Some Perspective on Prop. 8

Unlike many of my friends and family, I am not devastated by Proposition 8 passing. I really didn't think we would be able to beat the millions of dollars pouring in from pulpits across America to advertise their "God given opinion." I realized a long time ago that I live in a bubble with my residence in the Bay area of Northern California. Like most cities, we screaming left liberals, gays, lesbians and transgender people have a safety net of numbers. Here we are safe by the fact that we are surrounded by own like minded compadres. Travel 100 miles east or north of the Bay area and we've got the rest of California. The rest of California who are surrounded by their own like minded compadres. These are farming, ranching communities. These are parts of sprawling suburbs. These are areas with different lifestyles and different values.

I drove north on Highway 5 this week from the bay area. The Vote Yes on 8 placards were on cars, lawns, buildings, bumpers. I didn't see one sign opposing Proposition 8 as I did my 6 hour drive to Oregon. Not one. As I passed by the cars, I looked at the drivers. They were just regular folks trying to get home from work, or maybe from picking their kids up from school. My guess is that if i met them in a social setting, they would be nice people. Good Christian folk people. I wondered if any of these placard owners actually knew a gay person. Because if you don't know a gay person, they can remain a pervert, a monster of some sort, something too different and scary from them. And they might pass it on...whatever it is that makes them gay, One woman looked over at me as I passed and I smiled and nodded. Part of me wanted to let her know that she had just been passed by a lesbian. And she survived.

The arguments I heard for Proposition 8 were mainly a defensive posturing against something they thought we would take away. There is so little understanding of lesbian and gay issues especially where our rights fall within the law. Throw in morality and our civil rights work sinks. I cannot get upset with this new development because we, lesbians, gays and transgenders are in a process. A very long process of being recognized as full citizens, being granted equal rights. We are so much closer than we have ever been. I remember our history. This is one good thing of being older. I remember the closet. And I know there are many people still living there. Like snails and tortoises we are making movement out of our shells, out of our safe neighborhoods of like mindedness. We are getting more activity in the courts. We are making progress.

When I really need some perspective, I think of my own mother. My very own mother who loved me dearly but it still took a solid two years before she could accept me as a gay woman. Two years of dealing with her own homophobia and disgust that a daughter of hers could be one of "those" people. My goal these days is to continue what Harvey Milk said in a speech close to 20 years ago. These were the words that gave me the courage to come out to my parents and to people around me. "If every one of you would come out of the closet and tell the person who means the most to you, that you are gay, we can make change. But you have to speak up. You have to come out of closet so we can be free." That is my plan to keep moving toward freedom.

Phooey!

I can hear my mother saying that in my head. "Oh Phooey!" She would say it in disgust, when something wasn't turning out the way she expected. Like when she would take a putt that leaned down the green instead of nearing the hole. "Oh Phooey!"Or when she dialed the wrong number in haste and couldn't get her bearings to redial.
This is my attempt to be lighthearted about my current state of mind. Even as I write this, I feel a bit lighter saying, "Oh Phooey!" My heart speaks of stronger words, of more turmoil than a stupid little saying like phooey.

I am no stranger to this feeling that I am currently underscored with. I was visiting my dad this weekend as I usually do once a month. But on this visit, he insisted on going through his little safe hidden away in the bedroom. My sisters and I have gone through and through this with him. But with his faltering memory, its a new experience every time he sees his important papers and he shows us, like Bill Murray's movie Groundhog Day - the same things over and over. This time though, I had happened to open the box with my mother's wedding ring in it. I don't know what happened but seeing it punched me with a physical force that took my breath away and caused the tears welled up. My dad was still fumbling away in the papers and I had to leave the room to let out a sob.

The grief visit has not left me but imbibes me with a lack of focus, shortness of attention and labile emotions that tell me to forget about wearing any mascara. I've stopped wondering why it comes up when it does. The bigger piece is to accept that it's here and that I'm not really of "right mind" in this state. Normally I would get angry with myself that I can't get it together and need to "settle down!" As I write that, I can also hear my mother saying THAT to me! "For Pete's sake, molly - settle down and get some work done!" But I can't today. No matter how many attempts I make to organize myself for my paycheck job or for my writing class tonight, I can't pull my attention from the space that is beyond words and more comfortable in tears and uninterrupted quietude. "Oh phooey. I'm losing a day of productivity. Phooey! Phooey! Phooey! And that's it.

The Olympics!!

I LOVE THE OLYMPICS!!!!

