This morning as I am so grateful for making time to get my fingers on the keyboard as my “to-do-list” grows longer and my time-table grows shorter. I notice how relevant that is to all those who are in their later years. I have lived 67 years, and in this body probably do not have 67 more. We have our home of 40 years scheduled to go onto the market today and have purchased an 1120 square foot home in a 55 and over park literally right around the corner. The simultaneity of the sacred and the mundane dancing across the moments we call time have my eyes leaking and my heart aching in its perfection….
As we paint, clean, pack, (See Garage Floor!) we witness miracle upon miracle in the journey of John’s brother, Jim, who is journeying through metastatic cancer. From the ease and timing of finding of our new home to a vivid pray without ceasing demonstration the lines blur between now and then, here and there, alive and dead, mortal and immortal.
We are living Harry Chapin’s Circle song. I hope you will take time to listen.
As I have said before, we are living a charmed life. Last evening we said goodbye to an antique china cabinet that had sat in our kitchen for 25 years. It belongs to a friend, Doris. We kept it for her when she went through a divorce and had no place for it. That cabinet had belonged to her grandmother. There is now floor space in my kitchen, and I can feel my mother smiling to see her carnival glass gleaming in the light of our new home.
Yesterday afternoon my yoga teacher and another friend met me at the new house for yoga. We offered gratitude for Ursel, the woman who had made that house her home for 31 years. We reminded ourselves we were on holy ground. After I packed each piece of glassware carefully in washcloths (no need to wash the dishes like you have to if you pack them in newspaper) John brought his guitar and played and sang as they were moved into the built-in china cabinet at the new house. Every action is intimate with thoughts and prayers regarding Jim and the unfolding of our shared destiny. The best way to share this holy thought is to let you read a journal entry by Krista Meyer, Jim’s daughter, posted about 7:00 pm Saturday, the 4th of July, 2017.
Blessings
Sometimes God just surprises you with an unexpected miracle.
After nearly 48 hours of not being able to speak or communicate with anyone, Dad suddenly started talking this afternoon! Kurt and Heather and Sam and Ben were here, along with Uncle Jerry and Aunt Jeanne, Uncle John, and some of our kids. We had an amazing time of talking and laughing and visiting! I’ve attached one of the videos I took of Dad talking to our nephew, Craig, and Hannah and Jonny.
I sent this message to my cousin:
Everyone else left and I was sitting in the room with mom and dad. Mom went over to Dad’s bed and said, “I’m so proud of you! Are you proud of me too?” Dad replied, “Yeah!” Mom asked why he was proud of her and he said, “Because you’re the best wife in the world!”
I can’t get over what a huge miracle this is. Over the past couple of days, my heart was hurting for him because I wondered if he had things he wanted to say to mom, especially, but hadn’t said them before he lost the chance. And mom said this morning when she went home for a bit, she had a meltdown and was telling God she missed hearing Dad’s voice and wished she could hear him talk again. She came back an hour later and he was talking!
However long it lasts, whatever lies ahead, we are thanking God for this amazingly wonderful gift. Trying to remember to carve our blessings in marble and write our trials in sand. ❤️
Once in a while, we witness what has been there all along. The blessings we carve in stone today are of a new home and moments of life spent with those we love. Rabbits hop in my backyard now. May rabbits hop in the yard at the new house, too.
I have been doing a lot of contemplation regarding the healing capability of your mind, body, and spirit. This model of medicine is overlooked by most of us in the U.S. Conversations this week have been with clients, friends, colleagues, and family. Perhaps the real challenge is the military idea of Clear Only If Known (COIK).
Learning about the human energy field changed my life. Not only did I experience relief from chronic pain, I also stepped into my life’s work. If you are new to this blog or want to share the details of my story with someone else who is ready for relief, check out the digital copy of my Freedom from Pain
Two techniques from Healing Touch became mainstays in my health and well-being. These are Track 3 and Track 4 on the Freedom from Pain MP3 audio. (Sample listen: Freedom from Pain.)
