Living in Nature Teaches Us...

Not sure If everyone knows that I’ve been livin’ in a minibus near a large lake (not a river) working for stay at a hostel since mid-March.  It has been a crazy time to be at an AT hostel.  With a pandemic raging, what normally would have been a wonderful time of joy, camaraderie and a jumble full of hiker drama and excitement has been a mixed bag of every emotion imaginable.

The season started with sadness and huge disagreements, yet hikers kept hiking. Quickly life at the hiker hostel settled into its normal routine of hikers in, hikers out…no different than normal except that nothing was normal.  There was not the normal hugging and hanging out, foot tapping became the new hug…and if there were ‘real’ hugs,  they were tempered and worrisome not enjoyable.  Hiker numbers were down, hostels and towns which normally were friendly and lovely places in the past turned inward and closed due to fear and no real knowledge of the future or what to do.

It seemed like it was every town for themselves and personal decisions about how to handle the coronavirus were varied, resulting in confusion, arguments, and disagreements between friends.  There was a time when many states were completely closed and hikers were sent home. Heated words were sometimes exchanged and we all struggled to keep our heads in the game…meaning we all tried to remain in hiker mode which is all is good, hike your own hike with an even greater understanding this year of do no harm.

Along with the issues surrounding the Covid, it was one of the wettest, dreariest and damp, ugly cold springs I’ve seen.  Well into May the rain fell day after day and the temps hovered in the high 50’s to high 30's at night.  Mud, slippery trail tread and falls were the norm.  Rain gear never dried nor did shoes, all which added to the general feeling of disgruntled-ness which permeated everyone’s attitudes. Being old, I washed my hands a LOT and kept my distance, spending a lot of time in the minibus alone which during this season is abnormal. 

It was a time of deep, personal reflection, allowing me to ponder what is of real importance, what defines me and how can I use my time for my and the world’s highest, greatest good.   Daily, sometimes hourly, I breathed in and out my mantra of, all things work for good.  Because, I learned that no storm lasts forever, walking my path daily became manageable.  I felt like I kept moving forward and didn’t wallow in disappointment.  Instead, I found the time to do what I have needed to do for a long time but just never thought I could spare the ‘time or energy’ to proceed.  I’m writing a book.

It is not surprising that within my community of house-less, van dwellers, many of us would be struggling.  Some to figure out how to remain safe from illness and where to find a welcoming place to dwell.  Others are still moving, still traveling yet with the constant need to check to see what is open and the restrictions placed where they are going.  A once effortless, carefree lifestyle turned hard.  Living in a stealth van means that you are not seen.  Evidently, we are very good at that because we seem to be  forgotten and unseen.  Boots Off hostel and its owner, Jim Gregory, offered me a safe port during this storm. The minibus allowed me to spend a lot of time sitting 2 feet from the forest floor.  Even the shower and kitchen are outdoors, thus, interacting with nature is a daily ‘thing’. 

I’m not the only house-less/homeless person who has stayed here for a time.  Others who ranged in age from early 20’s to late 60’s have lived in tents, vans or are work- for-stay, long-distance hikers who have stopped here for various reasons.  Recently, one of our tent campers who has lived in a tent since May, exclaimed that, ‘camping is hard’.  I concurred.  If it’s hot, you’re hot, if it’s cold you’re cold, if it’s raining, you’re wet, dry you’re dehydrated and sweaty.  In some ways we are thru hikers without walking.  It takes energy to gather water and take it to your site.  Showering, although lovely here, is a process because it is weather determinate. Cooking on a fire is time consuming.  Dishes must be done at your campsite or van or everything taken to the community kitchen. This individual had recently gone away and left the fly off this tent…it rained hard that day for the first time in weeks…I bet you can see where this is going.  Learning to live as a part of nature means you live by her rules.  You can’t forget that she can do anything she wants at any time…she’s thequeen.

