Glorious and Fleeting

(Powerful words written by a friend who is grappling with the effects of Alzheimers)

~

Ripping, shredding

tearing from the inside out

fraying at the edges ~

The brilliant mind slowly parts

from the glorious, yet fleeting tent

You have fashioned.

Reserve and careful control fade ~

Now unfiltered raw emotions

are seen through the veil

as it dissipates.

Magnificent vessel of Your creation

slips to the side

of the Potter’s wheel

as it spins, and is dashed ~

its shape now unrecognizable

from that which was.

We long for the day when we,

Your works of clay, are drawn

in final form from the fire ~

Vibrant colors blended and edged

with gold, to serve at your eternal table.

But for now we grieve for the centered balance

That was and is no more.

Sweet Seeds

I recently returned from a visit with family which included my mother, who has Huntington's Disease.

The first week back I was engulfed by a deep, heavy darkness.

Having a history of depression, my first thoughts are,

"Here I go again.  What's wrong with me?  How can I fix it (me)?"

A friend said, "I think you are grieving."

Oh.  

Right.  

Maybe I'm 'normal'?  Not needing to be fixed at all?

My mom isn't who she was.  Will never be, in this life.  

It's a special sort of sadness.  This loss of what was; of who was.

The mind and body altered.  Diminished. 

A brilliant and beautiful mind fighting through a fog.

Striving to locate and hold onto thoughts.

Working to get the brain and voice to cooperate.

Oh, sweet, sweet mother of mine

I weep because you were beautiful

I weep because you seem even more beautiful now

Strength fighting through weakness

Tender expressions of love

Pure.  Simple.  

Pure and simple.

No pretense (because there can be none)

Why does it hurt so much? 

This is the gift.

This is the evidence of great blessing and deep beauty.

If there was nothing much to lose

The heart would not bleed.  

How deeply blessed am I? 

To have been loved so greatly 

To love so greatly

I carry all of it;

All the grand adventures.  

All the little day to day events that formed who I am.

Nothing is lost.

So, I smile into my tears.  

This pain is the fruit of love and goodness

Seeds planted in me -

A million little bits of life

Sent roots deep

Sprouted and blossomed

(and blossom, still)

I hold you in my heart

With love and tenderness.

I cherish a love which cuts so deeply.

Spread from heart to heart

Generation to generation

I allow myself to grieve the loss

I hug to myself the pain which is also the love

and nurture the seeds of life and color and music and compassion 

and silliness and wit and exploits extraordinaire . . .

and so much more

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

How trite is it, to end with the following quote?  

Yet, it's true.  Love is worth the pain.  
Is actually deepened and intensified by it.
For pain reveals and is evidence of love.

'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

 

For more information on Huntington's Disease.

Huntington's Disease Society of America

For information regarding my family and HD.

Make Life HD

To hear my brother's composition, HD Blues.

HD Blues

To help with research into treatments and a cure.
My donation page

It Is What It Is

When I argue with reality, I lose - but only 100 percent of the time. 

 How do I know that the wind should blow? It's blowing! 
I am a lover of what is, 
not because I'm a spiritual person, 
but because it hurts when I argue with reality. 

 We can know that reality is good just as it is, 
because when we argue with it, we experience tension and frustration. 
We don't feel natural or balanced. 
When we stop opposing reality, action becomes simple, fluid, kind, and fearless.
Byron Katie *


How do I find peace?
When 'what is' can feel so dark 
When the story seems set
When hopes held dear
Fade
Disappear 

?

Byron Katie stresses that acceptance, and actually LOVE of what is,
does not preclude taking action to bring about change.  
Simply, that it is pointless to argue with the reality that presently exists.
Since, it, in fact, IS.

She also believes that the essence of the Universe is good.  

If we trust that God is Love
That the creational direction of this universe is that of love and goodness
We can know that all is ultimately well

The 'is' that is, is much more than we see.  
Larger, grander
Deep, intense, wild

Wonderful. Beautiful. 

