Category: Eldercare

Mountain Magick

Sunday morning, I woke with the rising sun. My host was already up preparing breakfast for the guests who were departing after a full day at the Scottish Highland Games. I took my coffee onto the porch to greet the misty mountains. I wanted to sing them a song, and was reminded of the Cherokee Morning Song that we recorded with Amulet Choir in the late nineties. It felt appropriate, being so close to the Cherokee National Forest. I bowed to the majesty of these ancient motherly mountains. My affection for this land is boundless.

Sing along with us!

I spent some time listening to the birds that responded to my choir. I love the diversity and the joy. Sometimes it sounds as if they might be telling a joke when another replies with a twitter. (Ugh… that word has taken on new meaning these days, and it kind of turns my stomach. Sad.)

Sitting down to breakfast with a group of travelers and kindred spirits is so heartwarming. If you have the opportunity to stay at a Bed and Breakfast in lieu of a hotel, I hope you will take the time to connect with your fellow guests. You will surely be reminded of the goodness in the world, despite the chaos and sorrow presented by each newscast. What a blessing.

The GPS offered three routes from Banner Elk to Asheville, NC, and I chose the path that took me through the most greenery. The path wound through roads canopied with sheltering trees, through farmland, and small towns featuring waterfalls and antique shops. The ninety minute journey delivered me to my favorite art city, and there I found three of my favorite humans from Tennessee waiting at Malaprop’s Book Shop.

Two of we four ventured to Asheville for the first time in 1993 on a mountain retreat, and we both fell in love with the energy, the art, and the culture in this sacred place. Our first stop was at Woolworth Walk, where an old dime store has been converted into a gallery for multiple local artists. I have a few favorites there, and make it a priority to see what new creations are on display and for sale.

Though this trip was randomly scheduled based on best timing to be away from my parents, divine timing would, for the second time in two years, find me in town for “The Big Crafty” art festival in Pack Square. What a blessing to find my favorite local artist there in person! Though my art budget is smaller than it once was, I could not resist selecting a few pieces of her whimsical folk art to come home with me.

My artistic ability is limited to words, so I have such reverence for those who have the ability to literally paint a picture that captures the heart. Deona Fish is the mother of Sleepy Little Dreams Studio, and her spirit is as nurturing and kind as the art she creates. I learned that she follows my blog, and we planted seeds of a partnership of words to mirror and inspire her magickal creatures. Oh, how I long to work for art!

The boys and I had lunch at Moose Cafe and stopped at the farmers’ market out back. The food is good country cooking with portions that could feed you for days. I left with a box and enjoyed my meatloaf again while back on my mountain porch later that night. It was such a gift to have time with these people I adore.

As I prepared to return to Banner Elk, I confirmed with another friend an address and timing for a visit. This is where the beauty of facebook comes in. We were colleagues from back in 2004 when he supported an executive search for my boss. I knew he had a home in the mountains, but never dreamed that we might be here at the same time. Further, I had not realized that his summer home was in the same place as the friends with whom I am staying. It was an extraordinary treat to be able to spend a few hours sharing our mutual stories of respect for one another and those we have served, while looking out over the most beautiful landscape I’ve ever known.

As much as social media has complicated the world, with a certain kind of screen addiction and the burden of having bad news and poor behavior broadcast into the palm of your hand, it has also been such a gift of connectedness. I announced my safe arrival, and he reached. Two souls blessed to care about one another were reunited and joy was shared. To me, any complaint fades for this gratitude. I texted the two retired leaders we both supported with a photo to let them know we were speaking fondly of them. Each texted back with their regards and photos of their own. Now retired five years and ten… after sacrificing so much to a corporation, they are living fully in the moment enjoying the company of their families. We couldn’t be happier for where each of us are right now. I am grateful.

Shortly after my return to the B&B, my hosts entered with family members who had arrived earlier for a weekend visit. Once again, I was delighted by the love one can feel, even in a room of new acquaintances. This is clearly what our world is missing, this kind of mindful connection. We need to gather in living rooms rather than chat rooms, and we need to share stories that make us laugh and cry. We need to give and receive hugs and bear witness to the divine truth of one another. We need to reach out to Mother Nature and feel Her embrace.

Monday delivered a glorious visit with another friend who lives atop a mountain nearby. I love the way that we feel safe and free to speak our thruths and be authentic, despite the passing of time and the burden of distance. If you have even one friend with whom you can be real, without judgment and feel affirmed, you are blessed, indeed.

After four nights away, it was time to drive home to my beloveds on Tuesday. It was difficult to leave the lap of nurturing that I found in Banner Elk, but I knew that I would be back in just a few months. My ten hour drive was surprisingly pleasant. I really do enjoy my own company these days. Who would’a thunk it?

My mom told me that they realized while I was away just how much easier I have made their lives. So, more than respite was found in my brief escape to care for the caregiver. I was so happy to see their smiling faces when I walked through their door. It made me feel even more grateful for the blessings we share at this moment in our lives. And then, there was the love-fest that ensued upon entering my own front door. Morgan, my little-old-lady-kitty greeted me with great affection, and all was right with the world, once again. Sometimes it feels like we are holding our breath, but didn’t know it until we are reunited with those souls that make us who we are, doesn’t it?

For me, the mountains are magickal. They help me to breathe deeper, and they remind me of the plethora of beauty that nature provides. Having the opportunity to disconnect from responsibility and reconnect with friends who remind us that we are much more than the roles we may fill in the mundane moments of our daily lives is absolutely necessary for our wellness.

Be WELL, dear ones. Whatever makes you feel connected and full awaits your time and notice. Make the wellness of your sacred soul a priority. You are so worthy. Thank you for walking this path with me.

Amulet Choir Music is Here: https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/amuletpaganchoir?fbclid=IwAR1FadEI1FTZY4QPFoUwJjJ6GnI8EsY33ANLFwhaNjAceR-tPhRXGr_Fjnw

A wonderful B&B in Banner Elk, NC is Here:
https://www.thepointebandb.com/

What an extraordinary backyard!

Caregiver Respite

Yesterday, I drove eleven hours to reach my nirvana. Before chosen as a somewhat popular band name, this was the transcendent state in which there is neither suffering, desire, nor sense of self – the final goal of Buddhism. In the symbolic sense, I find these things not at ocean’s edge (only an hour from my home), but on mountain top. In the Blue Ridge Mountains, my soul finds peace, renewal, and rebirth.

My parents and I have fallen into such a lovely routine of presence and connectedness, that it was difficult to find the right timing for my absence, but as it often does, the universe conspired for my highest good and everything fell into place. My friends with a Bed &Breakfast in Banner Elk, NC had one bed available, my brother planned a weekend visit with the folks, and suddenly my worries about abandoning my cat and my parents were lifted.

I once dreaded a long drive, even with a friend, for the tedious nature of the journey… trying to stay awake, stopping to pee in a public restroom, the way the body rebels from prolonged sitting / riding. But in recent years, I’ve learned to love such a journey, even solo. Yesterday, I enjoyed eleven hours of introspection.

I listened to an audiobook on spirituality, then needed more stimulation, so I sang along with the cast of Hamilton, and then spent some time with Alexander Hamilton’s biography (also on audiobook), which informed Lin Manuel Miranda’s epic Broadway show. I found myself wishing there had been such art available in my youth, for learning about history would have been even more interesting to me if I could hum the tune.

I am grateful that I am able to find just as much joy in solitude as I do with great company. Maybe I have become the change I most wish to see in the world.

I arrived at The Pointe B&B at North View just before dinner time, after leaving home at 6:06am. Oh, the glory of walking into open loving arms after a long drive. I was informed that four of the seven other guests were teachers and one was a childhood friend of our hostess. They had grown up together and had gone all the way through school, but had not seen each other in thirty years. This ‘business’ has delivered the prosperity of reunion to my dear friend. The peace in her heart is tangible, and I am grateful.

After dinner, I learned more about the teacher-guests. They live near the DC area, and if you’ve ever seen video footage of the T-Rex protesting the President in front of the White House, well… you’ll know that I have been blessed to meet a few remarkable and energetic beings who carry humor for protection during difficult times, this weekend. It turns out that this group of friends drove down to attend the Scottish Highland Games on Grandfather Mountain. And of course… we learned that we share a common world view, spiritual path, and even world travel experience. We are kindred. It was difficult to turn down the invitation to join them for the games, but I reminded myself that I have come here to reconnect with the spirit that lives in the woods. Men in kilts will have to wait for another day.

I am sitting in a napping porch swing with my laptop, looking out at a mountain range, listening to the wind in the leaves and various bird call, bearing witness to bees and chipmunks in the yard. It is glorious. This is how my soul finds renewal… in the majesty of Mother Nature, in Her form of ancient, voluptuous, undulating mountain curves and folds. She allows me to sit in Her lap as She gently strokes my hair, and I am at peace. There are grey clouds above and I am hoping to add the sound of mountain rain to my weekend soundtrack.