What I have most enjoyed about this season in my life is how I’ve become part of the rhythm of the trees, the animals, the sky and sun surrounding the minibus.  It is not a large area, some 20 ft semi-circle out my front door, but it appears that the animals consider me a bunk mate.  I’m just an anomaly living in their space, something odd but not threatening.  I keep the minibus door covered most of the time with a white mosquito netting held up with magnets.  There are tree stumps turned on their side outside the door which are my nature made steps. The flat space is covered in wood chips ending in a slope festooned with trees, poison ivy, Virginia creeper and violets.  Amidst this plant life reside 3 small, blue Hydrangeas.  Small because this hillside is usually weed whacked to control the PI.  This year because of me, it was not, and they grew.  Stunningly, periwinkle blue colored, large blossoms filled the 3 bushes for weeks.  Every morning I looked on them and they filled me with joy. 

Generally, in the quiet morning time before the world arises and busies itself with daily duties something comes to visit me …tiny baby squirrels, tiny wrens with their mommas,  a newly fledged robin and his mother, chipmunks eating a mushroom, Blue Jays building a test nest. Something will come and either hop thru my space or sit on the wooden step. It will peer in through the mesh watching cautiously, for a glimpse of whatever is inside.  I, who am inside, sit as silently as I can, taking in this moment, this sharing of airspace.  I have even had chipmunks and wrens come when the curtain is not there.  That is when I quietly scramble for the cellphone camera

This gift of trust which brings me such delight, seems completely normal to the animals.  They come and use the wooden step to rest, grab a bit to eat, elevate themselves so they can see the lay of the land better, who knows why they come…curiosity maybe? For me each of them brings me wisdom, a greater connection, a feeling of togetherness and sharing that humans have been unable to provide during this time of forced separation.  Maybe nature knows how much I miss my loved ones and because we are all one consciousness, one energy, brings to me some encouragement through these small companions.

My belief system requires me to be aware and alert and allows nature to talk to me.  So, when I have    a visitor, I go to my books and the internet to hear what they have to say to me.  I like to think that if  I  listen well, they will bring me messages about how to live like they do…content, surrounded by        nature, doing what comes naturally to become successful.  Think about it, animals work each day to        learn a more efficient and safe way to provide for themselves and their offspring just enough food,        water, shelter and space to survive one more day abundantly.

Wrens have been a big visitor this year, calling, yelling, singing, humming, yes, humming a little tune to itself when it is happily working away at finding food.  They have made their way into my life almost every day.  They seem to feel it is their duty to wake me every morning, incredibly early…I ignore them and go back to sleep for a while until they insist that I get up.  Wheat-ier, wheat-ier, wheat-ier, whit…is what I hear most of the time.  They are tiny bundles of energy in a small brown coat, underneath they wear a cream-colored shirt and sport a matching cream-colored eye brow.  A very dapper look.  I imagine they are Watson of Sherlock Holmes’ fame only in a bird suit and able to fly.  Their sharp eye and keen awareness helps them to solve difficult cases ie find food.  A long beak for pulling insects from small holes serves them well as their curiosity about what exactly IS underneath that rock drives them.  Quick movements and their diminutive size allows them to duck into small piles of brush quickly if danger appears. 

Since, they have been ever present, let me tell you what I have taken into my life from observing just this one animal.  Their body is perfectly suited for their habitat. Their beak and coloring blend with the bushes they love to live in.  They are always aware of what is around them.  They have a loud voice which they use to let people know they are around and have something to say, they are never shy about proclaiming their right to be alive, yet will yield to those who are bigger and or more dangerous.  They make room for those companion animals/birds who live in their space.  They don’t get in others way or take more than they are due.  Yet in quiet moments when they are just doing their everyday duties, they are happily content to the point where they hum to themselves a merry little chortle it seems just because their heart is overflowing with contentment.  I had never heard that before this summer.  

They know how to fit into a space and raise a family.  Safe and protected from the elements, their young venture out on their own but parents stay close by.  They are curious and brave in the face of odd situations which don’t match what they have experienced before.  They will go and find out what is going on with little fear or despite their fear.  They must work diligently to protect themselves and prepare for what is coming.  Because they are so small their ability to be one step ahead of danger is critical.  They listen to the wind to hear what they need to hear. 