I’ve been reading the transcript from a talk given in May 2017 by Barbara Brodsky and Dr. Tavis Taylor. Both Barbara and Tavis are familiar with John of God’s Casa de Dom Inacio in Brazil where many people from all over the world have experienced healing outside of the current medical model. Barbara says the doctors in Ann Arbor wanted to do surgery on her back. She was in pain and was unable to walk. Her words about what she learned in Brazil are telling, “For them to be able to help me, instead of relating to the spine as damaged and something that had to be fixed, I needed to meditate and know the strong perfect spine, to visualize it; to feel places of blocked energy and invite the simultaneity of the flow of energy; to love my spine.”
Richard Bandler says if they can’t see it, they can’t see it. I am so very grateful I was able to see the importance of knowing we are energetic beings. Painful sensations are communications from our bodies. It is possible to love our bodies and see ourselves whole and healthy….
Anything that angers you is teaching you FORGIVENESS and COMPASSION.
Anything that causes you frustration or discouragement is teaching you PATIENCE and ENDURANCE.
~Based on the Law of Attraction
As is so truly the case, as you go about the business/busyness of life, life is presenting you options of learning. That was certainly the case with our garage floor. I have hated our garage floor since we moved into this house in 1977. That is 40 years ago now in April. I have information saved from internet research I did on April 1, 2015: “Fix Your Garage Floor Like the Pros.” Nothing in that article came close to addressing the multiple issues with our floor, and I am very sorry I did not take a photo before DAY 1, which was installing backer core, filling cracks, and patching concrete. This first photo came 30 days later, after the concrete had been allowed to cure, and after powerwashing.
Let me say here how much I appreciate the information people provided along the way. I had never heard of foam backer core to fill the cracks and it is so much more controllable than spray foam which has a tendency to start out like a lamb and end up like a lion. I even made a home visit to see a garage floor which had been done the way we ended up doing ours. It is encouraging to know a real human being has been successful at something you want to do. (Note, “Insert Smiley Face Here”)
The first step (unless you count filling the cracks as number one and waiting a month before power washing number two) is to etch the floor. I am not talking about the classic Etch A Sketch where you could turn the knobs and have everything disappear, I am speaking of using citric acid and a ton of elbow-grease to remove any oil or dirt from the floor.
The next step was to apply KILZ primer to imperfections. Our entire floor could have been considered an imperfection, but I used all I had and said, “This is good enough.” It makes sense to let yourself be content with the way things are. Best not to overthink.
The next step was to paint the concrete block foundation. I spent a lot of time down on my knees. Each step has had its own challenges and learning but is part of the total transformation.
Working in four-foot sections, we rolled on the epoxy coating and applied the paint flecks. Even the directions says not to try to do it alone. In addition to the two of us, I invited a host of angels.
We have to wait a couple of days before putting stuff on the floor, but all through the process I just kept saying, “I love it!”
How like life. Maybe my next book should be “I Learned Everything I Needed to Know in Life from my Garage Floor.”
Namasté can be spoken both when greeting another and when taking leave. The spoken word is most often expressed with a slight bow while holding your hands in prayer pose — hands together, fingers pointed up, and pressing your thumbs slightly into the xiphoid process. I love the word, but the meaning behind the word is even more special. In Hinduism it means, “I bow to the divine in you.”
Even if you don’t yet have a regular yoga practice, you will likely appreciate a recap of our first Yoga/Meditation retreat with Kathy Zerler. We opened the retreat with the foreword from her new book, Creating Love, Joy and Peace, soon to be available!
Creating Love, Joy and Peace combines the culmination of Kathy’s wonderful life’s journey—skillful teacher, gifted writer, and committed human being. She shares brilliantly the philosophy of the yoga of life. Healing, inspiration, information, and hope are woven on to the pages in such clarity they are palpable.
Please join me and let Kathy’s words speak to your sweet spirit. Find yourselves lulled—body, mind, and spirit—back into beauty and balance:
This is your yoga. You are invited—more than that—you are expected to take good care of yourself. Every move is from the inside out.
