My Story

I couldn't be more ready for spring. After two massive snowstorms in one week, I am feeling totally over winter. And after losing two friends in the same week, I am really ready for some joy in my life.

I completely understand on an intellectual level that everything is a creation of my mind - my reality is rooted in my perception. And I also see how my life has become dark as I have experienced a long list of challenges. And I understand that the more I keep that list going, the longer it will grow. Here's how my mind works:

My life changed in October. My beloved kitty died. The heartache was unbearable, and I felt as if I, too, were dying. And when the fog lifted just a little bit, I totalled my car. My chest was injured, and is still causing me some discomfort. And with the need to act quickly to deal with insurance and replacing my car, and with finishing massage school, I didn't have time to deal with the emotional fallout of that accident. Until I finished massage school, that is. At that point, in December, I began to have intense anxiety and panic attacks, and my body went into a powerful, scary expression of that anxiety. In the midst of that, I went to Tennessee to visit my family for a week, and the anxiety split me wide open. I couldn't stop shaking, and felt pain and strange sensations in my whole body. I was terrified, and began 2010 in a process of trying to heal from that. I started having weekly acupuncture, cleaned up my diet quite a bit, and got myself into counseling. And then, Ed died. And then Kenny died. And in the process of all of that, my neighbor started talking about Iran and uranium and the potential for a major disaster involving bombings, and we were stuck in the apocalyptic snows, unable to get out, unable to do anything about any of it...

There is a story that has started in this. I feel myself pulled into it just writing about it here, and have felt pulled into it as I have shared it with people, too. And I see how my list of horrible things just grows the more I choose to keep that list. There is also some angry, aggressive sense of "poor me" and victimhood within it, and I hear it and know it. I am so glad to have cultivated my observer well enough to at least see how I'm caught up in this. But here, standing in the midst of being caught, I also don't see how to break free of it. My head is above water, but I don't know how to push myself out of the water completely...

Moving On

Aaaahhh. The last night in my house as a single inhabitant. Tomorrow Alan moves in, and I begin the journey of living with a roommate. It seems like exactly what needs to be happening in my life right now.

Alan is an ideal roommate, I think. We know each other pretty well, but aren't best friends. Less likely to drive each other crazy, I think. Also, we have been communicating very well as this whole process has come about. I hope that will continue, so that we can both live happily in this small-ish space. Also, best of all, Alan loves Friday kitty like no other. Other than me, of course. Honestly, though, if I were to die, I would want Alan to take Friday - it is a perfect match. And having a scenario where Friday kitty gets even MORE love than he does now is really great!

The poor little guy is probably very confused right now. He spent the evening under my bed as I steam cleaned the carpets. The only thing worse than the noise of a vacuum cleaner is a steam cleaner! And Friday HATES the vacuum. I hate it that he has been hiding like that, but he's surely in the quietest, safest place for him while all that noise is going on. What will he do tomorrow when I steam the carpets in that room, I wonder? For now, he has come out of hiding, and is wandering around the house, rubbing his soft body against the endless stacks of stuff. How's that for making friends with chaos? Oh, my little Buddha cat, teaching me yet another piece of transcendental wisdom. =)

I'm told that tonight there will be a major meteor shower, and I wish I had the stamina to stay up and stare at the sky. But it's getting cold out, and I got up at 6am to go to DC by 9am, and then taught flute lessons, and then spent the whole evening cleaning my carpets. I'm pretty much beat about now. Maybe I will go crawl up on the roof for a little while and commune with the sky and some sacred tobacco.

It hit me tonight as I was sitting on the toilet that I am getting used to living without Familiar kitty in my life. And I spoke those words to him, as if he were with me. I kind of feel his presence there with me in the bathroom where he died sometimes, and it doesn't freak me out as much as it did a few weeks ago. I miss him still, and I feel like my life will never go back to the way it was before. But I am starting to feel that my life is going on in spite of the sorrow. And of course it does, of course it must. Sometimes I think that that is the hardest part...knowing that life does go on in spite of the pain and suffering of loss. It almost feels like it shouldn't - it's not fair to go on living without the ones I love! But I also can acknowledge that thinking like that just brings more suffering. All I can do is breathe into the pain and watch as my own life lives itself beyond that dark shadow that death has cast upon my heart.

Suffering

I'm sitting here in my bed, right next to Friday, who has claimed one flannel-covered pillow for his own. He's purring and not purring, off and on, and looking up toward the ceiling. Something is in the attic, skittering around. Sounds like a squirrel, too big for a mouse. Right around the time that Familiar kitty was passing, I heard squirrels in the attic - or on the roof, not sure which - all the time. I haven't heard any for a few weeks, though, not until the last couple days. Friday looks so puzzled, his eyes following the skittering beyond the ceiling. I wonder how they get in there!

In the midst of the darkest week I've had in a long time, I did manage to get to yoga class...not one, not two, but three. In spite of the anger and frustration and sadness that have been the most prevalent emotions this week, there is some little voice within me that says, "hey, this used to really be good - do it now!" I'm going to trust that, and also have no expectations.

Yesterday, one of my dismal posts on Facebook asked what people thought life was about. One man replied that life is about learning through suffering. His words hit home right away. I seem to recall that his kitty passed the day before Familiar kitty - so he is surely going through some of the same feelings I have. Learning through suffering. I've sure been feeling the suffering part, but I have wondered all day what it is that I'm learning here...or resisting learning...

One thing that I am clearly resisting learning is that fingers are for loving kitties...not typing! Friday has relocated to my right knee, pushing my keyboard off to the left, and keeps insisting his head under my typing fingers, clearly showing me what really matters. Bless this being. Bless him. He is the best teacher I've got right now, that's for sure. He's given me a reprieve for the moment, and has moved on to licking my hand as I write here.

Suffering. Everything and everyone that I love will leave, die, fall apart. That is the very truth of living, and the very truth of suffering. The more I love, the more pain I will feel when the loving is interrupted. So, there's a part of me (and I doubt I'm alone here) that says "fuck it! What's the point anyway?!" Why love if it's going to hurt so much later. But the truth is that I feel things really big, really deeply. And I've done enough intense, deep spiritual work that there's no turning back now. There's no shutting the door to my heart. It just doesn't make sense, it's no longer an option. And in the reality of that, suffering seems to be the only option. And I think the reason I've been feeling so angry this week is that that really sucks! So, the more I open my heart, the more pain I'm going to feel. Great. Check please...

Today as I was driving in the pouring rain in Baltimore - feeling supremely bitter and pissed off - I thought of two things. First, if life is nothing more than waking up, eating, pooping, and sleeping again, with maybe a bit of working for money thrown in, then FUCK IT! I'm not playing anymore. I will lay in bed all day and piss myself and shit my pants and starve first. I know, it sounds ridiculous. But what's behind that madness and anger is outrage - that I demand that life be more than this, that I absolutely insist that my life have meaning. And that's probably a blessing - the energy of anger pushing through the murk of sorrow. Second, the thought came to me that in spite of the devastation of experiencing death steal away the life of my little buddy while he was in my arms, I have not died. And there is part of me that feels guilty for that, that while my little kitty is gone from this world forever I am here, and am supposed to continue living. But besides that guilty part that feels like I shouldn't go on living, that I should lay in my bed and shit my pants until I die too, there is another part that says, "hey, I'm still here..." and wants to LIVE out loud, fully, richly, just like I always have. One voice says, "shit, get over this, you're wasting your own sweet, precious life!" And another says, "this pain is so deep, you will never survive it."

And beyond those voices and those feelings, there is the sunrise and the sunset, and rain and wind and clouds and starlight, and sunshine. And there is a Magnolia tree watching over the decaying body of a being that was once my dear friend. And that dear friend is probably still lingering somewhere nearby, waiting to show me what I'm supposed to learn next from this whole ordeal.

He came to me in my dreams three nights in a row this week. Once, I was in a high school classroom, with other people who I went to high school with - and there he was, trying to squirm out of my arms, trying to get out into the hallway and explore. Another dream, I was obsessing about his losing weight and being super skinny. I can't recall the other one, exactly. But what was so lovely was touching him - the sensation of having his body in contact with me - that has been what I have longed for and missed so desperately. In spite of all the esoteric teachings - and my own experience - that say that the body is only a shell for the Spirit, it is my full experience in this reality that I relate to other beings by touch, by speaking, by sight and sound - through the physical senses. That is so hard to let go of.

So, what am I learning here through this suffering? A question to continue pondering...