So, how can I use these insights I’ve gained from my Wren friends in my life?  Well, I can look at myself and find the things inside me that are perfectly suited for where I am right now and then be grateful.  I can see myself as a reflection of the divine and know that I have the awareness to take advantage of what is available to me in a way that doesn’t interfere with other’s needs.  I can understand that I have the skills to follow my path and do what I was made to do here on earth just because I am here and am who I am.  I can feel the emotions I feel yet know that I am but one part of the whole.  I can learn that I have a right to be here and be successful but can honor other’s right to be here and be themselves, also.  I can make a lot of noise but yield the floor when necessary to allow others to have their say. 

I can be content and happy just doing the small, boring tasks that occupy so much of my time because they move me along my path, provide for those whom I love and support the community around me and I can hum joyfully while doing them.  I will take the time to prepare and protect myself for future journeys and my unfurling future so that it becomes what I want not just a thing that I just walk thru blindly.  Living passionately and having a fulfilling life of joy and abundance takes ongoing evaluation, readjustment, and awareness.  Step by step I learn more about how to live successfully, just like the Wrens who grow over the years and gain more knowledge about how to be a successful Wren,  I can learn how to walk in light and love and abundance, living a life of purpose and passion.  

If we become aware of our true nature, we will live more truly the life we desire.  Will it always be sunshine and flowers…of course, not.  We are humans after all.  We came here to experience emotions and we will, and it is good and for our good.  Transcending our emotions so that they do not cause us to go too far off our path or hurt others, is, I believe our goal here.  Each new experience that ‘triggers’ an emotional response is an opportunity for growth and understanding, not one for condemnation or consternation.  Again, I’ll say it, we are humans, we should expect emotions and not be surprised or feel guilty for having them. 

So, let’s learn from our animal friends because they never feel badly or worry about being themselves.  They just get on with life and learn from their mistakes.  If they have disagreements with the companion animals who live in the same space with them (different species living in the same habitat area), they yell and stand their ground then go about their business, yield ground if they need yet, do not hold a grudge going forward.  For them, it is a good day if they make a mistake and don’t get eaten or killed.  Thank goodness, we have a little more leeway.  So, today maybe hum as you work, smile when you see yourself getting triggered, laugh if you get angry or frustrated, hug someone just to do it…lets reconnect with who we really are and honor that spirit within.

Mice….

So cute and tiny, their perky little ears and little buggy black eyes, inquisitive and friendly along with their twitchy little whiskers, they are ripe with cuteness… yet so potent with potential for craziness.   One never knows what a frightened mouse will do.  Will it try to sit on your lap, will it run over your toes, will it drop on your head in the middle of the night, jump in your hair?  You just can’t imagine the draconian torture practices that someone could employ using a mouse…EEK.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not particularly afraid of mice, but I would suggest that there is something built into the DNA of some of us that makes us a little jumpy around loose mice.  Like levitate on to a table jumpy.  Have you seen how fast they can scurry around when a light shines on them in the middle of the night?  Let me tell you, I have…imagine those wind-up toy mice that will run in figure eight like circles…yeah and speed that up to about 50 miles per hour.  THAT is exactly what they do!  Terrifying.

I don’t know what it is about them that makes me want to jump on a chair. It is a ridiculous reaction.  They are 1000 times smaller than me and have tiny little teeth and as mentioned above, so cute…what possible harm could they bring to me?

Well, Bubonic plague and Hantavirus to name 2 of the 35 diseases that rodents carry.  Ticks and fleas feed on mouse blood and then move to live on other animals, like deer.  Deer wander through yards and BOOM! some of these diseases spread to us.  Ick!!!  They are not tiny little cute things that a major cartoon character was designed after…they are scurrying nightmares on 4 legs.  The entertainment industry has hypnotized us with the images of dancing rodents into believing that they are benign and friendly.  Several nights ago, one tried to bite me on the toe!

