I guess every one you know has lost someone. That journey started for me when I was a teenager and my Pa-Pa died. By the time you get to be my age, you tend to lose count. The worst was losing my mom. Not long after followed my dad. Never had any kids, and I was divorced nineteen years sgo. Just found out that he died too, this April. In between all of this, more than a few animals I loved did leave me. It’s a stark, scary feeling, this being so alone. People want to give me drugs, all kinds of advice on what I should do. It’s all good, only this is my journey now. My time to remember. One technique I use when I hit that wall, when you can’t breathe, and the knot in your throat feels like a baseball. I imagine a beautiful white Craftsman Bungalow, with red pillars on the front porch, nandenas large and bushy on every side, same old porch swing my Pa-Pa swung me in right after I was born. Of course, now, it’s hardly the same. My dad painted over all of it with some God-awful brown paint, and my pathetic alcoholic brother keeps the doors locked and hardly seems to care. All the beautiful plants and flowers my grandmother planted and loved are gone. Sycamores gone, no sign of the Mimosa tree we all climbed in as kids. Even my grandmother’s red spider lillies disappeared. But in my mind, there is another place. As much Heaven to me as it gets. The amazing white frame house my Pa-Pa built sits high on top of the hill, and the two old rock driveways that go up beside the house are still there. I see my mama’s ferns all green and bushy all over the front porch. I can even smell the frothy bubbles of Palmolive dish soap in the kitchen sink. But no longer do my grandparents live there alone. It’s a busy place again, just like when they were young. Only new people are welcome and happy there, like my friend Brenda, who died in a car crash years sgo, and little Lori, who had scoliosis, and ended her life before surgery one bright morning. All the old folks, family and friends they loved are hanging around again. My mom is there, with one of her pretty dresses on, and her curly hair all soft and nice. My Daddy likes to sit out on the big concrete steps up front, and play his guitar. And even my husband Charlie is there now. He fixes everything. And works on cars again. He rebuilt my Pa-Pa’s old garage out back, under the huge black walnut tree, and never loses his tools anymore. But the best part are the animals that live here. From the littliest kitten I had to say goodbye to at such an early age, the beautiful pair of Siamese cats I loved so much, Pepe the skunk, Lucy, the dachshund, Barney, the border collie, Mew-Mew, Elmo, Beau, Mirabelle, so many other kitties i loved, all there, on the front porch, playing in the yard. The Mimosa tree is there again, all green with magenta blooms, and the tall sycamores grace the side yard once again like giant soldiers. When I am tired or sad, I can go sit in Pa-Pa’s sleeping porch, and play with Petey, the parakeet, and smell my grandfather’s cherry tobacco. Even my old dog Lizzie is there, and she hangs out with Mama now. Paleface, Tigger One and Tigger Two, Cleo too, all play in the soft green grass. And my Guardian protector, old Bruno, lays beside my grandma’s spider lillies. Everyone’s there, and the front door, even the back door, they are always open. And I don’t have to be so sad, or miss them all so much. I can invite anyone I want to come over, and they do. What helps me most, is to think that one day, however it comes, I will have angel escort right back to this blessed house, on the hill, where everyone waits for me. And at Christmas, the lights go up, and they make pecan pies, and hang the stockings again for Santa. My life was full once, and one day it will be again. And nobody will ever tell me different. However hard or challenging life seems now, whenever it just gets to be too much, I have a place I can go. I don’t need drugs, or counseling, or a room in some cement building. I just need trees, and squirrels, red birds and chickens. And I have all that. Abigale, my little rat terrier, raised as a pup since 2000, is still right here beside me. And I tell her about this place all the time. We have a good place to go, no matter what happens here. Anyone can do this, have a happy place to go. The sun shines there, every day. The old truck starts right up, and nobody has to drink or act ugly. Only goodness and mercy live here. In my heart. And nobody can take that away from me. 💜💚💛💚💜💙💜💙
Posts tagged ‘death’