Feeling Lost

I don't like spending time with the dark parts of myself. I am a being who is usually very much drawn to the light. I'm not talking about day and night here, but inner realms and experience. I am not drawn to negativity, pessimism, depression, or hopelessness. Not that I don't experience them in my life, because surely I do. But I am naturally drawn to joy, optimism, love, and effervescence. Angela "Blueskies" is hugely fitting to the state of being that is most natural to me. But it's been quite a while since I inhabited those states of being on a regular basis. My name right now may as well be Angela "Thundercloud."

Anger has been barging its way into the hopelessness and sadness these last few days. At first, I thought it was coming along with my cycle, the usual anger and aggression that often accompany it. But this has lingered and intensified. There is a track in my mind that feels like a tiger, waiting silently, patiently to strike to kill anyone who crosses me in the slightest way. This part imagines confrontations, and imagines scenarios and outcomes that involve tremendous violence in words and actions. Now, I haven't been acting upon any of these scenarios, but I have been watching them, especially these last couple days. I haven't even seen any point in leaving the house. It seems that when I do, unbelievably frustrating things happen.

The question that has been a recurrent mantra in my mind has been "what is the fucking point of any of this?!" I feel like a hamster stuck on a wheel, or at least in a little shitty cage. But I KNOw that I'm that hamster, stuck on a pointless fucking wheel, inside a prison of a shitty cage, and I KNOW that there's more outside of it, and yet I can't seem to find the way.

I have experienced firsthand - in ceremony and in meditation and in community - the most incredible beauty in this world, in this life. I have felt the sublime power of love. I have felt held in the womb of Mother Earth. I have seen things I couldn't have ever believed, and felt things that called into question everything that I have ever known. And in spite of all of that, the death of Familiar kitty has marked life with a heavy darkness. And part of that darkness has disconnected me from those truths that come from living in the Light. I remember them as a novel right now...characters and scenes from a life that are bound to the page, yet not my own.

I posted a question on Facebook the other day: "What gets you out of bed in the morning?" The answers that I received were depressing beyond my imaginings. I also had included an aside to that question, "besides the alarm clock or coffee," hoping to suggest I was looking for the *meaning* of getting out of bed in the morning. Not once person who answered went there. The answers? The dog, the cat, the kid, hunger, needing to pee. And honestly, these are the things that I have been feeling in my life, lately, too. Never before have I felt like I got out of bed for food or a piss. I got out of bed because the light of day pulled my spirit into the world to LIVE. But right now, I am feeling that I, too, get up to eat, poop, and sleep again. And after living my life from a place of intense meaning and connection, living with these things as my drives is the most devastating thing I have ever known.

I cannot wake up in the morning and get out of bed if all there is to my life is eating, pooping, making money, and sleeping again. If that's all there is, then let me die right fucking now.

I already know, somewhere deep inside of me, that there is way, way more to life. But when I try to go there, it's as if I'm dumb or something. Like the part of me that knows that has been blocked off somehow. And yet the question, the longing remains. I know that a new pair of fuzzy boots is a great thing, but it doesn't give meaning to my day. Stuff doesn't give meaning to my day. Material things don't give meaning to my day. Their absence can be a pain in the ass, for sure - as it was tonight, when I discovered that the tape deck in my car no longer works, and that is what I use to play my Ipod - but that's not living and dying. It's a fucking tape deck. And the boots are fucking boots. I also know that getting rich and buying a fancy car and house won't give meaning to my life. It's just more stuff that might make me "comfortable" and make me feel "abundant" but it's essentially just more garbage.

What about finding a partner and having a family? While these things certainly do add some sense of meaning to life, undoubtedly, and provide some sense of structure to daily living that is rooted in living communally, when it comes down to it, unless the deeper meaning of life is clear first, these things just become another path toward material living. Getting the right stuff for the couple, getting the right stuff for the kid. And good god, raising a kid in a material paradigm? That makes me want to die, too...

Anything external, really, is guaranteed NOT to add meaning to life. Those things are just distractions. It's the inner stuff that really gives meaning to my day. And it's relationships, too, the ways that these inner worlds of people (and animals) come together and create the world together. And right now, I am feeling betrayed by that. All those years of loving, and one day it's all gone. It's as if it never happened - except in my heart, that is. How is that fair??? When I go down this track of thinking, then I feel like there's no point to life at all, we're just waiting around to die. And it's no fucking wonder that all the religions have made up things like "heaven." That's the greatest comfort ever, believing that at the end of the line, we'll be reunited all together in one big angelic party, with harps and clouds and that crap. I don't buy it for a minute.

The Buddhists really do lay it all out with no bullshit. Change happens constantly, and there is no external God to believe in. All we can do is accept that everything is going to fall apart, and love in spite of that, with as much compassion as possible. Life is going to pull the rug out from under us again and again. And eventually, it will be our very own body that has the rug pulled out from under it. As much as I try, I can't find anything in that that encourages me to embrace a spiritual path even more fully than before. If anything, I feel inclined to come back to my original question: "what's the point anyway?" I don't buy into any of that heaven and angels crap, and haven't since I was a child. The coddling of religion offers me no solace at all. But I have been spiritually motivated for years - right now, I can't even feel connected to that.

Well, at least I am walking in circles with the question...

Moving Through

I'm feeling tired, but stirred up. It's been a quiet, rainy day, and even now, I can hear the rain falling on the roof outside. I love rainy days. And I am grateful to have spent most of this one in my house, working on making sense of the mess that has been created as I'm making room for Alan.

The worst part of today? Remembering Familiar kitty's sad little weak body suffering on this day five short weeks ago. I ended up in a slump on my bed, burying my face in the pillow, weeping. And right there beside of me was sweet Friday, letting me hold him so tight, not complaining a bit. He didn't mind that I squeezed him like a teddy bear for probably twenty minutes, and didn't care a bit that once the pillow was wet, I buried my face in his soft fur, making it damp, too. And I was so grateful for him, this sweet being who exists just to LOVE! I don't care if I sound like a cat lady. I love this kitty so much. I love him more every day. And right now, I don't know what I would do without him.

Once I felt the sadness recede, I began to work on the next stage of organizing and cleaning and moving things around. Today was a furniture move day, and I have gotten most of what needs to happen finished. One more thorough day, and that room will be clear for Alan. What remains to be done is installing shelves in the closet in the music studio, and really making the most of that space. That, and the basement! There's a good bit of stuff ready to go down there now, but I need to make some more room first, and rearrange things there, too...

It's good to have something like this in my life...major changes have been coming, and they have been overwhelming. But this change, this change in my living arrangement, is one that doesn't feel like it is happening to me, but is instead one that I am engaging in. I am peeling away the layers in my house, and rearranging things as necessary, and as I like. Getting rid of stuff, too, is good. It's not going anywhere fast right now, but the piles of things to go to Goodwill are sizable, and there are things that need to go to the dump, too. A good purge in my house is long, long overdue.

I've been feeling called back to the Medicine, and in particular, back to Santo Daime. There are some hesitations, too, though. I'm wondering if my nervous system is strong enough to handle that kind of experience right now, or if it could make things worse. Especially given the interference I have experienced in this group, I am hesitant. If I knew that I could just go and allow my experience to unfold freely without people trying to talk to me in the midst of it, or trying to control the situation too much, then I would probably go. I have some darkness to face, some fears and a lot of sorrow. But it seems that the time just isn't right yet. That's fine. I can wait until the time is right.

Coming Apart at the Seams

Sitting here on this quiet night, a sweet kitty resting his head on my right ankle as I type. The window is still open just a couple inches, ushering in fresh night air on this relatively warm evening. In this moment I am feeling calm and fine. What better thing could I ask for on this sweet night than peace and quiet, and a companion to share it with?

Throughout the day, though, I have felt like I am on a roller coaster. From anger to defensiveness to judgment to resentment to devastation to sadness to despondency. Yes, my cycle has begun, and the emotional upheaval will settle. But the truth is that each of the things that have sent me on this wild ride hold a kernel of truth in them, and point me toward something that is unsettled inside of me.

Today I went with Lynn to see the new house she will be renting after the settlement on her house is complete. Another ten days, no more. And as much as I wanted to know where to find her, and to help her move a few things, it was so sad to go there. The reality of her leaving the neighborhood really hit me in the gut. And I thank god that I moved in across the street from her almost eight years ago...she has blessed me in more ways than I can ever, ever imagine. The thought of not saying a daily hello, sharing hugs and tea and joys and sorrows, talking to the trees... Well, it sure is going to be a challenge to not loathe the new neighbor who is pushing her out. We sat on her porch after the movers left, and chatted in the overcast afternoon light. Train tracks nearby...that's almost like Oella. And big trees, and the house is nice enough. But it's a boring, soulless neighborhood. You can hear the noise from the highway nearby, and there is no character to the neighborhood. Just a street with houses on it, and people doing what people do everywhere. The thought of her being tucked away in that place, behind so many warehouses and industrial areas, and in the line of airport traffic... Well, perhaps for her, it will be exactly what she needs for now. But for me, I know I would wither. I am learning that there are two key components in a place to live for me - community and connection with Mother Earth. From there, there is no forest or river or lake close by. And a sense of community is surely much, much more than people passing each other on the street, living in tolerance of each other from behind their own doors from their own private property...

