Saturday, August 26, 2017

Ukemi ... the art of falling .... Surrendering.

I recently began working with a new trainer. A trainer who is also a friend and a colleague and who has inspired me to move forward into a new chapter in my life .. an exciting new journey of somatic coaching. Last night we met. He is also an aikido practitioner. I tried aikido almost 20 years ago. I remember loving it and feeling how so much of it resonated with me on so many levels. Last night he taught me ukemi, the art of falling. He demonstrated for me the 'back fall'. As I watched I found myself mesmerized. Effortless. Flowing. Circular. Then he asked me to try it. Not so flowing and effortless :).

He told me, philosophically ... ukemi is about surrendering. He shared an article with me written by Richard Strozzi, "The Aiki Way: The Art of Falling" ... " ... falling requires surrendering to gravity, the energetic field of our lovely planet. To live a conscious, evolving life surrender is a requirement at every stage of growth. When we surrender we fall into a larger luminescent, unknown space. Falling is the practice of surrendering ..."

Almost 30 years ago, I surrendered to my inability to control my drinking. Surrendering was my first step in acknowledging I had a drinking problem. I find myself reflecting on surrendering ... the different levels and layers of surrendering. Letting go. Am I really surrendering? Am I really letting go? How do I find balance in feeling grounded and centered, and surrendering to the fall ... to gravity? Trusting in the fall and the journey; trusting I will land, or I will fly.

I remember when I was playing competitive racquetball. As I would get ready to take a shot, I would some times lift my head and look at the front wall which is turn would alter my form and the direction of the racquetball. My coach would tell me, 'Trust me .. the wall won't move." In competitive sports I was taught to look through my mind's eye, to visualize.

Today, I hold the following question in my heart and in my body ... What do I need to surrender to? What do I need to fall into?


Friday, August 25, 2017

Ahnung's 4th year anniversary - Grief visits again

Lake Superior (Two Harbors, Aug. 2017)
This year as the 4th year anniversary approached Grief arrived again. She had been visiting as she had when Ahnung was still with me physically. This time, she came to prepare us for the transitioning of the beloved 16.5 year old soul mate of my partner Joannie ... Piper (aka Pipey). On Aug. 17th, Ahnung welcomed Pipey into the spirit world. I believe she was there to assist Pipey as her spirit was set free from a body that had served her well, and much longer than most are able to ... Pipey, like Ahnung, was sent from God to help a specific Human through a difficult time in their lives and to open up their hearts.

Piper (Pipey)
Both Ahnung and Pipey walked with their Humans (myself and my partner) until their job on Earth was done.

Thank you Ahnung and Piper for your service; for watching over us; for bringing us together; for touching our hearts so we could learn to trust again; for believing in us when we couldn't believe in ourselves; for infusing your light, spirit and energy into not only our bodies and being, but into so many others blessed to meet you, whether in person, or virtually.

This morning I reflect on my journey and friendship with Grief.

I share past writings on this friendship, first unwanted .. when she came to my door in December, 2012:

Anticipatory Grief: Making Friends (December 27, 2012)

Grief walks up to your front door. It’s not time yet, you say. Yet she keeps on walking. She walks past the rose bushes in your front yard. She walks past the boulders you’ve carefully laid in her path. She walks past the detours you’ve planted to steer her around you and away from you. This time She is focused. And the rain is pouring and thunder is booming as the earth shakes and vibrates.

“Please,” She says, “I need shelter. I need to come in -- if only for a moment. “

Reluctantly, I let Grief in. I offer her a cup of warm tea. We sit by the fireplace.

“Why have you come?” I ask. “It’s not yet time.”

“It’s time. I am by myself tonight. Tomorrow I may not be alone. I may bring thousands of Me and there will be nothing you can do. We will break down your door. We will drown you. “

She pauses for a moment.

She strokes my dog Ahnung.

“Sit with Me now.”

We share stories. We cry. We laugh. Ahnung lays between us. A calm breeze permeates the room.

“It’s time for me go,” Grief says.

“But we have so much more to share,” I say.

She smiles. She rises, and Ahnung walks alongside her. Ahnung stops at the front door as Grief turns around to face me.

“I will be return. I may come alone, or I may bring a friend. Now, go be with Ahnung.”

We melt into the breeze coming through the open door.


Anticipatory Grief Visits Again (Mar. 3, 2013)

You came to visit me again last night.

Most days I see the clear blue skies, I catch my breath when I look up into the night skies, and I walk with my feet planted solidly on our earth.