My friend from Friesland told me a few months back that I am about ten years behind in coming to terms with all that is amiss in our world. And after I did confront it, it took another year for me to digest it all. Clearly all the info is coming in hard and fast now, and if you are one of the people that just sits back and maintains your own personal status quo and you never get involved on any level for change, then I say “Shame on You!” I don’t have any kids, but sometimes I sit and wonder what I would do if I did. Would I educate him or her in all this? Would I encourage them to get involved and to make a difference? Depending on their feelings of course, I WOULD! If we don’t do that, if we don’t make our children aware and awake, what chance do they have? What chance does the United States have? What chance does the world have? I guess if you are one of those that has all your seeds carefully stored in a vault, and a massive underground complex to flee to when it all hits, and you are prepared to live the rest of your days in perpetual darkness, never to see the sun again, and to know that everything, land, sea and air is dead, then perhaps if you have children underground, and they have children underground, and so on, for generations, if the Earth is still alive and not completely blown out of the universe, maybe they can emerge and re-claim what is left for a life. The way I see it now, like Carlin said, “All you can do now is just live your life the best you can.” So that’s what I do. I have wonderful goals, I am living my dream, I am poor in this economic disaster of a country, but I am happy beyond measure to even be breathing, and for every tiny ray of sun that comes through my window. My greatest hope is for some tangible unity of our people. We have the means right here to communicate. We have the means to educate. If it becomes increasingly apparent that other life forms have come to our planet in the past, and are responsible for all the suffering in the US, and all the suffering destined to continue, then we can only hope that our genuine human influence and amazing spirit will prevail. Save and except for the Occupy Movement, Anonymous, Julian Assange, Snowden and so many others, we haven’t made enough progress. Living my best life includes writing like this, and trying to communicate for change. We should all try to build a strong network of capable and intelligent friends around us, become unified in mind and resolve, and be willing to die for the cause. I would say the Nun who broke into the nuclear facility with her buddies was ready to die. That’s radical activism. And if the worst thing anyone ever called me was a radical activist, then that’s not so bad. Because I was fighting for right and for the children of the Earth. That said, it is better to live to fight another day, so for now, I will just continue on trying to network and meet good people and see where it all goes. But bet your bottom dollar, if I get called upon, or see the right opportunity, I will LEAP into action. Clearly, something in the near future is bound to occur, that is either really great and amazing, or the alternative. I think that depends on us, every one. Thanks for reading. Cissy in Texas
If only kitties, they could talk,
the stories they would tell…
Of all the battles, fought and won,
and all the foes that fell.
The bravest one of all, they say,
was the Mighty Riggie Roo!
For any friend, he’d come to fight!
His heart was brave and true.
Then one dark day, while Riggie slept,
coyotes did attack.
They circled quickly, savage beasts,
and bit him in the back.
Though badly hurt, he stood his ground,
and fought them all away.
Four days it took, to make it home,
his last goodbyes to say.
Some people say when sadness strikes,
the Angels will fly down,
and help the ones that need it most…
when no one is around…
The Mrs. Man prayed long and hard
for them to stop his pain.
She held him close and called his name,
her tears fell down like rain.
His lifelong friends all gathered ’round,
they feared the end was near.
And though he struggled hard to stay,
his last cries they were to hear.
Though days have passed and he is gone,
the kitties still tell the tale,
of the Mighty Warrior, brave and true,
a friend who’d never fail.
His family is sad, they miss him bad,
he seems so far away…
Though in the end, they lost their friend,
in their hearts, he will always stay!
In Loving Memory of Riggie
aka Tiggie Riggie Roo
January 1990 – October 22, 1997
Or expect “quantum chaos” and be pleasantly surprised.
“…my feet move through foamy waters, my soul to every far away star in the galaxies…”
There was a great religious man, and he forbade his people the listening of music. Music is a beautiful celebration of man’s voice in the universe, longing to be heard. Embracing this quality does not make one weak, rather, it transcends all earthly bonds and takes your breath away… and for that instant you have touched that understanding that so many would seek to obscure. I applaud beauty and inner peace, achieved in most any fashion, as remarkable. I contend that you could sidestep the whole conflict by simply entering the stream. All at once, you feel very small.
