentines [a RED word] is set right smack dab in the middle of it.
Then March - a RED month - contains the holiday, St Patrick's Day which is so obviously GREEN to anyone.
While Easter - with its pastel-ness of sound - fits very nicely into soft watercolor April.
['course when it falls in March i am again bothered]
Don't get me started on having a red, white, and blue holiday at the beginning of another GREEN month!
oy
my feeling is that synaesthesia is actually the way we were meant to perceive....with all senses [one could of course argue that mayhaps i have boundary issues too :0) ].
but how cool is it to see hear feel smell even taste things?
it is. cool.
as a child it really disturbed me [have you noticed that "as a child" i was disturbed a lot?] ... anyway i was upset that the little underpants with the days of the week embroidered in colors on them were so far off from how i perceived them.
SERIOUSLY now. it was like someone just listed colors [and not consistently i might add] and then hooked week day names to them.
like: sunday - purple / monday - red / tuesday - pink .. etc.
had they consulted me i would have told them that, even if boring and repetitious, they would be more accurate were they to use the 'right' colors:
Sunday,Monday, Thursday = yellow, Tuesday = red-orangey, Wednesday = definite red, Friday and Saturday= white.
it has been quite interesting having these little picadillos all my days.
i read a book called The Man Who Tasted Shapes about 10 yrs ago and that was the first inkling i had that others are as crazy as i am!
what a great discovery.
1 - white
2 - off white
3 - red
4 - green and on and on.....

i I i

it came to me in meditating and learning from my teachers that my ego is tied to the capital i I i.
yet the great I AM is so much more than i. it was one of those aha's that is too hard to put into words.
it has to do with how i, this spirit in LindaBear-body, am so connected to all other spirit and yes SPIRIT. it is me saying that while i am also; i am I AM.
muddy? boring? it's only me trying to make heads and or tails of life again.
or maybe it's me just trying to be humble...pretending to be? hmmm.
De Mello says that God and we are ..."not one, not two...". That one does not exist separately and yet one is not the same. "Like the ocean and it's wave..." he says - how do you have waves if there is not ocean and how do you divide them? but are they one? no ... and yes.
and so i am i. and the great I AM and i are the same and not the same and cannot be parted. oh well, you get the IDEA!

'I Exist
i exist
on all levels ~
energetic, physical, spiritual...
all realities are open to me
i can choose one or many dimensions
i stand, 1 foot here, the other, there, because
i exist'
llc

Depression is ....

depression is lying with my face covered by the quilt, not moving.

listening to the phone ring and ring and then hearing the voice of a dear friend on the answering machine and not picking up.

hearing in that voice the strength and care that i know i need and not being able to move.

it is thinking that the rent is probably due sometime soon and not really caring.

thinking that the rest of the world is able to go on just fine without my input.

it is going to work daily and putting on a pretend face and returning home to crawl back beneath the covers.

depression is telling whoever might break through the demeanor and ask about my feelings that i am just hibernating and will come out in the spring.

and then spring comes...it is wondering why i said that.

it is a knowing that people are fearful of mortality, fearful of real feelings, confused and so befuddled by what they think might be expected of them that they pretend too.

they make believe that a person heals in some specific amount of time from a loss.

and because they are afraid they say nothing and then i begin to think they do not care.

depression is what it sounds like ~ a dent, a literal depression in the heart.

it is sometimes so deep that only many years of work will begin to fill in that chasm.

and it may take my admission that i need HELP -

that, ok doc i will take those meds.

that, yes please friend do some energy work on me.

that, i may need a therapist to just hear me out and be a guide.

i may even have to accept that help.

i may have to admit i am not superwoman afterall.

i may have wonderful laughing days followed by tears and then complete oblivion.

and i WILL have to keep telling myself "i am NOT crazy."

but first i must pull the covers back - back from my face, my mind, my heart.

and get out of bed and answer the phone and listen to someone who cares.

Thank you...all those of you who come to me in spirit, in person, by phone or mail...all of you who do care. Aho. Love.

Bells for Laine ...

I could always hear my dear friend, K, when she entered a room if she had her bag with her. That is because of the bells.
I hope she is ok with me sharing that she told me about Elaine, her sister who died long ago.

The bells are for Lainie, she said - physical reminders, concrete symbols of the bond and the love shared by siblings, friends.
I stole this practice from K...i want her to know it is still with me now as i mourn the loss of so many from my life.

Because we are such human humans and need, as such, to feel a tangible connection, as well as that spiritual connection, to those we love, i thought i would like to tell you about my bells and how they work to aid in my grieving.

At this moment i have 4 bells on the bag i carry. one is large, silver, and tied with a bow on the front strap. 2 more - a small silver and a tiny gold - are attached to the zipper with a large crafted dragonfly. # 4 hangs on a piece of lavendar yarn at the side.
Today the large one represents my mom whom i have been feeling near and yet far away from at the same time. My daddy has a sort of reserved, peaceful feel to him right now in my heart and so his bell is pretty quiet on the purpleish string. Aunt Velma is golden and dear, dingling alongside my Hellen near the dragonfly - i think because they are vibrating similarly for me on this sunday in march.
The point is that tomorrow the little golden bell may become mom, while Hellen or daddy or Aunt Velma moves into the largest one....grief is like that.

Grief is not predictable but rather capricious in its intensity and its hold on me. Some days i do not name or identify the bells at all; and that is ok because they often represent ALL those i have lost ~ from my first recollection of my "mamaw's" passing up to the very recent crossing over of my good friend OE.

Ah but i can no more put into words what this ritual is to me, than i can explain what love is or why we are so needing of it.
Of course i am aware that these are not really my loved ones [nor that 'when a bell rings an angel gets its wings!' :0) ].
Of course i know i am no closer to those crossed over, in fact, with or without the bells.
And of course i acknowledge that this whole exercise may seem a bit silly to some.

But i have come not to care so much what others think of my tweeks and twists.
I have come to care for ME. That is huge.

And if wearing these bells helps me to feel a bit more in touch, then so be it.
Think what you may.

I do, however, believe that the bells that ring are for us ALL, and our connection.
They are a part of my bringing my grief into the mourning phase in which i say to the world "yes i am sad, i miss my loved ones, i cry, and yet i live --and laugh".
This is my pain and my joy.

Kathy is in ohio now but moving soon to warmer parts .. alas not here; but closer so i will be seeing her . I pray she is finding peace in her own grief and will find new life in the new land.

And i ask Spirit to bring us back together in physical presence again soon.

Namaste' / Shalom / Ameyn