I practice Reiki and hold many spiritual beliefs. One of the beliefs that I hold is that the death of a person’s body is just that – the death of the body. Their spirit, their essence,
continues after their body has ceased. My mother died when I was 16 but, over the years, I feel as if she has been with me either in spirit or working through others. My grandmother died years after my mother and I feel the same for her as well. During difficult times, I have on more than one occasion called on them to help me/guide me through the storm of that particular moment. When the difficult moment passes, I thank them as well. My reliance and trust on the two of them is based on their love for me when they were alive. I have no doubt about their love and fall back on the memory of it in the absence of love in my current everyday existence.
In practicing Reiki, one of the things I do is ask for a deceased relative who loved the person I’m working with to come through and help me help them. Since my mother and grandmother are connected to me in love, I ask that they connect with the person’s loved one and help to bring healing, relief or whatever is necessary for the person they cared for in life. Without going into great detail, on more than one occasion I have experienced a deeper, richer perception of the moment. Other times, without calling on a person’s loved ones, I’ve still managed to experience a deep richness that goes beyond the ordinary moment.
In popular culture, the movie “Ghost” is probably the best representation of this concept. The people who have watched “Ghost” typically loved the movie without a second thought about the connection of a deceased loved one and the living person they loved. On one occasion, while with a group of people, I attempted to help someone with a problem that made my heart sink with the weight of what that they carried when they told me about the problem. I explained about contacting the ones who loved me in life to attempt to connect to the person who loved them in life. My intention in that moment was to attempt to alleviate the person’s suffering. Which, in the grand scheme of things, is usually my goal in many things when I offer Reiki. Later, the situation was distorted by others into I was practicing voodoo or something dark. Despite this extremely narrow-minded and stereotypical take, I continue to practice Reiki and ask for those who no longer walk among us but loved the person I’m working with to provide assistance in the process. Because I truly believe love does not end at death…
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You Are So Beautiful
The past seven years or so have been a slow ride down the side of a mountain into a ravine as far as my looks are concerned. I drastically changed my life such that vanity went out of the window a long time ago. I gained about 25 pounds, my hair has never really looked chef’s kiss in a long time and my face has relics of angry eruptions. I never really look at myself in the mirror. I recently went for a walk with someone and he mentioned (in amazement) that I never looked at my reflection in windows as we walked. This is something I kind of recognize.
The drastic life change is the first factor that led to this reflection-blindness that I practice. However, another is quite possibly age. The life change saw my interpersonal interactions reduced to nearly none. For the first time in a very long time, my days stretched ahead of me with no regard to how someone perceived my looks, my abilities or my personality. Each day, I was my true, authentic self because I did not tailor the presentation of myself to the person or situation in front of me. That was so refreshing! It was almost like an extended period of vegging out at home eating ice cream while wearing ugly sweatpants. Except I was out and about. The other part is that I’ve hit the age where I don’t care about trivial things the way I once did. Someone else’s perception of my looks is pretty trivial at this stage.
Despite my blatant disregard for my looks, it is during the past few years that I’ve had men (young ones especially) go out of their way to tell me that I’m sexy. Little did they know, this phrase is the kiss of death. The only times I’ve consciously dressed to look sexy is when I would go to the club to party. I haven’t done that in years. I did/do dress in clothes that I consider to be fashionable and flattering because I did dream of being a fashion designer after all. That is to be expected.
This past weekend I experienced two incidents that made me really look at myself in the mirror. Saturday, I was walking into a building. There were people leaving and one of the women in that group of people held the door open for everyone. When my turn came to enter, she continued holding the door for me. I said thank you to her for holding the door open for me (there have been so many times the door is released as if I’m not even there). As I walked in, she exclaimed that I was so beautiful. I thanked her and was about to walk away. She then explained that she was a photographer and that I was very beautiful. At that point, it felt awkward because I could feel myself the undivided center of her attention. After having performed in a talent show years ago, I recognize being the undivided center of attention is overwhelming for me, be it one person or a roomful of people. I also had to pee (thus the reason for me coming into the building). Nature’s call ended the Joe Cocker moment definitively.
