Thursday, December 29, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
The Best Feeling in the World
All it takes is a hike to part the gray clouds and get the creative juices going. I can't say that I wish I would have hiked sooner, because a lot of good churning was going on under those gray clouds. It was all perfect.
Anyway, I offer my take on...
The Best Feeling in the World
It is this:
The moments when all definitions of myself,
judgments of rightness or wrongness,
any ideas of being separate,
and any awareness of time
fall away
and Life, pure, raw and instinctual
is free to take over.
Sometimes it looks like this:
Swimming naked in the ocean
that resides within the eyes of another.
or
Dancing with a red-tailed hawk
as he circles the sky.
or
Cresting a hill and feeling my heart opening up
like the field of snow-covered grasses below.
or
Playing with velvety ears of
love disguised as my best canine friend
or
Riding wild and furious class IV rapids
of orgasm until they again become a lazy river.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
The State of the Mind
Christmas morning was gray for me, even though the sun lit up a cloudless robin egg sky.
Sometimes this head just gets possessed with a heaviness that I can only be with and observe until lightness finds its way.
Like flying through cloud-filled skies and coming out into the clarity and light that was always there, just not seen.
Dad was more alive on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day than he has been in weeks. What a beautiful Christmas present for my mom.
And our good friend's mom died yesterday, the day after Christmas. What a beautiful Christmas present for her. She had been working her way out of this cocoon for a long time.
Another friend and I write about a different topic each month and then share our writings with each other. I am now assigned the task of writing about "the best feeling in the world".
Contemplating "the best feeling", I have begun to see some thinning of the clouds here and there, even though any memories of luscious feelings seem so far away, like a movie I barely remember.
The mind...
"Best feelings" are always right here, right now, as available as the next breath, yet sometimes brain settings can get altered giving a "heavy feelings" error message.
As I did with my recovery after surgery, I'm staying with the experience of the moment. So tired of trying to "fix" whatever comes my way. Half of the discomfort comes from wanting things to be different.
We're on our way to a snowy hike among the wildlife - one of the best feelings in the world.
Sometimes this head just gets possessed with a heaviness that I can only be with and observe until lightness finds its way.
Like flying through cloud-filled skies and coming out into the clarity and light that was always there, just not seen.
Dad was more alive on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day than he has been in weeks. What a beautiful Christmas present for my mom.
And our good friend's mom died yesterday, the day after Christmas. What a beautiful Christmas present for her. She had been working her way out of this cocoon for a long time.
Another friend and I write about a different topic each month and then share our writings with each other. I am now assigned the task of writing about "the best feeling in the world".
Contemplating "the best feeling", I have begun to see some thinning of the clouds here and there, even though any memories of luscious feelings seem so far away, like a movie I barely remember.
The mind...
"Best feelings" are always right here, right now, as available as the next breath, yet sometimes brain settings can get altered giving a "heavy feelings" error message.
As I did with my recovery after surgery, I'm staying with the experience of the moment. So tired of trying to "fix" whatever comes my way. Half of the discomfort comes from wanting things to be different.
We're on our way to a snowy hike among the wildlife - one of the best feelings in the world.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Thursday, December 22, 2011
All It Takes Is A Little Transformation
I hadn't hung up Buddha's Christmas stocking this year. The photo on my banner was from some other Christmas - a Christmastime past when our 4-legged friend was here to enjoy the rawhide chew that he found snuggled into his dog-paw stocking. The truth is, this year, when I pulled out the box of Christmas decorations and saw Buddha's stocking, I just felt a wave of "missing him": and I put the stocking back in the box. No need for that any more. I couldn't throw it away yet, but I found no reason to hang it up.
Yesterday, as I looked at the photo of the red dog-paw-shaped stocking with the gold "Buddha" on it, I realized that I had options as to how I saw it. So I went to the box, took out the stocking, and hung it on our kinda somewhat of a mantle, which is really one of two horizontal stones embedded in the brick wall of our fireplace.
I don't claim to be Buddhist, but 15 years ago, I did name that sweet 9 month-old pup "Buddha" because of the qualities associated with The Buddha. Those qualities are ever present, with or without my big, black dog.
The stocking that used to belong to the best-dog-in-the-world now belongs to the qualities of compassion, loving-kindness, huge-heartedness, peace, light and the laying down of suffering. Well, I guess it always did belong to those qualities, but I can be a slow seer...
