And there she goes… my Mother that is. Just as the plot thickens and you start to leaf through your shiny new purple binder. The leaving happens. Always for a good reason. You see jesus whispered in her ear…jesus not JESUS. And just like a shady boyfriend before Valentines Day her timing is impeccable. I used to wonder “WHY!!!??” as I stood on the opposite side of another door she had slammed. I used to touch my hand to it and still feel the motion in the wood and wonder why, right before the tears fell. But I was determined that this time would be different. I gave myself 24 hours to really feel it. The sear of it the sting of it. It was the day after a not so good doctors visit. So I steadied myself on the wall as I slid into a sad sorry heap. My beloved is rage in motion. We are here AGAIN!!! WT*&%!!! But one look at my crumpled face and he tucks his anger into his back pocket and pulls me close. I used my call a friend and a sister and another sister option.
I then got up and saw to dinner.
I understand now how the messiness pushes her away. The whats next and what will they need and the how much will it take. Leaves her running for the hills. The hills where she sits with her jesus as they put on robes and mutter about me and my unworthiness. Her jesus looks bored in my imaginings he’s heard it all before…and only wonders why she returns for more abuse from this progeny of hers.
I wanted to say…but Mommy “I only got a touch you won’t be needed much”…but the wind catches my words and I watch them float by as I sit 47min and 55 seconds and listen as she empties herself of the vastness of my shortcomings. What on earth happened you say? Oh she saw a Buddha on my website. A tiny smiling one. Blink blink stare. To her this symbolizes a Christian who has wandered far from their cross. Cancer she says…is the least of my worries. Since when? I wanted to say. As I eye my large fountain Buddha of 10 years in my backyard. Since when? But purple catches in the sunlight and all I can think instead is how very convenient. I listen and hear of the sad state of my after life with all of its burning heat. I am tainted and she really cannot stay she says…for the truly faithful are called away. Are they needed over there? Somewhere, more than here? With me and my binder? I listen and try not to step in the dogma goo. It burns if you touch it you know. It is catching and can cause emotional complications. You might start to cough out your agreement. Or sneeze with the ways she might have a point. In the end you will be feverish with the “It’s me and not her” fever and well if that takes hold only God herself can help you. People die from this brand of goo. The wanting of an embrace or a soothing kind word from a mother or a father that will never come. They wither away from the hunger and thirst of it all an apology or approval. The need of some unconditional love. It will rob you of your life force…
But for me I will make grape juice
As I sat and listened I prayed to GOD. You know, the ONE who made the solar systems and the manta rays, the red woods and the carpenter ants. The ONE who flung Jupiter, Venus and Mars into space and still had time to craft a hummingbird and an orchid and yes even me. As I breathed deep and let the tears silently fall for those 47 minutes and 55 seconds I decided no defense was needed. I was perfect and she was not right about me.
Not now and not ever.
My enough ness you see is my primary focus as I see my Oncologist. He is there to address the body I am here to address the soul. I know as I breath in the forgetting gas and fall into a deep sleep as they open me up. I know that the part that they take is just a part of me that was bit confused. A part not quit loved right. I let it go as a lover who’s parting is immanent after an infraction that is complete. It is ok to let that part go so that what is left behind can thrive and grow.
I am declaring this thriving this enough-ness, this whole-ness with my words and my deeds and my clothes and my hair and my eyes…my large almond eyes. I shout it with my throaty laugh and the spirit filled way I mother my children and try to be there for those in need. I flaunt it in the way I force myself to respectfully listen to those who differ from me for that I think is where it is so greatly needed. I think it’s called being like God and to me God is Love and it is something I strive to be.
I have decided that I am saved… always by grace.
That I am whole I am worthwhile I am me and that is enough.
Sharing is caring. Please share. Click the Like button. Share the Love. Forward to 5 women…men…cows…dogs. Raise your hands in the air and wave em like you just don’t care. And Afterwards PLEASE make sure that you SHARE on Instagram, Twitter,FB, Snapchat and Tell ALL YOUR “FRIENDS”! UGH!
After I SHARED last week I started to obsess over why we share. Why did I share???!! I mean does it mean I’m a crazy attention hound? I do like the LIKES as much as anyone. It comes with the Actor /Writer /Self Entrepreneur… Employee handbook. I want to matter I want to be seen. The exhibitionist Kardashian in me gave me the side eye.
Oh NO WHY did I share?!!
After I shared I felt like I was floating on air. I shoved my shiny purple binder under the couch and I danced naked in the living room. After I shared I played with the kiddies and got frisky with the hubby. After I shared I ran up #DatHill with the theme of Wonder Woman trailing a close second. I guzzled my green drink and set upon my day like …like a girl who was damn sure in Formation. I had shared and I felt lighter in the telling and it felt silky smooth on my skin.
