Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 8

After the life review where I visited each five-year segment of my life, things just started to flow out of me.  I could blame the strange yet beautiful events that occurred on my lack of caloric intake, or maybe on the desert heat - things had heated up since our arrival.  Maybe my actions were caused by a lack of interaction with my own species.  Most likely, it was all due to my willingness to let happen what needed to happen.

So, with no warning, a series of events regarding my grief about my dad unfolded. 

First, this eulogy/obit came out on paper:

John __, my dad, was raised as one of seven boys by Robert ____, a poor farmer, and Mary ____, a schoolteacher.  He and his family lived through the depression and dust bowl years in Kansas, Oklahoma and Arkansas. The story I heard was that Robert, my grandfather, was constantly looking for greener grass at time when there was no such thing, thus the constant uprooting and poverty.

Dad joined the navy in World War II and was a radio technician on the submarine, Cero.  He traveled the South Pacific - New Guinea and Australia.

After the war, Dad met Cleo ___.  They married and started a television/radio sales and service shop in a Kansas town of about 40,000 people.

Four years after their marriage, their darling daughter was born.  :-)  Two years later, they were blessed with a son. 

Dad worked long, hard hours at the shop.  Mom helped with the office work, and my brother and I spent a good amount of our days at there watching television or entertaining ourselves in other ways, most of which didn't cause too much damage. 

In 1968, our family moved to Colorado.  When we first arrived, Dad went door to door to motels and hotels to see if they needed a television repairperson.  From that initial investment, he drummed up a nice-sized clientele. 

Our family took two unforgettable vacations while I was growing up.  In the mid-sixties we drove to New York, Canada, D.C., and Nantucket.  Later, in the early seventies, we drove west to the San Francisco area.  In addition to those great adventures, we also traveled to Colorado a few times, staying at my great-aunt's mountain cabin.

Dad was a good man.  Kind.  Patient.  I was not an easy child for him much of the time and I don't think that I ever thanked him for working so hard so that I could have all that I needed.  I don't think I thanked him for those vacations or for the times he worried about me.  I hope I made up for it somewhat by growing up into a good person and raising two great kids.  I hope I took on his kindness and patience as a base to grow from.

Thank you, Dad, for all you did for me. Thank you for the numerous things you fixed for me, for calming me when I worried.  I will miss you.  And remember the line you told me so many times when I would get worked up about something - a line you attributed to some man in the navy with you:  "It don't make no difference no how."

Dad, you made a difference.
 

My dad and mom, photo taken September 26, 2008

Previous Wilderness Quest Posts:   1  2  3  4  5  6  7

My Father's Prayer

I have read that cats can sleep as much as 20 hours a day.  At this point of my dad's life, he does that, too. 

When Mr. CFP and I arrived at the nursing home today, Dad had just awakened from a nap.  As I wheeled him out of his room, he repeated over and over, to no one in particular, "Thank you.  Thank you."  I don't know what he was being thankful for, and I don't know who he was thanking. 

But it was beautiful and it brought to mind this quote:

If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough. - Meister Eckhart

Dad was awake for about an hour before he slipped back into the quiet place where he spends most of his time.

My dad... still teaching me.  Thank you.  Thank you.

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 7

The desert began working its magic.  No, that's wrong.  The desert magic is always working.  I was finally able to be aware of the magic taking place within me and around me.

Before we went our separate ways for our solo time, and as we were learning about different rituals which could help to deepen our quest experience, one fellow quester shared a ritual that he thought was useful.  The idea resonated with me, and that was one of the first things I did on my second day of solo time.

A wash (kind of like a dry creek bed) bordered my solo area.  In the wash, I placed a stick every five feet until I had enough five-foot-long sections to represent each of the five years of my life (let's see now, if I'm getting close to 100 years old, I need almost 20 sticks...)   ;-)

I sat next to the area that represented the first five years of my life, and I visited with it, remembering stories I had heard about my birth.  (I was born with black hair and since there is no black hair in our family, my mom thought she was given the wrong baby.  It took a few months before I became a blondie.)  As I sat on the dirt in the wash, I conversed with my parents about what it was like to have their first child, about my dad's work, and about the appearance of my baby brother who cried incessantly, due to colic or something painful with his stomach.