Many of you know that I espouse to being a Taoist and sort of Buddhist.  I claim to be a pacifist, but I have written a short story called “Bug Wars”.  Clearly, there is some disconnect, you think, between me and my ethical beliefs.  Absolutely.  When this tiny little mouse creature came to live in the minibus I’m living in right now, I thought let’s convince it to go outside again.  I pick up and remove stink bugs from my bus without killing them.  I’m trying to live peacefully and in concert with my environment.  In the beginning, about mid-March, I thought, it’s only here because its cold.  My friends at the hostel snickered.  I said, I don’t want to kill it, let’s just live trap it and put it far away from my bus in the woods.  Ok, stop laughing.  Yes, I live in the middle of the woods with creatures who’s home it really is, I should expect an invasion, I suppose.

I admit, I did put out a live trap at first…its presence there seemed to convince the mouse to go away and it seemed to…until 3 days ago.  That is when the mouse invasion suddenly occurred.  It was a planned attack, the minibus and the backroom storage area with the food and paper supplies across the campus from me.   They were the advance edges of the 3 AM raid.  It was a two-pronged attack!  Since then, I’ve been in a battle for the bus.  First, I suggested they leave, then I tried swatting them with my electric bug zapper…man are they fast.  Then yesterday after the toe incident the night before I went full on war.  Yup, I went to the hardware and bought those old-fashioned traps.  The ones that ‘SNAP!” loudly when they catch something and you jump. Yup those traps.

I came back and tried to bait one.  ‘SNAP!’  First try, I caught the side of one finger and a giant blood blister arose quit quickly.  A tear came to my eye.  Clearly, I am not a killer, the universe is telling me.  But I cannot have plague filled wind-up toys terrorizing me every time I sit down.  So, again, I tried.  This time I couldn’t figure out how the metal stick thingy fit into the hole to get it into killing mode.  Off I go to find a male…surely, they know how to do this. Well, they did but not without telling me that indeed I had purchased some crazy medieval torture device that was way behind the times.  Damn, I thought, no one tells me these things.  He showed me how to do it and I went back to the bus and successfully baited 2 of them.  Then I left.

When I came back after dinner nothing had changed…no mice.  Phew.  Later in the evening there was a loud noise that surprised me, and I thought someone had thrown a stone at the bus windshield.  Goodness, I’d caught a mouse. Now I had to deal with it.  See that is the part I hate…death.  If they could just understand, I’ve tried talking to them and being reasonable, that this was my home, …and stay out, this would have never devolved into this mayhem of war and death.

Somehow, I think that is a profound statement.  If we could all just listen, accept and honor each other, life would not devolve into war and mayhem.  Maybe we should work on that. 

No, I am not going to allow the mice to take over my living space…as I write this there are 2 baited traps under and next to the seat I am sitting on.  The war rages on.  I am hoping for a truce.  I did get the big one last night. The babies remain loose.  They managed to eat all the peanut butter off the paddle without triggering the trap.  I’ve been told that their headquarters is likely to be in a bin above my seat which will require opening…someone please come help me. I do NOT want to open that bin alone.  Clearly, I am not good at death and destruction and taking a life.  It hurts me because I know that the mouse is made of the same stuff I am….

Please send me love as I wrestle with the realities of living in a world where sometimes we cannot communicate our truest feelings or intents in a way that is peaceful or affects behavior.  Much love to all.

Peponi

I offer this knowing that words never can fully say it all correctly or reflect the exact sentiment of the author.  Sometimes, a heart has no words.  If any of this offends or is said incorrectly, my intent is not to hurt but to lend support and truth to an issue long in need of addressing …. and indeed, I am human.  Therefore, it is with all my heart as a wish…a dream…as an eternal hope, to live in a world of fairness, love and equity for all an earthly ….

Peponi

As Alex Boye twirls on top of a stone mesa, the Piano Guys provide a powerful musical backdrop to his Swahili words, “Pepo, Pepo, Peponi”.  He sings in his language the word, Paradise which is the chorus of this remix of a Cold Play song named, Paradise.  Originally sung in English, it brings a haunting message of life. 

I have returned over and over again to this song. The visual and auditory message given by its location and this native singer’s energy, provide a different perspective of the song for me.  It wakes me up.   The setting of the video presents a vision of paradise of barren sand mesas, red rocks reflecting the sunlight which stretches out before them as far as the eye can see.  Although beautiful, this image is a stark contrast to what we in America generally envision as ‘paradise’. 

