Wednesday, July 4, 2018

For Thor - 95 - Three Little Birds



I woke up yesterday groggy and grainy-eyed. I slept okay but maybe not long enough. You know me, Thor, I'm part of the "gotta get my eight" crowd. 5:30 am saw me yawn and stretch and groan my way to the sofa where I took my spot to meditate. This morning ritual is so important to me as it allows the subconscious mind to arise and be gently cleared, one mantra repetition at a time. I liken it to cleaning glass and that each time I engage in meditation it's the same as wiping the crusty stuff off the mind's lens.

I never know what's going to come up. The subconscious mind is unpredictable, unscripted and unrehearsed. The myriad of impressions that are stored there show up in rambling jumbles without linear, timebound logic. My job is to sit in the weather and allow the thoughts to rise and then lovingly maintain focus on the prayerful intention of the repeated mantra. And it is a lot like sitting on a mountain-top totally exposed with nothing between me and the observation of the weather. Sometimes, my mind tries to latch onto one of these passing thought "clouds" and dwell on a remembered experience and I find myself mentally retelling stories and feeling regurgitated emotions. Steadiness here is important. I pull my focus back to the mantra and let the story go, recognizing it for what it is…just a thought. That thought is not ME, it's not MINE. It's just passing by. My attention is the only thing that can give it the energy to affect anything. And even then, what is really being affected? And this is the process toward peace. One thought at a time. One breath at a time. One prayer for grace at a time.

Grief, however, feels different. Its inherent relationship to Love puts it out of the realm of fear and passing fanciful thoughts. In the years I've been processing the intense emotions and rollercoaster responses to your death, Thor, I have come to learn a few things. One being that grief is not an expression of fear of loss - that is actually anxiety. Grief is an expression of Love that is crying out because of the misbelief that we are actually separated. Ultimate understanding of truth would free us from grief as we come to know that separation is not possible. Here in the dream that is this changing world (the heavenly world of the Creator cannot be anything other than changeless), we are destined to feel pain and suffering over the separation that our own minds have caused and continue to believe in.

Yesterday grief welled up in my heart and would not clear. It needed to be expressed, like a festering wound. A hectic work schedule and a frenzy of activity to make life plans had me swallowing my emotions. Not just around the pain of losing you, but for several other huge shifts in my existential understanding of this life; and a few actual big life changes that have me reeling. Shit is moving and changing fast, Bubby. I felt your energetic presence nearby as this wave of emotional intensity crashed in, on and over me. It was clear you were trying to help me "sit in the weather" and feel what needed to be felt so I could regain steadiness in these changing moments.

I haven't had a day like that in a while, where I found it hard to focus. I couldn't make decisions or think through problems with a clear head. I kept blinking tears back and swallowing hard…only to find myself in the ladies room crying my eyes out. It was hard to take a full breath and even harder to let it out. The sea of suffering had whipped up into a storm that seemed hell-bent on capsizing my little boat. I should have taken the day off, but no. I soldiered on; raw and free-falling back to the bottom of the well. The one in which I've spent so much time.

All change triggers the sensory perception that is around your death. This is because that experience eclipses everything else, without exception. There is no pain, stress, sorrow, suffering, anxiety, worry, concern or any of the counterpoints to those that are not permanently altered in my experience of them as a result of grieving your death. I am different. The lens is different.

Chaz moved out.

He packed a few belongings, the things he thought he'd need as he set sail into the world, and stepped away from the shore of his childhood home. He's nineteen years old, Thor. And is older than you having surpassed you in age, waking one morning to a dawn that is one more than you ever saw. Chaz is a remarkable young man, his intellect and natural curiosity seems to beckon the Universe to bring him an opportunity. This is a byproduct of saying Yes to life, even if we are scared. He likes to say yes but is choosy about when and where. Discrimination is a good thing.

I'm impressed with Chaz's determination and can see how the gift of his innate moral fortitude will serve him well. He is honest and insightful and kind. I'm so proud of the man he is growing to be. Just like I am proud of the man you became, Thor.

It's interesting how life, in its dogged insistence to be lived, constantly intertwines experiences of the past into the breath of the present while simultaneously challenging me to drop the past in order to experience the present…which will become a new past. There is a forward propulsion that has a trajectory, a heading, but the way ahead is all blue sky. I can't have a heading without a point of origin; this is the past. It's a moving marker, built moment by moment into successive nows and thens. Memory strings each moment like dew drops on a silver wire, reflecting the light and evaporating into the cosmic consciousness of experience.

I've been thinking deeply about as you brother looks to the horizon, gathers strength in his young wings and spring from the nest into the life that awaits him. You, Chaz, Xan, your dad…me. We are tied together. The silver threads of our lives are interwoven, but also separate. Yours was cut so woefully short. Chaz' life path is beginning to diverge, marked by his interests, desires, and will. It's exciting to see where he chooses to fly.

And Xander is not far behind.

He took off in his Jeep with a pocketful of paychecks to go see his girl in North Carolina. He'll be gone for two weeks. Independent and competent, strong and kind. He's building relationships with the world and figuring out what he likes and who he is.

The house is quiet. Just me and dad rattling around in here trying to figure out how to be just the two of us, again. My boys are grown and gone. This is the trigger that got me yesterday. My role as a mom has changed to a supporting role, not the pivotal position in their lives it's been all these years. But more like, it's my identification that is being challenged to shift to a new way of being…but it hurts. Once again, life pulls me farther away from my experience with you. Another chapter is closing, a new one is opening and you aren't here to be a part of it. At least not in the physical realm where I can hold your hand, share a laugh, talk through your ideas and help you realize your dreams. I get to do that with your brothers, but it's clear to me that I raised independent children. This is a great thing for the world, but it can be a little jarring to this mama's heart. I can see how some mom's try to bake-in a little dependency to stay important in their kid's lives. I could never do that, it's just not the way we roll. But it does mean staying on the shoreline and wave as each of you casts off on a new heading… You've taken the most dramatic and permanent course, which frames my response to these changes now.

I take some more shaky breaths and keep sitting in the weather. They haven't left the planet, they've just taken the first steps into their lives here. I can only pray that your brothers stay a little closer than you, Thor.

I think about you boys, my three little birds, and the words of Bob Marley come to mind:

Don't worry about a thing
'Cause every little thing gonna be alright
Singing' don't worry about a thing
'Cause every little thing gonna be alright

Rise up this mornin'
Smiled with the risin' sun
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin' sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true
Saying', (this is my message to you)

Singing' don't worry 'bout a thing
'Cause every little thing gonna be alright
Singing' don't worry (don't worry) 'bout a thing
'Cause every little thing gonna be alright

Yeah, Bob. That's just what I needed to hear. Thanks, man.

I love you, Bubby.
Mom