I love watching the athletes in all of their endeavors. The viewing was a bit skewed with NBC running the show but I watched as much as I could. I'm such an armchair athlete that I take full advantage of living vicariously through the different athletes. Then to have someone like Dara Torres touting her competitive abilities at 40 years old. "Right on!!" I say.

And how about the darlings of volleyball? Those women rock! I was screaming for the Belgium team that came out to win in their first set - playing beautifully and sending Misty May Treanor and Kerri Walsh hustling like I hadn't seen them work before. Then as Misty May said in their exit interview - "Well they woke up the sleeping tiger." In the second set - Belgium was squashed in a 10 minute volley and the Americans reigned once again.

The most often heard saying is along the same lines as Jamaican Usain Bolt's declaration, "Anything is possible if I put my mind to it." He had just won a gold medal for the 100 meter run. This is an Olympic's athlete mindset. We get to see a celebration of that discipline and focus in 10 days of physical activities. It's a great break for me from life as usual.

What Constitutes A Vacation?

I signed up with my partner, Noreen for the Bicycle Tour De Colorado. It was billed as a 7 day 403 mile bike ride with 38,000 feet of climbing. We did our training - we bought all the right stuff for the trip. I oxygenated with some kind of supplements that the guys at BikerRX swore by. I got bike fitted so I would have maximum efficiency. Yessiree - we were as ready as we could be.

NOT

We set off from Durango Colorado with 2000 other cyclists. I was amazed at the range of ages of people doing this ride. Mostly men though. We could tell by the fact that there was never a waiting line for the women's showers while the guys were standing 10 deep waiting for their turn. We were relentless in our taunting as they stood in the heat for their shower.

The first day I managed to get in 7000 feet of climbing before the words Uncle came to mind. I was saved somewhat by a horrendous hailstorm that hit us as we reached the Molas Divide summit. We were frozen and exhausted from the climb and the lack of air at 11,000 feet. U Haul trucks ferried us down into town - cutting off 26 miles of riding. I was lucky in that our truck driver left the back door open so we could see the cyclists continue their endeavors in the descent and then up Red Mountain. It convinced me that I would not have been able to finish that ride because of its difficulty.

The second day was easier as it was a flat ride to Montrose. I had enough juice in my legs that I did the 30 mile option up to Black Canyon once we got into town. The climb did not appear to be difficult but the altitude kept me gasping for air and taking breaks along with all the other folks NOT from Colorado.

The third day I started falling apart. My attitude stunk in the morning and I called a truce for my body. I took the sag wagon from the first aid station to the second one - missing a 3000 foot climb. I felt bad for a nanosecond as I watched people climb up to the summit from the truck. But fortunately I got over it with the use of good ol fashioned common sense. This ride was too much for me!! I rode down the 10mile descent and finished the rest of the ride into Telluride. I still had a fair amount of climbing to do but I felt refreshed when I came into town. Noreen did the whole thing and wasn't capable of walking around that night.

The fourth day we had a beautiful and easy ride into a sweet little nothing of a town called Naturita. We descended through lots of red rock canyon and streams. The town welcomed us with booths selling home made food - homemade goodies and just plain good ol hospitality. We also had a band playing and with opportunities to drink beer and sing karoke. Yes, those two I believe have to go together.

The fifth day was a hundred miler. We did great for most of it - including the climb out of Disappointment Valley. But both of us were feeling lots of butt pain - too many days in the saddle and not enough callouses so we jumped on the sag at mile 62. We were impressed with those who made it all the way in. It did not look easy with many rolling hills and ending with trafficked roads.

The sixth day was a beautiful one - riding out of Cortez back to Durango. The climbs were gradual but the scenery breathtaking. Things I learned on the trip was that I could do anything for a day - but 6 days in a row? Umm, questionable! I have a high whine factor that I'm not particularly proud of. I learned that I do a wonderful job living in the past and the future and not such a good job just living in the present moment. Especially if that moment has some discomfort in it!!!

I learned that a vacation is a time away from routines. A time for different perspectives and different experiences. A vacation is when I can spend money freely and not think twice about it. A vacation is when I can miss my friends and family. A vacation is when I can say over and over, "Oh. I wonder what it would be like to live here.... on a ranch...or over here....in this desert...or over here on a Navajo reservation..." A vacation is vacating one's responsibilities....

I did question myself on the validity of this vacation. Where was the pampering? The relaxing? The chilling out? Maybe its now - now that the adventure has been had and I gave it my best effort and managed to have fun in a physically stressful situation. Next year though, I think I'll go on a guided tour with fluffy hotel beds and room service!

