Finding Courage

My son has been on a path of discovery. He took a year off from his state job to be in a place of self-exploration. During this time he and I made many treks to Green Gulch Zen Center, some of them for the day, some of them when I was dropping him off or picking him up from spending time there. He was becoming more and more involved with the zen lifestyle of yoga, meditation, organic gardening. As he continued to pursue, open-hearted, he was led to check out another similar place -- Great Vow Monastery in Portland, Oregon, and his meditation practice led him to the decision to complete a 5 day silent 'sit', which means meditating for most of the day, in silence.

This decision was no small matter as he lives in Santa Barbara, a distance of well over 900 miles one way. Did I mention my son is visually impaired and does not drive? He took the train/bus from Santa Barbara to Sacramento, stayed a few days, then was scheduled to take the train the rest of the distance beginning at midnight. That night as I was readying for bed I realized I had a phone message from him. He was already at the train station 2 hours ahead of time, his friend having dropped him off, waiting. He faced a 15 hour ride on the train, alone, all night and into the next day.

I was suddenly overcome with emotion that initially felt like fear and concern for his safety. Although he is 28 years old and very intelligent, I worry about people somehow taking advantage of him, or an something unsavory happening to him due to his visual challenges. There he was, in the station, 2 hours to kill, plus so many ahead. He did not have his computer reader so could not 'read' books on the train. His trip sounded rather horrendous to me, scary, long, boring even. What started to creep into my emotions over and in front of the sadness was amazing respect. I knew what it was taking for him to make this journey, then stay the night in Portland (a town he does not know) in a youth hostel, not to mention the week at the monastery and another 15 hour train ride back to Sacramento. This was really HUGE! And why was he doing it? For himself, for his own journey. By this time I was laying in bed sobbing. I sobbed first from maternal concern, then for my utter Blown Away-ness of what he was doing, and last for me. What courage he was demonstrating, to want to do something for one's self so badly, to have that much determination, I felt humbled that I did not feel I possessed enough of that same quality to do something equally courageous for my self, for something good for me.

And in that moment, I recognized how much more deeply I loved my son for that gift.

Transitioning through changes, rarely easy or comfortable, usually requiring our utmost strength and courage.

The Cycles and Circles of Life's Transitions

I've been thinking a lot about circles and how they show up in my life. Our lives are never ending circles of beginnings and endings, then new beginnings, then an ending. We must let go of something to let something else happen. People are born, people die, we lose a friend, we gain a new friend, we give up a job to find our heart's content of a career, we let go of what is not working to find what does. Circles, cycles and transitions, change. It's all a part of life and yet we struggle with it and resist it because it doesn't always feel good.

I have just been blessed with one of the most remarkable events since the births of my own daughter and son -- the birth of my grandson. I feel so many of the same feelings I felt when they were born - wonder, delight, awe, emotions so near the surface I would cry just looking at their marvelous faces and hands. He evokes these same emotions plus more. Not only do I feel this amazing miracle of birth, I also experience new emotions watching my daughter, my precious little girl, delight in being a mommy --this is really the more heart-warming component -- the tenderness I feel watching her bond with him. It truly feels like the greatest expression of the circle of life, so pure and true.

I have two older cats - 11 and 14 years old. They have been with me since my daughter brought them home as kittens. Both big boy cats, they have been my loves through all these years. Loving and loyal, when I lived alone, they both slept on my bed with me. My 11 year old boy - Willy is a funny contradiction. On the one hand, he is a fighter. Watch out any intruder kitties, as Willy will faithfully defend his turf and family, gaining him a nicked ear and other assorted ailments through the years. On the other hand, he is the most loving and giving kitty, faithfully waiting for me to come get coffee every morning, purring and rubbing against my legs, his eyes all enlarged with the face that says "I love you soooooo much". Our morning ritual is that he purrs and rubs against me while I sit on the stairs and scratch his chin. He is true blue and I know how much he loves me.

Willy has been starting to show signs of his age and his brazen lifestyle. He exhibits a bit of a hitch in his get-along, has trouble jumping up onto things and his hips seem to give him trouble, especially in the morning. A lover of finding small dark quiet places to cram himself into, especially when he is not feeling well, I found him in a kitchen cabinet this morning. As he poured himself out the door, it appeared walking was very difficult. He made it to the water dish, only to hover there as if suffering from a hangover and wondering if he was about to give up last night's binge into the toilet. His eyes were cloudy and he looked to be in pain. No purring. No rubbing against me. I sat on the floor next to him and started to cry, knowing that Willy's time with me was most likely going to be short. I bought him some canned food - a real treat at my house, and plan to spoil him and keep him as comfy as possible for whatever time I have left with him.

It will be incredibly sad to lose this friend who has been so steadfast and true, who has brought me mice, consoled my tears, loved me no matter what. To say I will miss him sounds like such a small piece of it. I will miss him, but my heart feels so full with all he has given to me that I appreciate so much, that it is hard for me to fully express. At the end of his life, I can say many things about Willy, but foremost will be "well done good and faithful servant. May I be as good to others, as you have been to me."

I embrace the change. I have no choice and resisting will lead to more suffering. I embrace the good in the new life in my life and honor the good in the life passing on. Circles and transitions.

Transitioning through life's stuck places

It's October and here in California it's barely starting to feel like fall. The leaves are turning colors that make me say ahhh...In the park behind our house so many leaves have fallen off the trees that I find myself wanting to go back there and run through the leaves, pick them up and throw them in the air, stomp on them and hear them crunch, roll in them. Sound fun? It does to me, but I was kind of hoping for a small child or at least equally child-like adult to do it with me so that children playing back there don't feel afraid of what that white haired lady is up to.

I love fall, and really, when I think of it, I always feel ready to welcome the new season. I look forward to the joys that each season offers and feel ready for it when it comes. Why can't I be quite that way when it comes to changes in my life? I know that fall must occur to make room for winter, which while it is cold and wet and not my favorite season, there is also a wonderful depth to it, the darkness of winter that allows us to go within, to be more still and to nurture ourselves and others. While I may miss the warmth of summer, I don't think, "gee is fall really the right choice? Shouldn't we go back to summer when things were warm and sunny?"

There is a holding onto that occurs with life changes. We look back, and say - should I have done that? Was that really the right/best choice? I want to be able to welcome the seasons of my life in the same way I welcome nature's seasons, to look at my changes and transitions and say, yes, I am ready and welcoming of this new phase of my life, bring it on. To let go completely of the old and embrace the new with open arms feels empowering, yet I know it is hard.

I have written here before about my challenges with letting go of my "children". Heck they are 23 and 26, hardly children but letting go of them has meant some suffering on my part. I think what it has taken for me is redefinning my relationships with them and experiencing them blossoming into something so much richer and wonderful. I know much of my looking back with sadness was the regret -- how I might have spent more time with them, worked less, been more patient, etc etc. I have learned to forgive myself; my children did. In fact, hearing them talk about their childhoods, they have happy memories, and feel they were parented well. What more could a parent want?

Now I can embrace what is now, no looking back but only looking forward in these ever evolving relationships I have with them. What seemed impossible only a few years ago is now reality. They have created their own lives as happy and independent adults. Watching them move through their lives with such integrity and maturity is so amazing and I will take that wonderful new season for them. Yes the summer of their lives was fun and cute, but this new season they are in -- is so awesome, and I am so proud of them. I can look forward to metaphorically playing in those leaves with them as they mature and share their experiences with me in a whole new way. I'm ready