August 20, 2010 OF TIME, TWEETS AND SOULS FLYING FREE
With all the Facebook, Tweets and Twits stuff going on, I sometimes feel like it's all too much. Just give me a real live human being with whom to converse while sitting in the shade of the redwood tree in my own front yard. No computers, no cell phones, nothing that needs rebooting or recharging! (Except me!)
Especially this week, I feel deep appreciation for the simple things in life....and for life itself.
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Earlier this week, I spent nearly 72 hours with a dear woman named Jean, a former client. I had the honor of playing the role of "spiritual midwife" as she transitioned from her body. She'd been valiantly dealing with cancer for several years, and at age 74, it was now time to let go, and move on.
After many long hours, during which her body and soul prepared themselves for this transition, I was gifted to be at her side at the moment of release. I was able to witness the look of indescribable joy and awe that shone through her barely opened eyelids in the instant before she left her body.
She'd been unconscious for the better part of three days, so for her to return to awareness just enough to reveal that beauty to me - and to her daughter, Sherrie, who was on her other side - was an unspeakably precious gift.
I don't know precisely what Jean experienced in that moment, but I do know she wanted us to know it was beautiful beyond imagining. A single tear rolled down her parched cheek, and then she was gone.
Sherrie and I sat wide-eyed, feeling an indescribable awe and Lightness of Being, as we both cried and laughed and hugged across her mom's now-uninhabited body. Then, I turned and softly played "Amazing Grace" on my crystal singing bowls, as Jean's soul flew free.
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So, although time marches on at an ever-increasing rate here on this earthly plane, I've been freshly reminded that what truly matters knows not the bounds of time, nor the confines of the body. Who we truly are could never be expressed in a tweet, a twit, a blog, or a book of any kind - Face or otherwise!
As the birds flutter amongst the branches above me, singing their songs with joyful abandon, I find myself joyfully reflecting that each of us has a unique song to sing... and wings with which to fly.
I am blessed with that knowing. I wish for you the same blessing.
Namaste.
Relax Into Healing...
May 10, 2008 "I TAKE THE STEP THAT'S BEFORE ME TO TAKE."
I recently achieved something I thought I’d never do – I completed not one, but two half-marathons within four weeks! (Do two halves make a whole? Ummm…nope, in this case I don’t think so.) But running 13.1 miles at a time – which seemed like plenty, mind you! – is something I’m pretty proud of. And speaking of proud…
The first race, I ran with my amazing daughter, Annamieka. Mieka, who was diagnosed in March 2005 with Hodgkins Lymphoma, was responsible for getting me into all this in the first place, when she was asked to be the “honored teammate” for the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society Team-in-Training. They were training for the Race for the Roses Half Marathon, to be held in Portland, OR on April 6th, 2008. (Basically, the HT becomes the teammembers' inspiration to keep going - "if she can make it through the rigors of cancer, I can run another mile...") But Mieka being Mieka, her response was, "Well, sure, I'd be happy to be your honored teammate, but why don't I just run it with you?"
She then called me and said, "...So, momma, you wanna run a half-marathon with me?" I heard myself say, "Well, of course!" It was one of those "what did I just say?" moments. But I told her, as long as my 53-year-old body seemed to be holding up okay, I'd be happy to train with her. So, two months before the race, we began logging the miles. I've been a 2-3 mile runner pretty consistently for years, with a few 10k races thrown in, but never have I attempted running non-stop for over two hours! But amazingly enough, one step led to another, muscles strengthened, toned...and ached...in places that were brand new to my awareness! I literally, we ran through rain, hail, sleet and snow...and occassional sunshine. Mieka and I trained in different cities, so we'd support each other by cell phone. We'd call during training runs to say, "I'm at mile 9 and I'm hitting a wall here. So this next mile's for you!" And the other would cheer, affirm and encourage in any way possible. My own mental mantra became, "I take the step that's before me to take." I would make my mind focus on something other than the thousands of steps left to take in that day's run. "Light...loose...relaxed. Fit...trim...toned." Beautiful countryside. New neighborhoods to explore. And by race day, I was actually feeling pretty darn good.
The night before the race, there was a "rah-rah" dinner that really served its purpose, and by the time we'd listened to some amazing cancer survivor/thriver stories, and I'd led the team in a guided visualization of the next day's race (because, of course all top athletes visualize their success!), we were both so excited that the energy just had to come out somehow.
