December 29, 2011

Away We Go!

It’s been quite a year! Many have experienced considerable and unexpected change. And even though we are staring at some scary realities as we propel into 2012, tremendous opportunities exist beyond these challenges.

Never has there been a more important time to be aware, awake and engaged. We wonder what lies within the margins of this auspicious year. What knowledge do we need to navigate its anticipated and unprecedented currents?

I wanted to offer some guideposts that will lead to a remarkable 2012:

Take care of your body. Feed it with things from the earth as much as you can. Move it often. Rest! There is nothing that deserves more respect than this magical vehicle that transports your spirit through life. Physical and mental health will be our single most important priority during 2012.

Stop doing the same things over and over again. If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’ll keep getting the same results. Seek help in discovering your blind spot in recognizing and releasing obsolete patterns.

Be kind to others. Their journey may appear different from yours, but in the end the destination is the same. Judgment is merely another mask created by fear to protect itself from truth. Do something good every day. Kindness is persuasive and contagious.

Allow loss and endings. The Great Purge that began in 2011 will continue this year with a letting go of people, places, beliefs, and possessions. Be inspired to cultivate something new within the space created by these endings. This is opportunity knocking.

Hearts will be activated. Both personal and global events will engage the human technologies of wisdom, intuition, compassion, gratitude and empathy. Learn to trust and utilize them as innovative, powerful tools. Love is all that will have mattered.

What you value will change. This will affect what you consume, who will be in your life, and what you do with it. Reach out to like-minded people to cultivate values-directed partnerships and communities.

Children will speak. Born wiser than generations before them, children will begin to express that wisdom and gently help coax us into the world they envision for themselves. Listen to the small voices.

Be brave. If there was ever a moment for embracing risk, this is it. Find the right people; engage inventive resources, and go beyond past experience and success models. This will be a year of either breakdowns or breakthroughs.

Keep going! It’s sure to be a wild ride. Trust what is changing in and around you. Reach out to others. Strength and solutions come from sharing our vulnerabilities.

We are heading into an era of accelerated growth and transformation. 2012 will be a year of surprising new discoveries, global advances and profound realizations. Even with all the uncertainty, it is a great time to be alive. Take full advantage of the possibilities cloaked within chaos. And this year, do something you’ve never considered before.

Wishing you a happy new year!

January 23, 2011

For Those Who Are Remembering

Surely, there is wonder. And many will come and fall and rise again with chins held high. Quietly the world will turn and thought will follow them and become them. So what of the fearful ones who wait in the corners and along the edges? Who will come for them? Or will they spend eternity waiting for the moment that became another and another too soon? The conscious cosmic mutt scratches at the door of unknown certainties, howls at a moon soaked in spirit, dripping its silver sweat onto earth.

It is not as others but is of others with its snout in the ground, ears to the stars, listening to ancient ones, yelping the word of god. The tree understands and the waters and the turtle resting in the shadow of that tree. The man does not and wails for his pain but leaves not his place at the top of the hill with his foot caught in an old trap of his own making. He clutches his truth, hiding from choice.

The buttercups have died under tired weight, yet tiny blossoms beg from beneath the dirt, forgiving. Sanguine sunsets seduce barely noticed. You are not alone. The man does not believe and cries, surrounded by love that cannot touch him for his heart is not willing, captive of a mind torched by lies. But still the patriot sun rises yet again and warms his hard face and holds to its promise.

There is nothing beneath your skin that does not yearn to be with the other. No fear is too great. No action too strong. No time too enduring. Yet you sit invisible to all you know. To the secrets excreted in dreams, in sadness and in joy, in the detail of leaves passed unseen. Peep from one eye then the other lest the windows stay shut and dust gathers so deep in corners you cannot breathe. How bright those corners can be!

Three crows gather on a mountain behind the sun, ready to take you back to the place forgotten by life. We will be there as you please, when you have remembered the wonder and what you have been here. These sorry trials will be your victory though old misers deny their worth. To have lived! And what was done through the years to know it? Do not listen but to cherry blossoms birthing in spring and perfect snow falling on darkened lakes and all that is of life and its goodness. You are as you should be, holding the key tight.

You have not been forgotten. It is but for you to remember.

December 26, 2010

The Great Awakening

We are entering another year of transformation. Who you are right now will be different than who you will be next January.

2011 will forever alter our world. The earth will roar, forcing us to listen. We may face continued financial hardship, health challenges and sudden endings of relationships. Institutions we relied on might disappear. People we placed our faith in could prove unworthy of that trust. The unexpected will become the familiar.

These struggles are real but the potential to gain from them is profound and long-lasting. Nothing outside of us holds the truth to our happiness. When things we believe in crumble, when we lose grip on the handles of external control that dominate our lives, we are finally free to experience who we really are and begin to build a more meaningful, satisfying existence.

There will also be breakthroughs in awareness and technology, including the human technologies of love, kindness, intuition and empathy. You will care for strangers in ways that will surprise and nourish you. If reached for, tremendous opportunity lies just beyond decaying belief systems.

Change will be particularly illuminated in 2011. It is how we manage this change that will determine the people we become—and the planet we inhabit. There has never been a more important time to take care of your body. Invest in your health with good foods, physical activity and nutrition. Seek innovative ways to dilute relentless stress. Play!