But for this year, I have bragging rights to say I rode 311 miles and climbed 25,050 feet in 6 days in the beautiful Southwest area of Colorado. I know what I can do and what I cannot do!


http://www.flickr.com/photos/bike_tour/

Falling In Love the Peony Way

How can a flower sweep me away so profoundly? That is what happens every time I spend a little time gazing at the bouquet of peonies I bought. They start out tightly wad into that clenched perfectly round ball. I look at it and think, "Oh that will never open up...not these store bought versions." I can't imagine a flower able to continue its process after being cut from its root plant weeks earlier and shipped off to the various stores. Like little orphans waiting in its plastic sheathing..."Won't somebody take me home? Really. You won't believe what I can do when you place me in your watered filled vase. Pick me! Pick me!"

And so the budding flowers are in the vase and within hours, they start opening. It is so quick and beautiful in each movement. I am drawn to "being in the moment" with this flower. I walk into the kitchen with anticipation of what changes this full bosomy bud has gone through. I find myself pulled towards them to admire each movement in its sweet journey. Knowing this plant has such a short flowering time - about two or three weeks in June makes it all so much more special. The way this flower blooms with its abundant petals, leaning open with the sunlight and leaning closed for nighttime warmth, from bud to blossom and then waning depletion of its force of beauty. All this in a matter of 4 or 5 days. I'm taking a peony vacation and end up feeling honored and humbled to be part of its living journey.


I also feel extraordinarily blessed because it reminds me of how to live my life. With fullness and abundance. To take care in the evening and rest. To be patient with budding emergence of a bloom that I don't yet own. And to trust that life is the same for me as it is for a gorgeous flower. To be in the moment with each movement on whatever plane I'm conscious of. Yes. All this. And to think I got this wonderful experience from a small bouquet of flowers from Trader Joes for $6.99. If you hurry, there might be some left for another week. And after that....its another year before we see them again.

The Untethered Soul

I am reading a wonderful book a second time. It is rare that I close a book and immediately start from page one again. But this is a jewel that has increased my awareness and opened new doors of seeing. I've been able to bring this work into the Somatic Therapy I've been learning for the last year. It serves as a great adjunct to many spiritual programs.

He gives descriptions of the many facets of our personal beings. There is one chapter that is quite hysterical as he describes our chattering mind as the "neurotic roommate who won't shut up." The beauty of his view is that a deeper and more profound look emerges. Who watches this pesky mind? Who does the observing when we go into judgement or opinions? The book keeps bringing us back to the "Who Am I?" as he helps us fall behind the domineering mind and reminds us that above all we are soul.

Being at the bedside of those who die and leave their body is the most profound reminder of that very simple fact. We are soul first - birthed into human'ness and developed into people dealing with life on life's terms. Or not! The soul asks to be heard and given its place in our lives. If I can do that - moment by moment, I experience a different sense of freedom, one that is not borne of my senses, emotions or thoughts. There is less tethering to these senses, less attachment. I'm not saying I"m having an easy time doing this, because I am not. This leads me into a discussion of how somatic therapy works and why it is a necessary work for some people to be free to move ahead in their personal development.

When there is wounding/trauma from pre-adult years, there are memories stored in the physical body, energetic fields, and emotions. Somatic therapy touches those places with the intent to help them heal in a "nowtime" paradigm. It helps take unexplained emotions and compulsions to a field of understanding. It reaches deeper than intellectual understanding to the physical and energetic places. The tissue gets relief and it expands in new ways that it wasn't able to before, because there was an old force keeping it down. So while I love this book, it makes me cringe when I hear the words, "You just look this way." Ahhhh if only life were that simple. I can understand completely what I am doing, what the consequences are and yet I cannot stop myself from that action. The word "just" has a hundred miles of process between what I want to do and why I don't do it today.

This is why bodywork, coaching, therapy is such stimulating work for me. I love learning about any process that helps individuals move forward. Its a journey that can be as creative as it can be painful. Using the paradigm of Untethered Soul,helps soften the process into a place of "It's all good." We're human with fantastic frailties that make us reach out into community and relationships. Its the humanness of us all that makes life so interesting to observe. We just have to remember to watch the show and enjoy ourselves!