On my drive, I was thinking about a sweet friend who is facing some health concerns. She has been having trouble sleeping lately, and reached out for support. On that road I drove, which sometimes presented obstacles, I started writing a meditation for her in my mind. What was to be a 9.5 hour drive (per google maps) ended up being an 11 hour journey. Most of the road was smooth and delightfully free-flowing. But once in a while there were obstacles. Some stops were just to empty my bladder and keep going, but then there was… South Carolina. It is the only stretch of I-95 I’ve driven that instantly changes at the border… shrinking down to two lanes in each direction. An accident that didn’t even block the road cost all drivers an extra 40 minutes as everyone slowed down to look, and there was nowhere for a non-nosy driver to pass.

When my friend was given a diagnosis and learned surgery was required, an obstacle was presented in the form of a heart concern. So, she has been momentarily diverted and things have slowed down to ensure she stays safe. But soon, the obstacle will be behind her and the road ahead will be free-flowing once again. She may need to stop for gas or to empty her bladder, but the road will patiently await her eager return to the path of discovery and freedom.

What a blessing it is that we all get to share our sacred journeys with the hearts of others. How lovely to seek healing and respite and to find it in the embrace of those we love. What wonder to be nourished and nurtured by a joyful welcome, deep sharing, caring inquiry, and in the honor of holding space for one another. In my heart, I know that THIS is the meaning of life. We are the universe made manifest in human form for the delight of being touched.

I look up to see two souls at play, a small bird and a chipmunk at the edge of the yard. What a shame it would be to be in the presence of such grace and miss the point.

For the moment, I am comforted to know that my most important beings are caring for one another back home, while I am doing the necessary work of caring for the caregiver (that’s me). When I get home, we will get dad ready for a surgery that will hopefully bring comfort, but will also require closer care through recovery. I am recharging my battery and will be ready to serve with presence, patience, reverence and grace. (so mote it be)

I’m planning to close this sacred writing tool and relax on the napping swing for a while. The meditation for my friend, to help her rest, will solidify in my mind to be written and recorded, and later, my hosts and I will ride down the mountain to share a meal. We are all eager to hear the Highland Tales of my fellow guests around the fire this evening. Until then… Slainte! (Gaelic – “To Your Good Health!”)

Thank you for walking this path with me. I’m so happy you are here.

If you’d like to join us, you can book your stay at: https://www.thepointebandb.com/

View from The Pointe B&B at North View, Banner Elk, NC

The Weight of Grief

Today, I feel heavy. I feel it in my chest, as if I must push out every breath. I feel it in my joints and fascia. Everything hurts today. Even my fingers hurt as I type.

There has been news this week of a friend who lost her husband suddenly and without warning. His departure is tragically similar to the loss suffered by another friend, who is painfully triggered by these events. At the same time that this news arrived, I learned that my former work partner’s sixteen year old granddaughter has not been seen or heard from in four days (as of today). The presence of my sixteen year old grandniece, who is staying with me this week, brings this sense of fear and concern even closer to my awareness.

On top of this heartbreak is the continued witness of my father’s physical decline. Only seven houses away, I got the call yesterday that he needed help. He had fallen on the way to the bathroom, and mom was able to get the Indeelift to him, so that he could use the electronic device to bring him from the floor to a seated position, but he was not strong enough to stand from there, and they needed help.

I helped him to the toilet and while he was there, we checked his blood pressure. It was surprisingly normal despite not having taken the pill that is prescribed to elevate his low blood pressure, we suspect due to the trauma and stress of the fall and effort to rise. His elbow was bleeding.

When we got him safely back into his recliner, I gave him a handful of pills from his morning pill box and fixed him a bagel and coffee. His head was hurting, so I encouraged consumption of caffeine to wait for the tylenol to kick in.

My grandniece called from my house to be sure he was okay. She was worried that I’d been gone so long. When she arrived a week ago, she shared that she felt dad was depressed because he didn’t seem excited to see her. I told him about it later that night, when I went over to ‘tuck them in’ (how I refer to being sure their doors are closed and locked, and everyone has what they need before bed), and he seemed to become more engaged with each of her visits. They taught themselves how to play poker via a Youtube video, and I think he rather enjoyed winning, most of the foreign coins I had given them to use in lieu of poker chips, as he beat her at several hands. We are going to miss her so much when she goes home.

My soul-daughter stopped by for a visit this morning, and this month marks the third anniversary of her boyfriend’s death in a car accident. She was feeling anxious being back in town, where they had grown up together, and we spent some time talking about grief.

For me, when my father’s soul decides to leave this earthly realm, I will experience my most significant loss. We discussed the importance of this time that he and I have together, to get to know one another in a more intimate way. It almost feels as if we have only known each other on the surface for the past 50 years. Now, we have dedicated time to understand the deeper truths within, even if not on a conscious level. Lately, it feels like I’ve been getting to know his stubborn and defiant inner child, and I love him just the same.

My intuitive soul-daughter tells me that what I feel right now, this ache for the unknown future – a sort of pre-grieving, will be the worst part. She feels that as things progress that I will find strength to be present and serve each situation with grace. This part of our story will be an important part of my becoming. I hope she’s right about finding strength.

Sometimes I feel like crying, but the tears won’t come. I recognized the other day that I was feeling like I did when I was an executive assistant supporting my beloved boss through a very difficult time in our corporate history. I felt that I could not be away from the office, because it would be a hardship for her to feel unsupported. I had five weeks of vacation, but would only take time off if she went away.

Dad has surgery scheduled for the end of July. I feel the need for a break, but am struggling with the idea of being an hour away, let alone the ten-hour distance of the place that fills me up. And yet I know that I will be a better caregiver with that respite. Whatever his recovery may require, I will be stronger and healthier to be present for both of my parents, if I make my own self-care a priority.

So, I am nervously making plans for a mini-vacation. I had planned to take my grandniece north to see the fireflies, but it seems the universe is pushing me toward another solitary journey (she has to return home earlier than planned). I suspect introspection comes easier for me that way, and that’s where I do my best work… it is an inside job.

I know that my parents will be fine while I’m gone. At least mom says they will be fine. Dad says: “Speak for yourself!” I’m afraid he won’t take his pills each morning and night. I’m afraid he won’t ask for what he needs. They are both forgetful, and I’ve arrived some evenings and asked what he had to eat, and neither of them realized he hadn’t really had anything since breakfast.

I’m afraid he’ll fall and they will have trouble getting him back to his feet. I’m afraid of the fear and loneliness he might feel in the moments he realizes that I am not answering his call for help… and now I have arrived at the core of where we are. [pushing breath through heavy lungs]

Harville Hendrix says that our core wound of abandonment comes from the first time we cry out for our parents from the crib, and our cry goes unanswered. At that stage, we need our parents for sheer survival, not to mention all of the other good stuff they provide. That’s not to say that my dad needs me for his survival, but I certainly don’t want him to ever feel abandoned. His body is betraying him at every turn, and I don’t plan to contribute to that turmoil, if at all possible.

This also reminds me of the month that I cared for my grandniece when she was 18-months old. Her mother and grandparents had to be away, and she would cry if I left the room. I was painfully aware of the status of her feelings of abandonment, so I would carry her with me to the bathroom if she woke up before I’d had time for my morning tinkle. I would have done anything to keep her from feeling abandoned. Did I mention that empathy is my number one strength? Sigh…

If I am to practice what I preach, I will be sure to care for the caregiver. One of the many blessings of friendship is that when we are in need, those who love us will rise to our service. One friend has offered a beautiful space for my escape, and another has offered to stay in my home while I’m away, so that my parents may call and still have someone at the door within two minutes to offer support.

I have a candle lit as a beacon to bring my friend’s granddaughter safely home, and I am working on a ritual to support and nurture the transition of my friend’s husband who has gone too soon. I know that they, too, are feeling the loving kindness of friends and loved ones who would do anything to make everything alright again, and I am believing in the very best possible outcome for one and all.

An oracle card that crossed my screen today (from The Universe Has Your Back, reads: “I find a deeper meaning and personal growth amid the discomfort.” And boy do I feel uncomfortable right now. So many of us are suffering that it seems to be manifesting in tangible ways, be it body aches, troubled sleep, or a needed reminder to just breathe. Surely we are being encouraged to offer more kindness to ourselves and others.

The other message that rose today was Layla from Alana Fairchild’s Rumi Oracle. [paraphrasing] She informs us that in the darkness, there is the path. She urges us not to turn from it, but to sit with it… this lack of knowing. Anything about us that is untrue will be annihilated in this darkness. This darkness is essential for the appearance of the light that is on its way. She suggests that we welcome the darkness of our grief and suffering, and bear witness. We must allow the unfolding of the interplay of the darkness and the light for the enhancement of our own growth process, and here we shall also find joy.

Wouldn’t it be nice if growth didn’t have to hurt so much? If you find yourself walking through darkness right now, I hope that you know you are not alone. Take my hand, dear one. Together we shall bear witness to the darkness, and move forward into the light. Thank you for walking this path with me.

