Easter. The day of connectiveness. He died for us, rose for us and will come again for us.
Yesterday while working on myself, I had to hold the meridians that run through my arms to my little fingers. While holding the points, I was required to process thoughts that had once been stressors - experiencing integration, feeling worthiness and receiving support. Deeply meaningful and Easter appropriate upon retrospect.
Also yesterday over a beer at a local brewery, Mom shared a story about Uncle Al, my grandfather's (Dad's side) brother. Uncle Al was the epitome of a Western cowboy. He always wore a cowboy hat, boots, western shirts and pants. Auntie Joyce and him traveled the US, rock hounding, panning gold, hunting, collecting and living an amazing life of connectivity with each other, to others and for the Earth.
I was quite young when they'd visit and upon departure they always left me rocks. Back then the love was based on beauty, but as I grew older the rocks' energetic properties came to light. The last time I saw them was during a visit to Arizona and yes, they gave me turquoise upon leaving.
Auntie Joyce called Mom recently and expressed that Uncle Al had gone through a joint replacement last year. Bless the spirit for he was in his still active 90s. He happened to not be feeling up to par at joint rehab and they suggested he should go to the hospital. He refused. So at home later that day, Auntie Joyce was helping Uncle Al remove his cowboy boots. The one side was more difficult to take off and Auntie told him tomorrow let us not do the cowboy boots. At that in a state of peace, Uncle Al leaned back and died.
Beautiful connectivity. It is palpable in their story.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Time is so temporary.
It has been a long time since posting and I almost forgot about breathe...
Life seems to be changing. There was a time when I filled myself with giving in order to feel complete. No longer. I suppose a near death experience does that - it shifts the bookends. In the past, my recovery from issues preventing me from wearing pagers left me like a rabid dog waiting for a turned on pager and scurrying off to some crisis. Now - not so much. I enjoy less training nights, meetings, and thinking about how far I have to run to my truck should the pager alert.
The question I hear often is when are you coming back? My answer: not sure. The gift I have is in the midst of chaos, all seems rather clear on what to do. The ability to rapidly analyze and develop a correction plan comes very easily. Does that mean go back to all of what I've been doing many years or shift to something else? Oddly, now is when people are coming to me asking for my help, and I am not giving yeses. I am sitting back, watching, asking, contemplating and it is so refreshing!
Without the continual buzzing around, I've been able to take quiet moments. I see a lot of people in very small boxes they have constructed for themselves and fought to contain others. I wonder how they can grow? How they experience dismal defeats and joyous moments of excellence when they've wound their lives so tightly?
Time is so temporary.