Random Thoughts?

Lately I’ve been surrounded with similar stories of parent and adult child reunions! I’m amazed at the shared feeling of completion in our lives just by meeting them and seeing some part of ourselves in them. It is so profound – a shift in the psyche so deep that a feeling of inner completion wells up.

Why would meeting the missing parent as an adult offer so many answers to the questions of who we are? Wouldn’t I still be me whether or not I ever met my Dad? Wasn’t I stumbling along the bumps and pot holes of life like everyone else? Yes, of course I was. But for me, there was a deeper missing connection to something that felt like a black hole in my soul. We all have these holes. We strive to fill them all the time. Without them I don’t think we would have the push of desire, and without desire we wouldn’t move forward in life.

Desire is fueled by intuition. When I’m able to listen quietly to that still inner voice it provides some guidance as to what the next right thing is for me to do. Somehow, in the mean time, all these stepping stones are being laid and I really need only recognize the desire to move forward, create an intention for the search or goal, and the stepping stones become illumined, like the full moon in the night sky.

The question for me is who is laying the stepping stones? What creates the glow of each one showing me the way? There is a lot of research available about the power of intention. Quantum physicists have proven the subatomic system is ignited into action with just our thoughts.

My intention was no more powerful than wanting to meet my father someday. I wrote about it, had the intention of offering forgiveness, compassion, and understanding. I wasn’t looking for who I was or any missing piece of myself. I really just turned it over to my guardian angels to either make it happen or not. But what I did put in place was the desire arising from my thoughts. Writing it down provided the focus I needed to ignite the powers of intention.

So, again a question - how was a reunion orchestrated? I didn’t seem to have anything to do with the actual mechanics of the knowledge I received. But if I look at it all backwards I might be able to see the line up of events that led to the phone call I ultimately made to my father that eventful evening. Backing into it, so to speak, reveals the path the information took to get to me. But here’s the part that attracts me the most – a thought came to my father’s wife to call my brother and give him all the information. He didn’t share it with me, but six months later it was my sister in law that was literally losing sleep holding on to it. At least two random episodes of thoughts ignited a desire to move forward with an action.

I’m not saying I created all of this, or even co-created it. I’m just posing the question – could there be something else at work here? Is karma predestining the meetings? Have we all set into motion, long before this life time, the people we are suppose to meet and all of this is working together on some cosmic, mystical, or even magical level?

Something else is happening, I know this for certain, and I’m going to continue to hold the questions. It’s one way I can continue to keep my mind open to all the possibilities in the world.

Don’t look for the answers. Keep creating the questions.

Inquiringly yours,

Kathy

Autumn

  The constant water flow over rounded granite boulders softens all my rough edges too. Rock Creek, in the eastern Sierra Nevadas, is my favorite place in the world. This is where I feel the most connected to God, to the nature spirits, to my own true spirit – my soul – my individual self.

     Snow dropped last night opening up the sky today for sunshine and cool breezes. Pines hold white tufts gently melting, dripping with the weight of water and the air dances in wisps and flurries, nudging the snow into the air creating a fine dusting. I raise my face to the sun and catch the powder on my eye lashes.

     There’s a stand of aspens tucked among the pines; hardly noticeable throughout the year except for the fall. That’s when they erupt with reds, burnt oranges, and yellows so bright they shimmer. They take on a personality that screams in joy, “I’m here!”

     I grew up blending in as a muted color not unlike a shadow. I was the one at the end of the choosings for team members or partners. Well, I wasn’t athletic anyway. I stood closest to the wall during those excruciating dances offered to the junior high schoolers. High school – I just kept quiet so the teachers wouldn’t miss me when I cut. And young adulthood – I was so used to blending in un-noticed that I would slip in and out of parties thinking people wouldn’t even know if I attended or not.

     But now I’m in a time of my life where I might like changing my colors. I might like being noticed a little for that inner beauty I recognize in everyone else. I’m in the fall of my life. I’m just beginning to change colors, albeit my reds are blotchy skin, my yellows are toenails gone bad, and my burnt oranges are more the pain radiating from my worn back.

     Fall is that last oomph of energy expended to say I am here; alive, vibrant, with a certain measure of wisdom from half a century or so worth of experience. Like the aspens, we’ve been through some rough winters but spring always comes and summer takes the hard memories out with the sun and the heat.

