Facing yourself and the stuff that truly matters

Sacred dreams is a Facebook group I follow and where I find inspiration quite frequently. It’s a feeling of belonging, of having found your tribe members, a sense of knowing and understanding.

Take a look at Oriah Mountain Dreamer, “The invitation”

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayers or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remembering the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you an bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can love with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon “Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Ancestor Prayer

When you were born,

The earth became your body,

The stone became your bone,

The sea became your blood,

The sun became your eye,

The moon became your mind,

The wind became your breath.

When you passed to the Otherworld,

Your breath became the wind,

Your mind became the moon,

Your eye became the sun,

Your blood became the sea,

Your bone became the stone,

Your body became the earth.

When we were born, you did the same for us:

You called forth the earth and rocks;

The sea arose and the sun descended;

The moon shone down and the winds sang.

For those who come after, we shall do as you did for us,

When we are gone, we shall do as you did before.

Ancestors, we honor you.

Mom – A bond that couldn’t be broken

One month ago I received the terrible news of Moms passing. It’s hard to believe that four weeks have passed, and yet it feels so unreal and hard to grasp most days. It’s a never ending nightmare with the same outcome. She’s just not here anymore, not in the physical sense anyways, but I feel her presence other times and know that she will forever be with me. Sometimes the signs are subtle, sometimes they are smack into my face and Mom has always had a way of being very direct, even blunt at times. At least with me. She didn’t held anything back and she let me have it, especially if I aggravated her in some sense.

She kept her mouth shut on most occasions, even in times when she was wronged and she never talked back about anyone in a bad or revengeful way. She wasn’t dumb and her exposure to the world was minimal, but she still knew and had a healthy take on right or wrong. She kept her feelings, her opinions to herself for the most part, perhaps to keep the peace, to not rock the boat. After all she was alone most of her life and I was far far away in another country, but when it came to me, she spoke her peace without sugarcoating anything. She was blunt and direct. Today, I know that I have inherited this from her, but my approach is a little different. I’d be lying if I said that her ways didn’t leave pain and scars behind, that they didn’t cut deep into my heart and burdened me with a heavy load most of my life. I’d be sugarcoating it to dismiss how hard these times were, how much I have chased her love and acceptance as her daughter all of my life. And yet I have never held it against her, and her being gone couldn’t hurt any more. I loved her unconditionally and she was always my Mother. It was a bond that couldn’t be broken. I pleated with her when she was strong willed and dismissed me and my feelings. I’ve never stopped trying to make her proud of me and a couple of times I even received a few glimpses of what this could feel like.

I know that in the end she has always loved me, she just couldn’t verbalize it. I wouldn’t trade our time last year and I realize how important that time was for both of us. How much closer we got, and that that love was always there. She has shown me while I grew up without my Dad in the form of providing for me and even now in her death it is still trough material and financial ways that she provides for me. It was always her way to show you that she loved you. She provided, she bought things for you. If I could choose, I’d give it all away for a one big hug and one sincere “I love you.” She managed to give me half of it in this lifetime.

So if you think money can replace love, think again because love is priceless and can not be replaced. A hug, a look, a touch of hands, a heartfelt I love you, will always be worth more then anything you can buy. Material things can make you feel good but their magic never lasts. Love fills your heart with warmth’s and a strengths that will last forever.

Hello Mom

It was a few days before Moms funeral that I spent a few hours at a place in Rothenburg, called the Lotus Garden. It was a beautiful place to just be and to relax, trying to calm my mind.

Little waterways run through the small park, creating natural habitats for birds, insects and goldfish. There are plenty of sitting areas nestled into corners to enjoy a Latte from the cafe at the edge of the park. I did after I walked the small park, taking in all it’s artifacts such as the gazebos, the large Gong, and the presence of Lord Buddha honored with several statues. I loved the energy of the place and perhaps for the first time since arriving I was taking a deep breath.