From The Universe Has Your Back Oracle Cards

Witness to Waning

I watch her from across the room and see her stumble. She seems a bit wobbly this week, and I feel helpless. I pick her up and shower her with kisses, as I smooth out the water trapped in the fur of her forehead, spreading it into the fur of her neck and shoulders – an impromptu bath. I noticed this trend of dipping her head in the stream of water coming through the spout of her water fountain about the same time that the head tremor appeared. She is the fifth cat for whom I’ve had sole responsibility in my adult life, and I still crave the understanding of KSL [kitty sign language].

The workshops that I am developing and sharing this year are based on the changing seasons and how, just like nature, we humans move through cycles in our lives. It is a practice in mindfulness, to take notice of what is happening around us and what is happening within us. Using the garden metaphor, our year takes us from planting a seed, to sprouting and growth, to blossom and fruit, to harvest, and finally to rest – before the cycle begins again.

Much like the seasons move through a rise and fall throughout the solar year, so does the moon through the lunar month.

In the life of a beloved pet (in my case, a sweet cat named Morgan), the new moon would welcome a suckling kitten – brand new and filled with sweetness and hope. The two weeks that fall between the new moon and the full moon are the waxing time of life, as they become feisty, playful, adventurous, curious and a little destructive. When the moon is full, the cat is a healthy adult. This phase feels like it shines for a good long time, until one day… the light gradually begins to pour out of the cup of the moon. In the waning phase of moon and cat, things begin to change. They start to lose weight and you can feel the sharpness of bone through their fur. Health issues start to appear. Getting them to eat well is a struggle. And suddenly, you realize that you are only months, weeks, or days from dark moon.

The parallels in the health of my cats and the health of my father are not lost on me. Gwydion was with me for thirteen years, and in his waning year, my father was suffering an undiagnosed B12 deficiency. Several trips to Mayo clinic failed to recognize the elephant in the blood work, and by the time a local neurologist discovered it, permanent nerve damage was done. That was in 2008. The same year that Gwydion developed some kind of cancer, and as we were boosting Dad’s B12 to help him grow stronger, I was coming to terms with letting my boy go.

Now, in 2019 I see my kitty stumble, and reflect on the state of my father’s struggle to stand and walk without falling. Once again, the cup of the moon pours out Her light… and I can feel darkness descending.

The lives of our pets are fleeting in comparison to our own lengthy stay upon planet Earth. So really, my father is in the waning part of the year… maybe late autumn, while Morgan is in the waning part of the moon, like the waning crescent. Somehow it helps, I think, to view our lives this way. A continuous cycle of change. I know each year with the emerging spring, that winter will come again. (In Florida, that can be enormously comforting.)

With all of the reading I’ve done on death and dying, and with greater understanding of the way that energy and consciousness (that which we are beyond this earthly shell) moves through space and time, my approach to nurturing both Morgan and Dad is more mindful.

If either of them does not want to eat, I offer an alternative. If they refuse that option, I let them be. I will treat for comfort, but I will not put either of them through anything that will be traumatic with the intention of prolonging life. Great clarity was attained in my reading of Stephen Jenkinson’s Die Wise, and the painful awareness of his palliative care patients who ultimately felt resentful for prolonged dying. His style is poetic and blunt, so it’s not the easiest read, but it is honest and insightful.

Dad and Morgan can both be quite stubborn. Getting Morgan to take her medicine or eat her food is often a struggle, while she is quite good at water consumption. I don’t have to worry about dehydration, at least. Dad, on the other hand… consumes very little liquid, because getting up to empty his bladder requires so much effort. At least I can easily get him to tip his head back while I dump a hand full of pills into his mouth. I remind him every once in a while that dehydration means a hospital visit, but then I drop it.

Learning to have healthy boundaries means respecting the autonomy of others. My approach to caring for my waning beloveds is more about presence and holding space than fixing things. When it is time for each to go… they will go. We are all meant to go at some point, after all. I can do nothing to stop them. What I can do… is love them. I can love them when they are sweet, and I can love them when they are cranky. I can love them when they move easily to my will and good intentions, and I can love them through their resistance.

My personal practice of mindful presence is to do my best to take notice of changes, to ask for help if I need it, and to offer pathways toward comfort and peace. At least in Dad’s case, I can ask him if something we are doing is helpful or bothersome. Most of the time he isn’t really sure, but there is always comfort in knowing you are not making it worse.

With Morgan, it is harder. Bargaining with a cat is complicated, and the only way I can determine if something is helping is if her behavior changes. When she turns her nose up at the same food she ate with gusto yesterday, I don’t know what has changed or how to make it better. There are days when I have five different kinds of food down for her and dump it all the next day, barely touched. I consult with her doctor periodically, and I try each suggestion. At the end of the day, we don’t seem to be making much of a difference. And so I return to my practice… and hold her close.

Imagining the beauty of the moon in the night sky, even at the noon hour, I love the way She makes me feel. She reflects the radiance of the Sun and illuminates the darkness. I guess that’s what our pets do for us, isn’t it? They illuminate our personal darkness. They are bringers of light. They add beauty and magick to our lives like nothing else my mind can gather. Even when the moon is dark, I know that She is there and I can feel her pull my internal tides… just as I sit in the living room now, while Morgan is at the library window… I can feel her pulling my heart ever to her own. I will hate to see her go.

Even facing the inevitable, fifth great loss in 27 years, I wouldn’t change a thing. It turns out that it really is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.

When Morgan’s brother died four years ago, our veterinarian sent us a card, sharing our grief. The quote within captures this feeling so well:

“We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached. Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way. We cherish memory as the only certain immortality, never fully understanding the necessary plan…”

The Once Again Prince, from “Separate Life Times” by Irving Townsend

Being of service has always been my joy. Getting to serve my most beloved beings throughout their waning phase of life is not only my joy, but also my privilege and great honor. Their immortality is assured in the radiant fullness of my cherished memories.

Thank you for walking this path with me.

Reflecting on Fruition

Sometimes we plant seeds in our sacred gardens without any idea of what they might yield. What kind of seed is this? Will it grow up to be tall or broad? Will it bear sustenance or beauty? Will it be a vine that wraps around the sharp edges of garden wall, weaving lush beauty into a blanket of gratitude? When we dream of a joyful future, we may not always have a clear picture of what that should look like, but if we’re doing it right – we will take notice of the glorious ways it takes root in its becoming.

I’ve been starting each morning with a review of ‘this day in history’ of my facebook posts. It’s an interesting practice of mindfulness. It shows me where I’ve been and reminds me of how far I’ve come. Mostly, I look for a good quote that I may have posted as far back as ten years ago. It is my morning meditation, to take that quote and place it onto a photograph that seems to fit that feeling. I do it with an app on my cell phone while lying in bed, usually before 7am.

Today’s memories carried me back to two significant moments in time. Four years ago, I orchestrated the final retirement event for one of the three most important bosses I’ve been blessed to support. And six years before that, on this date, I was setting her up in the office of her predecessor, who had graciously stepped aside. He planned his retirement for six months later, to remain present to support her transition into a pretty big role. These two leaders taught me so much about respect and caring – as they cared for one another’s success, and as they each cared for me. As each departed for retirement, I was left feeling such a loss – it was like suffering the death of a loved one.

Here’s what I wrote on this date in 2015. “It is a strange thing… to be a personal assistant. Your whole world revolves around a person to whom you are not married, nor to whom you have given birth… and yet, their suffering makes you hurt, and their joy brings you happiness – and you would do anything to help bring them comfort and peace when they are carrying a great burden. When they retire, you are left with an odd mingling of emotions. Gratitude for the years that you shared, happiness for the life they will finally get to have with their family, and then there’s the loss. Is it like a death or a divorce? This person you’ve cared for every day, is suddenly gone… and while you know they are safe and happy, and in a good place… the hole remains. I sat down to dinner tonight with the boss I retired 5.5 years ago, and the one I will retire tomorrow… and thought to myself… NO WONDER I HAVE ABANDONMENT ISSUES! I have been blessed, indeed. Soon, there will be a Daisy shaped hole in my heart… but all shall be well.”

I think what I feared the most was that I would never find love again. I know that sounds odd when referring to one’s job, but truly… I felt valued, appreciated, and loved in my workplace for a really long time. Being single and childless, it probably made up for something I did not have at home. These two leaders represented my committed relationship for 14 years, and it was not unrequited.

While working with a spiritual life coach, when love was gone and I was trying to find joy in the workplace again, we discussed how it was time to learn to validate myself and love myself, rather than seeking it in my job. And when I wrote my list of what I wanted to manifest in my next work endeavor, I was advised against one item. I had written that one thing I wanted to manifest was ‘work life = love life’. She felt that I should be moving towards an intention of separating the two. But you know what? Once you’ve had that kind of joy in your life, it’s really difficult to settle for less. I cannot see the point of going to work every day, accepting that my heart will not be filled, and that my presence will not be appreciated. Life is just too fucking short!