It is the caterpillar in the cocoon, the chick in the egg . . .

 The is that is, holds the promise, the potential, 

the energy of creation which flows beneath the surface always. 

'What is' can feel dark, sterile, motionless, a finished work . . . 

but it is not.

'What is' can appear to lead only to decay and loss.
but, it does not.
That which carries death, 
atrophies and passes.
True life lives on
Shines through
Prevails

We are carried.  
We are Jonah in the dark belly of a fish. 

Moving, though we see not where. 

We are the chick, crushed within the suffocating darkness of the egg.

The caterpillar dissolving, disintegrating

Losing all form, to be reformed into

A beautiful, winged creature

(oh, how I fight this feeling of formlesslness - painful, liquid unknowing)

I may feel that my life is static. 

That I've taken too many 'wrong' turns.

I smell the stench of death . . . 

Fight the darkness that threatens to consume . . . 

yet

Life is an organic thing

Only artificial things never spoil

As I ask all that is not love to die and be gone from me

Can I accept and love

the byproducts of death?

Can I embrace the pressure and pain . . .

the darkness and the discomfort . . .

as the gifts they are?
(Or, evidence of the gift.)

LOVE looks on, and smiles.
Sees beauty shining through the darkness. 
Renewal emerging from dissolution.
Sees the end of the story.

And loves what is.

*http://www.gratefulness.org/readings/bk_noticing.htm

Check out Byron Katie's Work.  Life changing stuff.
http://www.thework.com/index.php

Portions inspired by Dark Nights of the Soul, by Thomas Moore
http://careofthesoul.net/books/

Smile into Suffering

Suffering is not enough. Life is both dreadful and wonderful. 

How can I smile when I am filled with so much sorrow? 

It is natural--
you need to smile to your sorrow because you are more than your sorrow.

Thich Nhat Hanh

When I find myself overcome by despair or fear

Remembrance of truth helps me walk through

Without succumbing to the darkness

During times of extreme trial

I've covered my walls with

Words of strength, hope and encouragement

Reminders of the bigger picture

Of the temporary nature of events and experiences in this life

I read them aloud to myself 

Until the truths they contain

Seep in and settle my soul

'Til I'm able to release the fear

and rest in the solid goodness of Love

Smiling at oneself is so very important

Grace and tenderness

Loving kindness

Thich Nhat Hanh talks of smiling at your fears 

in recognition, acceptance and love

When I remember

When I lovingly smile at my internal woundedness

. . . my human frailties

And extend compassion and love to all aspects of self
(and others)

Peace returns

A simple smile can change everything

Truths remembered can save us from depths which threaten to overwhelm

So, I remember.
I smile.  I speak truth.

Until the words are part of me
Seeds taking root

Through it all

Whenever we can smile within ourselves

and remember the precious beloveds that we are

We will more quickly return to the sunshine

on the other side

Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, 

but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.

Thich Nhat Hanh

Liminal Space

Do I honor today as sacred and special?

Do I honor myself today, as sacred, special, precious?

What lines do I draw?

Which divisions do I create?

  We are in liminal space whenever past, present, and future time come together in a “full” moment of readiness. We are in liminal space whenever the division between “right here” and “over there” is obliterated in our consciousness.

Richard Rohr 

What some call “liminal space” or threshold space  (limen in Latin means a threshold, a starting line in a race, or a beginning place) is a very good phrase for those special times, events, and places that open us up to the sacred. 

It seems we need special (“sacred”) days to open us up to all days being special and sacred; we need special and sacred times to universalize to all time.

What became All Saints’ Day and All Souls Day (November 1-2) were already called “thin times” by the ancient Celts, as also were February 1-2 (St. Bridget’s Day and Candlemas Day when the candles were blessed and lit). The veil between this world and the next world was considered most “thin” and most easily traversed during these times. On these days, we were invited to be aware of deep time—that is, past, present, and future time gathered into one especially holy moment. 

Do I honor today as sacred and special?

Do I honor myself today, as sacred, special, precious?

What lines do I draw?