And the stocking is slowly getting stuffed with little pieces of paper on which I am writing my gifts and wishes to the Buddha Qualities, because I have a deep longing to realize those qualities within myself and everyone else.
It feels much better to open my heart to the Buddha than it does to close it in grief, hiding the reminder of the dog and essence I love so much.
This may sound blasphemous to some during this time of celebrating the birth of a different great teacher who also came to bring light and love. My apologies if that's so. In this strange and divisive time in our world, I enjoy whatever path - religious or not - that brings more love into this world that calls out so loudly for it.
Yesterday, as I looked at the photo of the red dog-paw-shaped stocking with the gold "Buddha" on it, I realized that I had options as to how I saw it. So I went to the box, took out the stocking, and hung it on our kinda somewhat of a mantle, which is really one of two horizontal stones embedded in the brick wall of our fireplace.
I don't claim to be Buddhist, but 15 years ago, I did name that sweet 9 month-old pup "Buddha" because of the qualities associated with The Buddha. Those qualities are ever present, with or without my big, black dog.
The stocking that used to belong to the best-dog-in-the-world now belongs to the qualities of compassion, loving-kindness, huge-heartedness, peace, light and the laying down of suffering. Well, I guess it always did belong to those qualities, but I can be a slow seer...
And the stocking is slowly getting stuffed with little pieces of paper on which I am writing my gifts and wishes to the Buddha Qualities, because I have a deep longing to realize those qualities within myself and everyone else.
It feels much better to open my heart to the Buddha than it does to close it in grief, hiding the reminder of the dog and essence I love so much.
This may sound blasphemous to some during this time of celebrating the birth of a different great teacher who also came to bring light and love. My apologies if that's so. In this strange and divisive time in our world, I enjoy whatever path - religious or not - that brings more love into this world that calls out so loudly for it.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
The Unquittable
I woke up this morning and thought, "I'm just done with this." Meaning this situation with my dad. It's been a hard year.
I remember when I was in labor with my daughter and a time arose where I just wanted to yell, "Stop the presses!" Or something like that. "Can we quit now?" But there was no quitting (thank God) and there is no quitting now. Labor - whether it's about being born into this life or being born into whatever is next - moves in its own sweet time. And I do mean sweet. Because it really is all perfect. My dad must be doing some important work during this time of drawing in.
And after my early morning feeble attempts at quitting something that is unquittable (can't find that word in the dictionary, but it's definitely Googlable and I like it), Mr. CFP told me about his dream last night where our wonderful Buddha dog came to visit him. And I find that I miss Buddha so much. A part of me wants to yell, "Stop the presses! Can we just go back to a time when I could kiss my Buddha's sweet cheek and smell his doggy paws???" But missing... it's perfect, too. Like labor, the grief moves in its own sweet time.
I'm definitely experiencing some sadness today, but feelings are like a big pot of vegetable soup. Within the broth of complete fine-ness, there is a little sadness, a bunch of wonder at the beauty of the white snow outside my window, a pinch of curiosity about what is next, and some chopped up motivation to get some stuff done around here today. Oh, and big hunks of gratitude for this amazing life and the beautiful people in it.
I just can't quit any of it. And that's okay.
I remember when I was in labor with my daughter and a time arose where I just wanted to yell, "Stop the presses!" Or something like that. "Can we quit now?" But there was no quitting (thank God) and there is no quitting now. Labor - whether it's about being born into this life or being born into whatever is next - moves in its own sweet time. And I do mean sweet. Because it really is all perfect. My dad must be doing some important work during this time of drawing in.
And after my early morning feeble attempts at quitting something that is unquittable (can't find that word in the dictionary, but it's definitely Googlable and I like it), Mr. CFP told me about his dream last night where our wonderful Buddha dog came to visit him. And I find that I miss Buddha so much. A part of me wants to yell, "Stop the presses! Can we just go back to a time when I could kiss my Buddha's sweet cheek and smell his doggy paws???" But missing... it's perfect, too. Like labor, the grief moves in its own sweet time.
I'm definitely experiencing some sadness today, but feelings are like a big pot of vegetable soup. Within the broth of complete fine-ness, there is a little sadness, a bunch of wonder at the beauty of the white snow outside my window, a pinch of curiosity about what is next, and some chopped up motivation to get some stuff done around here today. Oh, and big hunks of gratitude for this amazing life and the beautiful people in it.