At the Winter Solstice of 2017, six months after leaving that workplace I had once loved and cherished, I created a sacred ceremony that I shared with a friend I’d made while there. He lives at the edge of the Atlantic, and as a student of life, he is always open to the power of intention and the ability to manifest. We both sat for a meditation that I’d written and pre-recorded, so that I could journey, as well. Then, we wrote in silence, onto strips of parchment, the things we wanted to see coming to fruition in the year(s) ahead. We added tiny treasures collected on the beach to represent the beauty and magick that fills every day – if only we pay attention, and then we went out onto the deck to top off the bottles with evening breeze and starlight. There they would stay to gather the sunrise of new beginnings. I recently came across the notes I had made before we wrote on our parchment, and I was pleasantly surprised to recognize how well we had done. Here’s what I wrote:

  • This or something better…
  • Stability & Integrity
  • Colleague Camaraderie
  • Spiritual Enabler
  • Valued & Appreciated
  • Fulfilling & Uplifting
  • Joyful Abundance
  • Purpose & Meaning
  • Open & Obvious Pathway
  • Belonging
  • Peaceful Prosperity
  • Perfect Fit
  • Work Life = Love Life
  • Convenient Commute
  • Bountiful Benefits
  • Loved, Adored, Wanted & Needed
  • Better Than Imagined
  • For the Highest Good

At the time, I imagined I would go back to work for some corporation. That I would find an executive who needed my particular kind of light, as did the two I had lost in recent years. I couldn’t have dreamed what was to come. And here’s the lesson, dear ones. Put your dreams out there. Write down how you want to feel and what you want to manifest, but don’t be attached to a specific outcome. Let the universe surprise you!

You see, when I wrote this list and placed tiny scrolls of my hopes and dreams into that manifestation bottle, I thought I could only find these things in the form of a corporate job. I thought I could only prosper with a paycheck that would reflect how valuable I was to others. I thought I would not be as well-compensated as I had been, and that it would be difficult to ‘go backwards’ in income. And to be honest, I thought I would have to settle for something less than what I had before.

I suspect this list of desires will continue to evolve, but I can see clearly how all of these things have become a part of my current reality. I didn’t go to work for an executive in a corporation, I learned I could access a small portion of my retirement savings without penalty. That ‘income’ is only a quarter of my former salary, and yet it easily covers all that I need. So, I guess you could say that I am self-employed in non-profit organization. I am available and present to serve my aging parents who live seven houses away from me. So, clearly a majority of this list has materialized in my life. If managing and supporting my parents’ lives is my daily work – I have a convenient commute, purpose and meaning, bountiful benefits, and peaceful prosperity.

In the past year, my relationship with my parents has grown more loving and intimate. I certainly feel valued and appreciated, loved and adored. The workshops that I am creating and sharing with others are fulfilling and uplifting, as is the knowledge that each night when I close the front door of my parents’ home, in essence tucking them in for the night, they feel safer because I am there.

This current reality is ‘this and something better’ and ‘better than imagined’. As I move through my days with the energy I used to give to a corporation, I have room for more mindfulness. I can see the wonders that surround me, great and small. Yesterday, after managing some chaos for my folks, I found a tiny possom in the middle of our road. I looked around for her momma, but she was all alone. A nearby hawk informed me that she had been dropped, and I scooped her up before she became the meal she might have been. I carried her to safety, with a friend who cares for such creatures, bringing them to full health, then releasing them to their natural habitat. It felt like a blessing, to have been in the right place at the right time, and to have a resource available for a possibly happier outcome.

When I consider the symbolism of this tiny being placed in my path, I could consider what is written about being cautious (subjects of prey), or showing the world what I want them to see (playing possom), or a number of other possible messages from the universe. But what I find in the synchronicity of leaving my parents after helping them through a household inconvenience that could have been much more stressful on their own, and coming upon a tiny helpless creature who couldn’t see her way to safety… is ‘purpose and meaning’ on an ‘open and obvious pathway’.

Every day, I get to do work that is meaningful. I care for my aging parents and make them feel safer in years that feel more and more confusing. I care for my aging cat, too. As we struggle with her wellness, I wish she could express herself to tell me what she wants and needs, and I see the mirror of serving my parents… wanting more than anything for each of them to feel safe and loved. My work life does equal my love life, these days – and I am grateful.

I remain in touch with the bosses who’ve retired, and they are happy and healthy. What they taught me about how to meet their needs prepared me for nurturing the needs of my parents… my most important job, to date. It’s funny how we can’t imagine at the time the true purpose of our circumstances. Every life experience is so much more than what appears on the surface. If we’re really lucky, we’ll give ourselves the time to reflect and light a candle to honor such reverence and grace.

Thank you for walking this path with me. This flame’s for you.

Dancing at Beltaine

Sacred Gardeners, is how I refer to the beautiful souls joining me this year for a journey of intention. As I embrace the role of priestess in service and devotion to the divine beings who are my parents, I also require a creative and spiritual outlet which fills me up. These beloved beings have generously signed on to explore the Celtic calendar and cycle of seasons as it manifests within themselves.

We are a part of nature, and so we, too, are in a state of constant change. We are connected to the earth and effected by the sun. Just as the planet goes through a transformation from winter to spring, and summer to fall as the earth orbits the sun (though less pronounced in places like Florida), we are subject to the coming of sorrows that cause us to go within (like a bear to her den) and to the great joy of new beginnings (like the emergence of the first daffodils when all else is grey and covered in snow – also not in Florida).

By the end of December, I will have created a full curriculum for this journey around the sun, as I am allowing it to develop intuitively, one high holy day at a time. If we are living in the now, how can we be caught up in what the future may hold? Nature cannot be rushed, so why should we? We plant our seeds, offer them water and sunlight, and stand witness to their unfolding.

The spring equinox inspired finding balance. We worked with techniques to feel more grounded, and creating and connecting with the joy and treasure in our lives to bring equilibrium to responsibility.

As I looked ahead to Beltaine, which is the cross-quarter holiday that falls between the spring equinox and summer solstice, I considered the state of nature in the northern hemisphere and the mythology that was written to offer symbolism for understanding. This time of year is all about sensuality and fertility. We are witness to the Sun’s love warming the earth below as flowers rise and open to His touch. I could have developed a workshop around our relationship with others, but I felt more strongly served by diving into the necessity of loving ourselves.

My gardeners were given an assignment of mindfulness. Pay attention to the words you use with your own reflection. What does your internal dialogue sound like? Would you say these things to someone you love? If not, why would you ever say them to yourself?

For our creative project, we would take a canvas and write down all of the negative things we spoke to ourselves (my hope being that my gardeners would have nothing to write), and then we would do acrylic pour and stir our positive thoughts into the paint before releasing it to cover and transmute what once was there.

We discussed Dr. Emoto’s water study, and how it has been proven that our thoughts effect water, and since our bodies are mostly water, how our thoughts effect our mental and physical health. (What are our words manifesting?)

And since we were clearly dedicating this sensual holy day to the element of water, our physical activity was a lesson in veil belly dance. Our silk veils, shipped all the way from Virginia by my Tribe Sister, flowed like water on wind, as we shimmied and twirled – connecting with our own sensuality.

Inspired by “The Shakti and The Shiva at the Center of the Human Heart” from The Storyteller’s Goddess, reminded of the love that resides within, we wrote love letters to ourselves, as if we were writing to our most beloved being. I collected the sealed and addressed envelopes to be mailed in the future, and received with surprise.

What I love the most about these gatherings is the deep, authentic, sharing of our individual truths. I always go first, because I believe that one should be willing to be vulnerable before expecting others to do the same. I believe, and have been witness to, the way that burdens are lifted when a story is shared, honored, and validated. Especially when a dozen people speak their truth and you hear your own truth in the words of many. It is enormously liberating to know that we are not alone.

There is more to the story, but what happens in sacred space stays in sacred space. I can share that though I have been practicing a mindful reprogramming of harmful thoughts and words toward myself for several years, I did find through this process that there is far more compassion in the tone that I carry. I’ve gained a bit of weight in the last two years (body shame being a core wound I’ve carried since childhood), and now when shame rises it is met with loving kindness, rather than harsh self-hatred. I feel this is huge progress which requires constant vigilance. I also feel that I am worth it. Life is short, and I have wasted far too much time in self-loathing. Joyfully, I move forward holding my inner child, rather than shunning her.

What loving words do you have for your most sacred being? Consider writing a love letter to yourself. “My favorite thing about you is… I love the way you… Thank you for… I love you most!”

I love these Sacred Gardeners, I love that you took the time to read my words and story, and I love myself for taking the time to connect with the great lover that resides within. Thank you for walking this path with me.

Writes of Passage

That’s not a typo, by the way. Eleven days from now, this blog will be one year old. It was birthed at the suggestion of a publisher insisting that their authors come with a following. And so it began.

The funny thing is, I do believe my writing has improved in the process of blogging. So, I guess it was a gift, to be rejected. (Isn’t it always?) I’ve learned that my particular style is essay, like David Sedaris, but less neurotic. (That’s not an insult. He owns his authentic chaos.)

There have been weeks when I felt moved to write almost daily, but over the last couple of weeks, I have been out of sorts, and sitting down to write just didn’t happen. Quite frankly, I’ve been moving through some severe back pain, and although movement and activity would surely have been helpful, I found myself binge watching documentaries and napping a lot.

