As I sit here, I realize, I have signed a contract. I made a deal. The very things that make me wonder what it’s all about are covered in the fine print. Like any contract, we usually don’t take the time to read it, we just have Faith that what’s in all those words is in our best interest.
I use to believe in reincarnation, then the idea that everything happens at the same time became more plausible, it can’t be both. There was a time in my life I didn’t question the legitimacy of this Life I ‘chose’, I simply lived it, no doubt, no fear, no questions. And like it or not, the first question leads to a litany of questions, now, I don’t mistake questions with doubt, they’re just questions, but the one that sets them in motion is “Why?”
“Why” what?, Why everything? Like a 2 year old child who asks “What’s that?” to every inanimate object, I ask “Why.” I can’t count the many books that deal with the idea that the Soul is here to heal, but that doesn’t make sense to me, my idea of Soul is omniscient, my idea of Soul is that soup from which “all at the same time” is stewing, Soul is God, if you will, give it a name, that’s what I believe. What I don’t believe is that the Soul has any healing to do, it’s not broken. So...why? Why do we allow ourselves this experience of pain and suffering, we are subjected to in this Body?
I watched a show on Faith Healing, there was a man in a wheel chair who was convinced that he was going to walk out of there, after 15 years of paralyzation, he was convinced, God told him, it was his time. Now, don’t think for a moment that I scorn his Faith, I don’t. I don’t think his healing was in the question whether he thought he could walk again, it was the realization that he doesn’t have to, to enjoy this Body he signed up for. It’s all in the fine print, it’s part of the Deal.
This Body we inhabit, it isn’t a shell that encompasses our Soul, one that we shed when it’s “our Time”, it is a manifestation of our Soul, it is the stuff of the “Soup”, it is an ingredient, that enhances the flavor if you will. So why then is it sometimes so bitter? because this “All at the Same Time Soup” we are a part of is not of our making. We are not the Chef, we are the Soup, we don’t know how to make it, we ARE it. Our body, our Mind, our Soul, together, all of us, the people we love, the people we hate, the dogs, the cats, the leaves, the waves, all connected, all ingredients, all a part of it. Don’t we love it when we can put it into an image we can relate to? Doesn’t it make it easier when we can add imagery to our answers, to make sense of it, or more over, to accept that this experience has some semblance we can relate to? But these images are our attempt to stop the questions. They are not the answers, Faith is the answer.
Faith is not giving into something that appeases us, something that shuts out the noise, lessens the din, Faith is. Period. No questions, no answers, no dis-ease, no reason. Life was easier before I asked that first question, not simpler, just easier. What I saw when I witnessed the experience those people that came together in Faith, to be healed, was the power of Group Experience, they became a Soup, they came together, congealed, The Faith was in all of them, it wasn’t separate, it wasn’t individual, it was stirred up and mixed together, not just one person felt it, they all felt it. They all brought Faith, and Faith is what they experienced.
What then of the Healing? Well again, a question? What is your definition of “healing”? For the man who wants to walk, walking is Healing, for the woman who has Cancer, then the eradication of the disease is healing, and so on for all that came to change a physical experience that doesn’t agree with their idea of a happy life. If Healing is being rid of a physical ailment, then we have to read the fine print. Let me state that I believe that a person can have a miraculous experience that results in the sudden shift in a physical experience such as a disease that suddenly improves, or any physical anomaly that is suddenly reversed. There is no question, for me, there. It is the why some, and not others? The answer is in the Deal. The fine print. The answer is to not question, to except, to have Faith. Faith that the experience of love and acceptance that those who gathered together for the group experience, had an experience. That’s the Healing, the joy I saw on the faces, the love that I sense in the group, that’s what they needed, that’s what they were given, the miracle, isn’t in the walking, it’s in the understanding that the broken body may not be pieced back together, but a broken Spirit can.
Spirit, a word that is sometimes used to describe our Soul, but unlike the Soul, I believe our Spirit is affected. The Soul is one, it is the membrane that connects us, the Spirit is that part of us that is affected by the conditions of the body, it is the link to our Soul, and when it is in harmony with our body, then we are one with our Soul. Spirit is our Deal. We embody it, and take charge of it, and it suffers right along with us. Until we understand that a broken Spirit hurts more than a broken bone, we will never live pain free. What Faith can heal, is our Spirit. A room full of broken bodies can rejoice and be in Peace when they allow their Spirits to Heal.