Honestly share your experiences with others and seek solutions together. Be open to new ideas. Own what is happening in your life, however difficult. It is important to engage these experiences completely so that you are not swayed by fear and anger, but instead learn to empower yourself through wisdom, compassion, and gratitude. We have strayed too far from these words. Be particularly kind to mothers, as they will bear the emotional brunt of our struggles.

We're heading into extraordinary times. Not for the faint of heart, but for the full of heart. Follow the nagging goodness within yourself, regardless of how far that seems to take you from the pack.

The faint light of a new world is beginning to emerge. We are all in the process of becoming something else. The promise of what that could be lies within each of us.

November 7, 2010

The Bracelet

Elenora Holmes stared out a yawning bedroom window, the snotty March winds taunting her face. The unfamiliar image reflected in the glass pane startled her. She had avoided looking at herself since that day almost five months ago, when she left the hospital for the last time. Everyone knew there was nothing left to do but die. She understood that fate three years before upon discovering a lump in her breast. The right one, the one her dead husband, Peter had always favored. He named it Marilyn, teased it, coddled it, and adored it more than any other part of her robust body. She realized the lump was Peter’s invitation to join him. Mostly for her family she endured the surgery and chemotherapy. But, it was also because of hope, that mischievous flirt that had companioned her through life. Then the dream came. She knew Peter was waiting. And he was never a patient man.

Lilly was out in the driveway with that damn boy again. He had one of those cars that young, foolish girls think mattered. And he promised that her rump, larger than Lilly’s liking, was amazing. So that was it. She was in love. Lilly was sixteen and had already been arrested. With him of course, up at a place lost kids go called The Sanctuary. The police, and increasingly, Lilly knew it well. More than once, Elenora heard the sad squall of an ambulance racing that way to salvage yet another of the town’s possessed children. Lilly was only fourteen when they first discovered she was drinking. By fifteen her mother had found marijuana tucked inside the secret pocket of her favorite jeans. Just two months ago, after meeting that boy, she had been rushed to the hospital on some kind of pills and arrested.

Lilly was Elenora’s youngest grandchild. Sometimes it seemed as if the family had run out of love by the time she arrived. That wasn’t true of course, but Elenora knew Lilly felt that way and couldn’t blame her. Her parent’s marriage was already near extinction when she was born, forced together by this unexpected new life. Soon Lilly’s father was gone, off to love another woman’s children while her mother poured her pain into Lilly’s blossoming spirit. By then her mother was tired, busy and bitter. Lilly learned to raise herself. Elenora and Lilly had a sanguine, though long-distance relationship, punctuated by cherished vacation visits. Most of their lives though, had been shared through a telephone line or through the colorful story images Lilly sent to Elenora on paper. Before she could do anything else, Lilly drew pictures.

Elenora’s favorite was kept tucked into the dresser’s mirrored edge. It was her as a happy stick figure, dancing in a garden, embraced by flowers. She wore only a bracelet presented by her own grandmother upon her sixteenth birthday. When Lilly was five she was mesmerized by the glistening gems nestled in sculpted gold. All seven colors of the soul captured in a perfect circle, captured in Lilly’s treasured picture. Elenora wore that bracelet every day of her life. Even in the hospital where there was no beauty, the bracelet remembered a better time.

Elenora was now just a whisper of a woman trapped in a mindful current, sweeping her furiously towards Peter. Nothing she owned mattered anymore, not even the bracelet. All the things that had been her life were becoming ghosts. She heard Barbara negotiating the stairs. It was time for her medicine. Instead, she decided to heed the trenchant wind. Barbara stumbled at the door and swore under her breath, bottles rattling, tumbling to the floor.

Still, she entered with a smile, chirping how it was that time again and supper would be ready soon. Elenora’s eyes never left Lilly. "Not now,” she told Barbara. “But, Mom, Doctor Milsom said you need to take these three times a day.” “No, Barbara, no more.” Elenora insisted in a tone that frightened her daughter.

Elenora recognized the anguished moan Barbara released as she placed the tray on a corner table and collapsed to the bed. Some twenty years before she had faced this same moment with her own mother when it was her turn to die. Barbara was trying hard not to cry. Elenora struggled to rise, planting herself next to her daughter, wrapping a gaunt arm around Barbara’s shoulder.

“I know this is hard sweetheart but...” Barbara burst into sobs. “We all must be strong enough to choose our time, honey. I’ve had a good life with your father and you kids and my wonderful grandchildren. Great friends and many happy moments have graced my days. I’m ready...ready as one can ever be, I guess.”

Barbara shook her head in sorrowed understanding and gently squeezed her mother’s hand. Elenora was relieved her decision was not protested. Barbara was always the most practical of the four children. Maybe that’s the reason her and Lilly fought. They were so different in spirit.

After a long talk, Elenora announced there should be a dinner for the family so she could make her final wishes clear. It would be Saturday, the day following her 71st birthday. Barbara gathered up the medicine bottles and threw them into the garbage pail. “It’ll be a birthday party then, Mom,” she said, catching her mother’s eye, sharing a sagacious glimpse that only mothers and daughters ever know.

Elenora smiled and nodded with approval, then returned her gaze to Lilly who was sliding into the car seat next to that boy. As they drove away, Elenora knew something had to be done about Lilly. She closed the window and pulled a ribbon-bound journal from beneath the pillow and began to pour her final wishes onto paper.

Lilly never returned for supper. The family sat at the dining room table forcing small talk, trying to make believe a stinging haze of concern wasn’t choking the room. Eric, the oldest, was talking about college. At twenty, he had finally acknowledged the limitations life would hold for him without its influence. Besides, his new girlfriend insisted. With the sudden decree delivered by her magical breath, every stupid word his mother ever uttered about education was transformed into truth.