It seems that these requirements are no longer a part of what is considered a basic human need... People choose a place to live based on a whole different set of values. I wonder if the person who is buying Lynn's house looked beyond the charming house with a wooded lot behind? Or is it all about the property? People seem to want walls and land, and not really consider the bigger picture. As for me, I don't give a damn if I ever own a house. But I know I need to be able to be in the woods without much effort, and I need a real sense of community. Otherwise, I see nothing that makes it worth getting out of bed in the morning. Really.

Change just keeps on coming. Tomorrow marks five weeks since Familiar kitty passed. Lynn will be leaving in a week. My bamboo flute is done for. What next??? How is it possible to surrender to the flow of life when I feel like the river is going to drown me in this madness of change? Must I live in a constant state of distress, wondering what will be next...who will die, who will leave, what will break or be taken...on and on and on... I don't want to live with that kind of thinking. But it is what I am feeling in my life at the moment. Hence the despondency that filled my evening tonight. I feel like any move I make into trying to enjoy life is only a thin veil covering the hopelessness I feel right now. Everything is coming apart at the seams. My very reality is coming apart at the seams.

No Escape

Today, after a long and powerful acupuncture session, a bright rainbow emerged outside the window. The sky changed from blue and airy to a dark, bruised shade of gray, and there, in the midst of golden afternoon sunlight, this bright rainbow emerged. The light at the end of this dark tunnel for me? God, I sure hope so.

From the way that my acupuncturist, Star, described the treatment, it was basically a long process of clearing out energy, followed by a Chinese medicine version of the Soul Retrieval. I think she called it a "shin disturbance." And I was there for nearly two hours. What a blessing.

This summer in ceremony I found the part of myself that is just waiting for "it" to be "finished." I would find myself sitting in ceremony, which I had willingly and joyfully chosen to participate in, and there I would be, cringing and holding on for dear life, wondering when it would be over, bracing for the worst. And I would work to relax that reaction, calming myself down, reminding myself that there would be incredible wisdom in the process, and trusting that it would not kill me. Indeed, it didn't. And as has been the case so often in ceremony, what I learn within those sweet hours is infinitely important to integrate into the ways that I live in my daily life in the world.

All of this crossed my mind as I was laying there in the treatment room, with needles down my back. If this is ceremony - which ALL of life IS - what is it that I am being asked to learn and know and feel?

I am sitting with this in truth for the first time right now. What is it that this flatness and fear and meaninglessness and powerlessness are trying to teach me?

The first thing that comes to mind is how I am always looking for a way out. An escape. The part of me that believes there's an expiration date on how long suffering should last, or believes that I should be able to just push it aside. And god knows I have lived that way for much of my life! Fear is cowardly, sorrow is weak, and the rest of it is just plain inconvenient. But I know that these are merely harsh thoughts that don't want me to experience life as it is showing up. And the truth is that what is showing up right now is pretty damn persistent. Thank god there is acupuncture and massage and aromatherapy and Friday kitty! These things really do help. But the truth is this - I want out. I want to move on from the pain of heartache, but my nervous system just can't shake it all off so quickly. This sorrow that has come from the loss of a significant life companion will not pass with the sunset. And as long as I resist what is true, it will push back into my life. Can I honestly just show up and feel what I feel, let it exist for as long as it needs to? Today Star said, "what you are feeling is exactly what you need to feel." Wise words, words that I have often spoken to myself. But in the midst of a huge spin, these things seem too scary. And the more I withdraw from them, the more powerless I feel. The more powerless I feel, the more my mind reacts, and the more meaningless my life seems.

There is another part of my mind that has emerged in ceremony, too, that is involved here. The part that is afraid to be trapped on a hamster wheel, and says "oh, god, is this happening again? Will it always be this way?" This is another part that wants to flee, that feels like there is no growth, no change, no possibility. That part keeps wondering, will I always feel like this??? Will my heart always feel heavy, forevermore? And if it does, I just can't stand it!! But the truth is that change is always happening, I am never in the same place twice, and what will I do if it never, ever shifts...

The power comes in my choices. I can choose to accept exactly what I feel in each moment. I can choose to explore that with curiosity, and without labels. I can also choose to stay connected to the love and divinity beyond this momentary experience of discomfort. Instead of sitting around waiting to die, and waiting for everyone and everything around me to die, I can go dance or sing or play or watch the clouds in the sky. The truth is that I am dying in every moment, and so is everyone else! So???

I feel like the secret is in embracing my feeling in my body in every moment while not allowing the mind to dominate with its fears and imaginings for even one moment. Freedom to the body and heart, discipline to the mind...yes.

One Month

Wow, I actually can't believe that I missed writing two days in the last week. Sunday and Tuesday. Sunday, probably because I was involved in the Day of the Dead Brunch, and yesterday...well, not sure why. Perhaps because there's a lot on my mind, and it's sometimes easier to look away. I could feel the tendency wanting to emerge again tonight. The "oh, well, it's so late anyway, you may as well not bother." But here I am anyway. Showing up on the page.

Sweet Friday just made his way to my bed, where I am sitting to write this. He's perched himself on my left knee, and is purring away.

Today marks one month since Familiar kitty passed. It's unbelievable to me, still, though the reality of it is completely clear. What I am in touch with right now, below my own surface, is this darkness. This voice within me that says, "what's the point of anything. We're all just waiting to die." Isn't that a song by Gillian Welch? Well, it is haunting my spirit right now, and in spite of the fact that I am able to function and even experience some level of joy and goodness in my life, this undercurrent has become pervasive.

When the truth of death sits this close, I know that I can't help but come to confront all of my fears, all of my doubts, all of the ways that I make meaning in my life. There is the question in me, "what's the point of life?" And this is a question that I, in one way or another, have been asking for years. While I am deeply committed to living as fully consciously as I can, to facing my demons, and to keeping my heart open in the midst of great suffering, what I feel right now is a flatness, a flatness that has come from something within me not wanting to feel this much pain, trying to protect me. But it is only protecting me from the suffering of loss, not from the fears of the reality of death. I literally feel like just collapsing face down on the floor sometimes when this powerlessness comes over me...I am powerless to do anything in the face of the neverending flow of living and dying. Death is already at hand, and is sucking the juice out of living, too, for me right now.

There is such a pull to want to just get on with things. It comes from within me, and definitely comes from the outside too. Whether it's someone trying to smooth over the pain with some lofty spiritual philosophy, or with some lighthearted banter, no one wants you to feel sad and flat for long. It's a bummer. And I'm definitely going about my life, doing what I do. But what is the point of doing what I do, waking and sleeping, and eating and bathing, and all that other stuff that fills up the days? In spite of the truth that I KNOW there is more to life, that there is a true sweet divine order to the universe, and that I have tasted that sweetness firsthand in profound ways, right now, there is no sweetness. Well, there is this kitty on my knee...

I know all the good answers. Life goes on. I have to choose to make meaning in my life. Love is powerful. Tears are perfect. I've said all this a thousand times, and heard it thousands more. But I am driven by the truth of what I feel within, and what emerges within right now is some shade of gray, lying limply on the floor, wondering what it's all about.

I hear that question emerging over and over in my life right now. What's the point? I've long since given up any ideas that material gain is the point, that success and status and accomplishment are the point of life. And I have often felt that connection, love, community, peace, simplicity, and the like, are the point of life. Love is surely the point of life! But right now I just can't get back to that. These are merely intellectual concepts that don't have any hold in my current experience.

So, for now, I am going about my days, trying to live peacefully and simply. I would love to have my life back. Any day now, universe. Any day.

Bamboo Flute

I am so fucking angry I could kick a hole in a wall. Or rip a door off the hinges. As if the day didn't start bad enough with me slicing into my finger while trying to cut a bagel...gushing blood as I was already late getting out the door...it got a hell of a lot worse when I got to the school I was working at this morning in DC.

My bamboo flute is cracked and split halfway up the body of it's tube, in four places. This is not the kind of cracking that happens with age and weather. This is from physical damage. It looks to me like someone stepped on it.