As I sit here I realize I signed a contract, I made a deal. I faithfully took charge of a Spirit that is more delicate and more resilient than flesh or bone. When my Spirit is in pain, my body is in pain. Physical pain is a part of the Deal, it just is, but despite the pain and dis-ease, I can lift my Spirit, I can experience Joy. The only contract I have is Faith, the fine print is of my making, there is nothing to scrutinize or litigate, but the trials of existence, existence in this moment, in this body, I am here, and there is nothing else to question. I can live in doubt and with an ailing Spirit, or a I can choose to have Faith in this moment and let my Spirit be healed.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
My Mothers' Mothers' Mother.
I read a book, the "Seven Daughters of Eve" Bryan Sykes. It's a rather involved book that deals with Human Mitochondrial Genetics...yea...but interesting, none the less. What I took away from the book is we can trace our maternal lineage back to one of seven women, thought of as "clan women". To further muddle this complex theory, some of these clan women are decedents of others, leading to one, one Woman, Eve.
Now in the world of genealogy we tend to follow our surname, in other words, the paternal lineage, to find our "Roots". As a matter of fact, that was my first inclination and was rather easy to do, given that men don't change there name, but I wanted to make it more complicated, I wanted to follow the maternal lineage. See, a male will carry his mother's mtDNA, but he won't pass it on to his children. So my grandson's have my daughter's, but not mine. However, my granddaughters not only have a piece of my daughter (their Mom), but they have a bit of me, and my mother, and her mother, and so on.....so that is why I want to follow all the Mothers of my lineage.
There are no real glimpses of what life was like for the woman in my family, in my research, thus far, but I am seeing bits an pieces that intrigue me...unfortunately I am stuck, I have gone only as far back as my Great, Great, Great gramma, Emeline Shively, who was born in NY in 1830, and ended up in Truckee CA, with her children and no husband.....how did she get from Indiana (where the last 3 of her children were born) to CA? It happened sometime between 1860 and 1870, in the 1860 census her husband was alive and they were in IN, and by the 1870 census, she was in Meadow Lake CA, with her 2 younger children and her married daughters family (My Great, Great Gramma). Did she travel across the country with 2 young children, by herself? to be closer to her daughter, after the loss of her husband? Did her husband make it out there and pass away? or did he die en route? It seems so intriguing...But I want to know who she was, I want to find her maiden name to see where she grew up and under what conditions....and what of her Mother? She would have been born in the early 1800's, where did she come from?.....my search continues.
At some point I'd like to write the story of these women. And I am hoping that it won't take too long. Wish me luck. Here's my Tree, if you want to look; http://trees.ancestry.com/tree/16703919/family
Now in the world of genealogy we tend to follow our surname, in other words, the paternal lineage, to find our "Roots". As a matter of fact, that was my first inclination and was rather easy to do, given that men don't change there name, but I wanted to make it more complicated, I wanted to follow the maternal lineage. See, a male will carry his mother's mtDNA, but he won't pass it on to his children. So my grandson's have my daughter's, but not mine. However, my granddaughters not only have a piece of my daughter (their Mom), but they have a bit of me, and my mother, and her mother, and so on.....so that is why I want to follow all the Mothers of my lineage.
There are no real glimpses of what life was like for the woman in my family, in my research, thus far, but I am seeing bits an pieces that intrigue me...unfortunately I am stuck, I have gone only as far back as my Great, Great, Great gramma, Emeline Shively, who was born in NY in 1830, and ended up in Truckee CA, with her children and no husband.....how did she get from Indiana (where the last 3 of her children were born) to CA? It happened sometime between 1860 and 1870, in the 1860 census her husband was alive and they were in IN, and by the 1870 census, she was in Meadow Lake CA, with her 2 younger children and her married daughters family (My Great, Great Gramma). Did she travel across the country with 2 young children, by herself? to be closer to her daughter, after the loss of her husband? Did her husband make it out there and pass away? or did he die en route? It seems so intriguing...But I want to know who she was, I want to find her maiden name to see where she grew up and under what conditions....and what of her Mother? She would have been born in the early 1800's, where did she come from?.....my search continues.