We’re working every muscle group. Every body part. Gaining flexibility, balance, strength, endurance, and peace of mind. Remember, you are encouraged to stop whenever you feel like you’ve had enough. There’s nothing in this class that is mandatory. There are no grades. There are no pop quizzes. This is for you, right now, and so honor how you are feeling, and do what’s right for you.
You have it all. We have everything we need to take great care of ourselves. Breathe. Let all thoughts pass through as you take a few moments for quiet reflection, allowing your lips to lift up into a smile that is only for you. And let that smile reflex flow through your entire body. You have done well. (long pause…) ~ Debra Basham
A formal hour of practice was followed by a walking meditation, ending up out-of-doors enjoying the Memorial Garden at Caring Circle. The volunteers do an amazing job with the planting and weeding, and the garden contains a peace pole and this incredible wind feature:
Lunch was beyond delicious because of the mindfulness that went into co-creating our vegetarian potluck, including a beautiful and yummy birthday cake for Kathy provided by her sister, Karen:
After our reclining meditation, Kathy led us in a mindful eating exercise using mini “Her-She” chocolate bars. We mindfully selected the variety, holding it and smelling it, unwrapping it slowly, and allowing tiny morsels of chocolate to melt in our mouths. One participant said she had never been so intentional with chocolate!
Kathy provided each of us with a special stone, to keep as a reminder of the benefits of the day of yoga and meditation and mindfulness.
Our day was honored and ended by group sharing and although not everyone was still there when we thought to take our group photo, you can easily see we each lifted our lips up into a smile and let that smile reflex flow through our entire body. Thank you to our wonderful yoga teacher, Kathy Zerler, to Diana Collins from Caring Circle, and to each of these amazing women who took time to take good care of ourselves in body, mind, and spirit.
(Note* Kathy teaches Gentle/Restorative/Hatha Yoga at the YMCA and at 815 Main Street in St. Joseph. Let me know if you would like more information about her classes, the next retreat, and/or her new book!)
(If you are signed up to receive blog updates by email, remember to follow the link at the bottom so you can see the photos. These are ones you will not want to miss!)
I was riding my bike to yoga at the Y on Tuesday when a driver failed to grant me the right-of-way. I ride a lot and am usually sufficiently aware, but this time I took a nasty spill.
WARNING: graphic photos!
I am so grateful to the two drivers who saw what happened and stopped, and to “Doctor” Kathy Zerler and fellow students for patching me up and helping me get through class. I was able to ride my bike home and see a client before I knew I needed emergency trauma treatment.
I had major road rash on my right elbow and wrist, and although I had little visible damage there it was my left elbow that was in excruciating pain. Words cannot express how much I appreciate Leah Ke at Lakeshore Acupuncture for staying at the end of her day and treating me. One needle going in to my right knee to treat my left elbow resulted in a scream that she said could have brought down the roof. “That is the point,” she calmly said, as I sobbed. I was shaking inside from a full adrenaline rush. Leah sent me home with herbs and I fell into bed exhausted from the day. During the night it was difficult to turn over, to get down or up, and I hurt all over. I could not get myself up from the toilet seat, so I just straddled the bowl.
Wednesday morning I struggled getting dressed with only one arm, could only use my right hand to brush my teeth and hair. I could not get my left hand to my face, and just carrying my arm was a challenge when I went for a walk. Through all of this, waves of compassion for those who have lost an arm or lost the use of an arm would wash over me. My heart felt raw with a sense of the blessing that I had no broken bones and the knowing my bruises and scrapes would heal.
As I walked along with my left arm in the makeshift sling of my fanny pack, a past-life surged forth in full-blown cellular memory: My father was a senator in ancient Rome. We were in a balcony overlooking a courtyard where below a Christian was being persecuted. I raised my arm and yelled out in protest. My behavior brought shame to my father, so to save face he was unable to prevent my being punished. The punishment? Having my arm crushed!