The middle one, Katlin, was seventeen and had already been accepted into Boston College. She was the brains of the family. Ever since she was young, Katlin studied like she knew what life held for her. Childhood, her family, were just the nest she was incubated in. Come September, she would flee towards a future that had been waiting for her in secret since birth. Like the mockingbird that lays its eggs in other birds’ nests to be raised by strangers, Katlin was always sure she belonged to another flock.

By the time supper was finally cleared Lilly stumbled home, drunk or stoned, no one could tell anymore. Barbara once again started yelling, the only response she could muster these days. Elenora realized Barbara was railing at herself more than Lilly, ranting against her impotence to save her daughter, angry at her own loneliness and the ruthless marks of age which were creeping up her body like a poisonous vine. Elenora understood that the ferocious sounds belching from Barbara no longer had anything to do with Lilly. Lilly knew it, too.

Eric helped Elenora up to her room, the place that had been her home for the past five months. The home she figured, that would be her last. She missed the house in the Upper Peninsula with its pretty gardens and celery walls saturated with memories. Peter and her bought that house soon after marrying. They raised four imperfect but kind children; living a fertile, comfortable, and like most, occasionally sloppy life until God grabbed a hold of his heart that Sunday morning. Somehow she always believed she’d die there, too. But her family all lived in the East now, scattered like dandelion seeds from Wiscasset to Charlotte. So this is where it would be.

Elenora lay in bed and wrote in her journal as she did most every day for the past six years, since Peter left. It all started as messages to him, words she felt less foolish putting on paper than tossing into the air. Slowly though, it became a friend, a secret space that sliced through time. Sometimes words she didn’t recognize fell onto the pages, like maybe they belonged to some other questioning spirit, another woman in a distant town spilling life into her own journal. And at that exact moment, in the flickering pause between thought, their words had collided. Or might they be the invisible counsel of a wiser soul, generously sharing truths that would have otherwise swallowed lifetimes to understand?

Elenora’s will was already in place. The house would be sold. Proceeds, the cold carcass of what she owned in life, to be split between her children. Already a couple of the kids had hinted of their favorite chair or table or painting. Even her teen-aged gaggle of grandchildren was curious of the prizes death would grant. Only Lilly never minded. She knew Lilly had already taken what she wanted from Elenora. More than once she discovered some of the small white pills given to her for pain were missing. Barbara and her did their best to hide them from Lilly, but it didn’t matter. The desperate howl of a bruised soul can’t be silenced. Elenora understood the soul must first be healed. A soul she knew would not be saved in the sad blink of time remaining to her.

By Saturday, the troops had arrived. Dolores, Bud and the kids were camped at the Comfort Inn downtown. Michael and his second wife were up in the spare room. The two kids from his first wife, Joan, were given sleeping bags and sent to the porch. Connie, without John as they were still having problems, was staying with her two kids at the Jackson’s next door. The women had been cooking all day.

Elenora rested upstairs, drenched in the lyrical chatter of a family long ago created from love, girded by years of struggle and joy, hope and pain. She laid in bed, eyes closed, smelling the supper that was being prepared, inhaling the warmth of the sun as it cut through the curtains and ran over her face. Elenora took a deep, deliberate breath. There was nothing to do but wallow in the contented constancy of the moment.

“It’s time,” a soft voice promised. When she first opened her eyes, she could have sworn it was Peter. But it was Katlin. The party was beginning. “I’ll be down in a minute, sweetheart,” Elenora assured her. It was still light outside though lanky shadows brushed the walls and that perfect golden sparkle of completion had begun to fill the room. Elenora stood up and looked out the window at Lilly who was sitting alone under a massive tree. “She looks like a fairy,” Elenora whispered to herself. Lilly was small with long brown hair, a sort of chestnut, the color horse owners refer to as sorrel. And even from this distance you could tell her eyes were blue, though Elenora had seen them turn to lavender when she was young and they would fill with tears. But Lilly didn’t cry much anymore. At least not in front of her family. Elenora pulled out her journal and wrote a few more words, then wrapped a colorful, butterfly-laced scarf around her naked head and struggled downstairs.

Yellow balloons with lingering, curled tails dangled from the ceiling. Others were tied to each chair, waving towards the heavens, reminding Elenora of the spring flowers that gleefully sprouted each May in the garden and all along the house in the Upper Peninsula. It was her favorite time of year; all that hope poking defiantly through the sleeping earth. Barbara led Elenora to her place at the head of the table. Lilly had to be called three times before finally joining the family. All through dinner she squirmed until Elenora suddenly removed her bracelet and snapped it onto Lilly’s arm. The table gasped.

“Mom, what are you doing?” Connie asked, alarmed. “You can’t....” “I can do anything I want,” Elenora reminded the rumbling voices. “But it’s been in your family for so long and its quite valuable. Lilly’s so...young.” It wasn’t Lilly’s youth that the family was objecting to, of course.

Elenora took both of Lilly’s hands in hers and forced her eyes to listen. “This Bracelet will guide you, Lilly. The love of my grandmother and hers before lives within it. When I die, I too, will be caught in its stones. It is a place of miracles. Promise me you’ll never sell this or give it away, that you’ll care for it like you cared for me during our time together. It’s a gift for your own granddaughter. You are only its guardian.”

