A Paged Turned

     “You folks have a good day. I’ll be back later.”
     “Would she feel any pain?”
     The footsteps stopped, backtracked from the door and returned to center stage where our eyes were focused, always focused. She paused and looked at the body draping over the soul that dared to speak. Quietly, she sat down on the corner of the bed.
     “No sir, there, would be no pain.” For the next half hour or so, her quiet voice comforted, factually but gently, the saddened soul. When no more questions were asked, she patted the leg next to where she sat, my mother’s leg, and left the room.
     Nothing more was said. I did not speak nor did my Daddy. No mention had ever been made of taking my mother off life support. His question, spoken with his soft southern drawl bellowed against the walls of the Hospice room where we sat with my mother.
     The next morning, when I opened the door the silence was overwhelming. Never has silence screamed so loud. All life sustaining equipment had been removed. No ticking, whirling or pumping. Total silence. There sat my small father, in his chair, looking at my mother unplugged and natural. Neither of us said anything for a while. We just sat together.
     “It was time.”
     “Yes sir.”
     Hearts beating as they waved good bye were the only sounds in the room. It was in those moments of eternity that my spirit and brain fully embraced what it meant to sit with the stillness of your breath moving in and out.
     Why, in the midst of a day that started with little to no sleep, at work at 5 a.m., guzzling more coffee than any human being should consume, in the midst of a corporate tug-of-war, this page should open I do not know. Life has a way of creating gentle breezes that act like invisible hands that playfully turn the pages in the book of life. When you least expect it, you notice you’re no longer on the page you were reading. You don’t know remember the page being turned. You were reading one sentence and now it has mutated into a different sentence, a different message.
     To no longer sit with the shrouds of what were because they, well, because they were. To no longer sustain those bits and pieces of myself which have gone and no longer sustain me. To know the silence of love’s kiss good bye that is really a hello. To welcome the sitting, the empty room and know it is time.

[also posted on my blog]

365 Lessons-Lesson 83: There is Only ONE of YOU

So, to follow up on my previous post, We are Our Own Worst Critics, comes this! A realization that was so simple, yet so simple to forget. Thanks to all the comments on the previous post which helped me realize it. The realization is: There is only ONE of YOU. And this may be debatable. For example, if you Google Katherine Jenkins you'll find a very busty Welsh opera singer who actually has a fan club on Facebook for her boobs. I couldn't help but join the Katherine Jenkins' Breasts Fan Club. I thought about changing my last name to my husband's name which is Lee, but then there's Kathie Lee Gifford, and I don't think I want to be her either. I wish I had a unique name like my best friend Lena Helena Phillipa Hillinga or my blogger friend Sharni Montgomery.

But I have to remember that there's only ONE of ME. I told my husband's business partner, who's name is Moshe (now isn't that a unique name??), that I really needed to change my name because when my book is published, no one will be able to find me. Instead, all they will find is a large pair of breasts and a hearty voice. He said, "No they won't, because you'll be much bigger than her." And that's not in the area you're thinking of..........

There's only one of YOU. I love this so much. How often do we forget this. How amazing is it that in the world of zillions of beings, there's no one like us? There's no duplicate. You may be an identical twin, but there's nothing identical about how the two of you operate (or maybe there are a few things, but I'm sure you have your own quirks and unique talents.)

Some of my readers commented on my blog last night that "No one has a story like yours!" Yes, this is true. True for everyone. No one has a story like any of ours. We have a monopoly on our own story. The amazing thing is that everyone has one and not everyone knows how unique their story is!

I feel compelled to share my story in book form. This is not really a want or desire, it's a purpose that seems to be beyond myself and beyond my name. It's something I don't fully understand yet. I think that when we share our own unique stories from a place within, we actually connect to something very universal about us all. It's a place where names don't exist. Our story is our path. If we have followed that path with our heart, no matter who we are, we will connect to something much greater than ourselves, our breasts or our names! Yet, the fact that we are all very unique and treading down our own individual paths is what gives others the inspiration to do the same. Keep being YOU, that's all you can do! Lots of love and light to all of you, Kathy

10 Things Motherhood Has Taught Me

Good God I have become a Softie!