April 1, 2008

Its the one year anniversary of my mother's passing from this world on to the next. I told someone today that I am 'in memory' of witnessing a miracle this time last year. It's a miracle to me that a soul/spirit rises up and out of a human body. We witnessed her transformation and I felt her love and spirit linger in the hospital room as if to cloak us with a pure love energy. This energy that she embodied physically as Gloria McCormick. I'm not saying she was a saint or anything because the dear woman was human after all! She was my mother, my father's wife, my grandmother's daughter and on and on with the identities. Being human is experiencing all of our wonderful imperfection. I have been at the bedside of a few people and animals who have died and have the same experience every time. I feel sense of pure love energy. Its almost palpable and defies language or description. It just is. And it is wonderful. And it is a piece of life that all of us seekers search for, hoping to find snippets of it in daily life. When my mom died, I felt her. I felt her for months afterwards...that wonderful spirit reminding me that life is so much more precious than I give it credit for. So this morning when I woke up and thought about what kind of anniversary this is, I realized that I'm celebrating a miracle and I'm mourning a loss, all at the same time.

I can also see how I have changed in a years time. I reached a point of adulthood and responsibility that I didn't have before. I've fallen in love with my father and all of his frailties and a past that I just don't even care about anymore. I longed all my life for the relationship I have with him now . I have a father that has turned into the sweetest and most giving guy. He's still stubborn as hell and I'm still reduced to a "yes, dad" little girl resignation. But I have a father who tells me he loves me - a father that gets excited about activities I'm doing, even if he can't understand a thing about it - a father that is still protective and eager to give me advice. Maybe what's important is that I'm still able to enjoy him as my parent - something that was lost when Mom became an angel last year. Man! What a wild ride its been.

"I Don't Mind What Happens"

That was a phrase that came up in an online course I am taking. The Heart Rhythm Meditation class is a form of meditation that develops heart capacity and energy. I had two reactions to the statement. The first one was, "What a wonderful way to drop into acceptance" when applied to anything beyond the present moment. If I don't mind what happens, then it means that I'm flexible and open to the outcomes and the reality that I'm in. It means that I"m able to go with the flow and allow for a world beyond my own nose!

Now the flip side of that of course, is the ol' doormat syndrome. Something I've been intimately friendly with over the course of many years. Fortunately that side of me has grown and developed to a less passive state but its been lots of work becoming conscious and aware of fears, obstacles and other things that get in the way of standing up for ourselves. So the "Ohhhh I don't mind what happens," could be a danger flag that one isn't paying attention and will likely get smashed by some errant bulldozer. A small voice after being completely flattened weakly saying, "Hey - I think I do MIND that you're stepping all over me!" Its funny to have both perspectives going on with one statement.

How do we know which one we are operating from? Dropping into the sensations of our body can elicit the truth. It may be that both perspectives are operating at the same time. One of the things that is helpful for me is to think it through to an end, if possible. There are always scripts available - ones that just are about ourselves without anyone else involved - others are all about how we think another person will think or feel. We can have great fun with projection. But it rarely works because we don't ever know how another person is going to react or feel. Its their business. Our business to stay on our side of the street and assess whether we really don't mind what happens - or whether its a statement of complacency and resignation.

Isn't That Wonderful...

Oh I was in a BAAAAAD mood the other day. I couldn't really pinpoint the why's of this bad mood. But it followed me around - like little pigpen of a Charlie Brown cartoon. It dogged my thoughts, my energy. My mouth was tightened and muscles pulled down. It was an annoying way to go through my day and I wanted it changed!

I thought "Okay, I haven't had exercise in days. I need a walk. I need a walk in a beautiful place." And what a kwinky dinky that I was already in Marin. I headed to Tennessee Valley for a walk to the beach. It was grey but looked like we had a reprieve from the rain. Bundled up with cap and gloves, I started my stroll to the beach....the grumbling of my bad mood provided the soundtrack. My refrain to its dissonant tune was "Come on Molly! Enjoy the scenery. Look at the hills, they are finally green again! Notice the landscape and rest your eyes on the beautiful setting. Come on! Come on!"

I got out to the beach and there was a huge sand split with runoff water rushing out to the ocean. I couldn't pass over without taking my shoes and socks off and it was too cold for that. So I managed to get over to the side of the cliffs and find a dry spot to watch the waves and feel the surge of the ocean. "Ahhhh this is good. This is bigger than me. This is something I cannot control." I could take in the force of something that was beyond myself. As I took in the view and matched my mood with the ocean, I started laughing to myself. I imagined the ocean saying to itself, "OH! I can't stand being this stormy and dirty. I can't stand this force behind my waves and having to crash so hard. This is just terrible. Why can't it be a calm day when my water is as blue as the sky and my waves rise and fall calmly on the beach? I really like myself then. Not now! All dirty and stirred up with no rhyme or reason to my actions." I understood that there was no reason to judge myself. The ocean does not judge itself. The natural world does no such thing. It exists as it does, ebbing and flowing with each change.