Last week I was reminded of a past life where my brother and I physically fought over the inheritance of our father’s kingdom: I cut off his arm and he cut off my head, we both died.
Instantly, I felt the connection of these events to this current injury. “All time is in all time,” I could hear Angel Gail Konz saying. No past, no present, no future, just this eternal moment. You may have heard the saying everything that ever was is, and everything that will ever be also is. I knew the truth in my core. Karma was being released through this experience.
Now, this is the most amazing part.
I slept comfortably Wednesday night and Thursday morning I was able to use my left arm!
The acupuncture and herbs administered by Leah were a key component to my rapid recovery but I also recognize the trauma that was released when I screamed out during the acupuncture was not just the current trauma. It was ancient….
Three days after the bike accident, the bruises on my hands are totally dissipated and I have absolutely no residual injury in my left arm.
The scrapes and the bruises on my knees and legs are still healing. I imagine we are all healing on all levels for all time. I was so blessed we can see that clearly this week.
“Best not flirt with disaster, lest it decide to commit.”
“Take two opposites, connect the dots, and you have a straight line.”
These are a few of the pithy wisdoms included in Where Epics Fail, an upcoming book of aphorisms from Egyptian-American poet Yahia Lababidi, who also said, “Poets, thinkers and artists do not really teach, but remind us of what we already know.”
This was certainly the case on Sunday, May 21, 2017, when I was honored as guest minister at St. John’s UCC church in New Buffalo, Michigan. The title of the sermon was, “The Light that is You.”
I opened with a story from way back in the days of full-service gas stations, about a minister who waited in line to have his car filled with gas just before a long holiday weekend. The attendant, a member of the church, worked quickly, but there were many cars lined up ahead of the minister.
Finally, the attendant motioned the minister toward a vacant pump. “Reverend,” said the young man, “sorry about the delay. It seems as if everyone waits until the last minute to get ready for a long trip.”
The minister laughed and responded, “I know what you mean. It’s the same in my business.”
In the perfect style of aphorisms, the sermon was summed up by this wonderful image on the bulletin cover, selected by Sandy Orange:
I was blessed to share the work of some wonderful writers, including Zan Lombardo’s poem “EVERYTHING IS INDEED REACHING OUT TO EVERYTHING ELSE” that is done in calligraphy along the bottom of her amazing 30-foot watercolor (See: Three Sylables), and “Social Ethics,” a poignant opinion article by Kathy Zerler which had recently been published in our local newspaper.
Confessing that I have already created my own eulogy so I can feel honored while I am still here living this life, and to save my loved ones from having to work to do it when I transition, from that I shared “When I’m Gone,” a poem by Mrs. Lyman Hancock, and “Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep,” written in 1932 by Mary Frye.
Kathy, my sister-from-another-mister, was with me at church on Sunday, so she got to hear me read her piece. Following the service, Kathy blessed me with the most delicious lunch at Pierre Anne Crȇperie. An authentic French restaurant in a charming Victorian home has been there for 19 years waiting for me to discover it. I am still feeling the lingering effects…
From the sermon:
Our lives live on. Our lives are important. Children watch how we live. And children watch how we deal with death. We can live in ways that teach children death is not the absence of goodness, nor the absence of beauty. Perhaps life and death can each be seen as the place where true beauty can be known.
Death is the only inevitability we all face.
It seems only fitting to close this blog with another powerful aphorism that reminds us of what we already know—this one found on the St. John’s UCC web page:
Never place a period where God has placed a comma…
It was Mother’s Day as I grabbed a sufficient amount of time to sit with the deeply personal, and profoundly honest Dramatic Dialogue poem of a writer/colleague/friend. This poem was her response to a recent hurtful encounter with her husband after the tip of his favorite fishing rod was broken off when she accidentally shut it in the car door in the pouring rain.
As is so often the case, I did not yet know how relevant the words I wrote to my friend would become for me later in the day.
My heart reaches out to both of you. For you, the value of taking responsibility for your own emotional safety, and for your husband his ability to recognize the larger value of a “person” over a “possession.”