The last time I played it was last weekend at Ali and Forrest's potluck and fire circle gathering. And wow! What an amazing jam session that was. And it was probably that very night, while stumbling in the dark, that someone may have stepped on it, unknowingly. I don't remember leaving it in a precarious place, but it was dark, and there were lots of people around. It could have happened a few other times, too...but it really doesn't fucking matter what the details are, when it happened. At some point something happened, and it is severely damaged, and I am furious.

Patrick Olwell is the flutemaker. He used to come to the Maryland Renaissance Festival, and I bought one of his flutes there. This one, though, was a gift from a student...and it became my favorite flute ever. It has been with me as I have travelled across four continents, it has been played in sacred places all over the world. It has been the voice of my soul, as Madre Ayahuasca has opened my creativity, and it has been my pathway beyond the rigid lines of classical music into the world of free musical expression, improvisation, allowing divine music to flow through me. Fuck!! I had just begun to seriously talk with John about doing a recording on this flute, too. Now what do I fucking do?!

Patrick Olwell doesn't make these flutes anymore. I called him a few years ago when a student of mine was wanting one, and he informed me that he only makes wooden flutes now. I dug out his phone number and email today, and have emailed him with my situation. I don't know what to do...I can only hope that he can either miraculously fix this one, or maybe he still has a few old ones still in his shop, or maybe I can convince him to make me one.

You know, if someone stepped on my expensive, fancy silver flute, I would probably not give two shits. But this one...why this one?! And seriously, world, how much more of the most important things in my life must I give up right now??? First Familiar kitty, now this flute? I can't think of a lot of things that mean more to me. If something were to happen to Friday, I would say fuck it all and join the peace corps.

Surrender

Tonight when I arrived home, I decided to follow the suggestion of a yoga teacher friend of mine, and spend twenty minutes in a supported chest opener pose, and wow! I feel really calm and centered right now. I reclined on the floor, with my back arching over a rolled blanket, and my head fell back onto a pillow, and my arms open at 2/10 o'clock. I brought my feet together, and let my knees fall open, also resting each one on a pillow. There I remained for twenty minutes, listening to this beautiful music, "Devi Prayer" by Craig Pruess and Ananda. My body struggled to really let go, but moments washed over me when I was not merely lying there on the floor, but deliberately surrendering myself to the ground beneath me.

My nervous system slowly began to release, and I could feel the way that my body and mind are still in a state of emergency. While most of this state of being extends from the trauma of being with Familiar kitty as he passed, I believe that it goes beyond that immediate situation. The speed with which we live our lives in this part of the world is its own trauma state, and the anxiety about this, then the next thing...our nervous systems are all spun up into a state of madness. Fear of keeping our lifestyles, fear of making enough money, fear of maintaining our jobs, fear of not being successful, fear of the economy crashing, fear of the swine flu...it just goes on and on. And while most of these things don't come up in my life on a regular basis, I am certainly at the energetic mercy of a culture that I swim within...until I consciously work with that to shift things within myself.

As I reclined on my yoga mat, being held by soft pillows and covered by a warm blanket, I heard my mind grasping, reaching, searching...in essence, protecting me, trying to make sure things are safe. And there is a voice in my head that believes that even here, in my home of nearly eight years, in this sweet neighborhood, and on this quiet night, I might be in some danger. Okay, it is not likely! Another voice in my head knows that and tries to dismiss this one. But there the other one remains, in constant duty as a sentinel. A plane could crash into the house! Or someone could break in! Or a fire! Or or or or or orororororor...on and on and on. And once my rational mind has dismissed all of those possibilities, worse ones arise... Ones that sound insane. Energetic violations and dangers. What if the ghost of Familiar kitty comes to do yoga with me, as he always used to do? Or what if there are other energies there, just waiting for me to relax and surrender, to then feast upon my unguarded being? And then, worst of all...the danger isn't external, it isn't even external energetically...it is my own body! My own body is the threat to my safety! It's not a robber or a ghost that will bring me harm...it is my own cells, my own body will destroy itself! Sigh...I can't live like this.

It's a good thing I already know that I am not my mind. =)

In ceremony a long time ago I became aware that I didn't know how to relax. Gradually, I have been coming into a place inside of myself that can soften into life, whether things are easy or difficult, fast or slow, peaceful or tumultuous. But this loss of my kitty has thrown all of that off. What a gift this is, showing me how I have not yet really mastered this process of relaxing. Heehee. It is a gift, for sure. The truth of groundlessness has been revealed to me in the most undeniable way. I spend time every day in a place of knowing that death is sitting right beside of me. That everything that I create will be destroyed. That everyone and everything that I know and love will die, and life will go on living itself alive. I am powerless to do anything about that. And sitting with that as my companion each day has not been easy...it is a hell of a teacher, that is for sure!

What I am coming to understand is hard to articulate right now. It is connected to the esoteric teachings of so many wise beings. About life and death and spiritual practice. About surrendering everything into the fire of love. About dropping the ego. About...hmm...well, the point behind everything. I can't give it words yet, because I know I am still lost in the fog. But what I can see is that every idea that I ever had about life and death and spirituality were much more intellectual just a few weeks ago. Even Madre Ayahuasca couldn't give me this teaching. I am beginning to understand why they have always said that wisdom comes through life experience. No esoteric teaching, no book, no philosophy could have ever really brought me into facing life and death like this. Not even close.

As I was there on the floor, working to relax and surrender, the thought crossed my mind, why would I be afraid if the ghost of Familiar kitty did come to do yoga with me? Why would I automatically fear any energetic presence that might come into my space? Just like Javier would have guided me to do, I turned the automatic fear response around. I relaxed into the idea of both, accepting their possibilities, but also looking into them directly. Turn around and face the monster that is chasing you...right? As I put my attention upon this, a lightness filled my body, and I felt like I was floating. I let my breathing settle and felt the energy move within me in the most gentle, yet radiant way. The music, totally sublime, carried me through this inner space, drifting in the lightness. And I began to relax.

October Rain

The afternoon is unseasonably warm, and the humidity is thick. What began the day as scattered light showers has now turned into a steady rain, becoming heavy at times. This is the end of summer lingering into the mid-Fall, and it is glorious. The sound of rain on the leaves is one of the most soothing sounds I have ever known. Oh, this is a spectacular late afternoon!

The cones on the Magnolia are still fuzzy and soft, and glowing a deep crimson in the wetness. The other day as I went to visit Familiar kitty's grave, I was captivated by Magnolia, her stunning changeless leaves, dark brown and shiny. And her sweet, soft cones have begun to change. It seems as if they are developing eyes that are just beginning to open, and those eyes are the gateway to her seeds, bright red and shiny. As I explored her with curiosity, I pulled one, then another, then another of these red seeds out of their casing. Amazing! They pulled away, releasing a string of white, much like a sticky spider web. I offered these three seeds to the still-festive gravesite beneath her graceful watch. I also offered her my gratitude for her stunning presence, and for her ever-present sentinel over my sweet kitty.

The rain has become heavier in the few moments I have been sitting here on the porch, and there are so many sweet scents in the air. Earlier in the afternoon, I could smell the sweet Pine tree in my neighbor Lynn's yard - Thomas, we call him - his fragrance was extending more than thirty feet in the thick afternoon humidity! What a delight! Now, I smell the distinctive fragrances of human cooking - my own, "morning glory" bread for tonight's potluck - and something savory being cooked by a neighbor. Mmm... Also, the smell of the damp earth permeates beyond these powerful smells of food...and a faint, curious scent of some kind of flower... I wonder if it is an essential oil calling out to me from upstairs. I love it when they do that.

Now, the rain is really falling heavily! This is the most wonderful thing in the world, spending time sitting present with the splendor of the Earth, her weather like my own feelings that are in a state of eternal shifting and changing. It's funny, I had several things in mind to write about this afternoon, but in this moment, the rain falling all around is the only thing that I can remember.

What I have been noticing in the last couple of days is that my heartache and stuckness are shifting, as the rain. I sure do miss my little kitty, and in many ways I still can't believe that I will never be able to touch his sweet body again, or hear his plaintive cries, or be annoyed by him trying every possible way of getting in whatever food was around. I miss rubbing his little chin...that was his favorite. And I miss the way that he would come and settle on my pillow, sometimes almost like a tight little hat around the top of my head. I miss the little narrow hourglass white spot that ran down the bridge of his nose. I miss his faint purr that was so soft it was almost a secret between us. I miss the little pink pads on his feet, and the little black spots on some of them. I miss the way he would boldly walk across my body, on my keyboard, between my book and my face, the way he would step on me in the most awkward and uncomfortable ways, as if demanding my attention. And every time I find little holes or threads in the left leg of my pants, I know that he will always be with me...right there, climbing my leg, begging for Indian food. And I am grateful that in this moment I can write about him, and am not filled with desperate sadness. In fact, my heart is swelling with these memories, and of the love that I have for that little fuzzy being. God, I love him. And I will love him forever. That's the beauty about love, it just keeps on flowing beyond living and dying, beyond coming together and falling away, beyond joy and pain...when the pathway of the heart is open, love just keeps on giving birth to itself in every moment.