Combined with the native instruments and song, Alex’s movements in celebration of all that is natural and wonderful, only highlight the differences and the struggles implied in the original English version.  Plus, the word, Paradise, is one fraught with meaning for many of us.  We, consequently wonder, what makes up our vision of Paradise?

It seems especially poignant right now as our country is engaged in a fierce battle against racism that we reflect on our thoughts concerning Paradise.  In a sense, we are struggling with original sin, hubris, one man’s feeling of superiority over another.  His ultimate need to have his own way, ends in his feeling that it is his right to take another human’s life no matter whether his reason is just or moral.  Hubris, in Greek tragedy means, excessive pride towards or defiance of the gods, leading to nemesis. Nemesis, its very meaning engenders that once caught in the spiral of a situation we are fated to be either entrapped or dead.  Notwithstanding, the bad outcome of a man believing that he has the right to challenge the gods because he can. 

Understanding that this piece is in no way an attempt to exegesis various religions’ views on paradise or the afterlife, most believe that Paradise is a place to look forward too.  Converts understand that life will always be a struggle, but it will all be worthwhile.  If the highway to heaven map is followed, it will always end up for the faithful follower in a place called Paradise.  Each religion purports its own version of what paradise might look like or be, yet no one really knows.  Believers depend upon the trustworthiness of said religion’s prophets or seers to guarantee their future life after death.  Certainly, it must be a wonderful place, if one chooses to do/be/act in certain ways all their lives to get there in the end. 

As a young adult, I spent many years thinking that my version of heaven was going to be a great place.  I willingly traded my decision-making freedom and time for obedience and adherence to my religions’ practices to obtain the end goal.  This meant believing in sin and pledging not to do it to the best of my ability.  It also included being a nice person and loving others like god would and spending a lot of time in church…worshiping...because I believed that this too would be good practice for life in Paradise.

Now, there is nothing wrong with these beliefs…I just wonder now, why I spent so much time longing for a life in the future in a place that this VERA would never remember.  Isn’t life better lived when we live it now and are aware of it?  Is it not somehow more worthy to live like this moment might be our last? Living in the moment, implies living with a lot more accountability.  If we know that we can’t do something later to atone for the negative and hurtful things we always do, might we all be kinder and more empathetic to the struggles of all our brothers and sisters?  Living in a world where Paradise is right here, right now, what you make of it…. might living in an earthly Paradise at this moment be a more fair and equitable place for all?

Truthfully, I do want my Paradise right now… although I understood then and even in some ways better understand now the usefulness of struggle, trials and hard times…wouldn’t it be nice if we could have some Paradise right now? Is it wrong to want to enjoy our lives in this moment in a place of support and empathy? Can we believe in a Paradise after death and still live here in the moment now?  Is reflecting what is above yet living here below a concerted part of how one gets to Paradise? 

It has come into the light of our awareness most powerfully now, that for certain groups of people, in particular people of color, that life in the here and now is different than for those of us who have white skin.  American prosperity and society, as I have experienced it, isn’t the same for my black friends.  Yes, many of them are successful, brilliant, creatively talented and I am grateful for their friendship and trust.  Even more difficult, is the life of an impoverished black individual.  However, all still walk in America with an extra burden. 

Last night, one such friend made a comment concerning how all black men walk thru life having to deal with racial profiling and being stopped because they ‘look like someone we’re looking for”.  This person is a past Serviceman and an honorable, gentle man.  He would not be one to break laws.  I cannot even begin to imagine the boundaries he has had to break through both societally and emotionally to keep moving forward.  What a burden!  Yet, he is one of the most wonderfully positive and godly humans I’ve ever met. 

Can you imagine having to teach your son from an early age how to act around police and white people.  The things they can and can’t do so they won’t get jailed or killed? Can you imagine a world where, you never, ever felt like you could make it as a full-fledged part of the American culture, simply because your skin was brown?  Imagine knowing that you’ve done everything to become an upstanding citizen according to the societal rules but still the doors won’t open for you.  How would you go about your everyday life if you always felt that you needed to be vigilant due to a pervasive societal presumption of guilt?  Let’s take a moment and visualize that, color your skin a shade of brown and then sit in it for a minute, walk down a street and feel what that would be like.  I know that I cannot get a true sense of how it would be, because my skin color is white. 