Sunday, I was on the metro and a man entered. He walked past me and sat down. Once seated, he said hello. I said hello in return and he immediately exclaimed that I was so beautiful. He repeated it quite a few times. There is a slight disclaimer to this one – he was an alcoholic and had already imbibed quite a bit of the 40 ounces the bottle held. He wasn’t completely out of his head because we had a conversation until he arrived at his stop. Before leaving, he said that he wished he could take a picture of me with his phone because I was so beautiful.
I have no idea what magical mojo was swirling around me this past weekend but it obviously made me beautiful in a way two strangers felt the need to effusively tell me, in no uncertain terms, that they found me to be beautiful.
I’ll go with it.
It’s a Beautiful Day – The Kiffness x Rushawn
I ran across this musician because I saw a cat mashup video that he did. The video was hilarious because the musician sampled a cat’s plaintive meow with music. After clicking around to listen to his other work, I found this gem.
Rushawn, the little boy singing was so sincere and sweet that I was touched by just his singing. It would be difficult to have a bad day after listening to this (I could probably do it though). However, in this moment and the moments that preceded this moment when I’ve listened, it just makes me have a beautiful day.
To make this even more beautiful, the pinned comment on the video reveals that both The Kiffness (musician) and the song’s writer (Jermaine Edwards) worked together to make sure that Rushawn receives royalties for their use of his singing the song! Sometimes, life (and others) conspires to create beautiful moments. This story is one of them.
Enjoy!
Writing again?
I have not written anything in an exceptionally long time. It is not as if there have not been things on my mind or heart. Instead, it has been a matter of (down)time and solitude that have prevented my writing. Now that I would like to return to writing, I find that I need to (re)learn the site and my limited programming knowledge. This post is just a convoluted test to refamiliarize myself with the workings of the site. Hopefully, there will be more posts upcoming soon.
In the meantime, here are a few more words to illustrate to myself what this will look like so that I can move forward on the right foot.
In the meantime, have a nice day!
George Floyd
He signed someone else’s name on a check
For that offense he ended up with a knee in his neck
He had no gun, he had no knife
But in the end he lost his life
One more time a black man says “I can’t breathe”
And communities of brown again start to seethe
One more time a black family wails “Oh Lord”
This time, for a son named George Floyd
In this time of Covid-19, mask-wearing and fear
The clear and present danger was always near
In the end, “medical incident” is the verbally gymnastic phrase
For how yet another “peace” officer ended a black man’s days
In Vino Veritas
I don’t drink but naturally find myself in situations with those who do. Recently, I came face to face with the old Latin saying, “In vino veritas” or “in wine, truth.”
Almost a month ago, I met a man who seemed to be head over heels about me. To the point that he instantly mentioned marriage. I do wish to be married but I recognize it may take a little while to get to know one another before making that commitment (been there, regretfully done that). One of the things that came up during our initial conversation was the fact that he had a three year-old whose mother died a year ago. He said that he is really motivated to have a good mother for his son. I do want children and didn’t have an issue with being an instant mother/step-mother. After having lost my own mother, I especially was touched by the idea of this young, motherless child needing a maternal influence in his life.
We continued to talk from time to time and each conversation included his desire to marry me and a pledge of devotion to me on his part. However, wine recently introduced an element to our conversation that had been lacking – the truth. It turns out, his son’s mother is very much alive and well and taking care of him! The truth (according to him and the wine) is that she is not very intelligent and would be unable to raise him to be a well-rounded person, comfortable in the world. I, on the other hand, would be a great benefit to his son because of my comparative intelligence. In addition, in his view of things, his son’s mother would be almost like a lady-in-waiting for me. She would be called upon to take care of me and guide me (the son, mother and, sometimes, father live in another country whose native tongue is Spanish) on a day-to-day basis.
Prior to meeting this person, I did (and still do) have a place in my heart for someone else who may not have an interest in marriage. In an attempt to be honest, I did mention that person when the topic came up. The Lazarus-ian Baby Mama? Crickets.