I just can't quit any of it. And that's okay.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
They Did It!
Mr. CFP and I took my dad's blanket to him yesterday.
Today, Mom went to see Dad at lunchtime and guess what!!!
It's gone already! He had it less than twenty-four hours.
Someone is enjoying a blanket that is named for my dad.
Or else my gift is in some black hole.
I sure would love to visit a black hole sometime. Those holes must contain an amazing amount of stuff.
At this point, the staff doesn't know where it is. Maybe it will magically show up.
My mom is mad. I'm laughing. I would have never guessed the staff could do such a bang-up job of losing that blanket so fast.
If it's found, I'm going to have to take bets on how long Dad will have it before it's lost again.
December 19th Update:
This morning, Mom found the blanket wadded up in some corner of the TV room. Dad would be incapable of dumping the blanket anywhere, so my mind makes up all kinds of stories about who, why, and how... They're not useful stories, but they're highly entertaining!
Today, Mom went to see Dad at lunchtime and guess what!!!
It's gone already! He had it less than twenty-four hours.
Someone is enjoying a blanket that is named for my dad.
Or else my gift is in some black hole.
I sure would love to visit a black hole sometime. Those holes must contain an amazing amount of stuff.
At this point, the staff doesn't know where it is. Maybe it will magically show up.
My mom is mad. I'm laughing. I would have never guessed the staff could do such a bang-up job of losing that blanket so fast.
If it's found, I'm going to have to take bets on how long Dad will have it before it's lost again.
December 19th Update:
This morning, Mom found the blanket wadded up in some corner of the TV room. Dad would be incapable of dumping the blanket anywhere, so my mind makes up all kinds of stories about who, why, and how... They're not useful stories, but they're highly entertaining!
Thursday, December 15, 2011
To Snuggle With My Dad
What do I give my dad - a man who has all of his needs met, except for good health and an agile mind?
As I sat with my dad while he slept, and I felt the rough, crocheted blanket on which he rested his hands, I thought of an idea. Why not give my dad the world's softest blanket? And the answer came: Because things in this nursing facility can magically disappear. But then I came up with a solution: Put Dad's name on the blanket in letters so big that no one else would want it. And while I'm writing on the blanket, add some love.
I bought a blanket, but when I took it out of the packaging, I saw that it would be too big. So, I cut it in half, hemmed it up, and now I have two blankets - one for Dad and one for me. And when I find I want to be closer to my daddy, I can snuggle up with him via his blanket's twin.
It's not pretty, but it is the world's softest blanket. And it reeks with LOVE!
As I sat with my dad while he slept, and I felt the rough, crocheted blanket on which he rested his hands, I thought of an idea. Why not give my dad the world's softest blanket? And the answer came: Because things in this nursing facility can magically disappear. But then I came up with a solution: Put Dad's name on the blanket in letters so big that no one else would want it. And while I'm writing on the blanket, add some love.
I bought a blanket, but when I took it out of the packaging, I saw that it would be too big. So, I cut it in half, hemmed it up, and now I have two blankets - one for Dad and one for me. And when I find I want to be closer to my daddy, I can snuggle up with him via his blanket's twin.
It's not pretty, but it is the world's softest blanket. And it reeks with LOVE!
(Last name blurred out in this photo in order to protect the innocent.)
I Wanna Wish You A Merry Christmas
Thanks to Foam, I now know that the "embed" code for the Playing For Change video I tried to post doesn't work, so here's a link (in case you're interested). Thanks, Foam! Trying to fix this, I got the opportunity to boogie to the song again.
How can this not produce the biggest smile? Musicians from all over the world coming together and singing from the bottom of their hearts.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 11
Day Three
After my first night's visit from Little Mouse, I got wise and put any foodstuff I may have into a bag, which I then hung from a vertical rope that was tied in the middle of a horizontal rope. The only way any little critters would be able to get to it would be by tightrope walking. Ha! Outwitted them!
