DAUGHTER

Two years ago, April 22, 2010,  my daughter and I reunited.

As I sat on the porch this morning, while the rain fell heavily just out of my reach, I recalled the protective shell I held securely around my emotions from the first email and phone call through to the plane ride back home. At the same time, I was feeling a kind of ecstasy as I walked around in a virtual daze repeating over and over to myself, "This is really happening. Dreams do come true."

Emotional shell on the past, Dance of Ecstasy in the present.

And now, two years later, shell cracked, dancing transformed, I let tears fall with the rain.

I contemplate this forever changed life, no longer having to yearn to know my first born child.

The yearning was endless agony carrying hopeless determination to make it real.
That same agony can also carry hope for the future.
Now I hope that she will come and visit me.
This hope is not a longing, rather a wishing for a gift which I would welcome should it arrive.

All is well.

JASMINE

No sooner did the citrus blossoms' aroma fade, then the jasmine began to bloom and fill the air around them.  Climbing the trellises, filling fences with green leaves and white flowers, creeping up guide wires, and spreading across walls all over the village, they make me wish this day, these few days, would never end.

Jasmine can become a nuisance when it grows too prolifically. I've had to perform serious surgery on vines which come up through the deck boards, to keep them from warping the wood's positions and to keep ants from making it their marching ground to the porch and straight to the cats' food.


A good trim and sculpting now and then is always a good thing for most vines, especially the elegant jasmine.  This is probably true for people as well.

13

It was Friday the 13th. I was at the ocean before sunrise,fishing for whiting and pompano. One whiting later, the sun began to rise, peeking through thick clouds on the horizon.

As the sun rose, black rain clouds overhead became visible. "Aha," I thought, "This surely is  a sign that Mother Earth will confirm the myth bestowed on us by the invasion of the Roman Empire on the Celtic world!"

Soon enough, a sheet of rain came across the ocean onto the beach, gently bringing closure to this fishing excursion. I, in sync with a perspective of the individual overemphasis that plagues our Western psyches today, was disappointed with the bummer luck brought on by Friday the 13th.

In ancient times, 13 was a sacred feminine symbol. With this in mind, I then reflected on how 13 might be a blessing at all times and Friday the 13th might be a day of blessings.  It then occurred to me that if I were Mother Earth, I would indeed be bringing the rain to quench the earth, lessening the fury of the growing number of brush fires in the area.

The sacred presence of 13 was alive and well after all as the earth soaked up the rain gratefully, receiving the promise of continuing growth this Spring.

RESURRECTION

I don't have much use for Easter today in the church. It's all about eternal life in and through this Jesus guy. Growing up in the high Scotch Presbyterian environment, Easter was a day of intense jubilation of resurrection. I do not ever recall focusing on the grandeur of the promise of eternal life, even though I am sure it was included.

What is this eternal life?  Becoming famous so you will always be remembered?  Some knowledge of the life after death that is in agreement with the notion of reincarnation?  Something got lost in the translation, for sure, even if I am a proponent of reincarnation.  The ancient bodhi tree, beginning in Nepal, snips of it repotted and transported to other parts of the world, and revered today for its lineage,  is an image worth considering. But, no sermon has come close to explaining the promise of eternal life applicably, from my perspective.

Now, I can understand having to  make a decision to painfully accept a reality in order to go on.
I can understand the healing process of totally letting go of any more expectations in order to move ahead dancing with joy in my heart.

The whole story of the journey to the cross, at the cross, the tomb, and the resurrection is what happens to us, if we will live the whole story.  It's at the "forgive them" part that I find the hardest. Yet, when it happens the pain becomes a healing time.

With that healing time comes new life possibility.  Yes, that is worth jubilant celebration.!

BIRDS

At this time of year, the window, which is just above the headboard, is always open.  I wake daily before sunrise, spending time still prone, meditating on how I will relate to the new day.

I meditate, but with an ear open in anticipation for the birds to sing.

Their music begins with one, usually a mockingbird, then others join in a few at a time until there is a full choir in concert.

The affect on a seemi-awake consciousness is more powerful than the Mormon Tabernacle Choir at its best. I am not sure how long this continues. Eventually the sounds soften and seem to be more in the distance.

When resting there is definitely over for me, mostly because I am beginning to think about what I will be doing soon, I get up, put something on depending on the weather, and head for the coffee pot.

A new day begins its unfolding journey.

I follow along willingly.

TRANSITION

Bo Cefus is at least 17 years old. He was born in the woodlands of Florida's panhandle and will complete is 9th life soon here in Crescent City. He is unable to care for his hygiene very well now.

Sometimes I see him just standing where he his for long periods of time.

 He has also taken to sitting on fence posts these days, and sleeping along the top of the trellis.

Never a lap cat, preferring hunting in the high grass and along the creek bed, these days he nestles on any lap open to receiving him and settles in comfortably.

He is sitting on my lap now, as I write this blog. Every once in a while he looks up at me, as if to ask, "Are you done yet? I could use a serious massage!"

I wonder if he knows his time is near.

I wonder what he needs - what he really needs

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