Now, mind you, when my kids were little, I highly discouraged them from jumping on the beds at home, or in hotels, but hey....when your kid's twenty-three, and strong and healthy enough now to be jumping up and down on a bed out of sheer joy and excitement, what's a mother to do? Jump with her, of course!!
We jumped and whooped and laughed so hard we cried, and then collapsed on the floor to catch our breath and regain our maturity. (Well, sorta...)
The next morning was perfectly overcast and cool, and let me tell you, meeting with a lobbyful of hyper-charged half-marathoners at 6am is quite an eye-opening experience. (Literally, for us non-morning persons!) We made our way en masse to the starting line, and before we knew it, were being swept along in a river of moving bodies, barely noticing the first several miles we covered. At about mile nine, though Mieka's body rebelled a bit, with a severe cramp in her left hip flexor area, that sent her to the ground in sudden pain. I massaged it for a few minutes, we made it through the tears of fear and frustration, and in true heroic fashion, she began limping her way toward the finish line - still four miles away. It was a classic scene, arm draped over my shoulder, my five foot frame trying to hold up her five-foot-six one, limping along, tears turning into laughter as we sang silly songs and received all sort of "Way to go - you can do it" calls of encouragement from other participants.
Her cramp gradually abated, and we did indeed eventually cross the finish line in grand style...hand in hand, skipping our way across, with huge smiles of glee on our faces. Did we set any records? Not by the clock, that's for sure, but the personal bests we attained that day outweighed any other method of measuring success.
We both felt totally triumphant. I was so proud of Mieka, who had never really run before at all, and now had completed 13+ miles, a third of them injured, and all of them with slightly comprimise lung capacity from her cancer. That, to me, is the definition of a winner.
We created many precious lifetime memories during this journey together, and shared some crazy mother/daughter moments. Although she was too busy to keep training for this one with me, I decided to go ahead and keep training for the Eugene (half) Marathon that was held on May 4th. I managed to cross the finish line in a time that felt like quite an accomplishment to me personally, but the most important aspect, again, was not the clock, but the personal committment and the incredible support I received along the way.
(Unfortunately, Ken, my husband, had to be out of town on race day, but I truly felt his spirit there boosting me on. And both Mieka and my son, Aaron, along with my dear friend Peggy, were there to cheer me on, hold up signs, and even run with me a ways at several points. Somehow one of the three of them seemed to always pop up right at those times when my legs felt like lead, and I began to think, "WHY am I doing this???!!" One time in particular, somewhere around the eleven mile point, I was really running out of steam, and I rounded the bend to see a big blue and white sign hanging from a pedestrian bridge over the running trail just ahead. As I got closer, I saw Aaron and Mieka were the ones holding it. Suddenly, I had a whole new burst of energy.(The photo, taken just after the race, is worth a thousand words.) I am deeply blessed!
Another of the other lasting gifts from this whole experience is the mental, sometimes spoken mantra I mentioned above. Along with the inspiration and encouragement from my loved ones, this mantra really was one of the main things that kept me going on the overtired, overwhelmed days, in those moments when felt like I wanted to just quit! Sometimes I felt like I must be nuts to think I could really do this! But then I'd remember, "I take the step that's before me to take."
And, of course, this mantra is such a wonderful metaphor for life in general: I take the step that's before me to take.
This simple affirmation has carried over into my personal and professional life, and has truly made a difference in my attitude in so many ways. My never-ending to-do list doesn't seem quite as daunting when I take a deep breath and remind myself: "I take the step that's before me to take." As I look ahead to the many miles, literal or figurative, stretched out before me, I pull myself back from the brink of overwhelm by reminding myself, "I do what's before me to do, in a relaxed and easeful manner. One step at a time." And in being present with what is, I am able to handle each step along the way, with considerably more grace and gratitude. (To a greater or lesser degree, of course, from moment to moment, but hey - I'm learning!)
May you, too, always continue to learn. May you be fully present. And may grace and gratitude prevail, every step of your way.
We jumped and whooped and laughed so hard we cried, and then collapsed on the floor to catch our breath and regain our maturity. (Well, sorta...)
hold up signs, and even run with me a ways at several points. Somehow one of the three of them seemed to always pop up right at those times when my legs felt like lead, and I began to think, "WHY am I doing this???!!" One time in particular, somewhere around the eleven mile point, I was really running out of steam, and I rounded the bend to see a big blue and white sign hanging from a pedestrian bridge over the running trail just ahead. As I got closer, I saw Aaron and Mieka were the ones holding it. Suddenly, I had a whole new burst of energy.(The photo, taken just after the race, is worth a thousand words.) I am deeply blessed!