But even with no food on the ground cloth next to me, Little Mouse came for a visit during my second night out. Before falling asleep, I heard his tiny footsteps on the plastic of my ground cloth. But, just like with his first visit, when I switched on my headlamp and turned to look, he was already gone. I can imagine that you are thinking, "Carol, are you sure you're not just hearing things???" Well, I don't think so. But maybe. Read further and you be the judge of whether or not the desert, combined with lack of calories and lack of human interaction got to my brain or not.
I really wanted to see Little Mouse so, barely breathing, I waited, headlamp at the ready, in case my invisible friend might return. But once again, sleep overcame me and I will never know whether my friend stayed away or if he brought his friends and family to party all around me as I snored the night away.
After my morning rituals, prayers, etc., I made smudge sticks from sage that I had picked the day before. On this morning, when I visited the buddy circle, I put two of the smudge sticks into the buddy circle as gifts for my buddies, then I headed out on a long walk with my dad.
We headed east on a road for 4 wheel drive vehicles. At one point, the road was nearly vertical. Then we were on top of the world. We could see for miles and miles (isn't there a song about this? WHO can see for miles and miles?) We saw shadowy canyons way out in the distance, and I would have loved to have walked to them, but we never even got close.
I don't know how long it had been since anyone had been on this road. Did anyone ever walk it? Or do people only see this land from the inside of a Jeep? There were no footprints at all.
As we walked under clear skies and with absolutely no evidence to prove that we were not the only people on earth, Dad and I talked about our lives and about how my years in the cult affected him, the family, and me. This was the first time this elephant had ever been acknowledged. We talked of hard things and of sweet memories. You may not have seen nor heard my dad as he and I walked and talked, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen. And it was very healing for me - I hope it was for him, too.
Because it was springtime, desert flowers bloomed in various areas. Most likely, Dad and I would be the only people to ever set eyes on the little bush covered with tiny yellow blooms and the white flowers which looked like they were made of crepe paper. Think of all of the flowers that bloom without ever being seen and of all the birds that sing without being heard.
And all of the conversations that never happen because someone is too scared.
Previous Wilderness Quest Posts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
After my first night's visit from Little Mouse, I got wise and put any foodstuff I may have into a bag, which I then hung from a vertical rope that was tied in the middle of a horizontal rope. The only way any little critters would be able to get to it would be by tightrope walking. Ha! Outwitted them!
But even with no food on the ground cloth next to me, Little Mouse came for a visit during my second night out. Before falling asleep, I heard his tiny footsteps on the plastic of my ground cloth. But, just like with his first visit, when I switched on my headlamp and turned to look, he was already gone. I can imagine that you are thinking, "Carol, are you sure you're not just hearing things???" Well, I don't think so. But maybe. Read further and you be the judge of whether or not the desert, combined with lack of calories and lack of human interaction got to my brain or not.
I really wanted to see Little Mouse so, barely breathing, I waited, headlamp at the ready, in case my invisible friend might return. But once again, sleep overcame me and I will never know whether my friend stayed away or if he brought his friends and family to party all around me as I snored the night away.
After my morning rituals, prayers, etc., I made smudge sticks from sage that I had picked the day before. On this morning, when I visited the buddy circle, I put two of the smudge sticks into the buddy circle as gifts for my buddies, then I headed out on a long walk with my dad.
We headed east on a road for 4 wheel drive vehicles. At one point, the road was nearly vertical. Then we were on top of the world. We could see for miles and miles (isn't there a song about this? WHO can see for miles and miles?) We saw shadowy canyons way out in the distance, and I would have loved to have walked to them, but we never even got close.
I don't know how long it had been since anyone had been on this road. Did anyone ever walk it? Or do people only see this land from the inside of a Jeep? There were no footprints at all.
As we walked under clear skies and with absolutely no evidence to prove that we were not the only people on earth, Dad and I talked about our lives and about how my years in the cult affected him, the family, and me. This was the first time this elephant had ever been acknowledged. We talked of hard things and of sweet memories. You may not have seen nor heard my dad as he and I walked and talked, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen. And it was very healing for me - I hope it was for him, too.
Because it was springtime, desert flowers bloomed in various areas. Most likely, Dad and I would be the only people to ever set eyes on the little bush covered with tiny yellow blooms and the white flowers which looked like they were made of crepe paper. Think of all of the flowers that bloom without ever being seen and of all the birds that sing without being heard.
And all of the conversations that never happen because someone is too scared.
Previous Wilderness Quest Posts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
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