After I felt complete with that era of my life, I moved on to ages five through ten.  On and on I went, listening to the stories of my life, trying to connect with my experiences and the experiences my parents were having at the time.

And when I was done, I realized just how self-absorbed I had been for much of my life.  I knew very little about what my parents were doing, feeling, and thinking through many of my years.  That was profound for me, and I knew that not only could I not go back and do things differently, but with my dad's dementia now, I wouldn't be able to ask him about his life.

The realization wasn't a catalyst for beating myself up, but a piece of the mosaic of my life.

I sat with that a while, then gratitude for my parents and for all that they did for me rolled out of me like the waters that flood the washes in spring.

A little while later, I wrote a eulogy for my dad.



Previous Wilderness Quest Posts:   1  2  3  4  5  6

The Aftermath

If you live in the U.S., I hope that you had a magical Thanksgiving holiday today.  And if you don't live in the U.S., I hope your day was magical, too.  Each moment of every day is so full of life, beauty and vibrancy, I can't figure out why we need a special day to remember gratitude, but I guess it always helps to have a little boost. 

Thanksgiving dinner was here at the PeaceCarol house today.  Master Chef Carol, along with her trusty assistant, Mr. CFP, whipped up the huge spread.  Family came by, and we ate together.

Cooking and pre-dinner cleaning time:  10 hours.
Narshing it down time:  about an hour.
Post-dinner cleaning:  still in process.

After making three kinds of potatoes - mashed, steamed, and sweet... After making three desserts...  After making what smelled like scrumptious stuffing, of whose flavors I could not partake...  My Thanksgiving resolution (why wait until New Year's?) is:

From now on, when Chef Carol makes the Thanksgiving meal, she's not going to try to satisfy the world.  If she can't taste test it, it won't be made.  That means all dishes will be dairy-free, sugar-free, and gluten-free.  Trust me, no one will miss those things.  I've got gluten-free/sugar-free/dairy-free down!

Whew!  What a relief!  Glad we got that out in the open!

Even though I miss my Buddha dog, profoundly noticing his absence when it was table scrap sharing time, I am getting some kitty-lovin' in while house-sitting a HUGE,white Main Coon kitty who sports the polydactylism that is common of the breed.

And, because of a lack of doggage in our yard, foxes are no longer avoiding us.  Today I looked out to see one napping in our backyard.  So darn cute!

I am thankful for CRITTERS!

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 6

Just as I was dozing off for the night, I heard it.  

The sound was distinct and I instantly recognized it.  I don't know why I recognized it - I can't name a time when I had heard that sound before.  But I had no doubt about what it was.

I quickly turned on my headlamp and rolled over to look.

He was gone.  It was as though he vaporized.

But I had evidence.

Like a madwoman, I hid the aim of his desire.  I threw it into my day pack, and then threw that into my backpack.  He would have to be pretty darn motivated to work that hard!

After I had made my statement, "Don't mess with my stuff!" I waited, barely breathing, headlamp at the ready.  Would he come back?  I wanted to see the little varmint.

Thoughts came:  What was I thinking - or not thinking - when I left that container here on the ground next to me?  I could just throw its contents out into the night somewhere and let the little fella have at them.  The container only held an apple core and small remnants sweet potato. 

But visions of hordes of hungry mice-like 4-leggeds greedily converging so close to my space in order to feast nixed that idea.

It wasn't long before sleep overcame me.  I guess that I am no match for scorpions or tiny-toothed creatures.

We had always carefully stowed away all food at base camp so that no critters would get to the food, but having never seen any moochers in all my times in the desert, I never believed they really existed. 

Then I saw his toothmarks.  Now I'm a believer.  Yeah yeah yeah yeah...




Previous Wilderness Quest Posts:   1  2  3  4  5

Today

I stood with my sign - one of my favorites -

"Imagine Peace on Earth"

A man walks by.

"We'll have it when the military kills people like Gaddafi." 

Okay.

Back to homeostasis...

A few minutes later,

Still standing with my sign - still one of my favorites -

"Imagine Peace on Earth"

A man walks up to me, stands in front of me and my sign.