Why should I treat myself any differently? What if I accepted that I was in a bad mood and that was that? Oh what a sense of relief I felt. Amazing, the power of negative energy! I was given a new perspective. I was given a moment of reprieve from my big ol' all encompassing SELF! I was given room to breathe visually and physically. I felt better!!!!

I started in on my return walk and as I stepped off the rock, I fell into a sand sinkhole that filled up with water. Wet Feet!! I didn't laugh. The bad mood that dissipated rose up in glee. "YEAH!! Let's return to torture her!!" But I was buoyed by my relief and given a great refrain to talk back with. What if I said, "Isn't that wonderful?" to every complaint that came up? Now, I know that sounds really Stuart Smalley BUT it worked! I said, "Oh man, my shoes are all wet and my feet are gonna be cold for the walk back!" "Isn't that wonderful? I know what it is like to have warm feet to compare this experience with!" I tried it with my worries of financing a new car. "Oh I can't figure out how to deal with moving money around." "Isn't that wonderful? I have money to move around and the ability to buy a car." Well you get the drift. It worked to lift any cranky thought or complaint that I came up and the energy released from answering "Isn't it wonderful?" was much more pleasant that the original complaint.

So it was quite a little walk I had out to Tennessee Valley Beach yesterday. Hurray for nature! And Hurray for god-given energy shifts!
Sincerely signed,
Molly Anna

Crumbling castle....

I thought about a crumbling castle as I drove home from being with my 87 year old father for the last couple of days. The mighty McCormick domain ruled by Robert the king master. I say this in somewhat of a jest but in reality - it is an attitude that prevailed in our household. I'm not even sure how much of it was perpetuated by him. It was the backdrop of our times - trying to raise three girls in the midst of the 50's, 60's, 70's and 80's. My mother was held responsible for keeping the domain calm and healthy. She held the role of making the home a refuge for him after working. And to this end, we were always told..."Your father has the last word on this. You have to ask your father. Wait until I tell your father about this." It was usually with dread that we heard those statements. Although, I must say by the time I was a teenager, my father's response was much more open than my mom's. It still didn't dissipate the power that we all gave my father in matters concerning the family.
And this is exactly what is at work or at odds right now as we watch him grow more frail. He still has that tone of voice that says, "Now girls, you really don't understand how complicated or how difficult this would be..." And I find myself wilting and thinking, "Oh yes, he most certainly knows more than I right now..."
Then I walk away and say to myself, "HEY! Wait a minute! That doesn't make sense!" But I cannot confront him or if I do...the words seem to dissipate somewhere between his listening ears and the place in his brain that would understand the train of thought. He walks away, not wanting to deal with such harsh reality. I don't blame him. He has to deal with so much on a daily basis. And I cannot fathom what it is like to have my ability to think, remember and understand dwindle away as it has.
And so I think about a crumbling castle because with my mother gone, and my dad hanging on - the perception of family as I have lived with all my life is changing. The castle is smaller on the horizon and a new home is being built upon its foundation.

The time just keeps on passing....

The holiday season is here. Thanksgiving arrived with the gift of grief. I always think, "Oh I'm prepared for this. I got it handled." Ha-ha! Grief must love those phrases. As if we can control when it rises and shakes the earthly foundation of what we think our day will look like. With the time passing and the grief abating for longer periods of time, I forget the punch that it announces itself with.

So what does grief hand me these days? Many, many memories. They come in with all senses. Remembering the smell of the house with day long cooking, the sounds of many conversations going on at once, glasses being refilled, family members chiding each other over past shenanigans. The feeling of being so full from overeating. Taking dance breaks to do some jitterbugging or whatever to whoever's music is playing at that time. The sight of so many dishes after eating. All of us women in the kitchen cleaning, chatting and sometimes when we were younger, singing songs. I remember noise and mom trying to focus on whatever cooking endeavor needed attention. At age 52, there are so many memories to choose from. I'm blessed with a long family life of grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles and whoever we all brought along for the holiday season.

My mom loved the holidays! She loved the feeling of family coming together. She loved the ritual of getting the house cleaned, the shopping and planning for the meal. She worried herself into exhaustion over the success of the gathering. If I could change anything in my past, it would be to take away my mother's worries about things turning out. It all turns out, no matter what the result. It all turns out in some way. Whether I like how it turns out is another discussion.

But for now, I am honoring grief's punch during this season and giving my memories its due time. This won't be a Christmas season so much for me but a Christmas season for my mother's memories and desires for a wonderful and loving time with her family.

