I have to admit that writing in here has been a struggle. It’s not because I don’t have any thoughts I want to write about, there’s a million of those a day, but it’s really more to do with what I call the “haze.” It’s this fog that overtakes my mind and makes everything unclear and difficult to grasp. Continue reading ‘dealing with the haze again…’
Archive for the 'grieving' Category Page 2 of 2
#1. Asking questions
I know the #1 implies I’m building a list, but I haven’t really thought out a list yet. This is just something I was thinking about this morning, during a morning workout (which was my first since my mom passed, and it felt better than I thought). Continue reading ‘Mom’s key to happiness….’
I’m not sure what it is, but it seems that after my mom died a lot of her close friends (and family) started having dreams of her. They would talk about how healthy, happy, and alive she looked in these dreams. And everyone talked about seeing her with that big, big trademark smile on her face (I miss that smile a lot). But the strange thing was that those who were closest to her (my sister, Tom, and I) have not had any dreams of her yet (at least that I know of for the other two). I’m not typical a big dreamer anyway. I know that I have them, but I rarely wake up in the morning with a clear memory of the movies that played in my head while I slept. But last night was different, I saw my mom.
This weekend was very intense for me emotionally. Touched off by a little argument between my girlfriend Julie and I, the floodgates were opened and my emotions came pouring out. I really had a lot of sadness, crying, and pain related to losing my mom. For the first time since she left, I really was overcome with these emotions and the finality of the event started to sink in. I’ve never felt anything like it. I guess I never really surrendered myself to emotions before, and I have to say I’d recommend it to anyone (but please be careful when you cry, I somehow managed to pull something in my back this weekend from an intense bout of crying). After all, the tears, the sadness, the joy, love, happiness, jealousy, anger, etc are what makes us human, and denying ourselves these wonderful things is denying ourselves the feeling of being alive. This is a wonderful message my mom constantly tried to teach me. I remember a wonderful moment with her where I was overcome with emotion surrounding the break up with a girlfriend. I cried to her, and went on and on about how unfair it was. She stopped me, “Step back a minute. Look at the intensity of those emotions you’re feeling right now. Aren’t they beautiful? Isn’t it wonderful that you can feel those throughout your body?” It stuck with me.
For anyone who has ever been to my mom and tom’s house, you know that our lot sits directly next to a horse farm. It is very common to take a peak outside our kitchen window during the day, and see an enormous Clydesdale grazing. I have to say it is incredibly soothing to watch those horses, run, eat and play all day long. It makes you wonder sometimes who has a better understanding of life, us or them?
I know for me, I spent a lot of time angry today about losing my mom. I think of how many horribly unhealthy, drinking, smoking, fat older woman I see scarfing down a footlong sub from subway, and it just makes me cringe. My mom was always healthy. She always exercised, watched what she ate, and was always making a conscious effort in improving herself, physically and mentally. I know it is wrong of me to pass judgment on these woman, but sometimes I just can’t help it. How dare they still be here, and my mom not!
And then I see the horses. They’re not angry, bitter, mad, or sad. I know most people will say, they’re too stupid to feel that way. Are they? Maybe they just get it. Maybe they understand the cycle, the natural way of life better than we do. So they don’t get mad when someone dies, they don’t crumble in mourning…they just continue on with the cycle of life. Despite all our intelligence, I have to think sometimes we could learn a lot from animals. Animals are in tune with the cycle of nature, they deal with death everyday, and they seem to really understand how life works. Humans seem to muddy things up with emotions, intellect, and egos. Now don’t get me wrong, emotions are wonderful things, and denying yourself them is to deny the feeling of life. But don’t forget, we’re all here together, part of a cycle, and there’s no sense in not getting out and enjoying a day grazing in the fields.
This is reflection passed on to me by my mom’s good friend Ren. They went to massage school together, and competed for the best test score (the two of them probably never received a score below 97% on any test or assignment). His reflection really captures my mom’s childlike zest for life.
“I met Laurie at massage school in 1999. Coming into it, we shared some things in common: Catholic upbringing, Life Success, Thea’s breathwork but in some ways we were very different. My idea of a good use of a vacation was traveling to El Salvador during its civil war to see what our government was really doing there. Laurie preferred time on a Florida beach (and she passionately described that experience of being there so you could feel the breeze, the warmth, the sense of freedom, and companionship).
Because we lived near one another we car pooled over that year and a half and shared the challenges and discoveries of massage. We became good friends and supporters for one another and came to share other experiences in related workshops and in breathwork. I particularly remember one workshop during which she started this crazy and beautiful full-body unwinding process when I was working with her. At the end of the workshop, the facilitators had us go around to thank one another. Laurie was just glowing. Her eyes were wide, she was so beautiful. I was amazed at the power, love, and beauty she contained: all of it radiantly displayed on her face.
It was through her friendship with Gary Vollbracht that we both came to join Stillpoint. I’m sure that without her encouragement I would not still be practicing massage. In many ways, Laurie has been a guide for me.