This has been a learning for me in this lifetime, too.
For years I had a favorite ink pen at work. It was very unique. This pen didn’t have a round barrel like others, this one was shaped like a hexagon. The barrel was yellow, and the logo from Turtle Backs (garments) was worn nearly completely off.
I had purchased many refill cartridges for this special pen.
In a culture where people walked off with other people’s pens all the time, I liked this one especially because it was obviously “mine.”
I still remember the day my special pen was lost.
I was out to dinner on a Friday evening with my husband, his four adult brothers and their spouses and children, and my mother- and father-in-law. I know the exact location of the restaurant and the occasion for the gathering. And I remember it was my brother-in-law who borrowed my pen to sign the check.
It wasn’t until Monday morning that I realized my pen had not been returned.
My father- and mother-in-law are no longer in body. My brother-in-law is going through treatment for stage-four lung cancer.
It was many years later before I would realize I held myself responsible for not thinking to get the pen before I left the restaurant.
One of my spiritual teachers compassionately expresses the truth that all anger is essentially anger of the self.
Some days I still miss that pen, and when that feeling comes, I let my own tender underbelly soften. Today I shed a few tears for all the other times and other circumstances where we fail to forgive ourselves sufficiently to have compassion for another.
Just hours after this sincere reflection and sharing, the pattern showed itself in spades. My grandson popped some leftovers in the micro. I snapped, “NOT in that container,” as I grabbed it out, putting the contents into a proper bowl. I could see the emotional pain in his whole body. I apologized, but also had to make my point about other people in the family doing the same thing.
A few stressful words with my son-in-law were the rapid-fire result of my critical comments.
For that one moment I knew I had put possessions first. Fortunately, I also knew that is not my true value. I was instantly disappointed with my unwholesome behavior. The cost? Rather than enjoying time with people who are so precious to me, I had to give myself a time out.
Have you noticed that as your awareness increases, old patterns often show up in your life again so you can appreciate your progress? What a powerful Mother’s Day this one has turned out to be!
Tonight, I hold back the tears, but tears the overflowing love and gratitude for those in my life who forgive me when I am not at my best so I can forgive myself, too.
I am profoundly thankful to have had a sweet text exchange with my son-in-law earlier this evening. We were both able to affirm our affection and appreciation for one another. I signed off with the gospel truth, “I love you guys. You mean so much more than any stinking old Tupperware!”
We almost won money at the Trivia night at Bob’s BBQ in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. Our grandson, Brad, is the MC for the Thursday evening game. The play-off question was when Mother’s Day had become an official holiday. I guessed 1923. The other team guessed 1922. It was really 1914.
I am not at all sure why 1923 popped into my mind, but the moment I said it, John said, “That is the year my mom was born.” Is it possible her spirit influenced my guess? I am not sure, but I do have those sorts of connections happen often.
A few weeks ago, I met with a couple. He asked me if I thought I had some sort of gift beyond what I have been trained in. My response was, “I hope I do.”
Every day we have opportunity to decide what we are going to believe about life.
John and I were on our way to Tennessee late Wednesday evening. We were just north of Nashville, driving South on I-65, when we saw a line of taillights strung across all five lanes. John began to slow down when he realized what was going on. “They are about to do a race!” Sure enough, those drivers were lining up to run a quarter mile.
Right in the middle of the thoughts about how dangerous, careless, and selfish a choice to do that on the highway was, I heard those car engines peal out. I was transported back to my adolescence and could only speak the truth, “There was a time when that sound was more pleasurable to me than an orgasm.”
One thing I know for sure, right in the midst of whatever difficult, dangerous, or despicable event that is happening is something more. As my brother-in-law goes through cancer treatment he is surrounded by family and friends who care. Many contributed to a fund-raiser. Most say prayers. Some visit.
Ryan Jon knows he was adopted. He posted an amazing video on FaceBook to his birth mother thanking her for making the difficult choices to give him his life. He wanted her to know he appreciates her and wishes her a happy Mother’s Day.
