My Gold

The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still -Exodus 14:14. 

Marshall was a cloud gazer. He was often telling me what different shapes of animals, trees, even God's eyelashes he could see in the clouds above him. I think in fact, he was tuning out of the outer world in order to allow the inner intuitive mind to drift and dream. The art of being still and imagining a better, beautiful world seems to be further and further away from our society. I did this often in my childhood and I think it is something I need to start doing again; to forget the conditions, the lines I'm not supposed to color through, to play and color past the lines again. I need to educate my heart more instead of just my mind.

"Real doing comes from stillness -- not endless busyness or even reading". One moment where I felt exposed, raw, and visceral was the moment I birthed my son. I threw off all my clothes and had my husband throw- not lightly sprinkle, but THROW ice in my face. That moment strengthened my soul in a way words can't describe. When Kezman was put in my arms, I felt as if I was powerful enough to hold the whole world in my arms and care for it. A primal moment that no technology or virtual connection could touch. I had a birthing music playlist that added to the moment being the closest to existentialism I've ever experienced in my own body. I remember his blue body being limp and I was wondering if he had survived the grueling days of contractions and hours of posterior pushing. 

They wouldn't allow Marshall to cut the umbilical chord and quickly whisked our baby to the neonatal unit since his Apagar score was a 2. That was the day his dad said his son had his first experience of becoming a gentleman. Kezman's Apagar score rose to an 8 after meconium was removed from his nose and throat. As quickly as they whisked him away, our son gave up his neonatal bed for another baby girl who was born very prematurely and would be in the unit a long time. He came back and I remember his pink skin, looking at all his hair, and being happy that it looked like he had acquired his mother's nose and toes. Feeling his smooth skin and his baby breath was euphoric. For a moment in my life, my soul was balanced. I felt like a bird in flight, soaring above the pain, the sweat, blood and the tears up, up, above the clouds and so happy to be looking down from my place in the sky. It didn't matter what happened next or before...all that mattered was that moment. I had created something that was more valuable to me than gold is to the alchemist that made it.  

"Stay at your table and listen. Don't even listen, just wait, be completely quiet and alone. The world will offer itself to you to be unmasked." -- Kafka

Heal

 "It is returning, at last it is coming home to me -- my own Self and those parts of it that have long been abroad and scattered among all things and accidents." - Nietzsche

I am healing a splitting wound. I am on a healing journey that turned into a dramatic roller coaster for the last five turns (years), but the stabilization post the ups and downs has been difficult to obtain within myself. Sometimes I re-live these negative ups and downs instead of putting them behind me and re-inventing the life I had planned with Marshall. I desire to be enabled by his memory instead of disabled by it. I have the power to choose my attitude in any given circumstances as Marshall taught me all too well.

“A man is literally what he thinks, his character being the complete sum of all his thoughts.”

― James Allen, As a Man Thinketh

So in order to fully heal I must change my thoughts from within. In order to be empowered, these memories of Marshall must have meaning and the way I choose to VIEW our story must have purpose. Right before the pandemic, I took a trip to Palm Springs (which is now a squelching 122 degrees!) and saw the following quote in a quaint, wooden restroom outside the time traveling Integratron: A Native American grandfather is talking to his grandson about how he feels about a tragedy in their village. "I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful, angry, violent one. The other wolf is the loving, compassionate one." The grandson asks, "Grandfather, which wolf will win the fight in your heart?" The grandfather places his hand on his heart and replies, "The one I feed."

How do we learn to feed the good wolves in our lives? How can I personally feed our story so that the tragedy my son and I experience in our lives of not having his father can be one of healing and growth; of learning and re-inventing? I attended a life-changing class at that retreat in Palm Springs. It was not the class that focused on social media, it wasn't the one that used all the fancy gadgets and high technology mediums, nor was it the one that taught me to make all the money. 

No.

It was the simple, down to earth class taught by a beautiful member of a tribe in Palm Springs. She guided me to a place where I truly believed that my story was MAGIC! Including the tragic parts. Including the parts that may not have been as beautiful that made the otherwise simple, normal parts appear even more beautiful. If I can believe that my tragic story is beautiful after hearing that I am living someone's worst nightmare, then YOU can believe you have magic in your story too! No matter what your home, your community, your tribe looks like we each have the power to make our world great! The stories we tell ourselves have just as much power as our biology and environment.

What walls (stories) have we built up around ourselves that we can't escape, that tower all around us? Are we also telling ourselves that these walls can't fall? We don't need to be hard on ourselves for building them. At the time we built them they protected us from harm. Becoming aware of them and deciding if they still need to be there or not is a step in the right direction. Do we need the trumpets that played in Jericho millions of years ago to make our walls fall? 

No.

We simply need to know that WE are the creator of our own lives. That WE have the power to DO the things that make a difference in our perspective and deciding how we view the world and the way the world works. Life is short and what we do with the little time we have here matters. It matters that you give instead of take. It matters that true joy comes from unlocking others' joy instead of focusing on what we get.

As I think of going through this pandemic without Marshall and making decisions for my son without him, I see that my emotions have taken another rollercoaster ride. I am getting off the ride, stepping back and re-inventing our story. What I lack in my perspective is that I have the power to decide whether today is a time of tumult, of stomping around blowing rams horns until the cities walls fall down and the city is burned or if today is a time to step off the ride.

The stomping around, rioting, etc. are not an exaggeration. They happened in cities around the world. In LA where we moved here from, the city went on total lock down and the national guard was present. In Chicago where I currently attend online school, the students aren't welcome to live on campus and rioting is still present. The population to be hardest hit by this virus where I live is the Navajo nation in Page, Arizona. Many of us are shut up inside due to the coronavirus just like the time of Jericho. Trumpets literally fell from angel's hands during this pandemic due to earthquakes. 

Step back and ask yourself how you will tell this story of tumultuous times. Will it be from the perspective of a victim? Did you suffer sickness or loss? We lost the rock of our family five years ago and are still rebuilding. As we grow further from 2020 and you have some distance from it all how will your version of the story change? How are you living today to give that story a positive spin?

I have had five years since Marshall died and my version of our story is changed. In my heart, I am more grateful for the time I had instead of dismayed by the time I lost. The pain is still there, but I will choose to have a painting of beauty from the ashes. We all need different amounts of time to process our experiences, grief, and hardships to ultimately discover the nuggets of joy that lie along our journey and find healthier patterns than we previously lived. The negativity doesn't leave. I may not ever move on from the pain, but I am discovering my pain can lie dormant as I build happier, healthier moments and patterns on top of the hurt. Have compassion for yourself and others who haven't yet moved on from the negativity and who are embracing unhealthy patterns still. Let's teach each other to slowly feed the good wolves instead of the bad wolves.

For Jericho, for Marshall, for our tribes, for our world. It is time to reinvent and rebuild. Our cities, our minds, our world won't look the way they did before and that is where the beauty lies! In order to re-emerge anew the views will be different and heal our splitting wounds; changing our thoughts from within, visioning and creating a new story that is feeding the good wolves instead of the bad ones in each of us. 

"As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he". JA

AJ

Encouraging Widows

Encouraging Widows

Well, I did it! I collaborated with 18 other women on my first book! It's available for purchase here: https://www.amazon.com/Encouraging-Widows-Words-Women-Whove/dp/1711007560/ref=sr_1_2?crid=321ZYTQ2B5YDJ&keywords=encouraging+widows&qid=1579698854&sprefix=Encouraging+Widows%2Caps%2C499&sr=8-2

This just kindled a fire in me to finish my own book this year.
In 2020, my word is consistency. Consistency in writing, exercise, and especially with my son.