Getting Ready

 I’m on my way soon to take a refresher course to be ready to serve terminally ill homeless individuals as an End-of-Life Doula. This has been a very long process as the facility is finally close to opening. 

People get scared by what they don’t understand, and this has been extremely apparent in trying to establish the facility by the woman who conceived of the idea along with her grandson, Joshua, who died on the streets after experiencing the hopelessness of his drug use. Joshua’s House will fill a need, and I’m so very honored to be able to be a part of it. 

I’ve been a volunteer in whatever forms were available to me for about 6 years. To be training now is both thrilling and challenging. 

Almost all my volunteer work has revolved around death and dying, which seems macabre to many. I’m a hospice volunteer, and I sing with Threshold Choir, which means softly singing chants and lullabies to those who are facing the ends of their lives, as well as in other moments of heartbreak and grief. It’s not macabre at all—in these moments, we are all at our rawest, truest selves. There are no pretenses, no masks or phoniness. 

I’m truly grateful to have felt called to be of service in this way. I know it’s not for everyone, and I am humbled to be one who can. 

Today, I’m very thankful to be kept very busy in this endeavor.

The Art of Moving On

 Nothing lasts forever. Some things don’t last at all.

I finally put a lopsided relationship in my pile of lessons learned. It’s kind of a junk heap, so it might be time to put my organizational skills to use. Do I organize by date? Subject? Cross-referenced to both? It’ll take some time. For now, I’ll just lick my wounds and retreat for a bit.

Life is so full of lessons! I applaud growth, even if it comes with growing pains. We’re all in Life School, and sometimes the tests are more personal than I’d like. But here’s the thing: following each test is more clarity. What parts did I get right? Which parts did I mess up on? What did I learn about myself, and how can I make necessary changes?

It’s a mighty continuum, this gift of being human—sometimes filled with giddy joyfulness, sometimes heavy and dark and challenging.  But then, nothing lasts forever.

Today I’m grateful for that fact. I’m glad that the yin/yang of life is a constant flow, and that in it all, I am wholly whole, worthy, and just where I need to be right now.

Joyful Anticipation

 I’ve been absent from my blog for a few days, but not because I lacked gratitude. My life is very full, and I like it that way! It’s been quite awhile since I slogged through a soul-sucking job, and I’ve enjoyed the fact that I haven’t had to hug the toilet every morning for well over a decade. 

These days, I do what I want, and what I want most is to serve others. That’s where I find my joy. I have time to be creative, and to bake yummy things, and to play with my cat, and to visit with friends, and to participate in activities at my spiritual home, and on and on. I’m finally happy in the Now.

Being happy in the Now still allows me to wonder what will happen next. What does my Creator want me to co-create with it? What now, I ask Spirit, being ever thankful for this moment.

Today I will commune with members of my spiritual community. Earlier, I Zoom-communed with my sisters in sobriety as we marveled at how beautiful life is. This afternoon and evening, I will relax in whatever way presents itself. Life is pretty darn good right now.

And right now, I live in joyful anticipation for what my Higher Love has in store for me. 

I have a few ideas, which we are in process of manifesting. Stay tuned…!

Art, Artists, and Their Work

 How we benefit from artists! Some friends and I went to a world-class museum yesterday to see the works of an amazingly accomplished young artist, Kahinde Wiley. He had, as his theme, juxtaposed scenes seen depicted many times through the ages with the images of contemporary young Black men and women. It was both beautiful and disturbing. That’s a function of art—to make us feel, to challenge our thinking and present us with more questions than answers. Mr. Wiley was immensely successful.

I recently read the address given to parents of an incoming class of serious music students. In it, the speaker acknowledged misgivings they may have as to where this field of study might take their children. After all, for the same hard-earned money, those gifted children could have chosen to embark on more lucrative careers.

He reassured those parents by citing examples of beautiful music created amid harrowing conditions, and asked them to imagine a life without music of any kind. In the first example, he pointed out the beauty of the notes woven together from within the walls of concentration camps. How could that form of art have been birthed in such bleakness?