     I’ve been dormant throughout the seasons like a pine nut sleeping within the scales of the woody cone. The seed drops to the earth and the soil grabs hold and pulls it down for the magic to begin its growth. Awakening in the spring, the germinating seed is ready to burst through to the sun – growing – growing into a sturdy stem, knowing its existence, justifying its presence, and spewing its belief in itself with blooms of vivid colors. Once the pollens are spread and the nectars exude their delectable fragrances the emotion begins to wither away, die back, and reverse its out burst of static and chaos. The fall comes on over night and the colors change with that last blast of I was here! Everything is folded back up into the winter cover of sleep – deep sleep.

     Our children have left. My husband and I are comfortable partners but I do sometimes feel left behind. It's like my mothering, my previous definition of being has been set aside like an old reference book only to be picked up now and again for a quick brush up on something forgotten or not quite quilted into the fabric of their emotional layers and so a quick check in will do to help bind the lapse of confidence or trust or faith in whatever they are doing.

     I know I’m in a good place. I don’t mean to complain, it’s just different, uneasy, like hiking through the forest on freshly dropped snow, and I’m unsure of those occasional steps that might twist an ankle or find myself suddenly sinking up to my knees.

     Now that they are off in their own lives I have a future to make new dreams with. My dreams extended only to when they were up and out. It was always about their potential, their future, their well being. But somehow, for me, I never concentrated on what I could do in this season of my life –this autumnal change.

     I have found that my writing has taken on new meaning. I’m thrilled with the time I have for that although I wish for more. There’s my first dream of what the future could bring – me writing all day or as long as I like without interruption. Perhaps when I retire…

   And the water keeps flowing, constant, swirling, reshaping, feeding, soothing my overactive mind and taking the remaining rough edges of my psyche and offering them up to the canyons and valleys of Rock Creek. It’s my time to breath, to express, and to cherish the colors of the fall bursting forth with the last hooray before sleep.

Planting seeds,

Kathy

Health Care Harmony

“No one should be afraid to go to the doctor because they can't afford it; no one should go broke because they get sick; and no one should die because they could not afford care.”

This quote floated around Facebook the other day. I posted it in solidarity with all my like minded people. We all love preaching to the choir, but it’s also great to know we have a community of voices that resonate with a harmony that takes so many notes to create one perfect tone.

I’ve listened to some of the dissenting voices also. The ones that project the end of our nation as we know it if the government tries to help anyone in need. I’ll go on record right here and now declaring I don’t know what the answer is. Unless I’m working on the committees, crunching the numbers myself, and listening to the suggested solutions across the tables I can’t claim to understand what would be the course for the good of the nation. So when they come up with an offer, like the Health Care Reform Bill  currently being introduced it is my responsibility to actually read it if I want to have an opinion on it.

I think it’s time we stop entertaining the reality T.V. news hosts that are there to stir up our emotions. They are professionals in their acting careers. If they can create an emotional reaction in their audience they have succeeded, and what better feeling to use to elicit an immediate mood than fear. What better mood to use to mold and control the thoughts of people tuning into the media than those of doom and devastation. Well, of course we’ll keep tuning in for the next segment. Like any good soup opera, we can’t possibly miss what’s going to happen next! For God’s sake, we might DIE!

And that brings us back to the point, Health Care. My friend Jennifer Tucker responded to the many Facebook posts with this:

“I have friends who have traveled in, or are natives of Canada, the UK, and Australia/New Zealand. Frankly, they are amazed that a country as progressive as the U.S. is so backward in this area of health care. A Canadian friend has never waited any longer than 20 minutes for ER care, and no more than 5-7 days for non-emergency appointments. For care requiring follow-up therapy, also no delays. This is far better than wait times I have experienced with HMO as well as PPO in the past 10 years. I believe a lot of the information going around is political fear tactics and partisan in nature; just what we don't need. Doubt seems to go on no matter what party is in office. I'm so fed up with it.”

But getting angry doesn’t seem like the right reaction either. Isn’t that the first seed planted in war? If we are to sing in harmony we have to use all the instruments of the voice, like the Tibetan Monks pouring out multiple tones at one time. We are all capable of reaching inside ourselves and pulling out several different sounds. Even the oddest of those can find a place in a choir.

The solution for me is to do this reaching in without flat faces on a screen or scratchy voices out of a box trying to influence me. We all have our own voices capable of forming our own notes.

What would the world look like if we all just met face to face and listened to the other’s heart?

I believe it would be symphonic.

Humming a few bars,

Kathy