Anniversaries

I felt off yesterday. More than usual. Someone asked me how I was and I said, "Living through the gray." They replied that maybe I needed a kick in the butt. I smiled to myself because they just don't know of the world I am living in. And there is no way to "know it" until it happens to you. An extremely personal process.

I was compelled and I mean COMPELLED to get a piece of chocolate cake yesterday. When I have that kind of dessert, I am thinking of mom. She loved chocolate cake!! In the past, I haven't really indulged so much in those kinds of desserts. The sugar usually makes me sick afterwards and its not worth it. But its a whole different story since my mom died. This weekend I even had a glazed donut and its been years since I've eaten one of those!

My friend, Peter Holter told me that the way he got through his parent's deaths is to eat lots of ice cream sundaes. That was his source of comfort. It helps me to know how people move through this passage. It helps me to know that food is often the comfort space. And it helps me to know that I'm not alone in experiencing the uncontrollable waves and ocean of grief.

My sister got ahold of me yesterday. This was after my german chocolate cake treat. She was a wreck and as she said, "losing it." She reminded me that this was the 6 month anniversary of mom going in for the heart surgery. This was the anniversary of the toughest 3 weeks of my life. Was my subconscious churning this about during the day? Was this the reason for the grey feeling? Six months ago, I flew down on Southwest airlines crying my eyes out because of the complications involved with surgery and my mother's poor body. Six months ago, my life changed. I changed and continue to change as a result of her death.

What is strange is that I wouldn't wish that she be back here. Her body was deteriorating and decreasing her quality of life. I know that she is in a much better place. One that I can't even imagine and I'm happy for her. Sometimes I can feel her presence and sometimes I feel nothing. But this pull of anniversaries is something I can't explain. There is a similar process when people get sober. There is an agitation, 'messed up' feeling before and during anniversaries of "one's last drink." What happens in the brain and soul? How does that timeclock of the psyche work? Is it meant as a chime to pause, reflect and appreciate the brevity of life's changes? Is it meant to wake us up to realities that have passed and morphed into new realities?

I'm grateful for the 6 month mark. I'm hoping it means more color in my daily view. There is nothing that heals grief more than "time." I'm also grateful that I have my family to go through this with. It helped me so much to listen to brigid's experience - it gave me words and a context for the day I was having.

Will Mom help the Notre Dame football team?

Today is the first game of the season for Notre Dame. Dad says its gonna be tough - that Georgia is a tough team and the Notre Dame's team isn't experienced enough this year. But I wonder, I wonder if mom in her heavenly spirit will cast an angelic presence on the team this year and help interceptions and unbelieveable touchdowns happen. Well....ya never know!!

I was given a gift today through a passage I read in some Sufi book that is way over my head. This is the title of the book to give you an idea of its density: "Upgrading the Operating System of the Soul - A Manual of Quantum Sufism" by Donald Weiner. I'll let you know if I actually finish it! But I digress... this passage is actually very understandable. The author lost his son at an early age and has written down, along with his wife...the communication that they feel is from him. Where the communication comes from doesn't concern me. But the message is comforting.

Dad,
You can find me in that well-relaxed breath that you take on the innerness of your heartbeat...Feel me as a support all you think and do-a similar note underlaying or overlaying your own. Can you fall into my beingness beyond concepts or thoughts to know how I am and how I perceive? Break down any preconceptions again and again until your inner sense is very fine-grained and plaible, soft and sensitive so you can feel my breathing-just beyond your own.

"...like a similar note underlaying or overlaying your own..."

Let's see how the notes and football plays today underlay and overlay the Notre Dame team's efforts. GO IRISH!!!!!

Good Orderly Direction

I was awake last night completely stressed out about my father. I could feel the tension in my jaw and face. I could physically feel the control I was trying to exert manifest in my body. I kept saying to myself, "Relax! RELAX! relax..... It will work out." But my thoughts were like a hamster cage running all my itself.


I remembered an acrynom used for folks having a hard time picturing what a God of their choice would look like - feel like. "G.O.D. = Good Orderly Direction." When I said that and felt its meaning, I relaxed. It gave me a guide that I didn't have to control or force. Things that are needed would happen. Most of those things are in the future with their own way of unfolding. Good. Orderly. Direction.

I was given this direction while my mother was dying. I asked for strength in each moment to do the best I could in staying present. I was given that strength. I look back at that time and I know I was carried. I have to remember that I am being carried right now. Except I want the spirit carrying me to run, not journey, not meander about, but RUN! I want that because I want relief from my personal worry. I want to be prepared! I want my father taken care of!! And I want it NOW.