Life has never been fair or equitable in the USA for any person with any skin color other than white.  Since, we came to this part of the world people with brown skin have either been shamed, lied to, driven from their homes and massacred or brought here in chains and subjugated.  Even when freed from both sets of chains…life for people of color has not been ‘normalized’.  Racism’s very definition always involves the idea of superiority due simply to the DNA which they inherited.  In this instance, the DNA for white skin color makes those with it, inherently superior.  This brings us full circle back to hubris because we all should understand that this premise is not true.

The song Paradise seems to echo the feeling that life isn’t’ fair, that one’s genuine belief in the fairness and goodness of the world after growing up becomes tarnished. One finds that life is not always what we envisioned.  Thus, we look for and long for a Paradise.  Some place where our dreams will come true. 

 Some believe that in the original lyrics of Cold Play’s song, that the girl takes her own life in search of her Paradise.  I hope that she comes to realize that she must find her Paradise right now by choosing to live the kind of life that makes her feel enlightened, passionate, creative, of service…whatever goal that makes her feel fulfilled and abundant and causes her to hope and love with abandon.  This goal can become all of ours.  I hope we all can live a life which allows us to search for our meaning of the word, Paradise.

We stand at a unique place in time where we can begin the work of creating a paradise which allows abundance, equality, and hope for all.  We are living in a riotous, Covid riddled, shut up society.  We’ve been given months of time alone, closely sequestered in our homes thinking about what works for us individually…yet we are all in this together.  I wonder if we can emerge from the multiple crisis’s which we are working thru right now and come together?  Can we arrive at a place where we can pick up the “things” which will create an equal vision of paradise for people of any color?  Can we leave behind those things which personally and societally don’t work? 

Let’s name a few big ones that don’t work, racism, inequality, xenophobia, misogyny.  Can we move forward and work to abolish racism and establish equal rights for all?  Can we pick up fluidity of borders and women’s rights? Can we begin to create a society with a path to Paradise for all, not just for a few? Can we raise our neighbor up, who is different in whatever way, so that we can all rise together?

I can imagine a time, in each of our cities either small or large, rural or urban, when people of all colors, religions, genders and beliefs come together at the same time around the world with a diversity of instruments, voices and beliefs, a just reflection of the diversity of humans inhabiting this beautiful planet right now, to play and sing into being a song which reflects a shared vision of Paradise.  Can you envision it…. singing the reality of what is above into the reality of what is here below…I know I can see it….

“Pepo, Pepo, Peponi

Pepo, Pepo, Peponi

Pepo, Pepo, Peponi

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh”

Please

Now

Credit goes to The Piano Guys, Jon Schmidt, cellist Steven Sharp Nelson, videographer Paul Anderson, and music producer Al van der Beek and Alex Boye for inspiring me through music.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cgovv8jWETM

 

 

 

Oops!

So, I was messing around with the old blog, called It's a Vera Thing and accidently posted the new post tonight to it...sorry!  If you've never been over there to read some of my old stuff...well there is some new stuff over there now.  Let me know what you think ...I like this format better but I think I like that name better so...what to do?!  

A Year and a Half Later Update

Written August of 2016

It’s about time for me to embrace the lessons I’ve learned and walk my path.  It is about time for me to do what I’m good at which is to inspire and cause good people to think.  So, here I go…

Since Jim, my partner of 13.5 years died suddenly last year I’ve walked the normal path of grief, crying, moving forward and flat out lying about how I’m doing.  It’s easier just to say fine and then inappropriately tell complete strangers my whole story.

You see, the reality is that most people who love you dearly, have lives of their own to live.  At some point in time, the dinners stop, the phone becomes silent and you find yourself sitting in the dark with a bottle of Jack or in my case it was the leftover Blanton's.