While walking through the park, I reached a small red footbridge that crossed a waterway. It was lit up by beautiful sunshine that is not all that common here in Germany compared to my home in the states. I was surely going to soak it all up and charge myself with warmths and glow. I stood for a moment when something extraordinary happened and a dragonfly landed on my hand. I knew immediately that it was a sign from Mom and that she had come to comfort me.

I miss you very much and I cannot convey the pain that I feel. A bystander in the past, I have given my condolences to others, coworkers and friends who had lost a parent. My sentiments were always heartfelt and sincere, I knew their pain, but never in a million years could I have prepared for how intense this pain is. You just don’t know from an outside point of view until you experience it yourself. My heart bleeds for everyone that still has to face this some day. With no parents left, it also became apparent that you can feel like an orphan at any age.

The weight of life

I’ve been carrying “this weight” with me for a long time. Perhaps as long as I remember.

I am not talking about the physical weight, but the emotional one that might be even more dangerous. It’s a weight that rests on my shoulders. A weight that includes worries, sometimes about things I can’t control but wished that they could, or would have been different. A weight that at times feels like the weight of the world, crushing me under it’s enormity.

I believe it is the reason as to why I carry so much tension in my upper back and neck. Why the muscles feel tight and never seem to relax. My shoulders slope downwards, and no longer do they stand broad to accept additional weight. It just slides off me, in the same way my purse does these days. I have reached my limit of what I am carry. Physically and emotionally.

I look at it on the bright side, like it can’t get worse, even though I know it always can, but I am an optimist and I want to believe that things are in the process of getting better.

Life is hard, but I’m finding inspiration wherever I can.

City of my heart

I have always loved Rothenburg o.d.T. and it’s always been a special place for me. I have to admit that there is a shadow that lingers now because it has become the city where Mom passed away. It’s too early to tell if this will remain or dissolve in time.

At the beginning of life

Picture of little Mom and her Mother. Her life was just starting. I sometimes look at her, this little, and brace my heart for this poor little innocent soul that had no clue of how strong she would have to be in this hard life that was already laid out before her. How could her soul ever have signed up for so much pain? And how could mine had signed up to witness and see it all. I believe that our souls sign up for different lessons and maybe she needed to experience the many faces of pain and loss. Of what it means to start over and over again. Maybe my soul needed to experience what it means to love unconditionally regardless of how much time was wasted and how challenging of times there were. We had ten month that mattered the most. Ten month compared to a lifetime, and all I can say is that it is not enough.

I know that many things were never in my control to change, but I will forever wish that her life could have seen more sunny days and that we could have shared even more together. I miss you so much.

Rescued by love

A beautiful and touching story found it’s way to my heart today. For a moment it is taking me away from my current matters and I find myself with my favorite four legged child “Nikki” as she was still alive. I don’t know who’s picture this is and who wrote the story, but may the rightful owner be credited in this post.

It is crazy how many people are alone in this world and have nothing but the company of their pets. Those are the lucky ones in my opinion, for the love of an animal is unconditional. They are always happy to see you and they always sense when you need just a little extra love. Animals fill a hole that humans failed to occupy. Animals are not bias and animals don’t judge. And yet it is US, calling THEM the animal.

I have written about how I rescued Nikki from abuse first owners, and over the years we formed a bond so strong, I really don’t know who saved who in the end. I related to this article today because I find myself in a position where I could use some saving from an animal. To find distraction and renewed purpose during these difficult times. It might be a little while yet but this is how I see it already.

“Her eyes met mine as she walked down the corridor peering apprehensively into the kennels. I felt her need instantly and knew I had to help her.

I washed my tail, not too exuberantly, so she wouldn’t be afraid. As she stopped at my kennel I blocked her view from a little accident I had in the back of my cage. I didn’t want her to know that I hadn’t been walked today. Sometimes the overworked shelter keepers get too busy and I didn’t want her to think poorly of them.

As she read my kennel card I hoped that she wouldn’t feel sad about my past. I only have the future to look forward to and want to make a difference in someone’s life.