For the first time in years Lilly’s eyes turned lavender. A tiny smile kissed her face. The table exploded in discord and Lilly bolted from the room, out of the house, far from their scorching words. “She can’t be trusted,” Bud reminded Elenora. “She’ll tell you anything. That bracelet’s as good as gone!” “Mom, I know you mean well but this is Lilly we’re talking about,” warned Barbara. “Why don’t I keep it for her until she’s older. Maybe for her 21st birthday, when she’s settled down.”

Elenora pulled herself up. Her legs were trembling. “She needs it now, Barbara. I want no more dispute about this. Now all of you sit so we can finish.” Dissenting glances sliced through the room but the threatening words ended. Elenora continued with her wishes until everything of her past now belonged to those who would inhabit the future. By the time she closed her journal, the room was dark, save for the presence of a magenta sun bouncing off the living room mirror, spilling generously across the hardwood floor.

When Elenora awoke the next morning, Lilly was sitting in the chair next to the window. The breeze seemed tolerant of Lilly. It was still cold but there was softness to it, a kindness only offered to one of its own. Colored markers and pastel crayons were splattered across the carpet, surrounding her. Elenora kept quiet, studying Lilly as she carefully chose each instrument, placed them purposefully to paper. Just as Elenora was about to speak, a car pulled into the driveway. It’s horn barked and Lilly jumped from her seat, evaporating without saying a word. Barbara and Lilly’s quarreling wearily gushed through the house until the front door slammed. The reckless rumble of an engine swallowed Lilly’s voice as it furiously escaped down the street.

Three weeks later, Lilly’s drawing of an angelically-winged Elenora hung over her bed. She could hear gingham curtains slapping playfully against the windowsill. The breeze was now warm and comforting. Elenora knew daffodils would be struggling to be known, stretching their fresh faces towards an encouraging sun. But she could not see them. She sensed Peter standing in the corner, waiting. She wasn’t quite ready to surrender this life of hers. She reminded him to be patient. There was still work to do, life to be lived. Vague voices filled the air, along with the affirming echoes of prayers, tears, and memories. Occasionally she caught Father Hallup’s assuring voice drift over her body, his words wrapping it in what felt like music. Barbara was in her ear, whispering about love.

It was morning. The smell of breakfast still clung to the house. She could not open her eyes but her ears had never been more awake. Still, the voices weren’t only from the living. There was Melvyn Barrows, the old man who ran the corner store when she was young and loved her like a daughter. Aunt Patricia, who died when Elenora was eleven, run down by a drunk driver on her way to a pottery class. And her mother, promising to catch her when she fell from life. But it was Peter’s presence she felt most. It was he who opened the door to flaunt the great love that was waiting for her.

She wanted to sit up and tell them all not to cry. That the pain had passed. So had fear. She had finally entered into the secret. That crease in life where all questions are answered and all doubt dissolves. She wouldn’t call it pleasure, but baptism into a truth so profound that it bestowed a feeling best, though quite feebly, described as bliss. She wanted to laugh when she heard Katlin tell her to go towards the light. It amused her how little they understood. She knew it was Lilly holding her hand. She could hear her hushed prayers, felt the heat of the bracelet warm her shivering heart. Elenora picked a stone. The ruby, she decided, Lilly’s birthstone. That’s where she imagined her love would reside. She prayed to God that He allow her to help Lilly; that death not squash hope.

As her prayer ended and silence filled the room, Elenora began scattering into millions of Elenoras, saturating everything, every moment, every experience that had ever, would ever exist throughout time and space. For a moment, she was lost to this infinity, then suddenly found herself hovering above the bed, attending to their sadness, loving their naive longing for her to stay. She reached down and touched Lilly’s arm. Lilly jumped and stroked the bracelet, fondling the sparkling ruby, weeping with those lavender eyes. But then Peter appeared, took her hand and in a moment that was both fleeting and everlasting, Elenora passed into memory.

Diluted by death, Elenora’s love couldn’t hold Lilly. Like a tangled kite snapping in an unforgiving wind, one blistering Tuesday evening, Lilly ran. Galloping down the highway with that boy, Lilly didn’t understand why she did what she did, felt like she felt, hurt that way. She was young, even Lilly seemed to understand the inherent treachery of that exalted state. By next morning the sting of her mother’s careless words had eased.

On any other day, she would have come down to breakfast and held her mother, both crying with regret. But this time she was miles from home, alone with him and nothing but a sack of clothes, a few dollars and the bracelet. They were both hungry, sick from the vodka they had mixed with grape Hi-C the night before. He asked Lilly how much money she had and grunted disapprovingly when she pulled the small, crinkled wad from her jeans. His eyes fondled the bracelet. “Maybe you should give me that.” She pulled her arms under the table, hiding the bracelet. “No, I promised my grandma.” “We gotta keep going Lilly and we might need it for traveling money. I’ll get you another bracelet some day.” He could sense her resistance.

Lilly stared at the table but said nothing. They ate breakfast and crawled back into his car. Lilly considered going home but he insisted she stay, stroked her long hair and off they went. She rolled down the window. As the sun warmed her arm, the bracelet’s charged stones threw a rainbow of color across her body. The red glow of the ruby struck her heart and for a flash, Lilly thought she caught her grandmother’s eyes bounce off the flickering windshield. Lilly leaned over the front seat and watched as the undulating charcoal ribbon that tethered her to home grew longer.