Whatever Mother’s Day or drag racing means to you personally, take some time to reflect on the gifts right in the midst of any rough spots. What are the odds we would be at that exact spot on the highway at the exact moment those cars were lining up to race…. Chances are the chances are very slim, but we were at the right spot at the right time. Knowing that moment to moment is even better than an orgasm!
Listening to a podcast titled “Empty Out the Negative” by Joel Olsteen this morning has my process stirred. Of course, that stirring began before today. A few days ago, as the sorting, purging, packing and staging continued here on Lincoln Avenue, I found the following penciled-in note in the back of my first NIV bible. A bible gifted to me by my friend Rick, who has since died of AIDS.
My precious notes are barely legible but an internet search attributed a significant quotation to Dr. Ray Anderson, published in Proclaiming the Scandal of the Cross: Contemporary Images of the Atonement, page 147, by Mark D. Baker:
Shame is the perceived loss of our place with others. Those who have the power to create our history have the power to make us feel worthy or unworthy at the core of our being. Since our being is dependent upon how others view us, we feel shame as loss of being. It is this deep sense of shame, which seems to deprive us of our very right to exist, that drives many over the edge of guilt to suicide.
Shame is a sense I have been all too familiar with in this life. Many of you know the story of my conception and birth and teenage pregnancy (Loved and Wanted: Listen to Your Mother Southwest Michigan 2016). The idea of our need to empty out the negative in order to enjoy the positive is what I appreciated most in Olseen’s podcast.
If your life is filled with frustration, anger, sadness, resentment, guilt or any other unpleasant emotional states, little space is left for life to fill in all the good stuff. Olsteen offered the metaphor of a catheter draining the body of toxins to our need to release stored toxic emotions through forgiveness.
I agreed wholeheartedly with Olsteen that forgiveness is something you do for yourself, not for the one thought to have done you wrong. However, him saying we don’t have to seek vindication because God is the judge drew my heart back to a line at the bottom of the page of penciled notes: “Remember Christ died for my sins, not because of them.”
While releasing toxic emotions, best to let go of any stubborn toxic theology, too.
I love organization. I enjoy cleaning, sorting, packing. For me, it is the same process as putting together a jigsaw puzzle. It takes time, observation, and patience.
We are getting our home ready for putting it on the market. It has been a wonderful home with a beautiful yard. We would like to downsize, preferring to not have an acre to take care of. To help us, we had an amazing woman walk through and make suggestions and share tips.
Since you end up packing things you want to keep, she suggested using clear totes to see what is inside. I chose ones with a strip of foam in the lid for keeping out moisture (and critters). This was especially important for books and important papers, including almost 50 years of journals!
Thinking ahead to living in a potentially smaller home, I have been using a process of mindfulness in determining what to keep, what to pack, and what to keep out for staging. It is a time for casting off. Boxes of books have been taken to the local resale shop. Papers so important at some time in the past have filled the recycle bin to overflowing. Significant trinkets are now being given away.
A woman was being moved out of her home into assisted living due to what was then called memory problems. Pointing to a beautiful painting of the Lord’s Supper that had been hanging in that dining room for two generations, her daughter asked if she wanted to take it with her. Her mom waved her hand and shook her head no, saying, “I am sure at one time I knew all of them, but I don’t recognize a one of them anymore…”
I still remember.
I could not stand the thought of packing away what has become a life-altar, gifts and representations of special people and places and ideas I value. (See my recent post: Treasures)
I was inspired by a beautiful pottery piece gifted to me by my sister Janis recently for time assisting her settling in to their new home. This pottery was special, made by her dear friend, Louie, in the gallery Janis had in the home that had belonged to our parents. His pottery was a perfect foundation for all the messages of love, inspiration, healing. Elements of rock, shell, wood, gems, and paper—all harmoniously gathering!
It was pure joy to witness each finding space. And best of all, the doors can be closed, allowing privacy for my treasures and an appropriate simplicity to welcome the new owners!
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