Needless to say, I needed a drink after that ill-fated conversation. There were other elements of the conversation as well but the biggest part of the conversation was the “veritas” the “vino” revealed.
Now, if the honest marriage-minded person would please step forward…
Moments of Beauty
To say that recent weeks (months even) have been stressful is a gross understatement. Being and remaining mindful has been a tremendous challenge as I walk around with a list of (nearly) impossible to-dos rambling around in my head. Yet, I have been surprised on two recent occasions with moments of beauty that redirected my focus to appreciation. Both instances happened during very mundane activities.
I was taking a shower last week and happened to look down at the spray hitting the puddled water on the shower floor. In that moment, I noticed the pattern of the drops as it hit the surface of the water. They resembled little snowflake formations without the extensions that characterize snowflakes. The light reflecting off of the water gave the process an element of special effects. Prior to that moment, my mind had been all over the place. Yet, noticing the pattern displayed by the water drew me into the PRESENT moment and I was able to appreciate the until-then unnoticed beauty. In response, I smiled and continued to watch for a few more moments.
The other occurrence happened this morning. I was drinking a glass of water (from an actual glass) near the window. The sun was shining through the window and I was standing in its light. As I looked at the receding water while I drank, I noticed how the glass and water refracted the light into multiple colors. I didn’t see a full spectrum ROYGBIV rainbow but I did see some colors. In response, I smiled and continued to watch the phenomena as I slowly drank the rest of the water.
Needless to say, I don’t spend every moment in the PRESENT moment. However, when things happen to anchor me in the present moment, I appreciate the hint and go with it. Those moments serve as a reminder that life is truly beautiful if you stop and notice.
Years ago, I wrote about the same thing:
Taking The Time To Notice
In Sickness and In Health
I’ve attended a few weddings recently (three within the course of two weeks or so) and find myself truly thinking about the gravity of the vows. Wedding vows, of course, are made at the start of the marriage. Although there can be health issues already present at the start of the marriage, frequently the severity of existing health issues unfolds later. It is in those times that the couple’s commitment to the vows spoken in the beginning are tested.
This year has brought a couple to the forefront of my mind because of their ongoing commitment in the face of extreme health issues. Sadly, their vows ended with death doing them part.
I met the couple two years ago. I did not have a car at the time and they graciously offered to bring me to the last leg of my morning trek. Their graciousness was truly appreciated during my time of need. In riding with them together, and the husband separately, I was able to witness the high level of care they had for each other. She did not work because of complications from an old car accident that wouldn’t allow her to sit at an office for hours on end. However, she did drop him off and pick him up each day from the commuter lot where our workdays officially began and ended. He, on the other hand, had a medical condition that required him to immediately go home to do a critical at-home treatment. She was always there (or close to being there) to pick him up at the end of the day so that he could start his treatments. With the medical issues they both had, they still maintained a commitment to each others well-being.
Later, he had an unforeseen complication that wreaked havoc on the already fragile state of affairs his health was in. Their time and energy were devoted to trying to stabilize his health. Simultaneous to his downturn, she too had critical concerns with her health that needed to be addressed. In caring for him, she frequently pushed her own medical issues by the wayside. She and I would speak infrequently on the phone but would make up for lost time by the length of the calls.
The last time we spoke, things were moving in a more positive direction for them as a family. One day, I ran into them unexpectedly at the grocery store. It felt really good to see the two of them, him especially because it had been quite a while since I had seen him or spoken to him. He looked in good spirits and seemed like his old self again. About three months’ later, he died. That, potentially, was the last time that I would see either of them as she has probably moved by now.
I am intentionally vague with details because ultimately their story is not my story to tell. But I will share that, in the face of serious medical conditions that severely impacted both of their lives, they were there for each other. My conversations with her invariably included detailed updates on his medical progress as well as hers. My conversations with him showed a concern on his part that she was taken care of in the event that something were to happen to him. They were as committed through the difficulties of sickness as they were in health till death did them part.
You Lead, I Follow (?)