There was nothing much of the place where they stopped. A gas station, small convenience store and the remnants of some kind of church, roofless, stripped of any religious identity. It did have pews. But, it was mostly the sense of stillness Lilly felt walking through the open door that made her decide it had once been full of prayers. He stayed outside, talking with the pimple-faced attendant; trading gas, a bag of Cheese Doodles, Oreos and root beer for a single cigarette stuffed with marijuana.

The sky above was cut so blue it almost hurt Lilly’s eyes. Proud, voluptuous clouds, lit by the mid-day sun hung like Chinese lanterns, spilling all the golden ebullient light it couldn’t contain down onto Lilly. She sat for a moment in the spot she was sure the altar had once been and talked out loud to her grandmother. An angry clap of thunder brought her startled gaze to the heavens. A menacing cloud now hovered like a giant jellyfish in a deep cerulean sea, long tentacles of rain dangling from its body. More drenching legs sprung from the darkened underbelly until it completely devoured the defiant mountain nearby. Lilly watched as rain swept towards the church like a wave. She bolted for the car, reaching the door just as a cleansing hail of water claimed it. Within minutes the cantankerous creature swam towards the horizon while gleaming sunshine released the sweet smell of a satisfied earth.

It was dusk the next day when the police finally caught up with them. While they handcuffed that boy, Lilly hid in the fields behind an old abandoned farm where she had gone to pee. They all called to her but something told her not to go. “Stay with me,” is what she softly heard in her head or heart or wherever imaginings live. The police car drove away with that boy cursing her name out the car window. Officer Barrows stayed to search for her. Soon there would be others, so she crawled through the tall grass until reaching the road on the other side of the field. She walked for over an hour, hiding each time a car appeared.

Night hit suddenly. She wasn’t prepared for such darkness and stumbled down a small, unmarked road until reaching the end where a yellow house sat on a small patch of unmowed grass surrounded by willow trees. No one seemed to be home, so Lilly snuck into the shack out back and laid on the ground that was covered by a large painted sheet. Across it were slaps of orange and blue and deep burgundy. It had been a long day. She took off the bracelet and held it between her palms and prayed for Elenora.

“What’s your name?” Someone was poking at Lilly’s back. She thought she was dreaming as her eyes opened and new sun replaced darkness. “I said, what’s your name?” Lilly jumped, realizing it was not a dream and crawled into the shadows to see who was behind those words. He couldn’t have been more than ten. “Lilly. My name is Lilly.” “Like the flower?” he asked. “Yea, it’s my mother’s favorite.”

He was thin with sprouted blonde hair. There were dark circles under his eyes. “My name’s Kevin. This is my house. You’re in my dad’s studio. He was an artist. He painted pictures.” Kevin kicked at the ground. “He died a couple of years ago. It was an accident…they think. He was cleaning his gun and well…he died.” Now it’s just my mom and me.” Lilly didn’t know what to say. ”I’m running away from home,” is what fell from her mouth. "Don’t you love your mom?” he asked. Lilly didn’t think of that—of course she did, but what did it matter?

“I could never leave my mom ‘cause I’m all she’s got now,” Kevin whispered. “Doctors are trying to say I’m gonna die too, but I keep telling them I can’t cause she needs me. She doesn’t believe me, though. I hear her crying most every night when she thinks I’m asleep. I got cancer but I keep telling everybody I’m not dying for Ma.” Lilly stood up and brushed her clothes off. “Where’s your mother now?” “She’s at work. She has two jobs ‘cause of the doctor bills. My grandpa is in the house, but he watches television all day.”

“I better go,” Lilly announced, pushing back her hair. “You hungry?” Kevin asked. Her stomach answered. “You wait here and I’ll get ya some food, okay?” Lilly nodded. He was gone a long time and Lilly was getting nervous that he had called his mother, or worse, the police. But Kevin finally showed up with a ham and cheese sandwich and Hershey’s chocolate milk.

“Sorry it took so long but Grandpa was worried about me. I hadda show him I was feeling good enough today to go out by myself. He’s watching that Wheel of Fortune show. Here, eat this.” Lilly took the sandwich and chocolate milk. She was still hungry so he ran in again, this time to grab her peanut butter crackers.

“So why you running away from home?” Lilly wasn’t sure anymore after what that boy was screaming out the window, and how he had tried to take Elenora’s bracelet. “I never fit in, so maybe it was time for me to leave.” Kevin looked at her like he didn’t understand. Sorry about your dad,” Lilly decided to say. “My grandma died a few weeks ago. She gave me this.” Lilly showed him the bracelet. “Wow!” His eyes widened. “Never seen anything so beautiful. Your grandma musta really loved you.” “Yea, my family didn’t want her to give it to me cause they think I’m trouble.” “Are ya?” he asked, resting on the ground.

She rubbed her finger over the ruby. Tears rose from her heart into her eyes. “Maybe I’m just no good. Maybe that’s why they never wanted me.” “Nobody gives nothing that pretty to somebody no good,” he promised. She smiled at that thought. “What kind of stuff did your Dad paint?” Kevin stood up and tried pulling something from behind an old wood stack. Lilly could see he was not well and insisted she help. She let him think he was doing most of the work, but as his hands touched each frame, she pulled out four pictures. He took off the dusty cloth and leaned them against the wall one after another. Lilly stepped back.

“Kevin these are great!” “Yea, me and Mom think so, too. They’re the last ones Dad did before he died. A couple people have offered to pay for them, but we don’t want to give them up. It would be like losing him all over again. Sometimes I feel like his spirit is in these paintings watching over me. Crazy huh?”