Is it too much to ask for the World? For the Universe? For eternity …. For strings of days to never end with my sweet Ahnung? Is it too much to ask for Cancer to step to the back of the line? Is it too much to ask for the Love, the Wisdom, the Resilience, the brightness of Ahnung to shine on forever?

Dear Grief, I respect you. I honor you. I know you have a place in this world and in this universe. I know it’s not my place to negotiate with you. Yet when the earth shakes below my feet and when the ground moves and the tremors knock me off center, I desperately grab onto Ahnung. Last night, it was just an earth tremor. How many more tremors will I walk through with Ahnung? How many more tremors can the ground beneath us withstand until the inevitable quake on the horizon arrives? How many more tremors will I be blessed to endure before the ground beneath us splits open and swallows Ahnung? And will I be swallowed too? Will I be swallowed by the pain of You, dear Grief, as I desperately hold onto my soul, my Ahnung, as she slips away from me?

How? How do I accept, with grace, this Final Walk?

Grief looks me in the eye.

“When the earth shakes, and the ground beneath you falters, look up into the skies. Look into Ahnung’s eyes. Look up at the North Star. I gift you with the tremors.”

“Ahnung is in your heart. You are One. She is in your blood. She is in your bones. She is in the Earth. She is in the Air you breath. She is the Fire inside of you. She is in the oceans, the rivers and lakes, the rocks. When she is gone, she will live on in you.”

I hold onto Ahnung as the earth beneath us stops shaking. I bury my face in her thick neck. I hold her. I hold her as tightly as I can. I hold her again.


Anticipatory Grief … Here to Stay (August 24, 2013)

Grief knocks on my door again. Ahnung greets Her at the door. This time she arrives with bags in hand.

“It is time.”

She opens the door, takes my hand and leads me outside.

We get down on our knees. She places one hand over Ahnung’s heart and one hand over my heart.

And she repeats to me what she said months earlier:

“Ahnung is in your heart. You are One. She is in your blood. She is in your bones. She is in the Earth. She is in the Air you breath. She is the Fire inside of you. She is in the oceans, the rivers and lakes, the rocks. When she is gone, she will live on in you.”

I look into Ahnung’s eyes.

Grief takes my hand, “It is time. We must begin the walk.”

In the dark, we are guided by the north star and the beat of our hearts.

My new house guest: Grief (August 31, 2013)

On August 25, 2013, as the sun was setting, I held my Ahnung in my arms, surrounded by friends, as her heart stopped beating. The weight of her body fell into my arms. She was gone. Physically gone. My heart wanted to stop breathing with her.

Grief, you took her place.

I have floundered in the darkness.

You again remind me of what you said to me in your many visits:

Ahnung is in your heart. You are One. She is in your blood. She is in your bones. She is in the Earth. She is in the Air you breath. She is the Fire inside of you. She is in the oceans, the rivers and lakes, the rocks. When she is gone, she will live on in you.

Grief holds my hand. Walk with me. Close your eyes.

“When I visit you in waves know that I come with your Ahnung. Ride the waves with us. Open your heart … in the cracks and shattered pieces of your heart, let the light in, let the water in …  you must also let the sharp edges cut you. Sink into the waves. Hold onto me, hold onto Ahnung. One day I promise you, you will ride the waves with us and I will leave you. You  will learn a new dance and a new way to Be with Ahnung.”

I invite Grief into my house. I set up a guest room for her.

"How long will you stay?" I ask.

"You will let me know. Listen. Listen to your heart, to Ahnung's heart. There is a beat, a strong heart beat in the silence and in the spaces."

We sit by the fireplace and I offer her a cup of tea.

Into the night .... We tell each other stories. We sit in silence.

“Ahnung is with you.”

I look at at my new friend, “Teach me. Teach me to listen in a new way.”

Two Hearts.
Two Souls.
One Love.
------------

This morning I reflect on these words my friend Grief shared with me:

Ahnung is in your heart. You are One. She is in your blood. She is in your bones. She is in the Earth. She is in the Air you breath. She is the Fire inside of you. She is in the oceans, the rivers and lakes, the rocks. When she is gone, she will live on in you.”

I have learned, with her help, and Ahnung, to embody these words. Earlier this week, my partner and I traveled up north to Lake Superior. We scattered some of Ahnung and Pipey's ashes into Lake Superior as the sun was setting on Aug. 20th ... along the rocky shores of Lake Superior, in Two Harbors, we found a quiet area. My partner played native American flute music, we offered tobacco, lit sage and as we scattered sprinkles of ashes of our beloved soul beings, we thanked them. I asked for Ahnung to watch over Pipey; to welcome her and show her the ropes of an amazing spirit world; to watch over my partner; to keep watching over me; to keep teaching me; to keep opening up my heart. I thanked her for bringing my partner Joannie and Piper into my life.