Deep thoughts have been flowing through my mind, but they don’t seem to stick. I am more and more aware of that memory issue I’ve written about – a blessing and a curse. I still maintain that my swiss cheese memory (some things fall through the holes) allows me to be more present and fully in the moment… as I am not holding onto any thoughts that might have come before. But it is seriously annoying to realize how many projects have been started and forgotten, not out of reluctance, but through distraction.

The other day I was at my parents’ house, doing my usual daily set-up for Dad’s comfort. Rinsing his cup, filling it with ice and ginger ale, being sure he’s taken his morning meds, etc. I asked Mom if I could have some dishwasher pellets, and she told me where to find them, then started telling me that Dad was complaining about how I had forgotten to clip his nails. I looked at him and said that I had just clipped his nails (Seriously, all three of us are a mental mess.) and he agreed that I had, but that it took me a few days. He wasn’t wrong, but in my defense, I really wanted to have my glasses on so not to clip his skin. I don’t always have them with me… so it did take a while to remember to arrive with them in hand. Thirty minutes later, I was in my own living room, sending Mom a note: “To Dad’s point, I came home without any dishwasher pellets.” Her reply: “I’ll bring some right over.” And she did.

Some of the thoughts that are not fleeting are those filled with gratitude. Every single day, my recurring thought is how grateful I am to have this time of dedication to my parents. My ability to access a small portion of my retirement savings has enabled me to be available for their support. I wrote about how happy this makes me in Mom’s Mother’s Day card. All three of us take pleasure and comfort in our daily interaction. Everything has fallen into place so nicely. They chose to move closer to me five years ago (which I happen to recall because the company I worked for was in the midst of a hostile takeover in 2014), and two years ago a change in management urged my departure from the job I once loved. Well, this job doesn’t pay anything, but I love it far more. (hold that thought while I run up the street to help Dad get ready for physical therapy)

I must confess that I have been feeling a little disconnected lately. Not just from people, but from myself, as well. I spend a great deal of time alone these days, and I’m a people person.

I revel in the days leading up to one of my workshops. I have a group of 12 to 15 people who are allowing me to lead them through a year of connecting deeply with themselves and the cycle of the seasons. The curriculum is inspired by the Celtic calendar of solstices, equinoxes and cross-quarter markers, and one session writes itself only after the last one is complete.

I find that creating these events and sharing them with others utilizes my top five strengths of Empathy, Connectedness, Responsibility, Developer, and Input. I can confirm what Marcus Buckingham and Tom Rath assert, which is that the happiest people are those who are utilizing their top five strengths in their work. I feel most alive when I am blessed to dive deeply with other courageous souls into vulnerability and personal development. Now that I think about it… my writing fits that moniker, as well. Assuming anyone reads it. (Thank you for reading this – it makes me feel connected.)

I’m trying to come back to myself this week, after a week of accomplishing very little. Perhaps my body and brain needed a complete shutdown and reboot. Actually, I believe that we should all take the time to do just that. I am choosing not to chastise myself for a week of do-nothing-ness. I choose to honor myself, instead, for retreating to the underworld to refill and recharge…even if all I did was nap and watch documentaries. One of the benefits of living alone is that no one cares if the dishes pile up (not a big problem for someone who doesn’t cook) or if you wait until you run out of clean underwear to do the laundry. (I have a lot of underwear.)

Yesterday, I decided to make my way back into the world of the living. I went to tai chi class in the morning, and I returned to ‘church’ aka my evening walk around the neighborhood. As I was nearing the end of my two-mile circuit, I was blessed to be joined by an owl who landed on a power line just before I turned onto my own street. I stopped a while to stand witness to her grace.

The owl can be known to be a harbinger of death, but not necessarily the literal kind. They can fly into your life to make you aware that life is about to change. Okay, mother-owl… I am rested and ready!

Just as I was preparing to finish this piece – when the system froze and didn’t save the last four paragraphs I’d written (heaven knows what I’ve forgotten) – I looked up to see a white butterfly dancing past my living room window. Also a symbol of spiritual change and protection, I can’t wait to see what the universe has in store. Hopefully there will be time for another nap. Care to join me?

Owl at Dusk: Harbinger of Change

WILL WORK FOR ART!

What a blessing to have good friends with similar passions and interests. Recently, my lifelong friend (read: my favorite tomboy) and I drove north for our annual Artcation adventure. The destination – Savannah, Georgia.

We started this tradition about five years ago (we both struggle with the memory thing – so, that’s just a guesstimate). When we have more time to escape, Savannah is just a stop on our journey, but with my father’s various appointments during the week, a weekend trip felt more feasible. So, this time our focus was singular.

We love this whimsical walking city that is filled with history. We appreciate the architecture, the series of squares that offer parks and monuments surrounded by luscious canopies of oak trees throughout the thoughtful grid of cobblestone streets. But what we love the most… is the art. More so, we love the artists. Unlike many of the extreme-art cities we visit, Savannah has a good number of local artists who are working in the community, either in their own studio galleries or in a co-op setting.

Each year upon arrival, we check into our hotel and park the car. We then walk directly to one of three destinations to see what’s new by the artists we adore, and to see if a new (to us) artist can be found.

Our most joyful visits to Savannah are those that allow us the opportunity to spend a little time getting to know the artists that we have come to value. This year, we were blessed to have some time with three! Just one more favorite would have been like hitting the jackpot, but alas… our timing was off.

Our hotel this year was ideally located (for us), and it was just a two minute walk to get to City Market. This is a part of the historic downtown area that is always hopping. There is live music in the square, several restaurants and cafes with outdoor seating, shops and boutiques, and of course… oodles of art galleries.

As always, we asked our hotel manager for a lunch recommendation. We like to try something new (to us) in the culinary department each visit, as well. So, this time, we enjoyed our lunch at Belford’s Seafood and reveled in the glorious art of people-watching from the patio.

People come from all over to enjoy the culture of this historic downtown. We were witness to at least three bachelorette parties, and dozens of children dancing with ice cream, while their parents snacked on fresh made pralines. Oh! The pralines… sigh.

After lunch, we made our way upstairs to one of the artist centers. We were delighted to find Sabree in her gallery, which was in a different spot from our last visit. We were most drawn to a few large paintings and were introduced to the Gullah representations of Yemaya and Oshun. We adore the style and vibrant color of Gullah art, and even more lovely was the inspiration for each piece as channeled through this beautiful artist. I think she was a little shocked to learn that I was not only familiar with the Orishas, but had recorded a song dedicated to them, back in the nineties with a pagan choir. I had the song saved on my phone and was able to share it with her. It was one of those moments of sharing that felt as if it were made of pure magick.

Next, we made our way over to see what Brian MacGregor was up to. In the past we’ve stopped by to find him working on something grand and powerful, and this time we were thrilled to discover a plethora of new creations and offerings. He has been rather busy over the past year.

I especially enjoy Brian’s art for the intention and symbolism behind each piece. He keeps a journal hanging outside of his gallery / studio and invites visitors to write down their dreams upon the pages within. Not the dreams that one considers hopes for the future, but the nocturnal kind. Inspired by Jung’s theory of the collective unconscious, Brian takes ‘our’ dreams and places them upon canvas to become one with the dreams of others and his own. These dreams are written in the handwriting of hundreds and in at least a dozen different languages. He then mingles these sacred notes with images from nature or from imagination, infused with celtic knotwork and oil paint. Each piece is unique and stunning in passion and purpose.

We spent some time learning about his current focus and endeavors, and when I told him which new piece was calling to me, he shared the story of its becoming. The piece is called The Four Seasons, and it spoke to me for obvious reasons. I shared that I am creating a year-long series of workshops that focus on the changing seasons and how our lives mirror the cycle of nature. Originally four separate works of art, he has mingled them into one for a print on canvas. My art budget took a huge cut when I retired, but when I was offered the powerful symbolism, my friend and I knew it would be coming home with us.

In this piece, there are four women and four seasons. In the Spring, a woman with short golden hair and arms raised overhead to cup the returning sun, wears a yellow sundress and is framed by a circle of spring flowers which sits at the top of the frame. In the Summer, a woman with shoulder length red hair holds her arms up and open with flames in her palms with the sun at its peak, her dress is strapless and slightly lower in the frame sits a circle of green leaves. In Autumn, a woman with longer brown hair stands with her arms down and away from her body, she wears a dress with short sleeves, while the sun above her is growing further away, the circle of falling, colorful leaves is further down in the frame. In the Winter, a woman with long, curly, dark hair stands in a long-sleeved dress with her arms down at her sides and touching her hip and thigh, while the sun is barely seen above and the circle of bare branches sits at the bottom of the frame. There is so much mindful symbolism within these images, which includes the different phases of the moon drawn at the top of the dream pages that Brian has chosen for each season.

