...of all that is...

photo:  www.wenelo.com

In this month of April 2016, I see 2015 as a curious year.  As I look back on it now, I feel a sense of distance that goes beyond the linear mark.  I don't know if that is true detachment, or if it is a shell of self-preservation.  Only time will tell with that.

I lost a large number of people extremely close to me in 2015. Death was not particular about those chosen, taking both family and dear, life long friends in high numbers.  Looking back on that aspect of 2015, I am stunned at the list of those who transitioned, and I am equally stunned that I weathered that many losses and managed to keep hold of equanimity, acceptance and sanity. 

Of course, loss of sanity always surrounds us in the immediacy of loss through physical death, and I am not ashamed to admit that I had many dark nights of the soul because of those losses.

On the other end of the spectrum, I had triumphs.  I experienced love.  I shared my heart with sincerity and honesty, offering my deepest, truest self.  For some moments, that part of me was met and embraced, and I can look back on those moments with clear eyes that see shining beauty.

I stumbled many times, with repercussions of a most recent set of stumbles still playing out.  I am unsure of the direction those unexpected, haphazard, shocking, sometimes ripping and hurtful experiences will take me.

The only thing that I know at this moment is that I am learning and growing as a result.  I am continuing to take the next breath. That is all any of us can do when we absorb the stunning impact of disappointment and betrayal - we take that next step, breathe that next breath, and repeat the process in a numbed state until we are able to tentatively begin settling back inside ourselves.  Back inside from where we flew off and established that state of protection and detachment.

Perhaps that is actually what is happening.  I am settling back inside myself, reacquainting, realigning, reassembling, building and stitching together the old with what I brought back from the outside, from the distance and the quiet.

I often think that what we view as coming undone is the real making of us, because it forces us to release all those pieces of detritus that had been slowing us down, had been holding us back, had been slowly dulling our brilliance.

What prompted this article when it has been such a long time since I have written here?  I was busy the other day, in the midst of networking and focusing on career issues, and a random thought crossed my mind.  A question jumped from those thoughts, and I picked up my cell phone to call a dear friend.  Because I was doing so many things at once, juggling so many proverbial balls, I got all the way through scrolling through my contacts and clicking through to dial that phone number before reality slapped me sideways.  I remembered in a crashing rush that that friend is gone.  He died in September of 2015.

The inevitable avalanche of emotions flowed.  I went through a miniature version of the grief process, shed some tears, rode the wave of colorful memories that had me laughing along with the tears, because this friend always, always made me laugh.  And I pondered this life I'm living.  I pondered the curious process we live here on this Earth School.

I came up with no bright, unique answers.  No startling discoveries have hit my personal horizon. I find that the older I get, the more liquid becomes the process of accepting death, and of accepting change.  When I was wee, life was very finite and defined.  Black and white.  With age comes new perspective and perception, and all those infinite shades of gray.

I have no idea what the year of 2016 will bring for me, even as I sit here well into the fourth month of this year.  What I do know is that 2015 underscored in a dramatic fashion what we all know, and that is that nothing is promised to each of us.  Tomorrow is not promised.  The next moment is not promised, nor is the next breath.

In the span of all that is, each life lived on this planet is akin to the blink of an eye.  

We are such a brief expression of love and energy in physical form, it is another curious moment for me to ponder why we waste so much time.  We get bogged down in so many fears and doubts.  I have allowed myself to become entangled in my own fears and doubts, and I have participated and engaged in fears and doubts of those closest to me.  From that engagement, I have stumbled.  As I am regaining my balance from those stumbles, the clarity gained is of a quiet tone.  In that quiet, I am studying and processing, and making decisions.

I am aware of what I will no longer entertain.  I am aware of what I will no longer indulge.  I am cognizant in a manner that I have not experienced in a great while.  I am aware of promises that I made to myself ages ago, promises which have patiently waited for me to pick them up and breathe life into them....breathe life into ME.

This all sounds so ponderous and dramatic, yes?  In some ways, perhaps it is, but another curious note is that these shifts and realizations haven't hit with thundering impact.  They have slipped in gently, with very little fanfare.  Layers of myself have surrendered to being pared away, lifted up to the winds that swirl around only me, separating me from the old, and brushing, whispering change across my face....across my soul.  I have turned, eyes closed, a slowly spinning dance of release.