Once more, I am connecting to the epiphany I had about love the other day...that I can take that energetic tendril of love connection that used to connect me to Familiar kitty, and I can bring it into my own body. I can allow that love to flow through me now, and somehow, that makes the pain of loss a little less acute.

The rain has given way to a light drizzle once more, and as the afternoon light fades, the green-yellow glow of the trees seems to be carrying the light of the sun, who is far from sight today. Their glow is intensified as the light of day fades into darkness, and I am grateful to have spent this time here once more, connecting inward through connecting to the Earth.

Epiphany

It is late, and I had considered not writing at all tonight, but I simply must take a small amount of time right now to honor and reveal an epiphany I had today. It was an epiphany about love.

I went down to Familiar kitty's grave. I took two stones, and a little message from my herbal tea...it said something about allowing my inner light to become one with the universal light, and that felt right for my little one. Also, I have been offering a kintu each time I visit...using three bay leaves in lieu of coca. But also, today I decided to offer flowers in a new way. A friend and neighbor brought me some tulip bulbs a week or so ago, and I hadn't been sure where to plant them for spring. Now, they will come up in a semicircle around Familiar kitty's grave. Beautiful! My little kitty usually did have his nose in flowers whenever I had some in a vase, without fail. What a joy that will be in early spring.

And maybe my epiphany stems from that. What is now a sad place that is a memorial to my little beloved one who is no longer walking the Earth with me will become transformed into a splash of color, yellow and red, in six months' time. And hopefully those flowers will come back year after year, long after I am gone from this house perhaps. And then, people may have no idea that my little love was offered back to Mother Earth on that spot. What they will know, though, is the beauty and joy of bright flowers after a long winter.

My epiphany was this simple shift that came while I was at his grave. The words came through me, and I heard them and thought them for the first time as I spoke them. Instead of feeling the loss...this tendril of love energy that is used to connecting with that little being has no place to connect now...what a beautiful thing it would be to allow that love to live through me. No longer directed at my kitty, I can choose to redirect that love energy through me, and the power of that love will extend beyond that one profound relationship. I can allow all the love I ever had for my Familiar kitty, and all the love that I ever received from him, to flow through me, to fuel me in all the love that I still carry with me as I walk upon this Earth. It was as if I took that severed tendril of love that has been aching so deeply, and swallowed it, taking its light into my body. And with this epiphany today, I felt something profound shift within me. An openness, a space, a freedom, a deep inner radiance that feels so familiar to me.

In those moments as I offered these gifts and words to my kitty's grave, I knew that the worst of this is past. My sorrow will continue to flow for as long as it flows. I welcome it freely. As I have said before, whoever is worth loving is worth mourning. But I now feel like I can begin to move back into the flow of my life again, carrying a brighter love than before.

Tonight, too, one of my neighbors brought me a children's book to read, called something like "Desser the Best Cat Ever." A sweet and moving story of a little girl and her little kitty love, a black and white kitty much like my own. I read it when I saw it on the arm of my sofa tonight when I returned home. I cried and cried, such a beautiful book that expresses the profound love of sharing life with a beloved animal companion. Thank you Bill and Acadia for thinking of me and sharing this book. I think I might need to find my own copy in honor of "Familiar, the Best Cat Ever."

And for now, it is time to sleep. Friday, the Best Cat Ever is purring and snuggling close to me. His sweet head is resting on my wrist even now as I type, and he is truly irresistible. His head begs me to leave behind this keyboard and love him through touch. Sounds pretty good to me.

Two weeks

How long has it been since I sat on this porch to write? Two weeks, I believe. Today marks two weeks since Familiar kitty passed. And even this afternoon, as I returned from DC, I found myself opening the front door with some expectation of a little black kitty meeting me anxiously. And today, being a beautiful warm day, I imagine that he would have met me at the window, actually. He loved to squeeze himself onto the tiny four inch ledge that is available as a perch when the window is open, and he would hear me coming home, and cry out as I walked up the sidewalk to the front door. I also imagined the way that he would lightly rub his body against my legs as I would come in, begging for food, for attention. And so many days, especially the days this year since I returned from Peru, he would meet me eagerly, sitting someplace funny. On the arm of the sofa - the closest point to the front door other than the floor. On the coffee table - he loved the new purple woven tapestry that I brought home from Peru. On the kitchen table, or on the stove, or on the kitchen counters - probably waiting there after scrounging about in the sink for something good. Oh, my little sweet buddy, I miss you so much.

But I am adjusting. I am no longer feeling like my house is empty. It is still and quieter than ever, for sure. But I am letting go. Some things come to mind that are easier now. I don't have to clean up the pee in the shower anymore...Familiar kitty sure did love to pee in there. And all this time I thought Friday was the one peeing on the bathroom rugs...I was wrong. It was Familiar all the time...but he surely didn't want me to catch him. I remember a couple weeks before he got ill, I noticed that the rug behind the sofa was wet with urine, and once again, figured that it was Friday. Then, a few days later, I found Familiar kitty peeing there, and I reprimanded him, wondering what the deal was. Now, I have some sense of it. Something was going wrong in his body, and whatever it was, peeing on the floor was part of it. Oh, it makes me so sad to think that he is gone. From where I sit on my porch, I can see the decorations on his grave, colorful and varied.

Porch sitting without him is strange, too. I have a plate that once held a slice of toast and some broccoli...and there is no kitty to lick it clean. Friday doesn't have any interest at all. Now, he does have some strange interest in eating the dried spearmint leaves that are out here on the porch...that seems odd, but hey, if it makes him happy, spearmint is almost like catnip, right!

Today is really warm, and the sun is bright in the blue cloudless sky. There are tiny insects floating around, flying in patterns that seem utterly random, and the golden light illuminates them, turning the sky into a wonderland of twirling sparkles. The trees in my yard are holding tightly to their leaves, which are just barely turning yellow right now...it is a stunning Fall day. Friday kitty was reluctant to make his way downstairs with me, but once I carried him down, he got the idea: porch sitting time on a sunny afternoon! And now, he is resting in a sunny spot, loving it. Oh, my little Friday love...I don't know what I would do without him right now!

The golden illuminated insects have multiplied, and are even more plentiful than just a moment ago! They are dancing in the air, more random than snow, but light as milkweed blowing in the gentle breeze. A yellow jacket keeps invading my space, trying to enjoy the last bit of apple cider in my glass. Drunk on its sweetness, he keeps swooping a little too close for comfort. There won't be too many more glorious warm days like this before the weather turns cold. I am grateful to have the time today to sit here on the porch and be present. The cones on the Magnolia are reddening more now, such a contrast against her shiny, dark green leaves. Beneath her is the grave of my little Familiar kitty. Sweet tree, watching over the final resting place of my little kitty love.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Leaving Durham

What an amazing weekend this has been. Truly a blessing during a time in my life when I needed it the most. This has been a time of going into deep questions, of connecting with my desires to turn love into action, and of experiencing community around those questions and desires. I have been able to hold space for myself in this time of mourning without having to go into seclusion, and have been able to engage in meaningful experiences and conversations with wonderful people, and without ever feeling the need to turn the sad, hurting parts of myself away. It has been a weekend of both/and instead of either/or. In NVC language, it has been a time of "power with" instead of "power over." And I am feeling deeply nourished.

Tonight I had a long, wonderful conversation with Eileen, my gracious host and dear new soul sister. She is a strong, yet gentle woman, with a huge heart, and rich laughter. I have enjoyed hearing stories about her life, connecting in a really rich, authentic way. And I greatly appreciate the space to be who I am, to say anything, to ride the wave of life as it shows up...an amazing gift she has offered me. I have been talking so much lately about how I am coming into a time of truly accepting and loving myself, of being able to show up authentically without fear of judgement or not being accepted. But each time this shows up in my life with a new person, it gives me strength in this new way of being. It gives me confidence in this new, vulnerable way of living in the world, and encourages me to feed it, water it. And it is an ever-giving way of living...the more I am accepted, the more I am able to embrace others with that same acceptance, which delivers more of the same to me, on and on and on.