Lilly kissed the bracelet. “I’m an artist, too. At least I will be", she said.” “Really? Why don’t you paint something for me, like my dad used to do? I got his paints and stuff over here. We couldn’t get rid of them. Mom comes in here sometimes and talks to him. She likes to wear his favorite shirt. The filthy one he painted in. He didn’t call it his lucky shirt or nothing, but he wore it till it was full of holes. Mom had to sew it up almost ever time she washed it. We used to laugh at him all the time. My Dad was funny.”

“My Grandma wasn’t funny but she listened to me. Rest of my family thinks I gotta be different than what I am. Grandma let me be what I felt like being. Even sometimes when I thought I might go crazy, she told me it was fine to feel that way. It was just part of growing up, and if I’d just talk it out and let it go, it would eventually disappear like my brother’s nasty farts.”

“She sure sounds funny to me.” “I guess she was sometimes. In her own way.” Lilly kept looking at the paintings lined up against the wall. One was a portrait of Kevin before he got sick. “Dad always promised I’d be healthy like that again. He believed in miracles.” “Give me some paints and I’ll paint you something,” said Lilly. “Really! Thanks, Lilly.”

She heard police sirens and got scared. “But you gotta promise not to tell anybody I’m here.” “Promise,” Kevin whispered, crossing his heart. The sirens got closer and Lilly told Kevin he better get out for now so they don’t come looking for him. As Kevin walked across the yard towards his house, a police car pulled into the driveway and Officer Barrows got out. She watched from a crack in the door as Kevin and his grandfather talked to Officer Barrows at the side door. He glanced at the shack and crooked his head in the general direction. Kevin and his grandfather looked too and Lilly pulled her face in, her heart beating hard. “Please Grandma,” she pleaded, clutching the bracelet in her hand. “Don’t let them find me.”

Next thing she knew, the car was pulling away from the house. Soon after, Kevin returned with more chocolate milk. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?” Kevin asked, coming back through the door. “The policeman seemed pretty worried about you, Lilly.” ”You want a painting, don’t you?” ”Yea, I want you to paint me something so I won’t die.” His words surprised Lilly. “I can’t promise you that, Kevin. Nobody can do that.” "You can do it...that’s why God sent you to me.” “You think God sent me to save your life? I’m just a nothing of a girl, Kevin. My mother says I can’t even save myself, so I can’t do nothing for you but paint a dumb picture. You living or dying is up to the doctors, I guess.”

“I almost died twice from infections the cancer medicines gave me, so I know what dying feels like now. And it’s not so bad, really. I know I coulda gone both times if I wanted, doctors or not. Like I said, I gotta stay for my Mom, so I fought to come back and so I did. That’s how I know God sent you to paint me a picture to save my life. That’s why we could never throw out my Dad’s stuff. Because somehow I knew you were coming.”

It was getting warm. The sun had dipped to the other side of the sky. Kevin found a small canvas and pulled out as many paints as he could find. Lilly told him it would be a surprise so he couldn’t look at it while she was painting. “Sure. My dad was like that too. He hated us peeking at his pictures before they were done. I’m tired, anyway.” Kevin leaned up against the other side of the wall and fell asleep.

When he woke, Lilly was standing at the window. Sunset filled her face. “I gotta go home.” Lilly announced, her eyes never leaving the sky. “My grandma would have wanted it.” Kevin reached for the painting. “No Kevin, don’t look at it until I’m gone. Ya know, just in case you don’t like it. I’m gonna call my mom now. You have a phone I can use?” Kevin and Lilly walked to the house together and Lilly called Barbara. Both burst into tears at the sound of their voices. Soon Officer Barrows arrived to escort Lilly to another chance. Kevin and Lilly exchanged numbers and hugs.

“You’re gonna be fine Kevin,” Lilly said, believing it with all her heart. “I know. That’s why you’re here, Lilly. So my Dad’s promise in his picture of me would come true. He used to tell me sometimes just showing up and being you is all it takes to make a miracle.” Lilly filled with a truth she had never known before. “You take care of yourself Kevin. Thanks for the sandwich and crackers. I’ll see you.” “Here Lilly,” Kevin offered, picking at the daffodils growing along the side of the house. “These are for your mom.” She held the flowers and smiled, knowing what they would mean to her mother. Lilly waved before closing the car door. Kevin waved back until she disappeared in a cloud of August dust.

As his grandfather coaxed him towards the house, Kevin walked back to the shack and uncovered Lilly’s painting, He laughed as he held it high to show to his father. It was Elenora’s bracelet, the ruby shining bright within the glow of Kevin’s happy, healthy face.

December 30, 2009

Go Conscious!

Welcome to the beginning of a new reality. We are entering another year of tremendous change, both personally and culturally. Who you are right now will be different than who you will be next January.

Take stock of yourself at this moment. How do you feel? What concerns you most? What life do you seek? Be fully present as you step into the hurried current of 2010. It will take wisdom, wellness and awareness to navigate its chaotic currents.

This year will forever transform our existence. We may lose more jobs, face financial hardship, health challenges and sudden endings of relationships. Institutions we relied on might disappear; people we placed our faith in could prove unworthy of that trust. The unexpected will become the familiar.