In that span of all that is, that which we label Infinity, here I am....expressing all that I am.  Doing my humble, human best to radiate Love outward.  Brushing fingertips with those of you who visit here, our eyes locking for a glance, our hearts marching to an identical rhythm for an instant.  And as the quote above offers....

....and in that moment, I swear....

WE WERE INFINITE....

For now, this knowing, this acceptance of NOT knowing....it is enough. 

Surveying the wreckage

Photo:  ansil.tumblr.com

In the last 2-3 months, I've had a decidedly eventful life.  At face value, that sounds exciting, doesn't it?  It hasn't been.  It's been interesting, yes, and I've certainly grown in ways I would never have predicted or imagined prior to these events, but none of it was exciting.  Epiphanies were the by product of these events.  The following is a comment I left on the blog post of my dear friend, Debra El Ramey (http://debrasblogpureandsimple.blogspot.com/2012/07/inch-by-inch.html):

"I found this interesting. It would be simple to say that I am writing my own manuscripts with hopes of being published, and that is true. What came to mind, however, is that I am releasing some layers of armor that no longer serve me. And the realization came from a very harsh, unexpected lesson - the death of a loved one polarized everything in my life and from that one breath to the next, I was forever changed. I recognized that something that had been valid, important and very passionately necessary to me one day simply became unimportant in one powerful blow. I am now surveying the wreckage of some vestiges of ego and processing and learning who I am now, afterwards.  And I do believe I have the genesis of my next blog post.
I never cease to marvel at how I greet myself anew when I visit here, Debra."
Debra's post:  http://debrasblogpureandsimple.blogspot.com/2012/07/inch-by-inch.html         *I encourage you to visit Debra's wonderful blog!*

Those who know me well might be surprised to learn that I'm stubborn.  I am.  I admit it freely.  I don't know if I'm more stubborn than most, or if I'm just more vocal about it when need be.  What I do question about my stubbornness is if I subsequently require a more dramatic set of lessons in order to be awakened to what should otherwise be obvious to my pea brain.  These recent epiphanies came on the heels of some very hard and harsh experiences.

In May of this year (2012), I went through a series of car calamities that grew progressively worse, with one event being a near miss where I could easily have died.  My back right tire exploded in rush hour traffic, literally lifting my car up in the air, then throwing my car directly into the oncoming lane where I should have been hit head on by a monster truck and three other cars.  Somehow, they all swerved and avoided me and I managed to wrestle my car back into the proper lane without hitting anyone or being hit.  There was a lesson in that experience - a big one, and I'm still processing it.  Mere weeks later, my car finally bit the dust.  This experience happened on the heels of a personal situation that, at the time, was driving me to near distraction.  The resulting epiphany was quite dramatic and gave me the opportunity to walk in that other person's (the other person in that relationship) shoes and know and feel immediately what that person had been attempting to communicate to me.  So, two similar lessons layered one atop the other and kicked me into a new state of awareness with a rather brutal boot.

Fast forward to July of this year (2012) and I lost a family member to suicide.  What has come to mind, in the days since, is that I am releasing some layers of armor that no longer serve me. This realization came from the very harsh, unexpected lesson of the death of that loved one.  It polarized everything in my life and from that one breath to the next, I was forever changed. I recognized that something that had been valid, important and very passionately necessary to me one day simply became unimportant in one powerful blow. I am now surveying the wreckage of some vestiges of ego and processing and learning who I am now, afterwards.  As you can see, this is the comment I wrote above, on Debra's blog post Comments section.

Those valid issues that held such importance to me are still valid, and I daresay I will revisit them in the future to assess their new level of importance.  But right now, today, I am changed.  I came to a swift, blinding rush of realization, courtesy of the finality that sudden death of a loved one brings.  I remember reflecting on the decision I had made the day before, a very permanent, final, tough decision.  It ended a relationship that was important to me, that decision.  At the time, I fully, firmly believed I was making the right choice for myself.  I still believe that. At that moment in time, it was the right decision to make.  But after I lost a loved one to suicide, I was made bluntly aware that the person I was when I made that dramatic decision no longer existed.