I shared with him my current incarnation, learning to live more simply so that retirement allows my presence for my parents. A few years ago, I wouldn’t think twice about purchasing any piece of artwork to which I was drawn, along with a few others as gifts. But my budget just isn’t what it once was, and my freedoms are different. I have the freedom of time and availability, but less-so the freedom of financial whimsy and generosity. My friend and I left the gallery that afternoon with a plan to figure out how this artwork would find its way home with us.

We next made our way down to the River Walk, and to our other favorite gallery in town… 209. We have a favorite artist there, whose work we seek at each visit. We love to see what new creatures have come to live in her section of the cooperative space. We fell in love with her style and whimsy on our first visit to Savannah, when we learned she was creating a book of children’s stories. Olivia Beaumont is a fine artist who dresses woodland creatures in renaissance themes, creating characters that stir the art lover’s imagination.

The book was available on our last visit, and to our great joy… the artist herself was available on this visit. The local artists represented within this gallery also work for this gallery. Olivia is a ray of sunshine, and we spent a good hour talking with her and exploring her available offerings. Sadly, the piece that needs to come live with me was not available in print that day. I am certain that the Owl posed with a quiver of arrows on his back and his talon placed upon a wooden longbow will be waiting for me to fetch him on our next journey north. My friend added two new creatures to her collection.

Seriously… I don’t miss eating out frequently, or shopping for clothing I don’t need… but being art-limited is really, really hard! TRUE CONFESSION: My name is Melissa, and I am an art-a-holic.

The next morning, I was talking myself out of The Four Seasons, just because it didn’t seem prudent. My friend and I took off on foot to various events around town that Saturday. There was a Maker’s Festival on one side of town, and the SCAD (the local art college) sidewalk art festival in one of the park squares. College and high school students were given their own squares on the sidewalk to decorate, and the art was vibrant and creative. The college mascot is a BEE, so you can imagine how delighted I was by many of the original creations of chalk on concrete.

We made our way from one side of town to another by foot, as we walked over to the famous Pirate House restaurant. By then, we had walked way more than the recommended 10,000 steps, and I contemplated whether to drink the cold cider or pour it on my aching feet. As we made our way back down to the River Walk area to see a favorite jewelry vendor, I had pretty much convinced myself that I couldn’t afford to purchase that coveted piece of art. But then my phone alerted me to a text message, and Brian was just checking in to be sure he hadn’t missed us – having arrived later than intended. Always one to listen to signs from the Universe, I replied that we were on our way.

My friend and I worked out a plan for a responsible purchase, and as I gaze up at where The Four Seasons are perched in my sacred space, I have absolutely zero regrets. Art makes me so happy. I was not blessed with the ability to create art that is pleasing to my own eye, though I am grateful for my gift for words. I sit surrounded by the creations of many, for whom I am grateful. Each artist, known and not yet met, living and dead, brings a sense of emotion and whimsy to my sanctuary. Their energy flows from their work and envelopes my beloved home with the light of love and inspiration. I cannot fathom choosing a minimalist style with barren walls, void of color and passion. This is the air that I breathe!

Wouldn’t it be amazing if I could offer my words in exchange for art? My love is far more valuable than any currency, and words can bring abundance.

I sometimes wonder, when I am sitting in silence and contemplating my current situation, if I should be more actively seeking employment or income. The workshops I do bring in a little extra cash, but mostly it pays for the things I want to share with those who attend. I love the connectedness I find there, and that is the intention I manifest more than anything else.

When I walk out of my parents’ house, just seven doors west of my own, I know that my choice to be present and available for their comfort is far more important to me than the former income I left behind.

For now… I’m just going to plant the seed in the magickal soil of the universe that I “WILL WORK FOR ART”… in whatever form that may take. I no longer hold a specific vision of how anything in life should look. I am open to the probability of being WOWed by the manifestation of wonder beyond my ability to imagine.

Thank you for walking this path with me. If you are interested, I am placing links below to a few of our favorite artists whose work can be found in Savannah.

Patricia Sabree at http://www.sabreesgallery.com/

Brian MacGregor at https://brianmacgregor.net/

Olivia Beaumont at https://oliviabeaumont.com/

David “G-Sleeve” Gildersleeve at http://www.gsleeve.com/
http://www.athun.com/david-gildersleeve.html

Melissa Moss at http://www.melissamossart.com/

Samantha Claar at http://finefolkgalleries.com/

Melissa with Sabree on the left and Melissa with Brian MacGregor on the right.

Living Eulogy to Her Becoming

I’ve returned to complete my homework assignment for tomorrow’s final Expressive Arts project… a living eulogy to the final (most recent) photo of the six selected. This picture is from last year… and it was taken by the extraordinary woman who has led this series. I can’t really say if this is a complete representation of a life well-lived, so far… for SHE is possibly more than I can yet comprehend. However, she does deserve my devotion, my reverence, and my words. May they do her justice.

Her parents almost named her Samantha, but it was MELISSA that stuck. She never imagined how she would grow into her name.

Melissa means honey bee in Greek. Thirty years would pass before she understood the significance of such a moniker. It would take even longer for her to own it.

In ancient Greece, those who were priestesses dedicated to nurturing the temples of the Goddess were called the Melissae. They tended the eternal flames, chanted the sacred words of healing and devotion, and they served their sisters with loyalty and reverence.

In her own way, our Melissa has been dedicated to service, as well. She reveled in service and sisterhood to her most beloved Tribe for twenty years. She worked in service to Maxine, Don, Dan and Daisy for what combined to equal a quarter century. Through them, she found purpose and partnership that delivered validation, until she learned to value herself. Retirement at forty-nine allowed her to be of service to her parents when it felt like the very best use of her time.

To Melissa, friendship has been such a gift and among her greatest treasure. She was blessed to meet her first true friend at the early age of five. She has important friendships from every decade of her life. Each are unique gems that she carries in her heart at all times, so that her love may never be far from those she adores and holds sacred.

Though Melissa chose not to have children, she has loved many as her own. She was even present for the birth of five. Certainly, she was present in spirit for all the rest… the legacy of her Tribe.

She once cared for a beloved 18 month old, when she was most in need. For one month, with a little help from friends, she made that sacred being her greatest priority. It was the most terrifying thing she ever did – being responsible for the well-being of a tiny human, and she considers it the most important.

Into her life, five beloved beings pounced and purred. The first one brought her liberation and independence. The second taught her how to love without condition – she was her familiar. The third was a big fluffy ball of light who taught her how to be a caregiver. The fourth showed her how it felt to be adored and how to survive traumatic loss. The fifth is showing her what pure, angelic goodness feels like. These are her children. No one else has shared her life so intimately.

First with her parents, then with friends, and even on her own, Melissa has enjoyed the pleasure of travel. She has a passion for walking with other cultures and touching ancient history. By the time she was twenty, she had been to every state on the US east coast, to California, Nevada, and Arizona, Mexico, England, France, Scotland, Turkey, and Finland. The latter trip, a second-place prize for a senior year writing contest. She holds certain parts of the world so dear that she has returned, more than once, to England, Scotland, and Wales. At the age of 39, she declared she would stop waiting for someone else to make her dreams come true, and she traveled to Ireland on her own. Living there or in Cornwall for a portion of the year is a dream she longs to manifest.

She has never been married, but has never lived without extraordinary love in her life. She has made poor choices, but has no regrets. She has learned and grown with gratitude, instead.

She has been a loyal and dedicated partner and secret keeper. She is a beloved and appreciated daughter and sister. She is a compassionate and caring friend. She is a Priestess of Artemis – a warrior woman whose weapons are words… they AIM to heal.

She is a woman who spent her life searching for someone to love her enough. Until one beautiful, miraculous, glorious day, the search was over…
SHE FOUND HERSELF!

Expressive Arts ~ Week Six / Finale

Life’s Tapestry

Week four of our Expressive Arts program was centered on the beliefs upon which we are each built. These foundations are created by life experiences, messages from others, and how we (or our subconscious mind) choose to interpret and integrate them (or not). They are not necessarily the truth… but they do become ‘our truth’, at least for some time.

The photo that I am working with this week is one from the early days of my spiritual journey. I was twenty-three years old. Life was finally getting good.

Our work began with creating a timeline of life events that felt life altering. This was easier than it sounds for me, since my Tribe had dedicated some time several years ago to a workbook on numerology based on the tarot (Tarot for Your Self by Mary K Greer). Starting with the year you are born, you map out the numerology of that year (based on your birth date) and determine which major arcana tarot card represented the lessons of that year. As you review each year going forward in time, you can see how certain years may bring a particular kind of energy. The patterns are fascinating!