These struggles are real but the potential to gain from them is profound and long-lasting. Nothing outside of us holds the truth to our happiness. When things we believe in crumble, when we lose grip on the handles of external control that dominate our lives, we are finally free to experience who we really are and begin to build a more meaningful, satisfying existence.

Change is inevitable and will be particularly illuminated in 2010. It is how we manage this change that will determine the people we become—and the planet we inhabit. There has never been a more important time to take care of your body. Invest in your health with good foods, physical activity and nutrition. Seek innovative ways to dilute relentless stress. There are many people waiting to assist. You will need your health more than anything else to sustain you this year.

Honestly share your experiences with others and seek solutions together. Open to new ideas. Own what is happening in your life, however difficult. It is important to engage these experiences completely so that you are not swayed by fear and anger, but instead learn to empower yourself through tolerance, kindness, compassion, and gratitude. We have strayed too far from these words.

We're heading into extraordinary times. Not for the faint of heart, but for the full of heart. Follow the nagging goodness within yourself, regardless of how far that seems to take you from the pack. Everything is about to change. And that’s a good thing.

Enjoy the ride!

October 21, 2009

Reasonhood

I recently read a brilliant essay called Reasonhood. It’s about the relationship between reason and adulthood and deserves much consideration and accolades for its author, Brandon Peele. Though I have a short attention span and a long to-do list, it caused me to slow down, immerse myself in new ideas and think.

Personally, I believe we are living in an age of unreason. Like the Romans who went mad eating from plates tainted with lead, our societal toxins, technologies and pace have numbed much of our ability to reason. Thus, reason like truth, is easily manipulated these days, even if we reach for it. I wonder if we have been so damaged by our cultural conditionings that as a society we are incapable of knowing what reason is anymore.

In generations past, humans had to become adults earlier. Work, marriage, and children usually entered life during puberty. It’s been our blessed existence for the past fifty years that has allowed people to remain children—emotionally, psychologically and spiritually. (Even aspects of the current New Age movement reflect a spiritual naiveté born from life being relatively easy.)

I guess the definition of adulthood depends on our personal and shared journey and how it shapes our ability to reason. Reason seems grounded, somber, and sober. But, is there also room in reason for joy, spontaneity, fun? Our definition of adulthood is much different than what we thought it was as children. When we were kids, adulthood was our most desired destination, full of freedom and enjoyment. But as we age, adulthood increasingly brings responsibility, struggle, compromise, loss, and we yearn to be children again with all the unconscious bliss it represents. Of course, corporate brands, the media and government are more than happy to oblige the illusion.

Each era defines adulthood. And I believe it’s our era’s unwillingness to truly embrace change that holds us back from accepting adulthood. The precipice into adulthood is scary. We are usually forced through the door, unprepared. If we could forge a new definition of adulthood that transforms our childish follies through reason into a deeper joy of life, we’d have a lot more adults out there.

Brandon stated, “Without reason and the structure it can create, imagination is only escapism and can not become honest self-expression”.

I agree that imagination requires the structure of reason for it to meaningfully manifest in the world. As someone with a dynamic imagination, and maybe not enough reason as structure, I struggle with expressing my imaginative musings in a way that is honest in its clarity. But I am adult enough to realize that old emotional patterns have painted my reasoning abilities and I continue to search for solutions.

The 60’s birthed a new thought form, which unfortunately was not completely understood by its recipients. Like children with a new toy, it was played with, escaped through, but not fully utilized. There seemed to be no apparent reason behind its emergence beyond the moment. New knowledge and truth arose during the chaos of that time which could not be properly applied because we were not mature enough as a culture. Without reason, it became escapism.

We are experiencing a similar time now, where the potential for a major transformation is available to us, but many are merely escaping into technology, busyness and media instead of sex, drugs and rock and roll. If we could restore our reason and the wisdom within it, we could see the opportunity in our current experience. That would be our transcendence into adulthood.

Brandon concluded that, “Reason allows the observation and transcendence of a particular emotional state (e.g. sadness, madness, anxiety, fear, and shame) and the realization that one is experiencing that state and therefore cannot be that state”.

This is an important point. If you can observe yourself having a negative experience, then you cannot be that negative thought. It is simply an experience that is to be felt, reasoned through and learned from. Knowing you are more than an emotional state is critical to the rise of the adult within. And reason is a great tool to manage errant emotions.

By the time we reach what should be adulthood, our emotional patterns are set in place. What we have been taught to believe about ourselves, the emotional charge connected to these beliefs and their external triggers, are well established. Being an adult helps us recognize these patterns when they are occurring. And that’s important. But it is hard not to react, even if it’s only on an unconscious level. (Which many of our patterns have become by the time we are so-called grown-ups). Teaching people how to break out of these orbits once they are able to recognize them would be a tremendous boost to reason, adulthood and humanity.

Brandon’s treatise on emotions should be a book in itself. As a culture, we do not know how to experience or express our emotions, let alone use them as tools for our growth and happiness. We either engage them as feel good drugs, bury them deep within denial, or turn them into weapons. Gratitude might be our most powerful and neglected gift in cultivating a healthier relationship with our emotions.

Brandon argues, “Conditioning, repetition, and perception do not yield an objective reality, only one that is mutually agreed upon.”

But then doesn’t this mutually agreed upon reality become objective? Theoretically, I think he’s right. I want him to be right. Though, if we are the result of our conditionings and we respond accordingly, doesn’t that become our reality? And, if so many others share that same manufactured reality, what about the few who profess to see past it all? Are they seeing into a truer reality, or merely seeking to escape reason? Either way, those escapees often evolve humanity by living outside of it, so something must be going on there.