1) Words are Overrated
I have the most amazing interactions with my son. Sometimes "Car" is the only word exchanged
2) Babies Need Respect
Just because they are smaller and less advanced in the moving and speaking stakes they are human beings with needs, rights and personalities
3) Perspective
No matter how many times I might look in the mirror and am disappointed at what I see, there is a little boy tugging at my shirt while I put on my mascara who thinks I am the most magnificent being in the world (and if I don't mind can I pass him the mascara so he can put it in his mouth)
4) Love Conquers All
Even sleep deprivation (unfortunately) deprivation, oh I already said that ummm.. yep number 4 ummm you can function and punch out sentences that make sense even with sleep deprivation due to the love thing I mentioned
5) I'm Easily Manipulated
The cry or nagging of my son propels me into swift action - I am not sure that I will make a very good disciplinarian - he will more than likely discipline me
6) Women are Born Multi-taskers
Men are single-taskers - life will be happier if I just accept this
7) I Have An Adoring Audience on Tap
I can try out new dance moves, silly voices and songs whenever I feel like it
8) Poo Happens.
Particularly when in a rush
9) Keep it Movin'
To get over stuff quickly and to see things from another persons perspective first
10) The World is Amazing
Occassionally now I can look up at the sky with my son and gasp at the birds as if it were the first time I saw them
(Corny , I know, but true !   Unofficially number 11 is motherhood has taught me to be more of a softie than I ever thought possible)

For more Sharnanigans! come and visit me

I have a wonderful relationship with my Mom. I do not say that to brag or to make those who don't have a similar relationship feel badly. It is just a simple truth. My Mom is a lovely person, inside and out and she's the most loving, solid, fair-minded, genuine, sincere person I know. I could write for years and never truly capture on paper or computer screen every reason I love her and why she is so special. Today, I'm going to focus on something she has done my whole life...she creates Care Packages.


You know what those are, I'm sure - they're little bundles of inexpensive items that someone who loves you picks up when they're out and about that captures their eye and makes them think of you. Sometimes it might be a food Care Package, full of goodies that are sure to be your favorites. Most holiday meals result in a food Care Package to take home with you that provides meals for you for several days.

My Mom loves her kids, plain and simple. She now extends that love to her two Grandsons and creates Care Packages for them whenever she's out shopping. Personally, I have kept things she's given me over the years that have very little monetary value but that hold such loving significance for me that they are priceless items.

When I was very young, my Mom gave me two small pottery trinket boxes that had gold leafed edges and pastel colors. I remember her watching me open the boxes they came in and telling me, "Maybe you can use them for jewelry as you grow up." I couldn't have been more than 9 or 10 years old at the time, of an age where toys were usually more desirable gifts, but those two little trinket boxes are still with me. I use them for jewelry items that are dear to me and each time I open them, I am embraced by that inestimable, indefinable sense of love from my Mother. All is right in my world and I feel accepted, loved and secure.

With age comes the recognition that Care Packages aren't always corporeal. Many times we send Care Packages along to a loved one in the form of a phone call, or, as is common in this technological age, an email, a Facebook or Twitter post, a text or an e-card. Prayers are yet another, more highly energized form of a Care Package. I think anything that touches our heart, reaches out to someone else in the same way and leaves the day brighter as a result is a form of this time honored tradition.

No, it isn't necessary to have a physical item to deem something a Care Package. I talk to my Mom daily on the phone, sometimes many times a day and that will fill me up inside with those same emotions. She makes me laugh and she understands me like no other person on Earth does. We always take pieces of those we love with us in our memories, so again, it isn't necessary to have a physical item to identify with. There's just something so sweet about the fact that my Mom still does this for me and my sister and brother, even though we are adults.

The nice thing is that this habit has continued - by my Mom's example, I tend to do this same thing with Care Packages. I don't have children yet, but I tend to pick up those small items for friends and family members when I spot something I know will be perfect for them and give them a little moment of surprise and pleasure. I also tend to shop throughout the year for Christmas gifts for family. In fact, just the other day I ran across something that is ideal for my brother and I snapped it up to tuck away for Christmas.