Laurie was vibrantly curious about life and living things and all that supports them: the magic and wonder of existence. I cannot help but think of Laurie every time I look up at the stars. She had a beautiful, clean energy of engagement in the people (especially her children and Tom) and creatures of life. I felt that Laurie, as are we all, was wounded by life: the early deaths in her family, the break up of her marriage, and perhaps things she brought from a prior life. I guess that this wounded ness heightened her compassionate nurturing for others and her passion to find the magic in life.
Somehow God put us together in massage school and at work thereafter certainly for some reason. Hopefully, I’ve become more aware of the magic and awe in life all around me. Somehow too, I think there is a lesson to be learned, or perhaps better a mystery to be lived, about reconciling the beauty in this world with its pain and suffering.
If there is a reason why things happen, then one of the most striking coincidences occurred about four months after she told me that she was diagnosed with cancer. It took place at the Rave cinema, a place I’d never been before nor since. My wife, Elisa, and daughter, Carmen, and I were there to see Finding Neverland, the Johhny Depp, Kate Winslet movie about the inspiration behind playwright James Barrie’s creation of Peter Pan (certainly this would be a whimsical show, right?) Well, after purchasing our tickets I stopped at the bathroom while Elisa and Carmen chose seats in the theater. When I entered the theater looking for my family, the first people I saw were Laurie and Tom. Then I noticed Elisa and Carmen sitting in the same row. When I greeted Laurie and Tom, Elisa realized for the first time that it was them – they had not recognized each other when Elisa picked the seat. So the seat I came to sit in to watch this movie, was chosen in a purely random way, to sit right next to Laurie!
But the coincidence goes beyond this. As I’m sitting next to Laurie the movie unfolds to reveal that the main female character, Sylvia, is dealing with a serious disease. She says:
“My understanding is that my condition might be quite serious. However, my wish is that life should go on as normal. So, I’ll have the examination and I’ll take whatever medications they advise. But I don’t want to know what they’re for. And I don’t want you to inquirer into it any further.”
This sounded much like what Laurie had previously told us about her preference in managing her disease. The last scene is at her funeral. Though the disease is not named in the movie the historical Sylvia Llewelyn Davies, died of cancer. Whoa! At the time I wondered what this meant. The only processing I did with Laurie about this was immediately afterwards to say that I didn’t expect it to be a sad movie. I don’t remember Laurie’s response but I don’t remember her looking sad.
Nearly a year later another coincidence arose. The week before Laurie’s death, at a regular meeting of Stillpoint Center members we were acknowledging Laurie’s withdrawal from membership there. Gary mentioned how he had just rented the movie Finding Neverland and how amazingly similar it was to Laurie’s approach to handling her disease.
So, Monday, after hearing of Laurie’s transition, I rented the movie, thinking there’s got to be a message in there for me: there were too many coincidences. It felt like the universe was hitting me across the forehead with a 2 by 4 shouting: pay attention. According to the movie, Neverland is a place where the child version of us never grows up, never grows old. Where we always live in childlike wonder. The movie does not answer the following question: does imagination create a Neverland that we can escape to or does a lack of belief keep us out of Neverland? Jesus would seem to answer the question as follows: “the kingdom of God is in your midst;” and “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
There are many messages in the movie: about love, relationships, loss, and wonderment. I think the overall message of Peter Pan is to maintain childlike wonder: worrying about time and its consequences catching up with us is counterproductive. Laurie was all about that. She passionately enjoyed living in that childlike state of wonder. I think she resented parts of her self (e.g.: old mental programming) that interfered with maintaining that state and she worked to rid herself of them. So, what’s coming to me from the experience of this movie, from my time with Laurie, is to cultivate that state of childlike wonder: to do this in my work, in relationships, even when engaging with issues of oppression and justice to which I’ve been led. To appreciate the brightness and beauty of every sparkling moment and the mystery and magic of the universe behind it.
Here are some lines from the movie (which also depicts part of the play, Peter Pan) that stood out to me this week:
Wendy: “You know fairies, Peter?”
Peter Pan: “Yes, but they’re nearly all dead now. You see Wendy when the first baby laughed the first time the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about and that was the beginning of fairies. And now, when every new baby is born its first laugh becomes a fairy. So there ought to be one fairy for every boy and girl.”
“Ought to be? Isn’t there?”
“Oh, no. Children know such a lot now. Soon, they don’t believe in fairies. And every time a child says, “I don’t believe in fairies” there’s a fairy somewhere that falls down dead.”
An elderly theater goer who recently lost her husband: “I suppose its all the work of the ticking crocodile isn’t it. Time is chasing after all of us.”
“Just believe!”
“I can fly!”
Peter Davies: “I thought she’d always be here.”
James Barrie: “So did I, but, in fact, she is because she’s on every page of your imagination. You’ll always have her there. Always.”
Peter Davies: “But why did she have to die?”
James Barrie: “I don’t know, boy. When I think of your mother I will always remember she went to Neverland.”
Peter Pan: “To die will be an awfully big adventure.”
Peter Pan: “Second (star) on the right and straight on till morning.”"