Language. I don’t think there’s a more important concept in his essay than language. We cannot become what we have no words for. Like a ship in the fog, we might feel something coming, and evolution via chaos will always generate new things to consider. But how can emerging thought become mass reality without proper languaging that resonates with the idea? Language reflects consciousness. The word computer didn’t exist (I don’t’ think) before computers did. The technology revolution arose from a bunch of strange people, living on the outskirts of reality and reason, using fledging languages, both verbal and digital, to create a new world. It wasn’t until the complete language arose which expressed these alien concepts that the masses were able to slowly understand and accept them. That’s when this new technological thought form hit its tipping point and transformed humanity.

The consciousness movement with its emerging “programming” of social responsibility, sustainability and wellness, among others, is analogous to that first wave of technology. But it is still seeking the right languaging for mass engagement. Much of the current vocabulary stems from the movement’s infancy, and is stale, mistrusted or no longer reflective of the current state of these trends. Once we discover the relevant language, communicate on a level all can understand, the consciousness movement, which in effect is the next generation of transformative technology, will have its tipping point and again the world will be changed forever.

Brandon says, “An adult will never fully believe what he says is true, only go forth the best way he knows”.

It took me a long time of thinking I knew it all before realizing I knew nothing and maybe never would. Being satisfied with that uncertain reality and understanding its power was probably the most adult moment I’ve had in my life. Everything you believe can change tomorrow. The adult in us knows this and is able to thrive within it. Now I move forward with my second set of eyes wide open, knowing what I know, accepting what I don’t.

Although I applaud Brandon’s Aids to Reason, I wonder how realistic they are. Most people are unwittingly addicted to each of his Barriers to Adulthood, (Media, Chemical Dependency, Emotional Dependency, Frenzy and Social Contract). So, the first and maybe most profound step towards Reasonhood would be the recognition of these unconscious addictions. External guidance and wisdom should then be available to people who truly want to become adults but need support in doing so. That’s where the government, media and corporate brands can make a difference. Most of us need help growing up.

I believe there are many closeted adults out there, waiting for the opportunity to come out when they aren’t so afraid. Along with his great suggestions to assist in this growth, experiences that force the illumination of our cultural programming, there are various other practices and tools that could serve to awaken the sleeping adult within us. We just need to make them acceptable, and available through multiple platforms.

Brandon’s essay was a guided mediation in its own right. I have been hovering around the edges of beginning a letter. I want to create a new corporate position that would engage and apply many of the principles he expressed to increase both company morale and productivity internally, and reputation and revenue externally. This position and its progressive concepts don’t currently exist in the corporate mind-set, so I have to take myself down that rabbit hole and search for the language that will lift people beyond what they believe to be true, a little further into their knowing adult who might have the wisdom to listen. Reasonhood helped bring my focus into that magical space between imagination and reason.

I’m interested in where it brings you.

May 7, 2009

The Big Tree

You expect time to heal the wounds of someone's passing. And, that once you get through that first god-awful year, the ones that follow are more filled with love and warm memories than of pain. I think that is true with many people we lose. It has been that way with my father, who died thirteen years ago.

But with others, the loss only deepens. Three years ago today, one of my closest friends died unexpectedly, filling me with grief I never knew I could feel. Richard was part of my atmosphere, someone I could count on, and I knew he would always be there for me.

I sobbed for two weeks without stopping when I learned of his death so very far away. I would never see him again or hear his warm voice promising to visit. I would never hear him call me foolish, silly or crazy in that way that should have sparked anger but made me feel loved instead. This was a man whom all should have known. Richard was a passionate rain. I grew because of him. I became the strength he saw in me. And sometimes it feels like he took it with him when he left.

Life is a landscape. When we look outside our window, we see some people as beautiful flowering plants, others, thorny bushes. There are annuals and perennials and too many weeds. Most of these relationships wither with time, replaced by others. A special few continue to blossom, adding beauty to our days. If we’re lucky, two or three big trees punctuate this place, unwavering, constant, throwing their comforting shade across the years. When others leave. we grieve, but time eventually fills up the hole with soft moss or new sprouts and something wonderful eventually grows to heal what was lost. But when one of the big trees gets ripped from our world, nothing ever replaces it and our landscape is changed forever. Richard was one of those big trees, out at the corners my life, strong, powerful, protective.

One day I will join him, wherever he went, and knowing that diminishes my own fear of death. There’s something comforting about knowing someone you loved is waiting, ready to catch you when you fall from life. Maybe that’s why those we love so much sometimes leave too early. Could we have made a deal before birth that this time, he would leave first?

Richard died on this day and tonight I will go to the place we met many years ago and sit and share a martini with his memory. Richard died on this day and maybe if I keep telling myself that, somehow I will believe it and my heart will finally accept those ugly words.

I guess pain is a small price to pay for having him in my life for as long as I did. In some strange way, we are closer than ever before. He now belongs to the invisibles and is with me whenever my thoughts go to him. I feel him laugh at my worries, still share my schemes. And on some lucky nights, he comes to me in dreams and lives again.

For all of you who have lost one of your big trees, I send my blessings. And I send hope that you come to realize that what you lost was worth what you gained in loving them. It doesn’t take away the pain. Nothing ever will. But there are others who love us. We are alive. I can’t think of a better way to honor Richard than living my life fully, passionately, the way he would have.