She got down on her knees and made little kissy sounds at me. I shoved my shoulder and side from my head up against the bars to comfort her. Gentle fingertips caressed my neck; she was desperate for companionship. A tear fell down her cheek and I raised my paw to assure her that all would be well.

Soon my kennel door opened and her smile was so bright that I instantly jumped into her arms.

I would promise to keep her safe.

I would promise to always be by her side.

I would promise to do everything I could to see that radiant smile and sparkle in her eyes.

I was so fortunate that she cane down my corridor. So many more are out there who haven’t walked the corridors. So many more to be saved. At least I could save one.

I rescued a human today.” ❤️

More consciousness

I am praying for more consciousness, to not miss a single thing and to make choices that yield no regret. I am not doing so well at it, and this decision came because of another missed opportunity that happened today.

A little white haired lady keeps nodding at me when I drive by, or when I walk the dogs with my cousins on Sundays. I know her from a distance and I know that she used to interact with Mom a great deal. Recently I found a picture of Mom as she was young. She was in the company of another man, not my father, but I guess he could have been. I happened to find out that she had a thing with this man before Dad, and it so happens to be the brother of the little white haired lady who no longer lives in town. I’ve been meaning to talk to her and been contemplating visiting her. I’m sure she has some stories to tell about Mom, stories and memories I cling onto right now, but my heart is still raw, and I’m not sure if I could hear them just yet and smile back at her in memory.

As I drove home today, I saw the little lady a few blocks from her house. She is slow going and walks with the help of a walker. I had to stop at the interaction, and she saw me. Slowly she made her way to my car window and grabbed my hand, apologizing about having missed the funeral. She couldn’t have walked that far. I now wished I could have picked her up so she could pay her last respects. I might still take her to the cemetery another time and we can visit Mom together. Somehow I feel a connection to this little lady, like I know her on a soul level.

There she stood next to my window crying about poor Mom, while she clenched my hand and made me cry as well. “Best, best Wises to you” she said, squeezing my hand once more, eventually moving on, and still crying. And would did I do? I cried too and drove away like a coward, taken by the unexpected, not facing up to it. I should have parked and walked with her. I should have not let her hurting heart walk alone, and I sure hope she made it home safe and sound.

I have much work to do and I hope I can be more conscious and not miss these opportunities that are everything in the future. Tonight my heart hurts because of my actions once more. For I don’t know what I am doing, please hear my prayer.

Be still my heart

It’s only been last Friday that Mom was buried, but in a way it feels like an eternity learning about her death. There has been such a long, lingering pain that dates back so much further than September 28th the actual day of her passing.

October 1st, I boarded a plane, on the way to Germany, knowing full well I was too late this time and would not see her alive again. I arrived on the 2nd of October and said goodbye to a closed casket that later in the evening disappeared from my view in a Hearst, driving into the darkness.

Mom wanted to be cremated and all of the closer family knew that we better not put her in the ground with all the worms as she occasionally mentioned it in her serious manner when it came to that subject. I guess she needed to know that she was to be taken seriously and that she meant every word. All of us knew….

The urn would take about ten days to come back and there was a weekend and holiday in that timeframe as well. There were times I energetically connected with Mom, when I felt her presence and when she sent me a little sign like a dragonfly one day. (I will save this for another post soon.) Over the next days, I would always see that Hearst driving away with Mom lying live-less in her casket, going for her last ride. And the driver that nonchalantly just waived goodbye as if he was leaving a party while all of us stood in our grief.

Many of times my mind wandered to the crematorium and tortured myself with pictures of what the actual process might look like. It’s absolute horror when you are grieving and yet your mind loves to just add to the misery. It’s awful. Would I be able to accept her being gone, would it finally sink in that that person just is no longer? Would I get my closure or would my mind continue to torture me?

I wanted to know and yet I didn’t. On Monday I found out and received an official certificate of when and where Mom was cremated. It was very hard to see that certificate with her name on it and my heart hurts anew.

4th of October 2019 at 16:14