 Yet the partners, widows and widowers, those left behind, are still breathing, we are still here on earth, we are ALIVE, thus there must be something that we are still supposed to accomplish.  There must be a life to live, a message to deliver, love to experience, kids and grand-kids to laugh with, hobbies that we once enjoyed still to be enjoyed…. maybe.  But for a time, we become someone different, we do not feel like ourselves, we don’t act like ourselves, we don’t eat, we do not enjoy the company of others yet we crave it.  We love the darkness and as the flickering shadows of the TV play across our faces, they highlight the impression left by the tears which like a river have poured from our eyes.

This is the great dichotomy of loss…. we must move on.  For some, it seems easy, they crawl out of the darkness, give a big shake and walk forward often telling everyone that they are fine, no, I’m alright. Yes, I’m sleeping just fine, no thanks you two go on to the movies.  Slowly, as the no thank yous stack up, our friends move on without us, they continue their lives wondering what they can do to help.  For those of us who grieve, no matter how good we appear to those around us, we are always just barely swimming.  Our floaties always feel like they are about to pop, thus sinking us beneath the waves of grief which come on like a storm without warning.  The waves are triggered by a song on the radio, a person we see on the street, an overheard comment or simply by looking at the sky and letting our minds wander.

So, it is with great discipline that we walk out that front door.  We put on the coat of normalcy every morning, cloth ourselves with a stiff upper lip, fill our ears with platitudes and try to keep away from anything which might hurt or anyone who might remind us of the who which is no longer there.

We all experience loss, all of us. None of us will get out of this life without walking through the door of death. Yet, it is always with such surprise that we greet the natural end of those whom we love.  For me, it was not so much his death as it was the suddenness.  One minute a force bigger than life, the next gone to somewhere that was not temporary.  We had been apart a lot in our time together so it was not unusual for me to wake up without him.  It was unusual that when I drove on a trip somewhere I was not able to call and have a long talk with him.  To this day, a year and a half later, I still catch myself thinking, “Oh I’ll just call Jim and ask him….” Or “I know how much he’d love that view, I’ll just call and tell him….” And then the cold hits me and I realize …. oh, that won’t be happening.

So, to those of you who have supported those in extreme loss…. bless you.  You are angels…it’s not easy loving us.  We push away, we argue, we cry at weird times, we get mad at you…we are not easy to live with and we will NEVER be the same person we were before our loss.  That I think is the hardest thing for all y’all to deal with. In a flash, who we were was gone almost as inexorably as our loved one who died. In fact, maybe we will, if given time and love and patience and food, become better.  Maybe we’ll realize that all things are if not good, they’re ok. Maybe we’ll figure out that we have new opportunities.  Maybe we’ll realize that for whatever reason our loved one is gone…maybe because their life would not have been what they wanted. Or maybe we’ll never understand but are brave enough to keep moving forward with hope and acceptance. 

Addendum:  May 5, 2020.  Truly, it would have been better if I had not waited 3.5 years to post this.  It would have helped many of you, my friends and loved ones, to understand what was going on.  But, it has taken me this long to acknowledge that, as I genuinely believe, we can’t hold onto the grief.  Not even a little of it.  Sometimes, we don’t even know where it is hiding, nor what it even looks like.  As, most of you know, I am completely back to normal.  I can talk about Jim with love and laughter.  I look forward in life and have ‘flown free’.  I have accomplished goals and am enjoying life immensely.  Imagine my surprise, when I took a 7-day writing course last week, to discover that to find my voice again, I had to dump the leftovers. There were still things that needed to be released.  Or maybe some of you may need to hear about the process I went through and see where you can go and who you can become, despite whatever you have lost.  I love you all, you know who you are, without you I would not be the me I am today. Thank you.

Photos copyright of VJ Hurst Creations 2020.  Not to be used without express permission of the artist.

Further Explanations

Hello again,

Remember I said that I was going to drag thoughts and verbiage out of the basement, sweep the attic of its cobwebs and let the light shine on all that was and has been in the last 5 years.  I think that it is important to release my words, no matter how repetitive, out into space.  Let them return to the ether where they came from originally with hope that in the future my mind will be filled with creative stuff again.  Wow, that sounds judgmental…I suppose it is and thus another reason to release all that was…and no longer is. 