"Imagine peace on earth.  I have been dreaming of it ever since I served in Vietnam."

We Women in Black stay in silence when we stand,

So as the man seated himself on the bus bench,

I walked over to him, touched my heart, and bowed to him.

And cried on my way back to my place in the vigil.

In love With Solid Ground

This poem seemed to fit nicely alongside my wilderness quest posts.

 

The Opening of Eyes

That day I saw beneath dark clouds
the passing light over the water
and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
I knew then, as I had before
life is no passing memory of what has been
nor the remaining pages in a great book
waiting to be read. It is the opening of eyes long closed.
It is the vision of far off things
seen for the silence they hold.
It is the heart after years
of secret conversing
speaking out loud in the clear air.
It is Moses in the desert
fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes
as if to enter heaven
and finding himself astonished,
opened at last,
fallen in love with solid ground.
  -- David Whyte
      from Songs for Coming Home
 

Midwifing My Dad

Yesterday, the voice said, "Carol, go sit with your dad tomorrow.  Go before your mom gets there."

I listened and this morning, I went.  I sat and breathed with Dad.  He was resting, but his breath was labored.  We breathed together: 

Opening, letting go of attachments - to this body and to identification.  Letting go of the identification of being a dad, a husband, someone who "does". 

Bringing in open-ness, light, freedom

Opening, letting go of all attachments, all pain

Bringing in peace and ease, going to be with mother and father and brothers who have gone before.

Over time, his breath softened, became easier.  Sometimes I could barely tell he was breathing. 

And as I breathed with my dad, midwifing him into his next step, I realized that it was not just him opening to letting go of attachments and bringing in light, peace & ease, it was DadCarolEverything.  There was only this one beautiful moment of peace and alrightness.  No one healthy and helping, no one sick and in death's labor.  Just one thing. 

Some people call that one thing Love.  It can also be called Wonder.  Awe. 

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 5

It is highly recommended that questers fast during their 84 hours of solo time.  Only water is taken.  There sure are a lot of hours in a day when you're alone and you can't even distract yourself with the preparation, eating, and cleaning up that meals require!

I fasted during my previous two quests, but before I left for Utah this time, a couple of different health practitioners had recommended that I not fast, suggesting that I take along some snacks for sustenance during my solo time.  That seemed right.  I didn't have any extra energy or weight to be giving up.  And the advice turned out to be very prescient, since unbeknownst to anyone at that time, just one month later, I would be fasting for six days while recovering from gut surgery.

Ahhhh... life is such a trip!

My first day in my temporary home included housekeeping chores - setting up my tarp, creating an outhouse (you'll just have to wonder...), and setting up a prayer circle.  As I usually do, I made a circle with different colored rocks that I found.  Each rock represented either another quester or someone from back home who I wanted to remember.  Every morning and every evening, I talked to each rock (the desert sun will do that to ya) and wished all good things for the person represented by that particular stone.  I sent supportive energy to each quester, seeing him or her actualizing the word that he/she expressed before we headed our separate ways.

Even though I was alone, I always felt a connection with the other questers - knowing they were out there alone like me.  I truly felt no separation with all of life.  Things are quite simple while sitting alone in the desert and the interconnection is very apparent.

Besides setting up the Barrow Homestead, I unexpectedly napped in the strangest position, draped over my rolled-up sleeping bag.  And I took stock of the flower garden that surrounded my home.

If you walked through my homestead as a means of getting somewhere else, you might not have noticed that almost every step would land you on the tiniest, most delicate flowers of yellow, white, pink or purple.  At first look, it appeared that all was sand, except for a few pieces of greenery.  But I sat A LOT and the more I sat, the more teeny tiny flowers I saw, all snuggled down close to the red dirt.  I could never have created such an immense and varied flower garden myself, but here I was, living in abundant, colorful finery.




Previous Wilderness Quest Posts:   1  2  3  4

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 4

Awareness.

That is the word that I wanted to embody during my solo time in the desert.  I wanted to be completely present to everything.  In the moment.  Alive. One with the land and my feelings and my body's messages and, well, everything.

That's a big order!  But I knew no reason to limit the possibilities.