Good Orderly Direction

Everything will work out the best way in its own way. All I can do is set up as much as I can, a pathway that makes sense for my dad to live out the rest of his days. And maybe it means that I come down here for a couple more months, cook up lots of meals for him, have a movie marathon while visiting and encourage him to get out for some social time. What else can I do?

Good Orderly Direction.

I have to remember that there are other forces at work. I have to remember that I have two sisters who are my family and this is not all mine to take on. I have to remember that there are divine spirits that help guide each and every one of us. And Dad has his own Good Orderly Direction that he follows or perhaps fights against. I'm certainly fighting againsts mine!! For today though, I think I'll just keep repeating to myself, Good Orderly Direction = God.

August already. 4 months and counting

I miss my mom. When I miss my mom like this, it makes it difficult to work, to play, to focus on much. Its a gray time - matches the color of the weather we've been having. I was reminded that its only been 4 months. I can see my impatience gripping on to this grief process. Trying to nip it, make it smaller, make it manageable, make it Go Away!

Yeah, now I'm back to the regular coping mechanism for feeling bad. Make it go away. Distract...anything to keep me from that base emotion of "I miss my mom and there is nothing I can do about it." Thank God, grief has its own life, a master of its own destiny because if I had my way - I don't think I would choose to feel this way. This muted veil that keeps me from being in my "active life." The active life that is engaged with an exterior world. No, grief takes over the interior doings, the soul and spirit. Grief demands this attention and when it asks for this attention, it expects to receive it. My resistance only makes things more complicated. Letting go and surrendering means saying no to "my way" and hello to the "soul's way." I think I can give my mom, my loss, my family and myself some time to visit with this intense place.

The next phase. Dad.

See that ball? See that pin flag on the green? I wish I could navigate my life as easy as putting a ball on the green to the desired target. This stuff though ain't no fun to navigate and I'm not very good at it. Ha! Who would know what "good" is, anyway?

My dad - living on his own since mom died. He's doing okay for himself. Feeds himself out of the meals we daughters have made for him in the freezer. Picks up his medication and goes to his doctors appointments. Tries to walk a little bit during the day. And my heart breaks for him. It breaks when I talk to him on the phone. It breaks when I see him and hang out with him. He has become in my mind "elderly." I don't know why I've not called him that before. Perhaps he had my mother to lean on and his wit is still strong and sharp. But after this visit, I see that he is elderly. That one fall will break his bones - that his body is breaking down in its age. Small meals, quick and frequent visits to the bathroom, faulty and missing short term memory banks, confusion for small understandings. And my heart breaks because he is going too. He is going where my mom so happily resides now. I don't know when but it won't be long. I don't get the feeling that we will be moving him up here. Its too much for him. He says he will go quickly and not to worry about anything. But who really knows. All I know right now, is that it is tough. I hate it. I hate saying goodbye to my parents. And I know that someday this will all be looked upon without such deep pangs in my heart.

Moon Encounter on Hwy 5

The last time I went down to visit my dad, I left very early in the morning. The sun wasn't up yet and I was already past Livermore and well on to the droned flatness of Highway 5. I love driving at that time of the morning because the colors of the dawning day are so vivid and fresh. The oat colored hills start coming alive in the morning light and the changing of moon and sun guard is as visible as an IMAX theatre. So it was during this time that the full moon in its setting glory had my complete attention. I pulled over in the rest stop and was frantically trying to find my camera for a picture of this glorious scene. It seemed pathetic to try and catch this on film (uh, well on digital film). I knew my camera wouldn't really be able to capture this. So I calmed down and resigned myself to a 'in the moment' experience. I believed so strongly that my mother was watching also from wherever she has landed.

I noticed out of the corner of my eye, this guy with a "GOOD" camera was snapping away! I ran over to him with my business card and asked him if he would mail me the pictures he was taking. He seemed like he was in a hurry and took my card and said, "sure, sure." That was weeks ago. In fact the full moon is just coming around again. So lo and behold I got the pictures just the other day in the email! He captured the beauty of the moon setting so beautifully! Turns out he was on his way to his Aunt's funeral down south. His name is Ching Chang. And if you ever need a realtor in Davis - here is his biz info.
cychang@juno.com
College Town Realty
522 G St Davis, CA 95616
work:(530) 753-1500 cel:(530)219-5173
Fax: (530) 753-1503

Another dream

Oh how the dreams become vivid during the waxing of the moon! They arrive in full color and saga development. This was another visit by my mother. I won't go into all the details as there were so many detours, journeys and explorations during this sequence, I was confused when I woke up whether I was coming or going.