When I start to get excited about this way of living in the world, I can get so carried away, and start writing in a way that is ecstatic and beatific, and what I do notice when that happens is that I lose the connection with others, and with this world. I am wanting to observe that more in my life to see how it shows up. The energy that I feel in this excitement is an energy that moves me powerfully to express what it is that I'm feeling. The energy moves up and out in a rush. There is a part of me that is wondering how it would feel to approach things in another way. Not to repress the power of the feeling of excitement, but to allow it to simmer and deepen instead of exploding out of me in the form of words or action. What would it be like if I could simply sit with that intense living energy, and allow it to live within me? When the flames of the fire are licking the logs and dancing high, the fire is beautiful, but it is when the flames die down and the logs start to glow that the fire becomes mature, and the heat really radiates. I just wonder how this same principle might work in my own life. Hmmm...

As I prepare to return home tomorrow morning, I am feeling glad to return to my bed and my kitty. It will be wonderful to connect with the beautiful people in my life, and to begin the walk in my life once more, with more time having passed since Familiar kitty died. I am still feeling sadness about his passing every single day. I am still feeling the intensity of the impact of his passing on my body. I am thinking that having an acupuncture session early in the week would be wonderful if I can get that scheduled, for sure. And I am finding a real need to remember to stay present to my own experience and feelings, instead of pushing them away in the name of convenience or being "strong." I want to return to the soft place that this loss has opened in me, to stay connected to my heart even as life goes on.

Moving Past Fear

Well, it was bound to happen sometime...I missed writing yesterday! I was lying in bed last night, and it hit me that I hadn't written here...and I took a deep breath and let it go. Today is another day, and here I am, showing up on the page again.

Yesterday the fog started to clear, and it has continued to clear throughout today. The fear-based thinking that has been pulling me down, down, down began to lift. But not willingly. It has taken some serious effort on my part, some serious desire to hoist the thick stuckness off of me, and to send it on its way again and again.

I had a conversation with my beloved neighbor Lynn yesterday morning. The night before, I had fallen into a panic-stricken terror while trying to fall asleep. I had seen Alan's light on and knocked on the door, and he kindly sat with me while I wept and shivered and was overcome by the experience. Lynn suggested that *this* wasn't grieving and mourning...that it was something else. Possibly something else that was trying to feed on my grieving and mourning. An attachment that was drawn to the dark, heavy, sorrowful energy I have been emitting. And that attachment energy/presence/being/whatever was triggering me to feeling more alone and afraid and paranoid in order to feed itself. Having had strange experiences with energies like this before, I decided to sit with her idea, and see what happened.

She was absolutely right on.

There was one heavy presence, thick and gooey like a jellyfish, that was draped over my head, making it impossible for me to connect to any feeling or thought of love and power. I knew that I loved things, was passionate about things, but couldn't remember what exactly...I was stuck! I also felt there were two other secondary presences that were benefitting from the brain-sucking of the first one...and using my fear to trigger pain and pressure in my body, making me more afraid and paranoid that something was wrong with me. Seeing this, shining light into the dark places, these "attachments" were caught in the act - busted! And things started to change instantly.

My mantra these last two days has been "get the FUCK OFF of me!" Sometimes it has been necessary to physically pull the energies off my body. Sometimes the intention and words and feeling behind them are enough. But I have found in this a path back to my power. My center. Even if I was suffering from some strange series of afflictions, is *this* the way I want to die? Shriveled in fear and paranoia? Absolutely not! And I have felt things really turn upward today. Little bubbles of something have started appearing in my belly, along with feelings of something like joy in my heart. They are small, and still lost in a sea of sadness and residual body responses to fear and trauma, but they are there. Like seedlings emerging in the spring.

At our last Wisdom Circle, someone asked a question, "what gets you out of bed in the morning?" My answer came quickly, spontaneously. I get out of bed in the morning in the same way that seedlings emerge in the spring, from cold, hard, desolate earth that appears barren. I awake in the morning with the call of the sun, the call of life. And now, in this time of letting go and healing from the death of my sweet little Familiar kitty, the same energy is emerging. The energy of uprising, of life living itself alive over and over and over again.

What has been coming as a gift in this time of sorrow, followed by this time of fear, is the experience of softness. Of feeling laid out onto the ground, sprawling, vulnerable, with no resistance left in me. And beyond the fear and paranoia about my own mortality, beyond my sorrow about the loss of my kitty, there is this other piece of me, raw and honest. In fact, as I sit with it right now, I find that the sorrow and the fear and paranoia are *re-actions* to things that have happened. But this deeper piece is not...this raw, honest part is maybe the simplest, purest voice that I have ever heard come from me. It isn't worried about how I look or sound, how I will be perceived, what anyone else in the world is doing or thinking. It merely shows up, vulnerable and simple, honest for lack of energy to be anything else. And this voice feels so authentic. It almost feels like the other responses are happening in the snowglobe of my life - shaken up completely - but this other voice is the one that emerges after the snow settles down - in the empty space. Mmm. Yes.

A little more than a week before Familiar kitty passed, I had come to discover this new authenticity appearing in my life, and a total shift away from the fears that I had carried so long regarding how I am perceived by others. I am grateful to have taken the time to acknowledge that and to be present with it in my writing. And now, I see how that came at the perfect time. I have been learning to be authentic in a whole new way in this process of grief and panic and letting go. I am in various degrees of falling apart and coming back together every day right now! And there is no part of me that is trying to hide, to push people away, to pretend everything is fine, life as usual. Life is *not* as usual. And I am living authentically, riding that wave as it comes, accepting everything, trying to stay present. One breath at a time. One step at a time. One day at a time.

One Week

From my seat here in my bed, I can see a cloudy blue sky, and a tree whose leaves are just beginning to turn yellow. The sunlight is faint and weak this morning, providing some brightness but little warmth. But I am lucky, I am being given warmth by the cozy blankets all around me, and especially by the little golden kitty to my left side. He has a fixation with licking my hands, and has been licking away as I type. I sometimes think he likes the taste of the soap I use in the bathroom - Dr. Bronner's Peppermint - it must feel cool on his tongue.

One week ago right now, I was outstretched in the bathroom floor as my little Familiar kitty love was suffering and whining, crying out weakly. I am glad that I will not be home when that fated hour arrives - 1110am - the hour of his passing. It seems impossible that a week has passed since he died. In fact, since he became ill, my whole sense of the passing of time has become even less clear than usual. It is like the whole flow of my life stopped for him. I have a hard time figuring out which day it is, and what time it is. I am meeting my obligations without trouble, but in the other hours of the day, I feel pretty much lost. It's amazing the way a little being can give so much meaning to the day...and how empty and confusing those days become when that little being is gone.

But Friday kitty is such an incredible blessing. He can't heal the heartbreak or erase the sorrow. But he is so loving and so cuddly, and he just shows up *all the time* to love me. I always have laughed about his sweetness - that he is a "heart with feet." And that's always been true. If people broke into the house to steal stuff, I can just imagine him saying, "okay, take what you want, but hey, sit down a while and give me some love, what are you in such a hurry for?!" My little Friday kitty teacher has taught me many things, too. The two that have come to mind the most readily are these: have no memory, and love everyone for no reason. These are the gifts of this little being to my heart. I love him so much, and if he wasn't here right now, I don't know if I could be in this house anymore.

It all came on so quickly with Familiar - he seemed fine, and then he wasn't, and then he was gone in less than two days. And this has given me plenty of anxiety about my own body and mortality. The pain of my sorrow has definitely come into my body, with pronounced anxiety. Add to that PMS and an unusual amount of cramps accompanying that, and I have been pretty paranoid. I haven't been to a doctor in years, and I have little faith in western medicine...they tend to treat people as objects, so little respect, and very little time and listening...they just seem to want to medicate you and get you out of the office. But this is why I have come to appreciate alternative medicine so much. My acupuncturist always has the time to listen to what is going on, body, mind, and spirit. In fact, it is necessary to know that in order to choose a treatment. But now, my mind spins to "what if?" If Familiar kitty could go from fine to gone in a few days, my own life is equally fragile. And my parents have health issues that are considered genetically passed down - high blood pressure, diabetes, etc. I find myself concerned that I will be afflicted with these things too, especially given that I am overweight and have been my whole life. When my mind gets hold of these ideas, the fear and paranoia mount, more and more and more.

But the truth is that I am not my parents. I eat relatively well. I don't eat junk food, really, and haven't for years. I eat fresh fruit and veggies, and whole grains. I have been vegetarian for more than ten years. I do eat way too much sugar, though, and that is probably my major downfall in eating healthy. I do walk somewhat regularly, too, but am not as active as I'd like to be. I have been making an effort to walk more these last few days. I suppose that if this fear and paranoia do bring me a sincere message of ways that I can improve my own health and wellbeing, they are not empty messengers. I am listening to those needs, the needs to take better care of my body out of love of this life.