He asked the parents to imagine a great film—another art form—without the swelling music adding to the telling of the story as it was being watched. The score underlines the emotions, helping the audience to feel what they’re watching more deeply.

The message was clear: Music is vital. Art is vital. Look at any creative venture and ask yourself how it may have changed you. Not everything will have done so, so consider a song, a painting, a sculpture, a book—any work of art created by a fellow human, and relive the feeling.

Such was the effect of Mr. Wiley’s work. It was stunning in idea, composition, execution, and in the way in which it was displayed. It made us feel. It was somber and beautifully created, asking the viewers to see his subjects in a new light. 

Today I am deeply grateful for those who have the ability and the wherewithal to delve into the Arts, as well as to those who make it possible for them to do so.

A Purr-fect Meditation

 “I want to meditate.” “But I wanna play”, says The Cat. “No,” I tell her, “this is my meditation time. Didn’t you hear my gong? It’s just 20 minutes. Go take a nap or something.” “I wanna play”, she insists. 

So—today’s meditation has gone from quiet contemplation to joyful participation. Meditation can have many forms! Whatever I do, I hear the challenge to “Be Here Now”.  That includes playing with a little animal who trusts me to see to all her needs. Watching her pirouette in the air trying to catch a swinging target delights me! Seeing her go into stealth mode as she silently watches, waiting for her opportunity to strike, is delightful! Her connection to her larger cousins in the wild is on full display.

My kitty is teaching me daily—nap when I’m tired, move my body while I have energy to burn, accept tummy rubs when the opportunity presents itself, walk away from my food when I’m full… Be Here Now.

Also, this: meditation comes in many forms. The purposeful quiet sitting, the opportunity to fully live each moment as it is presented to me, and all the variations in between. If I fully inhabit each moment, I will find more peace and contentment.

Just like my cat. 

Just Another Day

 Yep. It’s just another day—nothing special going on, no lingering problems which can’t be handled, the sun is shining, there’s food in the fridge; all is well.

Most days are like this, actually. There are little challenges, tiny victories, all the usual stuff. I’m grateful for that. It’s days like this which allow me to be in my comfort zone where I can relax, recharge, get grounded, and simply enjoy life in it’s elegant simplicity.

Today I met a friend at our spiritual home, then we shared a nice lunch out. She took off to live her today, and I managed to take care of a couple of items of business. Like I said, just normal stuff. My day feels complete, and it’s not over yet. I appreciate the ease of it, the peace in it.

Having gratitude as a daily, living attitude doesn’t need great big events. It’s the series of the everyday things which make up a life that I feel glad about. The little annoyances shrink even more and the good moments become the overriding mood. 

I’m grateful for the sweetness of days like these—days like any other, days of peace. Just like any other day, yet unique in it’s specialness. 

A Walking Miracle

 I have a dear friend who was in a near-fatal car crash five years ago today. The little tiny car in which she was a passenger was t-boned by a speeding Cadillac Escalade, pushing 18” into the passenger side. The rescue team had to cut into the car to get her out and into the ambulance. She was rushed into surgery where it was found that her liver had been lacerated, her pelvis was broken, her lung had collapsed, and the diaphragm was torn. There was so much damage, she needed two surgeries in as many days.

She is part of a 12-step community, and her many friends rallied to her side in tag-team fashion, so that she was never alone. Her rehab was grueling, and included treatment for a traumatic brain injury. All together, it looked pretty grim for her. 

She is a tenacious person, and she worked hard over the next full year of rehab. Her employer worked with her in her extended absence, and co-workers donated their own sick leave to help her out financially. When she was finally ready to return to work, she was able to move at a pace she could handle. She worked her way beck up to full-time work over the course of the next 18 months.

As I look back over the last 5 years, I am simply astounded at her recovery. She is a living, breathing, walking miracle, and an inspiration to all who know her. 

Today, I am grateful for her, and for her recovery. I am grateful for the community of caring people who rose to the occasion and stuck with their support for the long run. It makes me thankful for my own good health, and that I’m still on this side of the ground. 

My friend is indeed a Walking Miracle.