At some point I'd like to write the story of these women. And I am hoping that it won't take too long. Wish me luck. Here's my Tree, if you want to look; http://trees.ancestry.com/tree/16703919/family
Sunday, January 2, 2011
The Other Side of Knowing
Ever get those momentary glimpses of a mistake you made years ago? That moment of reflection that still makes the blood rush to your face and regret takes a hold, you shake it off, 'cuz you know better, now.
The difference between living 'some' years and 'more' years is, the difference between Investigation and Knowing.
It's knowing that Investigation is ongoing, that you're never 'Right', just right, for you.
Knowing can be a comfortable chair that one should never get too comfortable in...we all need to get up and move around, rather, Knowing should be a comfortable pair of walking shoes, with signs of wear and sturdy soles....
We're all on the Other Side of Knowing, but which side do you prefer?
Every New Year brings the opportunity to sit on the Other Side of Knowing, the idea that you will experience something new, that you could do things different, it's Hope and Trepidation all tied up in a simple phrase "Happy New Year."
The difference between living 'some' years and 'more' years is, the difference between Investigation and Knowing.
It's knowing that Investigation is ongoing, that you're never 'Right', just right, for you.
Knowing can be a comfortable chair that one should never get too comfortable in...we all need to get up and move around, rather, Knowing should be a comfortable pair of walking shoes, with signs of wear and sturdy soles....
We're all on the Other Side of Knowing, but which side do you prefer?
Every New Year brings the opportunity to sit on the Other Side of Knowing, the idea that you will experience something new, that you could do things different, it's Hope and Trepidation all tied up in a simple phrase "Happy New Year."
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Forever - For Now
Forever
“Nothing lasts forever.” There’s a problem with hoping that’s true, because everything lasts forever. There is nothing new in our world, just recycled. Every thought you dwell on someone else has thought, every sad song you hear, many have cried to. Every smile that crosses your face has been seen on other faces. Fleeting, flowing, forever.
And thankfully so, because from that ‘forever-ness’ comes empathy and understanding.
It truly is physics, energy isn’t destroyed, we have reoccurring nightmares, and reoccurring dreams, we even have reoccurring apparitions, a seemingly replaying of an emotional event that we call a ghost. We live with many ghosts, and we call them our memories. But they are everyones memories, there is no event that someone else has not experienced, in some way shape or form.
In this finite evolution we call our lives we have only so many moments to live. When we choose to dwell on the same moments, over and over again, then we believe that they won’t last forever, so we have a hard time letting them go. When we finally understand that the moments we dread, are no different than the moments we adore, then the flow of every moment begins and we can live in each one.
“Nothing lasts forever?”
Everything lasts forever.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Waiting for SuperMom
Waiting for SuperMom
I am all for putting the best teachers into every classroom. If we only asked as much of parents.
My daughter was pushing a D in Algebra. I didn’t do well in Algebra, so it was easy for me to dismiss her grade as an inherent ‘gift’ from me, however, she ‘gets’ algebra, so what’s the problem?
There is a tool our school district provides its parents; it’s AERIES. AERIES allows me to check grades, assignments, and attendance. It has links to teachers sites, for homework, and updates. Without it I would have to resort to the proverbial “Do you have any homework?” drone, but now I can trade in my Nagging Mom title for ‘Spy.’ A title I am not afraid to own. My child can consider me a spy, she’d be better off not calling me one, but she can think it all she wants. As long as she is my responsibility, I will do what I need to, to give her the foundation to succeed. If I want my child to succeed I have to act like her Mom. No, I have to be her Mom, and as I have learned, being a parent is not for sissies. If we expect a lot of our teachers, we need to expect more of our parents.
We expect our teachers to design lesson plans that incorporate challenging content with stimulating methods, that will produce outstanding scholars. On the flip side, we expect parents to get their kids to school on time, hopefully fed, and clothed (appropriately), provide meager supplies, maybe a lunch, and pick them up when school let’s out. We want our teachers to keep our child engaged for 40 +/- minutes, all the while plying them with a plethora of information for which they (the teacher) are expected to somehow facilitate the students to retain. While parents are expected to pose the question. “Do you have any homework?” and believe when their child replies, “Nope” or “I did it in class.” On occasion parents are called upon to assist in homework, 9 times out of 10, it is a subject they end up Googling, because they haven’t had a need to study that particular subject since the days, they themselves, sat riveted in a classroom.