As you can probably tell by the previous video posts, I am somewhat fascinated by tango. So much so that I went to a class almost three years ago in an attempt to learn to tango.
It.
Was.
A.
DISASTER.
I was so awkward. The simple beginner movements were too complex for me to comprehend. My mind and body were simply not in accord with what I was being told and shown.
The ultimate difficulty? Following my partner’s lead.
I can bust a move on the dance floor by myself that could bring some smiles and cheers. However, if you throw in a partner whose direction I must follow, dancing turns into a system failure. I have an almost innate inability to follow and it showed itself with flying colors during my failed attempts to follow my partners during that ill-fated tango class almost three years ago.
Fast forward almost three years later…
If at first you don’t succeed, wait (in this case a long time) and try, try again. I went to the same tango class last week. I was filled with the same level of dread regarding what could have been an impending disaster. Yet, last week I started with my first partner and away we went. I even mentioned to him that I am resistant to being lead and despite my dire warning, away we went. Again. And again. And again.
Thinking it was a fluke of nature that he was a natural born leader, we changed partners and I tried again. And again, away we went. And so it went for the rest of the evening with each successive partner. Was I perfect? By no stretch of the imagination. I had one sequence that I consistently screwed up because I had difficulty remembering not to shift my weight from the correct leg. Despite that consistent error, I was able to successfully complete the sequence several times with each partner.
Although this post primarily relates to tango, on a deeper level, it also points to a problem I have in my general life – an inability and/or resistance to follow the man. The thoughts that come to mind are various statements that I’ve received from men in the past: “you are too independent”; “you just won’t listen”; and “you’re just going to do what you want to do anyway.” A major source of the problem in these past instances (I do want to clarify that these are past instances and there is the possibility for something different in my future) is that I never felt the man spoke with an understanding and concern for my best interest. I viewed what they said through the lens of them making an authoritarian pronouncement they felt I must follow through on. Authoritarianism does not go over well with me. At all. And in the face of authoritarianism, I just won’t listen and I am going to do what I want to do anyway.
The other issue is that I have a fundamental distrust in where they will lead me. In relationships, I have been involved with people who lead (or wanted to lead) me in the direction most beneficial to them, although it was contrary to what may have been best for me. I have been involved with only two people who I would have followed without a second thought. One of the two, I actually verbally stated, “you lead, I’ll follow.” Although I said it in passing, he didn’t realize the gravity of the statement because I meant it beyond the scope of what we were discussing at that exact moment. I implicitly trusted where he would have taken me.
Maybe as I continue to make progress in following with tango, I will be presented with a relationship in which he leads and I DO follow. Because I trust in where he is leading US.
Which One Is Your Kid?
This evening, I decided to go to a capoeira (Brazilian martial arts) class that I had seen on a flyer that I picked up. I LOVE capoeira and thought it would be nice to watch others learn. The one thing I overlooked is that the class is for children. Despite that oversight on my part, I stayed there and watched the children practice. While watching, I started a conversation with one of the parents who was sitting next to me and she asked “which one is your kid?” I stumbled and fumbled for my answer. I told her that I don’t have children and just came to watch the class not realizing it was for children. I enjoyed watching the different children go through the techniques they were being taught. There was a little girl who was good but at the same time hesitant; a little boy (or girl) who had a spring of energy that bubbled up to the surface naturally; a little boy who was doing one technique and looked like a natural in comparison to his older brother; the older brother who found his rhythm at a later moment; and a little girl who was very shy because it was her first time, who aced the techniques in the end; and one teenager who was years older than the others but still going through the techniques just the same. They were a joy to watch. Watching the children with their varying degrees of trepidation and enthusiasm reminded me of my desire to have children. I even said to the parent that I do want to have children, even at the advanced maternal age of 45. We discussed exposing children to multicultural experiences so that they have a well-rounded point of view and are able to exist in multiple environments. I could definitely see bringing my own children to that capoeira class. I would just hope they would be more natural movers than their mother…
In the end, the parent and I exchanged telephone numbers and I’ve now made one new friend. Nothing about the class was as I had expected but it turned out to be just what I needed.