So, I already had an idea of my big event timeline, and it goes something like this:

  • When I was three, my mother warned me not to swing on the pool ladder railing. I lost my two front teeth when I fell.
  • When I was five, I met the little tomboy around the block. 45 years of continued friendship, shared trauma and growth are significant.
  • When I was nine, the little tomboy’s dad accused me of lying to him, and forbid his daughter to play with me. A trauma with lasting effect.
  • When I was thirteen, my brother broke his back in a car accident. He was only 20. We were all very lucky it was not worse.
  • When I was fourteen, my school was rezoned, and I was transferred to a school I feared for its reputation. It was a good place to grow.
  • When I was fifteen, I met my first and only teenage boyfriend. We were together six months. Unaware of lies he told his parents (boys lie), in their eyes – I was to blame. They withdrew him from school to get him away from me. When he returned, his friends began taunting and bullying me. This lasted throughout high school. I felt unsafe and dreaded going to school.
  • Throughout puberty, as my weight fluctuated, I was warned that ‘no man wants to marry a fat woman’. I believed I was fat when I was a size 10.
  • When I was twenty, I met my second boyfriend. We were together one year. In month eight, he came home with hickeys on his neck. (boys lie)
  • When I was twenty-three, I attended a conference on women’s spirituality, I took a six month class on the same, and I joined the young adult group at the Unitarian Church. I had finally found my people… and a sense of belonging.
  • When I was twenty-five, convinced no man could love me or be trusted, I fell in love with a woman. She remains a trusted friend to this day.
  • When I was thirty-two, and again when I was forty-eight, long-time jobs became so uncomfortable that I had to leave. Each time, life improved.
  • When I was thirty-seven and again when I was forty-seven, I tried dating again. Each man pretended to be something he was not. The stories they told did not match the facts. (boys lie)
  • When I was forty-nine, I thought I would have to get a job doing what I no longer loved. Instead, I learned I could retire and help my parents through difficult times.

From these life experiences, we were asked to determine the beliefs that we have carried. To be clear, I have been aware of some of these false beliefs, and was already committed to their reprogramming. But in truth, these are the pillars of my early foundation. Some have been tremendously limiting, but they have also contributed to who I am today.

BELIEFS I AM BUILT ON – Strong and Tattered Threads

  • I am fiercely independent. Mother’s advice is intended to keep me safe.
  • I am a good friend. I attract good friends.
  • I cannot trust my own memory. I doubt myself.
  • Life is uncertain – tell them you love them.
  • I may not belong everywhere, but I do belong somewhere.
  • I cannot trust men. I cannot trust myself to choose well.
  • In a circle of women, I feel safe, seen, heard, and healed.
  • The Universe helps us move forward when fear keeps us immobile.
  • Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it.
  • The shape of my body makes me unworthy of love. I am unlovable.
  • Life gets better if you keep moving forward.
  • Being of service and feeling needed makes me feel worthy of love.

When we finished our event timeline, we listed these beliefs, and since this is an expressive arts course… we sat down to create. Onto watercolor paper, we painted one pre-cut strip for each event, and on the opposite side, we wrote the belief. Each strip was then lifted over and under another strip, until the original page was once again whole… and yet, forever changed. Perhaps we are the same. We feel as if traumas and hardships take away parts of ourselves, but in reality… the fabric of our being is just made more interesting by the changes in color and texture.

I do wonder how my life might have been different, had I taken any of those life experiences and decided differently on what belief to carry. What if when my friend’s father had accused me of lying to him, instead of wondering if he was right, and searching my mind for what I must have done wrong (after all he was the grown up, and I the child)… I had the courage to stand up to him and insist that I had not lied, and asked my mother to come inside to support my truth? What if I carried forward the belief that I can trust myself, that I am honest, a good friend, and worthy of being loved? I wonder if my memory issues would have been so prolific, or just age induced like everyone else. (Ha!)

I don’t even know how to re-frame the belief on men. I certainly don’t believe that all men lie. I am blessed with a number of remarkable friends of the masculine gender. I have just been unfortunate enough to have had the few men in my romantic life back-up that belief again and again. (Imago therapy would say that my subconscious mind was attracted to them for the purpose of healing a childhood wound.) The gift in that has been that I also carry a belief that I do not need a man in my life to feel happy and whole.

Perhaps I can simply move forward with a new belief…

I trust the men in my life, and attract friends and lovers of great integrity who are honest, authentic, trustworthy, responsible, caring, and kind.

How’s that?

From my current perspective… when I look at this photo, of the young woman I was who is seeking her own truth and just beginning to make her way in the world, this is what I see:

She is a good friend, worthy of the love she has and so much more.
She is a gift to the community that claimed her.
She reflects the light of those she meets, showing them their own greatness.
She knows that the darkness through which she walks is
an important part of her becoming.
She is perfect exactly as she is.
She is courageous, beautiful, and wise.
She is a light in this world!
She is the glue that binds us all.
She is LOVE incarnate.
She is lovable.
She is loved.

My goodness… these six weeks are stripping us bare. We are revealing to ourselves every fiber of sorrow and regret, joy and wonder. We are blessed beyond belief to have the courage to go deep and face the shadows. We are lifting the veil of our former limitations, and revealing the clarity and truth of our divine and glorious selves.

Thank you for walking this path with me. Together, we have nothing to fear.

Week Four of Expressive Arts – the beliefs upon which we are built

Check Your Treasure

Yesterday was a day of service and recovery. My sweet 81 year old Pop had an early morning appointment to FINALLY have the entropion on his left eye repaired. It developed one day while he was in rehab last November. I walked in for our nightly visit, and he looked like he had pink-eye. But when I took a closer look, I could see that his eye lashes were rubbing against his cornea.

In my past life, I was paid to assist the needs of executives. It was stressful work, at times, but there were perks, too. For one thing, if my executive wanted something done, I could reach out to others and say, “the Chief ‘whatever’ Officer, wants this done immediately!”, and it would get done immediately. In my new life… there is very little power. I tell doctors, hospitals, rehab facilities, etc. that my 81 year old father needs something immediately, and after five months of suffering and struggle… we might be lucky enough to bring one nightmare to conclusion. It’s maddening, really.

So, yesterday, though mornings are difficult for him, we were both up by 5:15am to get the day started. We had to report to the eye institute by 6:45am. We were there 30 minutes early. We were NOT going to let anything get in the way of getting this done. Since it started, he says that he feels like there is a fishnet hanging over his left eye. It impedes his vision and his balance. He didn’t really need any help with the balance thing. He has neuropathy from toes to knees in both legs, and severe weakness on his entire left side from 80 years of epilepsy related nerve damage. WTF Universe? Don’t you think he’s had enough to deal with in this lifetime? Sheesh!

This morning, I was out of the house by 6:30am to make a store-run for provisions. I walked into my parents’ house and stocked the bathroom with my father’s needs, put a few breakfast burritos in the freezer, refilled his water cup, placed an ice pack on his bruised and swollen eye, turned out the light, and slipped back out the door.

These moments of tenderness never cease to surprise me. I chose not to have children, and while I have loved my goddess babies deeply, it was never mine, to feel this particular sense of affection, patience, devotion, and care. Indeed, at times, supporting my father is like taking care of a child. He has tiny temper tantrums for the frustration of his body not cooperating with what his mind is asking. He grumbles under his breath about how my mother doesn’t wear her hearing aids. Sometimes I have to remind his inner grouch that it is not easy, for mom or for me, to do all that is required to keep him safe and at home. “So, be nice!”

But then there are the moments like this morning, or when I am helping him wash his hair or put on his socks with the grippy soles, and brushing the hair out of his eyes… I get an overwhelming sense that this must be how mothering feels. This must be the contented-heart reason for all that mothers choose to endure.

It occurred to me the other day, that I won’t stay in retirement forever. The workshops that I am facilitating are enormously fulfilling, as they feed all five of my strengths (empathy, connectedness, responsibility, developer, input), they offer me a creative outlet in the design and execution, and they give me a place to put all of the spiritual growth and self-healing work I’ve done over the last 27 years, for the benefit of others. But at this moment, I can’t see clearly how to mold this work into financially sustaining work. So, I am believing that the Universe will deliver the guide, the means, the opportunity, when the time is right. And for now… my priority remains the care and comfort of my parents, with the added bonus of ample time for nurturing the love that resides within.

I couldn’t be more grateful for all that has transpired in order to make all of this possible. I spoke to my friend Brian yesterday, while out on an errand to have dad’s glasses repaired. He was calling to check-in. To tell me that, despite his terminal diagnosis, he is doing well. He is ‘Marie Kondo-ing’ his home (much to his husband’s shagrin), and practicing extreme self-care. As I filled him in on my world, he reminded me how happy he was that I left that toxic workplace. He wanted to be sure that I was living my joy! He considers me to be the most important catalyst for his new beginning… devoting all of his remaining days to HIS joy. I carry Brian with me through all of my days. He has been my teacher, as much as I for him.

Getting to be fully present for my parents right now is my joy. Being blessed to have friends, old and new, join me on a journey of personal growth, healing, and development for a year-long series of workshops is my joy. Quality time with loved ones is my joy. Having the gift of words to share with you is my joy. Being awake and aware of the many synchronicities and blessings that fall before me on a daily basis is my joy.

Though my income may be only a fraction of what it once was (technically, it is my savings – already hard earned), I feel richer today than ever before. The relationships that bless my life are more valuable than gold and diamonds. I can see clearly that every one of these blessings are finite, and I shall not take a single one for granted.