It's fair to say we change with each tick of the clock. It's a minute splitting of hairs, if we want to go down that spiral of thought.  It does apply here, that splitting of hairs. I received a fateful phone call that someone I loved took their own life, and the world changed for me in that jagged flash of words.  As I went through the grief process, I reflected on the fact that nothing I could do...no decision I could make would make a difference with that equation. Nothing could bring my loved one back.  All I had power over was myself and the decisions and choices I make.  And I was made dramatically aware that that hard line choice I had made the day before, the one that had felt so strongly right and valid, was no longer a truth for me.

So, rather than inch by inch of progress, as Debra's blog speaks of, I began to peel layer by layer away of my old self.  I stood and surveyed the wreckage of where my Ego firmly planted itself, hand in hand with Pride and Fear, and made a defiant stand.  Those noble flags of Self no longer flew with bright colors on the landscape of my soul.  Instead, they rested quietly on veritable flag poles, waiting to be lowered, folded and tucked away, as they were simply no longer necessary.

In the process of finding my feet, finding my balance in this new existence, I've mentioned to a couple of people that in the last 6 - 8 months, I've been greeting myself in ways that I would never have predicted.  Relationships do that....they provide a very clear mirror for us to see who we are, to see our behaviors and if we're smart, they provide clarity for us to make necessary changes.  I've been experiencing that very thing and I'm not ashamed to admit that I didn't always like what that mirror showed me.  Living in Ego is something we all do and it's a very human behavior.  It....living in Ego, can be defined, also, as living in Fear.  That is a behavior that I work on constantly to mitigate in myself, with an eye towards cutting repetitive, negative cycles that serve no other purpose but to hold me back.

A little more than a month later, I am still adapting to this new Self.  I am also continuing to greet myself within the auspices of this relationship that shapes me on a constant basis.  I like the changes that are taking place; I like the level of communication that is being fostered on both sides.

There is value in being broken down; I think most of us recognize this fact. Remaining in a rigid mindset might feel comfortable and familiar, but the freedom that breaking free of those inflexible walls offers is a joyful thing to experience.  I'm breathing differently....more deeply....more confidently.  I am looking at myself and others with new eyes.

And I'm climbing a new hill, because that's what we do as we move forward in Life.  We traverse those endless hills and valleys.  From the viewpoint of the upward slope of this current hill, I look over my shoulder....just once....to survey the recent wreckage.  Then I turn and keep walking forward, and upward.  What is ahead of me is wide open road.

Auto-pilot Journey

Photo courtesy of
Bing images

Has anyone had the experience of being hacked lately?  In this electronic age, I doubt that many reading this post have been untouched by this nasty issue.  It happened to me very recently, and in stages that I later learned were interconnected.  It started with my Facebook account being hacked, then progressed a week later to my primary email account getting hit, and finally, my banking account was infiltrated.  Each occurrence was time consuming to address, and annoying in the extreme.  Thankfully, the majority of people who know me are aware that I wouldn't ever send spamming links (via email), or post similar links on my Facebook page.  The banking account hacking was obviously the most concerning episode of this whole experience, as it could have had extremely damaging repercussions.  I am fortunate that I bank with a federal credit union, and that my credit/debit card that was tied to this account was 100% protected.  This did not, however, keep me from going through protracted clean-up of the whole mess.  In fact, not a day has gone by in the two weeks since this happened without me remembering one more company I need to contact about the cancelled credit card.

Life Petals

Not long ago I was reading one of the installments of a blog of a dear friend of mine.  Her name is Lisa Brandel and her blog is titled The Widow Lady, in which she chronicles the story of a loved one battling and ultimately dying of a grim disease.  Although sad, her story is also gripping, realistic, honest, at times funny, bittersweet and always profound.

Lisa's blog has often prompted memories of my own of family members who have fought long, debilitating illnesses with dignity and inner strength. I was writing a comment on one of her posts and said something along the lines of,

"This has always made me think of watching petals slowly falling from a flower."

That phrase stuck in my mind and kept surfacing in different ways, to the point that I knew eventually I would write more fully about this concept.


Those of us who are romantic, or have children, are familiar with the story of "Beauty and the Beast".  Depending on which version of the story you have read or viewed in movie format, the Soul of the Beast is represented by a flower, or a blooming bush, or blooming tree.  As Beauty fails to see past the outer visage of the Beast, with each disappointment sustained, another petal from the flower falls.