Before leaving for our solo time, we stood around the circle of rocks you see below, and we each said our word, giving voice to our intention.  Then, one by one, we walked into the middle of the circle and received blessings from the guides.  

May this woman be safe.  May she recognize that she is one with all life. I wish I could have had a recording of all the sweet words that the guides said to me, words that gave me the strength and courage to carry me through the next three days.


But I guess the words don't matter.  They did their job. 


As I walked out of the circle, heading out to the place I had selected for my solo, I felt very alone, but I also had a sense of exhilaration.  The sandstone and junipers seemed very alive, radiant, and welcoming.  I was going home.


Previous Wilderness Quest Posts:   1  2  3

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 3

I never did see that friendly scorpion again.  But then, I never looked for him, either.  I just didn't expect him to bother me, and he complied.  I wonder how he's doing now, six months later.

(Eek!  I just read that, depending on the species, scorpions can live to be between 4 and 25 years old!)

The first two full days of the quest are mostly spent doing three things: Learning about the lay of the land, learning about rituals that are conducive to getting the most out of our solo time, and spending time looking for our individual solo spot.

After much angst and inner worrying that I'll never find my solo spot, I found a pretty good place.  I could imagine it being my home for 84 hours of non-stop alone-ness.

Fast forward to the evening of day three.  After dinner, we talked a little and made sure that everyone had what he or she needed for this journey.  Quests really are a journey.  We enter the desert alone, leaving all behind.  We go in wonder and open-ness.  Open to hearing the message of the land, the whispers of our hearts.  We don't come back the same.

Soon, we entered silence and all went our separate ways for the night. 

When we woke up the next morning, we gathered all of our gear and wandered silently into the base camp for the ritual that would take us over the threshold into our time of solo.  After the ritual, we would be on our own for three days and three nights.

I am always struck how, during this time, I feel like I am walking into my own death, never to return.  There are usually tears as we hug each other goodbye.  It's amazing!  If we were in a Walmart parking lot and found ourselves hugging each other goodbye, knowing that we would see each other again in 84 hours, I swear it would not be so poignant.  (But I'd probably be crying for other reasons... Don't make me go to Walmart!!!)

After hugs, we stood in a circle and, one by one, said the one word that we wanted to take with us on our solo.  We knew that each of the other questers would be holding our word for us, also.

My word was...



Previous Wilderness Quest Posts:   1  2 

How I Became U2's Marketing Guru

Last night, I went to a small, dark bar, very intimate, and U2 was playing.  The place was only sparsely filled.  After the concert, I was speaking to Bono and The Edge, telling them about how they needed to do some marketing.  They asked what to do.  I told them that the way we built our massage practice was to do door-to-door flyers and it worked well.  They thought it sounded like a good idea and decided that they would do that.  I told them that it's not easy.  It's a lot of walking - not easy walking when you have to go up and down driveways.  They were very impressed that I was so wise about marketing. 

Then I realized that, hey, they can fill stadiums for goodness sake! What's the deal with only drawing a very small crowd in a bar and the need for marketing?  Their reply:  Yeah, they could fill stadiums, but the small venues were harder. 

I started having a "thing" with Bono.  The last time I remember having sex with him, we were in some closed small space.  We knew his wife was outside the door.  That was somewhat uncomfortable.

Later that day, I needed to make an appointment with a woman who was connected to the band somehow. While we were doing our transaction, Bono's wife walked past me and into the reception area.  I felt really bad and asked the receptionist if people looked down on me for having an affair with Bono.  She told me there was no judgment.  Whew!

I wonder how many women have had dream sex with Bono!

(Disclaimer - I have never had CONSCIOUS fantasies about sex with Bono, and even though he's a famous rock star - and kind of sexy - he's not my type.)   ;-)

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 2

The desert is moody.  Cold and indifferent one day, hot and intense the next.

Our base camp was set up before we arrived the first morning.  Water in the smaller containers was still frozen from the night before.  Wind drove the cold air into my bones.  And it was too late to head back to my warm house.  I was committed to being on this exposed land for the next eight days.