This reminds me of the conversation that concluded my visit with my soul daughter on Monday. She had come over from St. Pete for an appointment, and made time with me a priority. She had also connected with friends from a former workplace, but when it was time for her to meet with them, there was no immediate reply. While I knew that I would always adjust my plans to include seeing people I care about, she was figuring out (at 23) that she was not willing to sacrifice her precious time for those who do not make her a priority. At this young age, she has already figured out that she is meant to be treasured. I’ll confess that it took me a bit longer.

It’s never too late to check your treasure, dear ones. Take a look around you now. Who do you see? Remind yourself of the great bounty you possess. Then… go out there and live your joy! Thank you for walking this path with me. I’m so happy you are here.

Original Artwork by the Writer

Conversations with Trees

One of the seeds that I planted in my Seeds of Intention Workshop last month was to move more. Since my words come through my fingertips, rather than through spoken word, I tend to spend a great deal of time at the keyboard, and though I have not had to report to a 9 to 5 kind of job in the last year, I have been terribly sedentary for the tasks of writing, reading, editing, and re-reading.

I thought I would commit to going to a yoga class with one of my workshop attendees, but with my father’s appointments and my own standing commitments, I found it difficult to make that happen in the right timing.

Last weekend, I drove up to Tallahassee to spend the weekend with one of my Tribe Sisters to celebrate her birthday. It was there that I found inspiration. Her significant other has taken up walking each morning and evening. Despite having the wrong shoes, I joined him for ‘church’ as he calls it.

One of the symbolic tasks of planting our seeds in the garden of manifestation is to come back to the garden to see what needs more care. When I thought to commit to something that failed to manifest, it was up to me to pull some weeds and decide what else I could plant in its place.

So, with my friend’s encouragement, I started my own church… a congregation of one. I have committed to walking morning and night, and delight in checking in with him to discuss the beauty of our ‘sermons’. You see, for him… walking has become a form of devotion. Each day he exits his home into the predawn darkness and he walks into the light. At the end of the day, he walks the setting sun down the aisle and welcomes back the night. It is his own form of prayer and extreme self care. He glows with the joy of salted holy water that rises through his pores.

This morning, as I walked the streets of my neighborhood, I found myself in conversation with every tree that lined my path. Here in Florida, we experience a dance with the seasons on any given day. Lately, we have been waltzing with spring and summer with temperatures moving through the seventies and into the nineties, and I’ve heard we will have a day or two of winter this week, with temps falling into the forties at night. You never know what you might wake up to around here this time of year.

Consequently, the variety of trees that offer us their beauty are in varying states of annual evolution. Most noticeable are the oak trees, which thrive in nearly every yard. I have two in my front yard that stand sentinel and feel like great protectors of my property. As one appears to be at death’s door nearly bone bare for the loss of leaves, the other is expressing joyous rebirth in the green freshness of new life emerging from every branch.

There are also the flowering trees and shrubs like the Azaleas, which are currently screaming pink and purple at everyone who passes, and the Tabebuia trees have already passed their prime and have littered flowers of lemon yellow in yards and onto streets that surround. And we simply cannot forget the oak pollen, the film of powdered yellow-green that is painted onto every surface, as if to insist we look up to from whence it came and witness the fertility and abundance of the sacred sanctuary of our squirrels and the joyful birds that sing our welcome into each new day.

As I walk through this church of life and rebirth, it is not lost on me the way that nature and humanity mirror one another. When we witness the blossoming of new beginnings in the lives of our loved ones and feel that we have lost all of our leaves, it is not ours to grieve – but to celebrate. There is joy to be shared in the abundance of others, just as hope springs forth in our own lives. That blanket of pollen we are sprinkling onto our hopes and dreams for the manifestation of bright green new growth is only moments from being pulled back to reveal extraordinary expansion.

Just when it seems all is lost, with leaves scattered and browning upon the earth, we look up from that perceived devastation to find the glory of our own new beginnings. So, pay attention dear ones. You may think that your garden is going nowhere, but I’m willing to bet that those sprouts are rising and are about to burst forth into the sunlight of your own self-care, delivering an abundance of color and new life to fill your days with a kind of peace and happiness you have not previously imagined. I can feel it! Can’t you?

Thank you for walking this path with me. I don’t even mind the pollen when you are here. Love, love, love…

[Mucha’s Four Seasons Personified]

What Is Your Joy?

My friend Brian called from Oregon this morning. He wanted to thank me for the Valentine card I mailed last week. As we were catching up on the details of the lives and loves of one another, he made a suggestion.

We talked about the toxic workplace in which we met, and about those who are choosing to leave for their own mental health… and of course, celebrating our own choices to leave. For each of us, leaving was one of the best things we’ve done for ourselves.

As I shared with him the workshops that I am creating to share a sense of mindful manifestation with others, he exclaimed, “You make such a difference in the lives of those who know you. You should share my story! I’ll never forget what you asked me that night that we had dinner together, while my organs were literally shutting down. You said, “Brian, What is your joy?” That one question changed everything!”

I have told this story before, in an article that I wrote for Elephant Journal, and in another blog post called More than Grateful. Frankly, Brian has no idea how significant his story is and how often I share it, but I’ll share a brief version here, as well.

Brian was one of the first people I met in the company I went to work for after being liberated from my long-time workplace in 2017. It was love at first sight – you know, the way you meet someone and you instantly feel you’d like to know them better? Well, we had little opportunity to do so, since he would be working remotely and only coming to town periodically. But as fate would have it, we managed to find time to make a connection.

Of the many executives I worked with, he was the only one who seemed to be heart-centered. Sharing a meal with him during his visits was the one thing work related to which I looked forward. We loved our time so much that we continued meeting for dinner even after I left the company that October.

It was at dinner in February that he shared with me his diagnosis and prognosis. He had prostate cancer that had metastasized in his bones. That was when I looked deep into his eyes, refusing to react with tears or pity, and asked, “Brian, what is your joy?”

It was not lost on me that this sweet man had been given a deadline, and here he was risking his health by getting on an airplane each month to come into a workplace who obviously didn’t care for his well being. Exposing an immunosuppressed sacred being to the hazards of viral and bacterial boxes of in-flight holding is criminal.

His immediate reply to my query was, “Melissa, no one has ever asked me that before.” He promised to go home and think about it. It turned out that he flew home early, and went right into the hospital. An experimental medication his oncologist was giving him had begun to shut down his organs.

I almost lost my dear friend before he was able to answer this all important question. If that alternate reality had come to pass, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I never would have understood the magnitude of my great loss. In as many ways as I have blessed his life and brought about a more mindful existence… he has done the same for me.

Brian’s courage to share his truth with me that day brought forth that morsel of wisdom that came through me. Ask the question, to help someone find their own solution.

His reply came to me on Valentine’s Day, ten days after I posed the question. He wrote to me: ” My joy: spending as much time with Derek as possible.” It was then that he told me he had been in the hospital for a week after returning home, but I was not yet aware of the close call he survived.

It has been a year since Brian made this declaration, and it has been three months since he began pursuing his JOY full time. When the cancer started spreading again in September, I convinced him to start working on an exit strategy, so that every moment of the time he has left can be dedicated to soul fulfillment.

He shared today that his last check up was pretty good. He feels good, and he is filling his days with more joy and less stress. This makes my heart so happy.

As for me, my joy is getting to connect deeply with others. That kind of surface connection just won’t do. I want to know what makes your heart happy. I want to know what makes your soul sing. I want to know… if you were to be given a terminal diagnosis tomorrow (heaven forbid), how you would choose to spend the rest of your days.

I was blessed to be able to take an early retirement of sorts, so that I can be present with the extra care that my parents need at this time in their lives. But as all caregivers should, I feel it necessary to find more balance in my life. Knowing that they are safe and well is gratifying, but there are days that are more difficult than others, and I need to have something that fills my needs while I am filling theirs.

The workshops that I am facilitating is a part of that plan. In fact, my next workshop is dedicated to finding just that. As the wheel of the year turns, and we greet the growing daylight in the northern hemisphere, we will celebrate the Spring Equinox. Twice a year, day and night are equal, and we are reminded that our needs are not unlike those of Mother Earth.

At my second workshop on March 30, Persephone Rises – and we will be Finding Balance at the Equinox. Just the thought of it makes my heart push through dark, moist soil toward the expansion of the sun. We shall throw off our cloaks of winter and don the brilliance of springtime.

The intentions that we developed in February should be starting to take root, and it is up to us to ensure their freedom to grow.

I know that for me, finding balance means ensuring that I am creating ample opportunity to refill and recharge. Spending time with those I care about brings me joy, as does listening to live music – so I’ll be having more of that. Also, I’ve dedicated to doing one of these workshops every 8 weeks or so for the year, and even the planning brings me joy. Honoring Persephone as she emerges from the underworld makes me squeal with delight! But then… there will be the time spent with others who are willing and eager to seek something deeper for themselves and to become the joyful gardeners of their own lives. More than anything, I love to be witness to the growing glow of others.

So, tell me dear ones… What is your joy? I really want to know.

May the words in this graphic that I designed be a blessing upon all of your days. Thank you for walking this path with me. Your presence is also my joy.