The clouds have cleared somewhat, and the sunlight is bolder. A soft breeze is rustling the trees, and a bird is calling in the distance - or is that a squirrel? It is a beautiful day. I am grateful to be alive in this sweet world.

The Passing of Familiar Kitty

There is a part of me that wants to float again, to push past the deep sorrow that has made its way into my heart, but the sorrow is seeping into my body, into my bones. As it must. Anyone worth loving is worth mourning. And my body is offering itself over to the grief process. I feel heavy and tired, I find myself staring off into space, feeling tingly and strange. I feel fear and panic, as I previously wrote, and somewhere deeper than that is a deep desire to go on living strong and bright. The strong part of me wants to coax me out of mourning, and says, "you should get a little kitten!" But there is another part of me that wants to just sink into this sadness, not push it aside. Also, not dramatize it, or feed it, but to just honor it when it appears.

I have somehow avoided going into the depth of writing about Familiar kitty's death and ceremony. Part of me wants to let it go. But another part of me just can't, and wants to honor his little life with a heartfelt telling of his death. I am going to try.

When I wrote last Wednesday, I wrote only a couple hours before he passed. It was Wednesday morning that it happened, a little after 11am.

I felt that his end was coming near. I was actually stunned that he had not passed in the night. I had trained my ears to listen for his cries, his whines...and throughout the previous night I had gone to him whenever he cried. He had settled in the green bathroom, behind the toilet for the most part, on Tuesday evening. After getting himself there, he had little strength to move again.

I had asked Alan to stay over on Tuesday night, both to care for Friday and to be there in case Familiar had passed during the night. I was afraid of what I would do if I found him dead in the night, and I knew that having support was better. I gave Alan my bed, and I took a mattress on the floor of the meditation room. And all through the night, he cried out, and I went to him. Around sunrise, I started giving him Rescue Remedy, which allowed him to be calmer, and sometimes more than an hour would pass without him crying out. When Alan got up to leave, I got up too, and was so surprised to see his bony body still pulsing with breath.

I knew that all there was left for me to do was be with him. His cries were weaker than ever. His breathing was shallow and soft. His eyes looked dazed and non-responsive. I kept bursting into tears every few minutes, stunned that he was leaving me. I called Lynn, and asked if she could come over...she was on her way to class, and said she would come by later in the morning. I called Ros, and she was able to come over and sit with me for a few minutes. She was the last person other than me to touch his sweet little head, or kiss his soft fur.

I lay on my side, between the toilet and the bathtub, reaching my hand to his little cold paw. I rubbed it and squeezed it constantly. I talked to him softly, telling him how much I loved him, telling him how sorry I was that he was suffering, and that I couldn't believe that this time had come. Now and then, he would cry out with more power, and would try to sit himself up or even stand, but his strength was failing. He would stretch out his legs, reaching and pushing with all the strength he could manage as he cried out. I hope that he wasn't feeling agonizing pain...I felt so helpless, having no idea how to help him. He pushed himself side to side behind the toilet, front legs pushing against the sink, then hind legs pushing against the bathtub. It was heartbreaking to watch.

When his position was more centered around the sink, I moved my body to that side. I lay belly-down on the urine stained bath towels, and took his sweet little head in my hands. When Ros arrived, this is how she found us. She was there to comfort me, and was so kind to both me and my little kitty. She stayed a short time, and then left us together with her prayers and love.

After she left, I talked to my little love. I told him with more authority than I could have consciously managed, "I am ready to let you go." I talked to him about how my emotional reaction must be hard for him, too, because it must seem that I want him to stay. Indeed, I wanted him to stay!! Forever and ever, for the rest of my life, I wanted him to stay! But that was clearly not what was happening, and I wanted to reassure him that when his time came, I didn't want him to hold on to this life and this suffering for me. I sobbed my heart out, and eventually stood to get some water.

Throughout the morning I had only moved away from him a couple times. Each time, his cries would pull me back as quick as I could get there, and this last one was no different. I came right back to him...it almost seemed that whenever I wasn't touching him, he would cry out. His eyes were so wide, as if they were trying to take in the light, even though the room was brightly lit with morning light and the lights on too. I wondered if he had lost his sight, and if touch was the only way he was able to know I was still there. I stayed there, and held him - his paw, his face. I talked to him, I sang to him medicine songs that came to my mind. And I told him that God is so good. I told him that when his guardians, angels, and guides come to take him that he needed to go with him, to let go of this body and this life. Now, looking back on this, I can hardly believe that I was able to be so present and so strong with him - my heart was destroyed, I was beside myself with sorrow, and yet I knew that the only thing for me to do in those moments was to sit that slightly aside to be there for him.

His cries became weaker. He had pushed himself much more toward the sink. I reached over to him, and slid his tiny frame from behind the toilet, and closer to me. I thought that by having my body closer to his, I could offer him more comfort. And what a sweet thing, to feel his body so close to mine at that moment. I continued to hold his head in my hand, and his paw in my other hand. As he cried out again, one of his paws reached out and grazed my face, and then my arm...he had been pushing with his legs as the agony would come, and now he had nothing to push into but me. He eventually began to grip at the towel, too, and I reassured him that I was there, and that it was all going to be okay. I noticed that he had begun to poop, and I reached over and grabbed some tissue to clean that up. He cried out again, and I brought my face close to him, crying harder than ever. Then, his pushing, stretching, reaching paws relaxed.

Something moved through my body, and I pushed myself up onto my forearms, and I looked at his little belly. It was not moving. So many things went through my mind, but I pushed them aside...I knew that the moment had come. A powerful gasp came from him, his little toothy mouth open, tongue reaching out, eyes open wide. His side was still not moving, though I could see his heartbeat just beneath the surface of his skin. One paw reached out in a clawing, clenching motion. I took it in my hand, and I told him that it was okay, to let go...the other paw reached out in a similar way, and I squeezed it too. One more powerful gasp came. I continued to hold on to him, and tell him how much I loved him, and to encourage him to let go, to go with the spirits/guides/angels who had come to help him pass. I could hardly breathe myself...waiting, hoping that maybe this was just a time of shock, that his belly would start to rise and fall again...but it did not. I tried to sing to him, to hold space for his spirit to pass out of the body, but through the song came a river of tears.

I wept more uncontrollably than I have ever wept before. I cried out from the bottom of my heart, the bottom of my soul, I just couldn't believe that he was gone. I stayed with him, too, still holding him, waiting for his heart to slow and stop beating altogether. I heard the front door open, and a "hello sweetie" call out. Lynn had arrived.

She couldn't have had more perfect timing. I cried and cried and cried, and she held my hands and pulled me close. She held space for me to be in that intense grief, and I was so grateful not to be there alone in that moment. She stayed with me for about an hour.

I tried to close his little eyes and mouth, but couldn't really. I kept wanting to go back to his little body, a shell of the kitty that I had loved for thirteen years. I buried my face in the fur of his neck, as I had so many times before, and it still smelled like him. He was still warm, and I cried into his neck until the fur was wet. After some time, Lynn helped me to clear out the bathroom so that I could wrap him up. I decided to wrap his body in a bright orange wrap that I had bought from Amma's shop when I saw her for the first time several years ago. It had little Indian symbols on it, and some Sanskrit blessings too, and I had taken it to Peru to use as an altar cloth before - it felt special and sacred to me, and would be perfect to bury my little kitty love in.

I thought I would be freaked out by moving the body of my little one, cold and stiff, no longer warm and alive. Lynn offered to do it for me, but I knew that I needed to do it myself. We cleared the extra towels, keeping one, and folded the wrap in half on top of it. I reached down and picked up my little kitty, and the river of tears began again. Oh, how badly I had wanted to hold on to my little kitty love as he was dying, and how it seemed to cause him suffering whenever I would pick him up out of necessity. But in that moment, he was no longer suffering. His body was so small, and not so fragile anymore. I held him and squeezed him, and I was so surprised that his fur felt so soft, still. I touched his face, running my fingers over his soft cheekbones, his soft nose, his soft forehead, and his little ears and neck. It was the saddest thing I have ever experienced, this little body that was once so alive. But it was also so healing to hold him, one last time. I held him for a long time. But eventually the time came for me to put him down and wrap him up. I closed the bathroom door after that, and left a bowl of sage burning within.