Which divisions do I create?

Smile.

Release.

Be.

In this sacred space.

http://myemail.constantcontact.com/Daily-Meditation--Liminal-Space----Frame----May-27--2013.html?soid=1103098668616&aid=6fV6Ti4P-os

On the Prairie

 

I remember your voice

 Melodies in the wind

Vast.  Wild.

Whipping across the prairie

Snatching my breath away

As you rushed past

I remember you

Joy.  Life.  Energy.  

Lifting me

Carrying my laughter to the skies

I remember you

Solid.  Still.

Immense quiet

Within which I'd rest

Snuggling into the earth

Beneath tall stalks of wheat

Golden against blue sky

Abstract Sky/Ciel Abstrait by David Dubois

Oregon USA Stalks of Wheat by Craig Tuttle

Love's Song

I've always felt comfortable 

Singing 

Not always comfortable

Speaking

A Cameroonian dancer once spoke these words 

(accompanied by a wide grin)

as we danced in a drum circle:

"You have music in your veins!"

Yes, yes!

(and my son said, "Mom you belong in Africa!")

Yes, and yes!

Life is rhythm

Rhythm is life

A constant flow

That I feel

I've had the thought

"if I ever lost my voice:

if I could no longer sing,

I could not live"

I'm still breathing

and fairly coherent

so I am, indeed,

Still living

I've experienced difficulties

with my voice over the years

I wrote of them in a post last year*

I carry a great deal of fear

around my throat and voice

Yesterday, I was reading

Dylan Morrison's, Prodigal Prophet**

This author has also had voice issues

He found a book which speaks of

possible underlying reasons for physical symptoms.

As I read the following words in Dylan Morrison's book

They had a profound effect on me

Cutting straight to the heart

"Chronic laryngitis was described as a form of self-repression experienced by those with a vital message to tell, who sadly suffered from low self-esteem.  Now I understood:  God had called me to speak His words to the hurting and lonely but I’d shied away from the task due to my false sense of humility.  My health had suffered as a result.  

Clearly I was to speak out all that I sensed and felt."

"I now realized why I had to tell my story, 

this book being the fruit of that simple revelation."

(Prodigal Prophet, p.209)

After reading the above, I searched the internet 

and found this on a website regarding 

psychological causes for physiological maladies:

"Loss of voice is a message from the body

 that you fear communicating vocally."

"The throat is the energy center relating to creativity and it must be kept open for creativity to flow through every area of your life."***

Quite honestly, I don't know exactly what this means for me.

I do know that I have been experiencing deep transformations

in recent years, and especially in recent weeks.

I continue on my journey to be ever more sensitive to Love within me

To draw ever nearer to my Source

I am being led to deeper stillness within

To walk more slowly (even when I run!)

To notice 

To find pleasure in Now

Always

(so easy to envision and accomplish, when I'm not sad or in pain!)

I am learning to smile, always

From within

In the midst of darkness

(mustn't deny what is . . . not judge it)

I feel the call to sing my song

Whatever that may be

(and I fear, still, that my physical voice will not be up to the task)

We each have a song . . . a dance . . . a poem

Which is only ours****

This is our life journey, is it not?

To recognize . . . 

The dance steps that are ours,

Our life song's melody, 

Our poetic pentameter?!

The source for all of these 

Is our Source

Which is Love

I listen for my song.

One only I can recognize

and only my voice can express

I am singing what I know

Will sing more as it is received
Recognized

I might not always understand

Surely, I will not

I pray that Love will be received

I trust my fears will not prevent

Love's song from flowing

I walk . . . I dance . . . I smile

Within

Joyful expectations

Fill me

Oh, throat of mine;

Be free!

Adventure awaits!

http://www.enchgallery.com

*http://theeternaldance.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-voice.html

**https://www.facebook.com/AuthorDylanMorrison

***http://www.ecoutetoncorps.com/ressources_en_ligne/definition_20_maladies_e.php

****http://theeternaldance.blogspot.com/2011/01/be-bird.html