Monday, July 14, 2014

A slow and beautiful viewing of the world by car, plane and foot

I suppose it was a vacation, my last two weeks traipsing off to Austria to collect my Squink and bring him home and thus bringing back a sense of peace of having him in my close proximity.

It was an adventure, from my departure,  to my week with my in-laws (sans their son), the flight back to the EEUU (that is USA, for Spanish speakers) to a week with my mother in a state located in Americas heartland.

Living without your young child for more than one month is a strangely shocking thing, there is the idea that free time will occur, but the truth is, no such luck... if anything there were more demands for my time often coupled with phrases like "... since your son' isn't here..."

But, being busy was good, because the truth is that I missed my Squink sooooo much! And the freedom to trot off with friends who are not kid friendly or a wine with friends kind of thing was just not satisfying enough to make up for not having his insight into my daily life.

He came back speaking beautiful German, and considering that I last spoke the language at about his age, I feel like he has been able to bring back some of those skills for me... though I still have to make some pretty amazingly creative sentences to try to communicate with him... I am a bit pleased that speaking with him has brought back some of it, a good thing considering I have not spoken German in about 35 years.

I am also so very fortunate that I trust my mother-in-law enough to trust her with my son for such an extended period of time, though I try not to feel bad that she misses him so much not that he has returned home.

“In the first place, you can't see anything from a car.” ~ ed abbey (my personal edit: you can, if you must)

As I was heading back, en route to visit my mother on a long trans-Atlantic flight I thought about my upcoming week with my mother... I glanced at the clouds outside and way below the window of the plane, smiling at Squink's comment that we were flying way above the cloud line... I had noticed that as a very young girl, mentioning that we were visiting my grandparents in Heaven. My mother realized I had noticed this cloud thing and that I had made some connection... what is interesting, though, is that I actually thought Arizona was Heaven... and considering that I visited in Summer... I must have had a broad understanding that Heaven did not necessarily mean reasonable temperatures... and that the living were capable of visiting. I must have been a curiously interesting child.

Anyway, with inner peace restored by the mere physical presence of Squink back in my life, I smiled at that. Squink is rather religious so I wondered if he would have thought the same thing had we traveled as much as I did as a kid.

And there was something so perfect about going to see my mother on the trek back home, there was a ritual aspect to it on some levels; giving him the gift of time with both of his adoring grandmothers.

As such, I took pictures of the journey that Squink and I made, and will have to get those on here for the gentle tale of our pilgrimage home.

"As I make my slow pilgrimage through the world, a certain sense of beautiful mystery seems to gather and grow." ~ A. C. Benson

Thursday, June 05, 2014

800 dead children in Ireland

Is something I touch upon HERE.

These are kids from a different "Home".

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

The gentle art of not-being

This is an interesting topic I want to try to capture.

I try my hardest to be fully present to my life, to those I love, to being. It is one of the hardest things but it has a feel of being in the presence of the Divine when it is successfully achieved. I imagine it is what grace is supposed to feel like.

However, there are these occasional, very brief, spots in time where I achieve what I have begun to call "not-being". It is not the opposite of "being present", so I am struggling with how to define it.

These moments always happen when I am alone, and there is this sense of... not being. Like the world around me has ceased to include me in it.

The first instant (though this whole thing last only a few seconds) there is a panic, the awareness of a disconnect. When I first became aware of these times, it was not pleasant, but that I think (now) was largely due to  how different a feeling it is, there is no comfort in knowing it is love, or anger, hurt or empathy. It was unique to me. The closest I can come to describe it is like sleep paralysis, but without the horror.

When I was a little girl, I had crawled in to bed with my parents one morning before the sun rose. I fell asleep next to my mother and woke up with a start and an inability to move. To say it was terrifying would be true, I was flat on my back, with my head turned to the side. I was facing a window that had bright light coming through... but I distinctly recall that I became aware of a choice that I had. To allow the terror of not being able to move to dominate or to chose to focus on that which was good, a prayer if you will. So, I made an immediate decision to give in to the inability, to gaze out the window that I was facing and look at the beautiful way the sun hit the flowers growing outside. I saw insects flying around, I was hyper aware. The very second I gave in, I experienced that feeling of non-being and it was the most delightful thing that had ever happened to me. Shortly, I began to feel completely filled with love. Wait, it should be Love, with a capital. It was noun-like. It had an otherness.

That is the only time that happened to me, the sleep paralysis. It was transformative. It felt like a gift. So, when people talk about the horrors of sleep-paralysis, I am still usually stunned.

Because that feeling of being an outsider with a chance to look upon the world was one of the most magical things that has ever happened to me, I often wondered if I would ever get to experience it again.

I have not had an experience of sleep paralysis again, but that feeling I had, the one where I gave in... well, it is something I think I have experienced since. These brief moments where I am overcome by that same feeling of Love with disconnect. It has happened when I drive, in the middle of a panic attack, while I am writing, eating breakfast. Usually when I am alone, though not always.

I wonder about it though. There is a part of me that wants to assign it a meaning or a job, a purpose. Maybe, though, I should just enjoy it.

Friday, May 23, 2014

Exploring vulnerability

Everyone, I think, would agree that there is something about being vulnerable that sucks.

I write about it here.

In terms of why I am cross referencing both blogs, the answer is that I am still looking at both platforms, not sure what to do. I think they both have advantages and disadvantages in a manner such that that I do not feel in-any-way-compelled to use one over the other... I sorta wish I could use both in one.

What are your thoughts?