Until I realized that everyone was getting the news. The news that I had held so lightly in my front pocket for months. They were getting it spoken by a friend or related in a text or blown in on a breeze and then I realized. Oh Frick I SHARED! I realized that some actually read the post while many others just got the abridged version.
OH -Sh*%t – Dahn- CANCER!!!
We all know that once the words leave your lips and spill out onto the canvas of life the narrative changes. The painter and song maker and sculptor must stand back once the paint is dried and the notes are played and allow for space. Space for individual interpretation free and clear. It has been wheeled out into the town square, and there is no more fussing over the edges anymore. There are others to do that for you now. Your part is done. All you can do is stand back and fret or go take a nap.
I shared and I felt like I had taken the little purple pill in the Matrix the one in the left hand Neo that one. And I went on a trip with each person who responded to my Share. It was a cyclone of emotions. I was swirled dipped and dived and covered up in the love, and well wishes and sorrow and sadness and fear and hope and disbelief and the gravity of shared experience. And the next day I was oh so very HEAVY with it all. In a days time I had been added to secret societies that I didn’t even know existed, I was put on mailing lists and prayer lists and chanting lists! Well I sighed and peered under the couch and pulled out my purple binder and slipped back on my top and I sat and I was sad, as I remembered that I had a “touch of cancer.”
Oh right that…Sigh!
But then the magical happened.
I felt the tug of …the pull… the tap on the shoulder and the whisper in my ear of the divine.
Why do we share? Why did I share?
You shared to …
It is my very own healing process that drew me to the silent white screen to write my words and pour out my soul and lay it bare.
Which is then picked up by others the raw energy of theses words. Many nod yes, or oh no, or sit silent in the idea of this shared journey.
It then spreads and becomes a deep, wide invitation to be APART and Not Separate in your journey.
I have come to realize that I have been hungry to the point of malnutrition for sharing real sharing. Real kindness a touch a word of love. I have felt outside and ostracized too long and it has made my cells oh so sad.
With this new understanding imprinted in my heart I melted into each Hug given. Oh it felt so wonderful to be hugged.
I smiled in my skin with each kind word. So many long lost friend souls came to be apart of me and my journey again and I smiled and welcomed them back.
This COMMUNITY of a shared life.
I now sit, my purple binder on the table, my community rolling before me at my feet filled with such Love.
If you see me give me a hug. If I cross your mind drop me a note or send me a silent caress of a prayer and yes SHARE I believe it will do your body as good as it does mine.
It’s called Community, and by reading this you just became A -Part of it!
It’s amazing the idea of ones own childhood. The 24 hour ness of it. The 12 months a year ness of it. Is it even possible that it lasted 18 years and yet it has been gone for at least twice that amount? The hours of play the make believe worlds the riding bikes and skipping rope ness… The best friends, the bullies the secrets and the deep emotions.
And yet the imprint lingers…
I am busy filling out paperwork for my kids and it has activated a nerve that often gets brushed when I do this task. “Do you need reduced lunch?” I proudly check No and in the same moment I can feel the tiny dime resting in my pocket. My Dad gives each of us one each morning and admonishes us not to lose it. I finger mine constantly throughout the morning making sure it is indeed still there. Some years we qualify for reduced lunch but some years it is free. I don’t like free. I like to be able to hand the lunch lady something other than a ticket when it is my turn in line. I envied those who carried the shiny new lunch boxes and even those with the paper sacks. Lucky ducks. Looking back my bestie Sara carried a sack lunch and it was the same thing every day. PB&J on white bread, un toasted an apple and some chips. The chip selection was the only element that changed. Sometimes dorritos and on the really awesome days it was cheetos, which were my all time favorite. We would lay her chips on my lunch tray and she was always generous a 60/40 split. She was so very over her PB& J but for me it looked like a dream come true. This memory runs it’s fingers through my hair more days then not as I prepare my children’s lunch. I have a sense of pride being able to do this simple task. Choosing the fruit changing up the selection. I feel such an amount of gratefulness.
Aaaahhh the imprint….
I go about my days of raising my own children and I feel the days slipping away and I try to dive in to see it to revel in it and get it into my skin. And yet even now I must arch my mind to remember them as babies their tiny hands and feet their first words the sound of their small voices.
The sleepless night, hours of play, the fevers and colds of babyhood have morphed into video games, playdates and homework. Where has the time gone?
We are told by many Sages to be present, to enjoy the moments as if it were our last. But how oh how? Admidst the dishes and the laundry and the homework and the discipline and the grades and…
And yet I have decided that this year I will revel for 5 min a day. It is an “alert” I put on my phone. It alerts me to Stare, Feel, Listen.
Stare at the faces, feel the soft skin…listen to their voices. I will rise higher than the prescribed duties for 5 whole minutes and I will know that this imprint will be there as my skin wrinkles and my walking slows.