Forget about warm housing, I didn't even have a tent!  It is suggested that no tent be used on a quest, allowing us to be less separated from the land and life of which we are a part.  There are many things that would give me great comfort in the desert, and a tent is at the top of the list.  During the upcoming nights, my home would be made of a ground cloth below me, a sleeping bag around me, and another tarp above to keep out any rain.  No protective walls to keep out any boogeymen or four-leggeds that may find me out there in the middle of nowhere.  Even though I always approach quests with fears of tentlessness, I usually end up sleeping without the top tarp some of the time because I find that it separates me from the AMAZING, gargantuan night skies that reach into infinity.

The first night out this time around, dressed in long underwear, fleece shirt and pants, and my down coat, I snuggled into my blue down sleeping bag, and by the light of my headlamp, I began to journal.  (Yes, with all of that insulation, I was pretty darn comfortable.)  Grief about my dad's dementia and physical deterioration, along with confusion about how his care was being handled leaked out through ink onto paper, through tears onto cheeks, and through cries into the night.  As I was indulging quite nicely, a scorpion crawled from under my ground cloth.  Hadn't he ever heard the sound of a wailing woman before???)  He was about four inches from my writing hand.  Yikes.

Did you know that during the day, scorpions find shelter from the hot sun by hiding under rocks, but you can't fool a scorpion into thinking a headlamp is the sun, so you can't make him hide - or go away?  What to do, what to do?  He moseyed on around so that he was about a foot away from where my head would lie - if I had the nerve to go to sleep knowing that there was a scorpion hovering nearby.  I watched him as he would walk a short distance, then hang out for a while - getting nowhere slowly.  I watched to be sure that he was going to go THAT way, not THIS way, toward me.

After about a half hour, when I realized that the scorpion had more staying power than I did, I just decided to quit my supervising and hope that if that little stinger guy came any closer, he would choose to go underneath my ground cloth again instead of joining me on top of it.  Sometimes, you just can't worry about what might happen, so I cocooned myself into my bag and slept like a baby.


To See the First Wilderness Quest Post:   1  

Yesterday's Hike

Ground accepts bare feet

offerings on a fall hike

earth, friend, mother, life

No, it wasn't snowy all the way.  Most places along the trail were warm (somewhat) from the sun. 

What the heck???  A pink plastic spoon taped to a tree with black tape.  There must be some kind of cosmic significance here!

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 1

On the second to last day of April, I traveled in a yacht-sized black SUV from Denver to Moab, Utah with a complete stranger/new friend. .  Terry is a friend of a friend - a wild man who is unafraid of challenging himself in the physical world.  While I am more reserved when it comes to bodily challenges and feel more at home challenging my inner life, we still had fun getting to know each other as we rode through rain and snow, finally landing in the sunshine of Moab seven hours later. I was not only entering the stunning canyon areas of Utah, I was walking into the unknown territories of my third wilderness quest.

In Moab, we met up with the people with whom we would be spending the next eight days - three days together, three days on solo, and then another two days together.  With a history of shy introversion (painfully tongue-tied in the past, but getting somewhat better with age), the days of togetherness with strangers was more challenging for me than the hot days I sat alone with only this crazy mind for companionship.

After dinner out with the fourteen other beautiful people from the U.S. and Germany who, along with the desert creatures, would be my companions for the next few days, I went to my motel room with my two room-mates - a couple from California that I knew from some workshops we had taken together.  And do you know what we did that night in preparation for our great spiritual adventure into the desert???  We laughed and laughed, and we watched television!  I, a non-television viewer, watched TV as I entered into the abyss of the wilderness quest.  My companions' choice?  A "re-run" of the day's most televised event - the beautiful, proper, glamorous wedding of Prince William & Catherine Middleton!  Can you believe it?  What an archway into the austerity of the desert!

Pondering the "F" Word

I stood on the sidewalk holding my "Peace" sign and watching the young man at the bus stop while he danced pirouettes to keep his hacky sack in the air.  Sitting on the stone bus stop bench, a woman who appeared to be in her early twenties read a book as she drank her Starbuck's from a paper cup.

The bus pulled up and a car across the way stopped for the red light, its windows down and Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" pouring into the air.


Hold me closer, tiny dancer...

How can anyone ever say that life is boring with all of this entertainment?