The more I turned these seemingly unrelated points over and over in my mind, the more interconnecting points began to fall into place.  Who among us, in the first flush of love, or secure in a lasting relationship hasn't felt replenished, our spirits renewed and uplifted by the attention of that other person?  I have always held a mental image that relationships are exactly like that Magical Flower, but my image is one of the flower constantly being renewed.  Certainly, disappointments, illnesses, arguments and other difficult experiences strip the petals away or crush the delicate surfaces, leaving unsightly bruising.  Yet, with time, patience, understanding and love, the fallen petals are replaced, the bruised petals are healed and the flower stands proudly, lush and vital.

Could it be that we each have different flowers for each relationship, different flowers for various levels of physical health? One specific type of flower for friendships, another for family, yet another for work relationships, still more flowers that reflect our state of bodily health, and finally, that one special flower for the most deeply personal connection with that loved one. There is certainly a Language of Flowers that has existed for almost 200 years, giving each flower a specific message, sometimes going to exquisitely minute detail with one flower having different meaning read by the color of the petals.  An example would be a yellow rose meaning friendship, while we all recognize the red rose denotes love. 

In my mind's eye, all of the flowers in our personal garden form a central path.  This central path leads to a unique flower that is unlike any other in existence, and would never be found here on Earth.  This flower would represent us.  No one else, just us.  All the other flowers in our personal garden channel energy into our personal Life Flower, keeping it healthy. 

With age, it is inevitable that people come and go.  Some leave this earthly plane early, at least to our human minds.  Our personal gardens are as those in nature - in a constant state of flux, with changes and shifts, birth, growth and death occurring.  The march of time causes our personal Life Flower to slowly...oh, so slowly, shed petals.  Sometimes those petals renew, and the Life Flower continues to flourish.

In the instances of terminal illness, I imagine that individual's personal garden experiences quite dramatic change.  I also can vividly picture their personal Life Flower becoming an equally profound depiction of their battle against that illness.  I would think the Life Flower would reflect all the physical struggles, all the emotions and fears that go unspoken.  Rather than this Life Flower becoming marked, or bruised or scarred, I can only visualize that it becomes more brilliantly beautiful, shining with an otherwordly purity, carrying a similar mien to that of a soldier in the midst of grim battle. 

Eventually, an end must come for all of us.  Our personal Life Flower will shed petals over time, slowly for some of us, abruptly and brutally for others.  In my own personal analogy, I believe that those fallen petals do not perish into proverbial dust.  I envision them drifting on that cosmic wind, guided by Love, to find their way to the Life Flowers of their loved ones.  Isn't that a wonderful thing to imagine?  That, just possibly, those fallen petals seek us out, those of us left to carry on and find a way to go forward alone, they drift until they find us, and they attach to our personal garden. 

This, many might say, is a fairytale of epic proportions.  I have no foundation for this concept other than my own, admittedly, fertile imagination.  The image of that single flower suspended in space, slowly releasing, one by one....Life Petals, is one that has popped into my mind's eye each time I have dealt with lingering, terminal illness.  Whether it makes sense to anyone else matters not to me; what does matter to me is that the thought brings me comfort.  Imagining that some small fragment of the true essence of someone I have loved never really leaves me makes me smile, and gives me a solid sense of inner peace. 

Perhaps one day I shall sit down and write out this different sort of fairytale, for I am curious to learn more of it.  This is one of those facets of being a writer that I cherish, because I am equally curious to learn the end of the story as my readers may be.  Questions certainly remain - where do all the petals shed over a lifetime go?  Do they swirl away on the wind, except for those precious few that seek out those that are left to continue living?  Do they form a carpeted path for us when our time comes, leading us in the right direction to reunite with those who have gone before us?  The story is unfinished at this time. 

I am left with how to close this blog.  It was prompted, in part, by the blog of a dear friend, bringing to the forefront of my mind an image and concept that has been softly chiming in the background, patiently waiting to be given voice.  How will this post be received?  I honestly have no idea, but again, I will choose to be brave, publish it and wait to see what responses come.  In the meantime, I will visit my own personal garden and gaze about me at the blessings, strewn in riotous color, then I shall gaze towards the center of my garden and recognize that my own Life Flower casts a bright glow.  For now, this is a fitting close.