I have a girlfriend whose daughter is currently deployed to Iraq and I've been gathering items for a Care Package box to send over to her and her friends. My girlfriend mentioned that the soldiers share Care Package goodies with friends who don't receive mail; that comment literally broke my heart. I could not fathom people in our Armed Services being overseas, working daily for all of us, yet not receiving anything from home. So, Care Package creation is in full effect! The picture to the left here is of SPC Whitney Moody and her family - her Mom, Janet, is one of the strongest, most positive people I know. If you would like to learn more details about supporting our U.S. Armed Forces and sending Care Packages to those deployed, please visit the Boots on Ground Website.

True to her loving nature, when I mentioned this to my Mom recently, she said, "Take me with you the next time you go shopping; I want to help add to the Care Package." I am confident that the package we send will be chock full of useful, fun, girlie items, as well as some things to munch on, and a few things that are just frivolous and cute in nature, such as games and toys to fill the long hours when Whitney and her friends are bored and homesick.

Life is challenging for all of us on a daily basis. There are so many reasons to choose to dwell on negatives. I have found that doing for others, as was taught to me by the example my wonderful Mom set, is a sure-fire method to lift any gloom surrounding you. There's something so delightful about picking up a small, completely foolish item that costs very little, with a loved one in mind, simply to tease a smile out of them. It is a small affirmation that, yes, you matter - you are loved, you are in that person's thoughts and you deserve to be showered with that type of warm attention for no particular reason.

If I could, I would gift every person I know with the relationship I enjoy with my Mom. I think she's that special. And as is that special relationship between loving parent and loving child, she feels the same way about me. She shows it in those Care Packages...those little touches of whimsy, those little inconsequential items that I rarely indulge myself with, those little unusual decorative items that have no particular purpose other than to make me smile. That's my Mom loving me in her quiet, gentle way.

Don't get me wrong, she loves me outwardly too - she showers me with hugs when I'm in her presence, and when we are together, we have that silent language that is shared between family members. We can also be together and not speak a word for hours - simply being together is the joyful thing, especially given that it doesn't happen as often as we'd both like. Dratted Life gets in the way, as it does for all of us. We laugh often. I think that is a beautiful thing.

I have said this before - when people comment on my loving nature, which happens rather frequently, I am always quick to give credit to the amazing foundation of love that I've been surrounded with my whole life. I've been blessed with an incredible, large, loving clan of a family, and even more blessed with my dear Mom. Her life hasn't been the easiest, yet she has always maintained a loving demeanor and a twinkle in her eye. She is the most dependable presence in my life and she is my template for my own character and habits.

So, I continue the loving tradition of Care Packages. They make me happy to create and give them to others, just as much as I enjoy receiving them. I think they make a profound difference in the world, simply because they denote thoughtful, loving attention towards others given for the joy of making another person smile. We need more of that in this world....Care Packages should be present in every walk of life.
_____________________________

If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Longing and Layers

     The feet of snow have finally melted and yes I do have shingles on my roof and the grass is still there. The snow/ice sculpture on my roof that reminded me of a dolphin, then a wave and then a question mark is gone. I will miss nature’s artwork when I drive into my driveway. She always welcomed me home after a long day at work and made me smile.
     A couple of days in the 50’s and even a 60 degree day kicked the top of the ant hill and we all scurried out of our winter caves. Today, nature chuckled and played the role of prankster and ushered in a taste of winter. Were winter and spring having a friendly joust? Knock knock. Who’s there? And spring replied, “Tis I.” At which time winter laughed and locked the door.
    Winter’s clouds have hidden my stars and moon. I look up to see my friends and they are once again cloaked in winter’s snuggly. I must confess a frown jumped upon my face while I was not looking. But feeling the furrows in my brow my lips drew the drawstring and pulled them back and left me with a smile.
     Perhaps this is nature’s way of tilting her head , looking over her glasses, as my mother would do, and with an ever so subtle smile suggest I rethink what I was about to do or say. We may divide the seasons with blocks of time and calendar squares but they remain eternally layered one upon another. The chill tonight reminds me that the spring and summer’s warmth will come but soon I will miss and look forward to winter’s sweatshirts, thick socks and the silence of the first night snow. Layers.
     And so to my hidden stars and moon, like the treasured memories in my heart, sea shells, friends, family and my dreams – I celebrate your layers. I celebrate your timelessness. I celebrate your eternalness. I embrace each of you with the hope of spring, the laughter of summer, the gathering of fall and the reflective winter’s heart. I pull the blanket up over your shoulder, tuck it in and kiss your forehead goodnight. And in my dreams, layered with the seasons and eternity, I shall lay down beside you and myself and in wakeful slumber dance with life.