After a while, someone hurled the words, "Freedom isn't free!" across five lanes of traffic and into the ears of our group of Women in Black vigilers (and anyone else within a two-block radius).  I always ponder such outbursts, unoriginal as they may be.  I probably spend much more time pondering such phrases yelled at us than does the person pronouncing such profundities.  But I could be wrong about that.

Below is how my imaginary dialog with Yelling Man (YM) could go:

(Since I don't know what YM would say to my inquiries, I can't put words in his mouth.)

YM:  Freedom isn't free!

Me:  What do you mean by that?  Do you mean that freedom costs money?  Do you mean that freedom costs lives? The lives of our citizens who are sent to war and the lives of citizens of other countries?  Are you talking about money or lives or both?

YM:  Freedom isn't free!

Me:  Do you feel free now, knowing that people are dying all over the world while we spend trillions of dollars and thousands of lives on war?

YM:  Freedom isn't free!

Me:  I experience freedom whether or not we have people fighting in other countries.  Is freedom truly freedom if it's based on conditions?  Conditions that could change in an instant?  That doesn't sound very free to me.  I experience freedom while you yell at me, I experience freedom while our government watches me on cameras.  I experience freedom while I pay taxes.  On my best days, freedom isn't contingent on circumstances outside myself.  On my worst days, I suffer and think that my suffering is caused by others.  At some point, though, I usually wake up and remember the source of true freedom (or, sometimes, I have to ask for help in order to get my head on straight again). Then, I am no longer a victim.  Maybe when you yell that freedom isn't free, maybe you're forgetting and not having one of your best days?

Everything can be taken from a man but...the last of the human freedoms - to choose
one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way. - Viktor Frankl

True freedom is always spiritual. It has something to do with your innermost being, which cannot be chained, handcuffed, or put into a jail.  - OSHO, Freedom: The Courage to Be Yourself

The truth shall make you free. - Jesus, John 8:31

I used to think freedom meant doing whatever you want. It means knowing who you are, what you are supposed to be doing on this earth, and then simply doing it. 

– Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones

My Boyfriend

I'm in love with this guy. 

I guess that you could call me a two-timer - or maybe a three-timer - because I was seeing this guy while Buddha was still here and, well, I AM married, you know.

I'm usually attracted to big men with dark hair, so this is quite the deviation from my normal attractions.

But there is just something special about this guy.  I think he feels the same about me.

We get to spend some quality time every once in awhile.  His woman isn't even jealous.

Neither is Mr. CFP.

Something about him makes my heart melt.

Oh, Chipper, if you didn't already have a woman and some prissy, little female four-leggeds to live with, I'd bring you home in a second!

Kneel

My favorite Dilbert cartoon.  I must have pulled this off of my Dilbert calendar in the late 80s or early 90s.  I don't know where it's been all of these years, but I ran across it the other day. 

(Click to embiggen)

Still cracks me up.

Maybe I'm just easily entertained.

Love Means...

As autumn approached, we spent a few days in Rocky Mountain National Park.  Dogs are not allowed to hike within a National Park, and since Buddha was no longer in our life, we were now free to hike many trails during our time there.

Real LOVE is when we can't stand to leave our best dog behind, so we don't hike a close national park for years and years - and we don't feel like we're missing out on anything, because having a best dog friend is way more valuable.

Elk above timberline

(I love all of the colors in the hills.)

Before Mr. Boodie left us, he was getting weak in his hind legs, so in order to give the guy some more traction, we bought rugs for areas of our home that have wood floors.  The rug in the bedroom is a plain, light color.  Buddha hairs showed on it like iron filings on a magnet, like the gray hairs popping up all over my head.  

When Mr. CFP did the first post-Buddha vacuuming (which didn't take place until more than a week after Buddha died, because knowing that I'd never have Buddha hairs on my rug again, I forbade the cleaning of that rug), the first thought that came to my mind after entering the room was, "I love the look of a clean floor!"  But real LOVE allows for hairy rugs, because having a dog buddy who thinks we're a god is way more valuable than a clean rug.

Today at the nursing home where my dad lives, I got to give Todd (the resident dog) a morning neck massage.  We both loved it.  A lot.  Maybe sometime, a different four-legged best buddy will find its way to this home and this heart.  I don't need national parks and clean carpets anyway.