I write all the time.  I produce an email newsletter, I write non-fiction for myself…I am supposed to be editing a friend’s manuscript and writing for another friend, doing research.  It has often felt like pulling teeth…and I’ve asked myself often, am I a writer, do I even like to write.  Without a dream, it is hard to be motivated.  Without motivation even when one must do something, it isn’t any fun.  Writing used to be fun, now it is often just something I do.  I’m tired of processing, I’d like to get back into my creative soul.  Or maybe, the time for fiction writing is over, I’ve thought to myself…but I still see beauty in the world and surely, the words, the desire to communicate how that feels and inspires is still in there somewhere.  No more excuses.  Although, there is wisdom for all in my story…I don’t need to be telling it over and over again.  With it out there, I can just point to my blog.

Over this week, there will be a dump of ‘stuff’, of words that I’ve written over the last couple of years as part of the process.  They may all sound the same.  I am sorry.  Each post was written a year or two apart, thus I am saying some thoughts over again, only with maybe a tiny bit more wisdom or understanding. 

Maybe these will assist, if not, that’s ok…my goal, as I stated above, is to just do a clean sweep of these thoughts and get them out of my space and into the world.  Just warning, ya….

Much love to all, people, creatures, thoughts and ideas…may they bring joy to the world.

All photos copyright of VJ Hurst Creations 2020 and may not be used without express permission of said company. 

Onward...Life after Grief...Applying lessons learned...Hello Again

  So, I didn’t continue to blog after all.  But since I am now going to give it another go…here I am.  I’ve been spending some time, lately, going over all the unfinished articles and musings that I’ve stored on my computer which I started after Jim died.  Much of this was written and unfinished because I simply couldn’t.  I’d get to a point and not be able to write anymore because the grief was too deep, or I simply couldn’t ‘touch’ that part of my soul yet.  

As life and time moved forward, I healed and learned a bunch of stuff about life and loss and grief and happiness.  It’s been five years; I’m doing what I know he’d want, flying free and living my life with purpose and intention.  Yet, in the midst of this, our society has been hit with a pandemic and our lives as we knew them disappeared instantly, it seemed.   

Despite our best desires for ourselves, we have had to put aside our hopes, aspirations and plans for the good of the whole.  Some are doing this well.  Some are doing it not at all.  Some are angry, sad and grieving.  Some are going on with their lives, some are protesting their right to live without constraint.  All of us have lost our lives or some part of our lives.  Whatever we are doing; we are all, now, grieving.
 

I’ve decided then, for what it’s worth, to pull out some of these past snippets of healing thoughts or musings about grief and loss that I wrote when I was in the thick of it.  Please do with them what you will.  Most will have nothing to do with the situation we are in now…it is just me thinking about then and how in the world was I going to return to some semblance of normal after the biggest loss of my life.  I may edit or add to some content for clarity, or so that you may know what my final conclusions were on that subject.  Maybe some of my insights can be applied to any loss or change that occurs in our lives now and into the future.  That will be for you to decide.

I am ‘normal’ again, now.  I am not the same, I am, in my humble opinion, better for having experienced that loss.  That may sound unkind to you, like I don’t miss him…that would be wrong.  Sometimes, still, the longing for him to be here hangs around me like an old coat that doesn’t fit me anymore…and I have to consider, why I am still wearing it.  What part of this am I revisiting or what reality do I still wish to live with/in?  Our loved ones do not want us to stay forever mourning their loss.  They want us to LIVE like they are not able to anymore.  They want us to recognize the moment and live like maybe there might not be any tomorrow. 

So, in the next weeks, I’ll be throwing out some stuff.  Leave me a comment if you’d like…head over to my Facebook page, VJ Hurst Creations and we can have a chat.  I’d love to hear your thoughts.  I might even write some new things about what I’ve learned.   If you don’t agree, be kind and let’s talk…not everyone’s experience is the same.  Know that our friends and family who die are forever with us even if it is just in our memories.

...and I did not stop taking pictures so I will throw in some of my favorites here and there.  All photos published in these blogs are copyrighted and may not be used in any form without my express permission.