My greatest weakness is fear of physical pain. Logically I know I can transcend it. It appears there is some measure of protection in most cases. There is always that point where you are clearly not where you were. And from all accounts, this is the point where the first impression is critically important… what you do not want to see is any type of dark or divesting entity, because it will most certainly be exhibiting exactly the type of images you never want to re-live.
If the human perseption of polarities is a simple feature of the hologram theory, then in actuality there is most definitely a darker side where most persons do not go, many want to remain ignorant of, and some will not survive.
I like the story of the guy who went to heaven only to be found later sitting in a smokey room playing cards somewhere. Or the one about the guy who went on a permanent fishing vacation. If I get to put in my request, I’d like go to the Rocky Mountains, not too far up, with a good dog and a horse.
All the modern paranormal shows have reached a certain concensus. There is measureable activity and it appears to have intelligence. Some may be able to perceive an actual image, at times. But again, I ask the question. What is the point? It’s certainly not necessary and its playing with fire. I’ve seen animals in terrible shock and pain. Animals that I loved. And I’ve seen some animals that will hardly make a sound. That tells me you can ride it out, no matter the physical pain, because here’s something to support the idea of faith: There is a growing body of evidence to show that one dimension has the capability to interact with the other through the use of breaks in the energy field, some sort of access to the other side. In my best estimations, these are the troubled spirits of troubled people, the ones who will purposely participate in cross-dimensional interractions in real time, our time, the only place time is actually measured, for their very own purely selfish and sometimes victim-based reasoning. Perhaps to even some score, to finally broadcast some long harbored injustice.
At some point every one of us is released and that line, or barrier is breached. There should be no looking back. No unnatural means to retrieve my soul back into my broken body will be tolerated. All those people who have danced on the edge and returned seem to be unsettled, no matter how hard they insist that they are forever changed, they’ve reached some sort of state of equinimity.
It clearly doesn’t matter at this point, what you think about the situation. It seems altogether likely that if things don’t quite add up right, there could be some delays with your transit pass. Interestingly, some people tell stories about instant joy, freedom from any kind of worry, any kind of pain. If this happens, I would probably be overjoyed too. Simply enter the stream.
Conversely, there are many challenging and rewarding exercises we can engage in as we travel the path of the human condition. Incidently, the exciting field of the paranormal may have hit the proverbial high point, and high drama with great technology will soon become empty and passe. The impact of their good deeds for those already passed is questionable at best. But then troubled spirits may well be just as tedious and unreasonable as they were in real life. We’re over it.
So thanks to paranormal investigations that are broadcast, it would seem that the afterlife can be just as messed up and complicated as things are around here. I’m sorry I don’t really want to leave my comfortable and happy life. I refuse to cooperate. But when the deed is done, let me go, for goodness sake. Just let me go.
I am finally of the opinion that everything will be fine. That measure of protection that seems to be in place is highly appreciated. I can work with that. I think all the happiness and wonder I feel in this life has to translate to the next in some like manner. I don’t need to parlay with restless spirits or battle with demons. If I ever find myself in such straits, I will dispatch the offending presence, just as I do and have done on this plane. There is no doubt of unimaginable chaos and things beyond reason and comprehension. The drama queens of television have played on this prepice since the days of The Twilight Zone. I just simply choose to ignore the unsavory and engage myself in the making of fanciful tales of adventure and romance.
This modern world is great in so many ways, but my heyday was much simpler. We just didn’t know so much. The fine line between reality and imagination was still in place. At least we thought.
I like what the late great George Carlin says in the movie Jersey Girl: “The sun even shines on a dog’s ass sometimes.” I like to look on the bright side of things! I really like George Carlin.
“…and the wild incessant twanging of the sitars takes hold with the drums and we rock, and dance to the silver sparking from our fingers…” and when the music stops, we freeze. And all you hear in that second is the crackling of the fire on the beach under the blessed moonlight.” Magic!
Early spring meditation 2012