There are parents who can be found helping in the classroom, and who are seen about campus, but they are few, and far between, and by the time their child hits Jr. High, they thin out as to be negligible. But teachers are expected to be there, with my child, 5 days a week, for most of the year.
Of course, we raise our children, we do everything for them, we give them a roof and food, we dress them and pay their phone bill, we buy them computers and Uggs. We give them money when they need it. We love our children and want the best for them, we just hope the best is out there, so we can buy it, or rent it, or find some way to get it for them. I believe the best for them is right where they live. We love our children and would do anything for them, except say “No.”, or make them do chores, or teach them manners, or require them to respect us, or others. We love our children and would do anything for them, except, ask them to take care of the pet they begged us for, or teach them to push a lawn mower, or teach them help thy neighbor, or hold a door for someone, or give up their seat for someone who needs it.
We cannot fathom our lives without our children, yet half the time we don’t even know where they are, nor do we ask where they are going. When we do ask, we believe that they will be where they say they are, and that they will stay there, until we see them again. Some parents believe that children get to an age where they should have the freedom to do, and go, as they please, and they are right, that age is 18. Until the age of 18, my child is my responsibility.
If I want a well educated child, it is my responsibility to pick up where the teacher leaves off. When I home-schooled my daughter, I didn’t just correct the work she was assigned and hand it back to her, I went over what she didn’t understand, until she understood it. The difference now is, it's the teacher who instructs and facilitates, the teacher quizzes and tests, and does their best to make sure my child, and 20 other children, understand the material and subject, and it is my job to pick up the slack.
My daughter was pushing a D in Algebra, I didn’t do well in Algebra, but I am determined to do well as a parent. With the help of a tool at my disposal, I learned she was missing 2 quizzes and some homework, her computer was at risk of being taken away if she didn’t go in at lunch-time and take the quizzes, and I made sure she finished the assignments she missed and now she’s pulling a B-.
I am all for putting the best teachers into every classroom. If we only asked as much of parents.
Friday, October 1, 2010
The Conversation
What is the conversation in your head?
Do you believe you're wiser? or just older?
I'm a 54 year old woman, and I'm feeling older. Not older than 54; older than the woman I know to be me. I don't know this 54 year old woman, I can't talk to her like I could the 40 year old woman I was, and she left so quickly, I barely had a chance to ask her what she was up to. I don't think I had one conversation with the 30-something woman I was, she was too busy living her life.
What would I say to the 30 year old me? "Soak it all in, Suck it up, and most of all, enjoy your kids, 'cuz they won't be there forever. Oh yea, and take some time off from worrying about the "important" things, yea, I got the whole "small stuff" idea, but when you're living it, it's important, and I would just tell myself that the important stuff (and the small stuff) takes away from the "living" stuff.
"It went by so fast! Didn't it? WTF???" See? that's my new conversation, and that's one depressing, non-productive conversation! It's self-defeating and, quite frankly, boring. So I try not to talk to myself. But then I remember some wise advice...
A true story. Recently, two teenage girls, going through that horrific time in their lives when it's almost too hard to be teenage girls (been there?), were given an exercise to help them understand that life does get better, an exercise to illuminate the idea of how becoming a woman can be empowering, and to give them a reason to hang in there. The exercise goes like this:
The Conversation.
Find a comfortable place to sit, close your eyes, take a deep breath, relax. With your eyes closed, imagine yourself on a shaded path, barefoot, so you can feel the cool, soft ground under you feet. Begin to walk forward, aware of the soft dirt on your feet and the cool shaded air on your skin, just walk slowly forward...Begin to look around you, are there trees ahead? Set the scene, whatever makes you comfortable.
As you walk along this path, look ahead of you, you can see a figure in the distance, walking toward you. Pay attention to the figure as she comes into focus. As you walk toward each other, I want you to become aware that this figure that approaches you, looks like you, but older. Notice her features, the way she walks with her head high and a confident smile, see looks as though she recognizes you, and is very happy to see you. There is something about her that seems Wise, and she holds her arms out as you near, she gives you an embrace, you feel her strong arms and her soft cheek against yours. You feel safe in her arms.