But the dream concerning my mother was she came into a house that I was living in. She was in her early sixties and wasn't too happy. She was frustrated and she was hungry. I wasn't surprised to see her but upset that she wasn't a happy camper. So I volunteered to go out and get some food for her. It was in that sequence where uh, I got distracted as I sometimes do and ended up many different places - none of them resulting in any food for my mom!

But towards the end of the journey, I stopped in to see my dad who was living in an apartment complex. It was noisy place with outside hallways. His window was open, with no screen and I peeked in through the drawn curtains. He was asleep on the couch even though it was in the afternoon. I called out to him, "Dad?" He opened a bleary red eye and mumbled that he just can't sleep without my mom next to him. I walked in and he got up from the sofa. I felt bad for him as his sadness was palpable.

He decided to go with me and we went over to pick up mom. It was as if they couldn't see each other. And I was in the middle of the two. I said to him, "Well why don't you just have mom move back in with you! It's not like you got divorced. It's not like she didn't like you and divorced you and that's why she isn't with you!!" He looked at me in disbelief and said, "Oh no! I couldn't bear losing her again." And it was said with such solemnity that I said no more. But I was still trying to figure it out in my head,and my mom was in the back seat wondering if I was ever going to get her food. I was thinking, "Ummm let's see. If she moved back in - it's not like she can take care of dad anymore..." And slowly, the realization was sinking in that she was not of this world anymore. That there would be no moving back into a home with dad. That there would be no more of mom and dad in this world. And that Dad was the one in touch with reality. Not me. I straddled between two worlds.

I woke up feeling very sad and missing my mom and missing my 'mom and dad' together as they have been for me for 52 years. I won't keep saying how strange this process is but I will continue to be amazed by it. During the week, I am generally so busy with my "doingness" that I don't feel the grief so much but I sure do on the weekends. And every weekend is different in how I experience the loss of my mom. It feels like something that I don't get over but something that I learn to live with.

The moon dream

My mom visited me last night in my dreams. It was so lovely to see her although she was slight in density and kind of floating along. There was a full moon shining in the night sky and I exclaimed, "Mom! Do you know every time I see a full moon, I think of...." She interrupted me softly and said, "Yes dear, I know. I know." And the feeling was one of a quiet love and a quiet memory. An exchange we had many many times over many many moons. No matter where I was in the world, when I saw a gorgeous full moon, I thought of my mom. Sometimes I could call her and she would dash outside to see if she could see the moon too. Other times, it was in a catch up phone call - Or she would call me and say, "Molly! Have you seen the moon tonight? Go look at it!" Those calls came less and less as my parent's lives got smaller. Very rarely would they go out at night so she would miss the rising of the moon.

But our house on Rudd Road was prime moon viewing property. That is how the tradition got started. Having it rise above the hills, its light shadowing and preparing the way for the big round ball....slowly, slowly it came up until it had risen into the sky and mom and I would be on the back patio just watching it rise. Lovely lovely memories..
And even now....in her other world, we come together to watch the moon rise.

The Currents of Aftermath

I was down visiting my dad this last week. I started sorting out things of my mother's. Going through drawers, her office and then her closet. I was given the grace to look through things without feeling destroyed with loss. How that happened, I truly do not know. But I was grateful.

I have to relay the contents of this one Birthday card I had sent to my mother in 1978. I understood so deeply when I read this, the amount of distress I caused my mom with my lackadaisical lifestyle. My poor parents had NO idea what to do with me during this time of my life.

Hi there,
How was your trip to Vancouver? Beautiful huh? I'm at Tricia's house now, working for Barb and Ed. I'll be leaving around August 11th to go to Michigan for another music festival and to see my friend Brown. Then possibly, on to New York with Judith, depending on my money.

Its real nice to be some place for awhile and get caught up with my life - absorb my travelling experiences. But the bug is still strong in my, so I'll probably continue moving around for a couple of months. If I can get on a "hoedad" crew, I hope to be tree planting in oregon in the fall. Its excellent money for the hard work, so who knows - I'll keep you posted.

Have a real happy birthday. I'll be thinking of you. Love, Molly

I was telling Dad, "All mom would say to me as she let out a sigh, was, "God, can't you get a nice job in a bank somewhere?" It drove her crazy that I was so unsettled and travelling here and there. She was always grateful when I would settle somewhere. Although, settling in Alaska for five years wasn't quite the idea she was thinking of.

I had such a nice time with my dad. Just watching movies at night with him gave me comfort. Its a new kind of relationship I have with him. One that is so much more present and immediate. I am grateful to feel so close with him.