[also posted on my blog]

We Are

This is my view. Everyday I walk through the campus and see these young lives teaming around me, like salmon swimming upstream. I may not walk as fast, but I feel the smile dance on my face. I have already mentally rehearsed my classes and I prepare to see the faces in my classroom and think already what an amazing journey it has been. I found a way to reach them and to reach you here.

While I have been here, I have had the obsessive thought about what the concept of freedom means. It is a drumbeat in my head. Summer is quickly approaching and I am just venturing away and getting out there. My hesitation falls away like an old style I used to wear, but no longer suits me and I have found a warmth as the neighborhood seems to have opened their doors to me.

The students begin to approach this odd woman from the west. I smile a lot because I had sifted through the dust of this place to see their lives and struggles that are just like ours. I tried to quantify things on a scale that was like our own, only to realize that approach is like wearing Gucci while digging in your garden. It doesn't work.

We are the same and different at the same time. I have been amazed with the people that walk up to me just to say 'hello'. The uneasy feelings of a stranger's approach isn't felt here. I kind of marvel at that. Usually, we are uneasy with our neighbors, thinking about reasons for approaching someone. It struck me, that our warning to watch out for strangers in our home countries has to vanish when we are abroad. We trust them more than we trust our own countrymen. Or maybe, it is my own change.

So in the midst of a sea of people I stand out. I cannot hide who I am. I walk around like a neon light with my pale skin and blue eyes. I cannot be who they are. So on my journey I go to a market and see coops with live chickens and the vendors selling their meats and produce and just feel for who I want to do business with. For a moment, I want to buy all of the chickens and free them, only to realize they wouldn't go anywhere.

I watch the smiles of children as they walk with their parents and I realize they have a concept of family we are so far removed from in the States. Grandparents are often the rearers of children as the parents earn for the families. When a person marries they truly marry a family and not just a spouse. The communal life of grandparents, parents and children is something we went away from in our quest for the individuated life. Here, it is their foundation for society. They are all in it together. Their social security system is the family to care for its own throughout their life spans.

It made me realize why so many marriages are not entered into if the family does not approve. It isn't even a thought. Even if they love each other tremendously, if the family doesn't like the selection, an engagement is broken off because they all have to live together. It isn't our way. It is their way.

That is how it is with life, because the more I see of others, I begin to realize how many ways we try to have others be as we are, instead of simply looking and appreciating the difference. With each discovery a person grows and learns this world is not one size fits all.

My Tryst with Chanting

Ever since I was little, the sounds of chants and mantras have captivated me! As a teenager, I remember seeking out audio tapes on Veda chants and listening to them over and over. Each time I heard them, I felt renewed, reconnected to the Universe. Plain and simple, I just felt happier!  

As a little boy, when I learnt to chant in Sanskrit, I knew I had found a way to feel closer to God anytime, anywhere. It was the one thing that could take me to a happier place, instantly. Talking of relative degrees of happiness at that point in my life, I would say I considered chanting a means to something more delightful than my battery operated cars that, well, I totally LOVED! My sister will vouch for my unsurpassable passion for driving my cars all over the house floor, creating traffic jams that now, 20 years later, I struggle to get OUT of each morning!

All those years ago, one evening, after driving around my stately cars, clearing the traffic jams they got themselves into, and calling in my treasured police car and ambulance just for effect, I picked up the Bhagavad Gita. I chanted some verses from it, and then couldn't put it down. For the next few evenings, I had a date with this eternal "Song of the Universe."

Fifteen years later, Dr. Tom Egenes, a Professor of Sanskrit at the Maharishi University of Management in the U.S., invited me to his class to chant for his students. What followed was many hours of blissful chanting during the years I was pursuing my Art degree at the University.

Today, six years later, my chanting of the Gita is recorded on a Website that is part of the Vedic Literature curriculum at the University. Tom shared a YouTube link with me that has a few verses on it. I'd like to share the link with you too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8gRH02-Sy8

Chanting brings me peace, even if I don't know the literal meaning of what I'm chanting. That's the beauty of Sanskrit, a language in which merely the sound of every word exudes power, affirmation, and melody.

(Also posted on my blog)