The next day we went to Gooseberry Falls State Park. We scattered more of their ashes in Gooseberry River, and in the trees. As I released Ahnung's ashes into the river, I thanked Ahnung once again for being everywhere and for continuing her work. I thanked Grief too .... Yes, Ahnung is the Fire inside of me ... she is in the oceans, the rivers and the lakes, the rocks. And yes, she continues to live on inside of me and through me.

Gooseberry Falls State Park

Lake Superior (Two Harbors)

These beautiful words of Rumi helped me through this journey .. they helped me welcome Grief into my home ... to find myself and crack my heart open so I could stay connected with Ahnung and to learn a new language ...

'Go and find yourself first
So you can also find Me

Don't run away from grief, o soul
Look for the remedy inside the pain
because the rose came from the thorn
and the ruby came from the stone'

'Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with their heart and soul, there is no separation'

~ Rumi

Miigwech Ahnung and Piper.

Saturday, August 19, 2017

Safe travels Piper (aka Pipey) ..

Piper - October, 2016
We said goodbye to our beloved Piper on Thursday, 8/17. This precious little girl had walked this Earth with her mama (and my partner) Joannie for 16 years, 8 months and 2 days. She has left an incredible hole in our hearts and in our lives. I have been talking to Ahnung and asking her to greet Pipey.

Sweet Pipey ... you are deeply, deeply missed.

This morning, after my morning meditation .. the following come to me from Ahnung and Piper.

Keep on Walking

God sent me to walk with you.
Our path has come to a fork.
My work on Earth is done.

We have walked this Earth together.
Side by side.
I am with You.
I am above You.
I am below You.
I am around You.
I am with You.

We are One.

I thank you for loving me enough
to set my spirit free
from a body that has served me well.

My body may no longer be with you.
My spirit is always with you.
My spirit is IN you.

Our cells are One.
Our Heart is One.
Our Spirit is One.

Your work continues here on Earth.
I will be watching over you, as you have watched over me.

Listen.
See in new Ways.
Speak a new Language ..
one without physical touch or sight.
You will hear me.
You will feel me.
You will sense me.

Keep walking.
One day at a time.
One step at a time.

The time will come when you will reach
another fork in the road.
The time will come when your work will also be done.
And when that time comes ... I will be right by your side, as I am right now. And together we will walk this new path, cross over, and you will join me in this amazing new world.

Until then, sweet Mama, keep walking.
Your work is not yet done.

Ahnung and Piper


Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Papa visits me in my dream ...

I had a dream last night. It was so real. It was the afternoon Papa died. Friday, Dec. 20, 1968. I had just turned 4. It was surreal. I could sense Papa leaving his body. Energy is the only way I can describe it now. The room was filled with amazing, beautiful, light .... radiating energy. I wasn't afraid. I don't think I was in my body either. I was with Papa and I could see the hospital room.We were everywhere. We could see everything. My mother was crying hysterically. I was quietly sitting in the corner. I was wearing a short-sleeved white blouse, red bottoms. We could see everything happening in the room, yet we could also see everything outside. In one instance Papa and i were in the room; in the same moment we saw the St. Louis arch, the magnificent Mississippi River.

My adult logical mind can't make sense of my dream. Surreal. I tell myself to let go of that logical mind. Just Be. Embrace the experience.

I was with Papa. Energy. Light. This sense of being everything and nothing. Observing physical form, bodies in the hospital room below us. No fear. Nothing. Everything.

Then I was back in the hospital room. Panic, crying, screaming was around me .. Mama, doctors, nurses. In my dream, even the 4 year old at that moment felt calm. I wasn't afraid. My Papa was still with me. I just couldn't see him. I just knew.

I woke up feeling so connected with my Papa.

Did my Papa take me with him for a brief moment the afternoon his spirit left his body? Did he want my 4 year old body to know he is still here - for the little girl to not be afraid; that he will always be here; that he will always be watching over me.

I closed my eyes again wanting to fall back asleep. To return to my dreams; to return to Being with my Papa again in the most amazing Way.

I couldn't fall back to sleep. As I got out of bed I thanked my Papa.

Some day we will be together again. Till then, I will feel him with me in every molecule and atom of my Being.