The two of you stand face to face, and you realize, without words, that this is you, as an older, wiser woman. Suddenly you have a million questions whirling through your head, she smiles and says, "Ask me anything."
Ask her about her life, does she have children? where does she live? is she married? has she traveled? what does she like to do? Ask her everything...get to know her...feel how much you love her, and how grateful she is that you are there.
When you are done, when you have run out of questions, she will take your hands and look into your eyes and tell you that you are welcome to visit her, any time. She will tell you that you are never alone, and that she will always be there, when you need her.
The most important part of this exercise is that when you are done with this conversation, you do not turn and walk away from her, you stand there, face to face, holding each others hands and smile, and simply open your eyes, you never leave each other alone, again.
You know who turned these teenage girls onto this exercise? Me. My mother committed suicide when I was 28 years old, I learned a lot from that, I learned enough that I know it gets better, I know there is a lifetime of living and when it's over, the conversation ends.
So I think this 54 year old me, needs to meet the 80 year old me, I bet she'll cheer me up!
Go talk to yourself!
Do you believe you're wiser? or just older?
I'm a 54 year old woman, and I'm feeling older. Not older than 54; older than the woman I know to be me. I don't know this 54 year old woman, I can't talk to her like I could the 40 year old woman I was, and she left so quickly, I barely had a chance to ask her what she was up to. I don't think I had one conversation with the 30-something woman I was, she was too busy living her life.
What would I say to the 30 year old me? "Soak it all in, Suck it up, and most of all, enjoy your kids, 'cuz they won't be there forever. Oh yea, and take some time off from worrying about the "important" things, yea, I got the whole "small stuff" idea, but when you're living it, it's important, and I would just tell myself that the important stuff (and the small stuff) takes away from the "living" stuff.
"It went by so fast! Didn't it? WTF???" See? that's my new conversation, and that's one depressing, non-productive conversation! It's self-defeating and, quite frankly, boring. So I try not to talk to myself. But then I remember some wise advice...
A true story. Recently, two teenage girls, going through that horrific time in their lives when it's almost too hard to be teenage girls (been there?), were given an exercise to help them understand that life does get better, an exercise to illuminate the idea of how becoming a woman can be empowering, and to give them a reason to hang in there. The exercise goes like this:
The Conversation.
Find a comfortable place to sit, close your eyes, take a deep breath, relax. With your eyes closed, imagine yourself on a shaded path, barefoot, so you can feel the cool, soft ground under you feet. Begin to walk forward, aware of the soft dirt on your feet and the cool shaded air on your skin, just walk slowly forward...Begin to look around you, are there trees ahead? Set the scene, whatever makes you comfortable.
As you walk along this path, look ahead of you, you can see a figure in the distance, walking toward you. Pay attention to the figure as she comes into focus. As you walk toward each other, I want you to become aware that this figure that approaches you, looks like you, but older. Notice her features, the way she walks with her head high and a confident smile, see looks as though she recognizes you, and is very happy to see you. There is something about her that seems Wise, and she holds her arms out as you near, she gives you an embrace, you feel her strong arms and her soft cheek against yours. You feel safe in her arms.
The two of you stand face to face, and you realize, without words, that this is you, as an older, wiser woman. Suddenly you have a million questions whirling through your head, she smiles and says, "Ask me anything."
Ask her about her life, does she have children? where does she live? is she married? has she traveled? what does she like to do? Ask her everything...get to know her...feel how much you love her, and how grateful she is that you are there.
When you are done, when you have run out of questions, she will take your hands and look into your eyes and tell you that you are welcome to visit her, any time. She will tell you that you are never alone, and that she will always be there, when you need her.
The most important part of this exercise is that when you are done with this conversation, you do not turn and walk away from her, you stand there, face to face, holding each others hands and smile, and simply open your eyes, you never leave each other alone, again.
You know who turned these teenage girls onto this exercise? Me. My mother committed suicide when I was 28 years old, I learned a lot from that, I learned enough that I know it gets better, I know there is a lifetime of living and when it's over, the conversation ends.
So I think this 54 year old me, needs to meet the 80 year old me, I bet she'll cheer me up!
Go talk to yourself!
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