I need to stop here. I want to share about the beautiful ceremony, too, but that will have to wait. My heart aches anew just writing about this, and I simply can't go into it any further right now.

It will take a long time for me to fully let go of this sweet being that blessed my life for so many years. The sorrow is so deep, but it is flowing, too.

A Day of Healing

I am feeling strange in my body today. My head is foggy, and full of energy. My heart aches more than I have ever felt before. I feel completely ungrounded, sometimes lightheaded. Given the last couple of days of my life, this is no great surprise. I feel like my body is being rearranged to hold this great sorrow, alongside so much deep love. And I am grateful that tomorrow afternoon will include acupuncture, to help shift me back into a place of balance.

Thursday afternoon, my friend Sarah came over, and we spent some time clearing the house energetically with sage and sweetgrass and palo santo. It was so smoky at times that it was hard to breathe. As we walked around, from room to room, I spoke to the spirit of my little kitty, telling him that it was okay to leave energetically, that he could move on into greater adventures in the universe. I asked that the heavy energy of sorrow, trauma, pain, suffering, fear, and all the rest be lifted from the house. We opened the windows fully, and asked the energies that needed to leave to go through the windows, through the water (faucet, turned on), and through the Earth beneath us. I offered gratitude to my little buddy for all our beautiful years together, and told him that just because he had been in our house for the last almost eight years didn't mean that he had to linger. I told him that I let him go completely, not from my heart, but from my house, my life, this physical realm. And I told him that when the spirits/angels/guides/whoever are ready to take him on to whatever is next for him, that he should absolutely go with them.

We cleared all the places where he had been lying and suffering - the nook in the living room by the bookshelf, the futon, the music room by the dresser, the hallway, beneath the chair in the meditation room, the shower, and mostly the green bathroom. We saved the green bathroom for last, since that was where he passed. Sarah told me that she felt intuitively that I needed to clear that room alone, and we waited to do that room last. She stood outside as I spoke to the spirit of my sweet little one, and I faced her. As I spoke some of the above things to Familiar kitty, I felt something poke me in my right leg, below the knee, with enough strength to cause my knee to buckle a bit. It surprised me, more than scared me, and i realized that it was my kitty asking me to turn and speak to him directly. I sensed that his presence was right there with me, standing in the place where he passed. So, I turned, and continued to speak to him, to offer him my love and gratitude, asking for forgiveness for anything that I was feeling guilty about, and encouraging him to go on to his next life.

I also asked that if he did choose to continue to visit me, or to stay around, that I needed some time. I need some time to mourn him, to grieve this loss of him in a physical body that I can touch and see, that I can interact with in the only way that I know. I told him that that was too much for me, that it would make my grief even harder, and that it would probably creep me out for now. I asked that he give me some time before visiting me again - not because I don't still love him, because I do, completely! But because I need to get used to living without him there in my house every day, always nearby, always getting into something, always crying out, letting his presence be known. I think that there will be a time in the future where it would be deeply moving to know that he is nearby, that he is still my little companion, if only in spirit. But not yet.

When I came home from class last night, the energy in the house was so much lighter. It feels empty. So empty. My little Familiar kitty would always be right there - on the stove, on the kitchen counter, on the table, on the coffee table, by the front door, on the stereo cabinet, in the music room...and always moving, moving, moving. He kept the energy of my house stirred. And now that has shifted. I keep expecting to see him. I know his rhythm in my life. But now, after the clearing, that has shifted. It is quiet. It is still. Friday kitty doesn't move around a whole lot. It feels empty. But it feels clear. The heavy energy of trauma and suffering has lifted. I am grateful. I need to be comfortable in my own home, and I am so glad that he could hear my needs and honor them. I am also grateful for whatever beings/spirits/guides that were there, for them taking him onward into the universe.

What an honor and blessing it has been to share our lives together for these thirteen years. My heart was opened by him in those sweet first months together. And as he died, my heart was opened and stretched beyond anything I've ever felt before. I will write more specifically about his passing very soon. But it was still too soon today.

I decided that today I needed to take care of some simple, practical things. And that I also needed to connect to Mother Earth to begin my process of healing. So, I decided to go to Larriland Farm to pick apples. It was such a hot day! The sky was blue, and I was sweating as I picked Jonagold, Cameo, Braeburn, and Fuji apples. And then, I went on to harvest my own broccoli - yum! At one point, I walked past some grass that was super fine and soft, and I followed my heart's desire to recline in the grass in the sun, to feel the Earth holding me. She is holding me as I grieve. She is holding me as I stay open, allowing my sorrow to move me, to flow through. She gives me strength to not close myself to the transformative power of love, a power that clearly flows far beyond life and death in the physical realm. Before I left the farm, I also bought some fresh apple cider, and some little pumpkins and gourd - and I put one of each of those on Familiar kitty's sweet little grave.

Waiting

I am sitting in the bathroom floor on top of a towel, next to my sweet little buddy Familiar kitty. He's pushed the heating pad off for now - which helps to keep him warm, as his body temperature has been falling. He's resting, peaceful, softly purring, and every few minutes, I reach over and touch him gently - rubbing his ears, neck, paws, nose. He is so thin - I hadn't realized that he had become so much thinner in the last week or two, it's sometimes hard to notice those things when you're around someone so often. 6.6 pounds. That's what the vet told me last night, he weighs 6.6 pounds. What a far cry that is from the obese buddy of a few years back, nearly 19 pounds.

My heart is ripped open, and the tears keep welling up, overcoming me. I simply cannot imagine this little one not being in my life. He has been in my life for 13 years now, ever since I got my first apartment when I was 20. This morning, I went out to have some food with my dear beloved neighbors, since I had been too consumed by this whole thing to have any dinner last night. I hated to leave, just in case he passed...but he was looking a bit more sparkly, he had eaten lots of salmon, and was drinking lots of water. And I know that I must continue to take care of myself.

He's just shifted now, as he does quite frequently. He's probably uncomfortable in his body, being so skinny, and at least he's now laying on top of the heating pad. That will be good, he won't feel trapped by it, at least. Now he's moved on to pee on the bedroom carpet, and is trying to get comfortable in the hallway. His cries are so sorrow-inducing. They seem to say, "I don't understand! What is happening?" And I am trying to be there for the little guy, just to comfort him with touch. He is weak, staggers when he walks. But to my great joy and delight, he still came to meet me at the door when I returned home from having brunch...oh, the joy of my little buddy Familiar, meeting me at the door so many times, demanding, "food please, and now!"

The vet didn't even need to do much to know that he was experiencing some liver ailment. It could be liver failure or cancer, or some other thing, and it probably also a hyperthyroid problem too. But she seemed to think it was advanced enough, evidenced by the jaundice in his skin and eyes, that it was only going to be a matter of time. I am still in disbelief that the time is nearing to say goodbye to this little creature who has taught me so much, given me so much...

But it is in a moment like this when the things that truly matter become clear as the blue summer sky. I love this kitty. I couldn't care less that he's peeing on the rug, that can be cleaned. I only want to be here to love him and to fulfill my commitment to him, that I would lovingly care for him for as long as he walked this earth. My heart is breaking...but my own suffering is not so consuming that I am not coming back to this blessed gift of time together. I am so lucky to have whatever time we have right now. I want to keep my heart open in spite of the pain, to love him over and over again, to feel the pain and allow it to stretch my heart even wider.

Blessings and love to you, little Familiar kitty, sweet buddy. I am here for you, I am here.

Sick Kitty

Porch sitting, midday, sunshine is bright and clear. This is the brightly burning of the sweet end of summer, of giving one last burst of warmth and light before the slow slide into the cold and dark winter. The wind blows, stillness abounds. Here there is no time, there is no problem, there is nothing but present moment awareness, and I am content.

And upstairs is a little kitty who is not well right now - my Familiar kitty.

I'm feeling really concerned about him. And there is some conflict inside of me about what to do to help him. I would prefer not to go to the vet. The vet I've taken him to for a long time is pretty good, but they have a lot of ideas that are just so deeply rooted in the western medical paradigm. Required vaccinations, antibiotics, endless invasive tests. And for a little buddy who isn't feeling well, I hate to subject him to that unless it's absolutely necessary. I don't subject myself to it, and have a hard time supporting that whole system. But is my own philosophical commitment of value when it could cause my little buddy more suffering?

Not only that, but it's so expensive to go through all those tests. And they are so often just guessing, or just trying to rule things out, just like they do with humans. But humans can at least speak up about their experience of being less-than-well. Little kitties can't do that.

He is so skinny now, and has been for a few years. He has begged or tried to steal food for quite a while now. I finally broke down and gave him some canned food, some that a friend had given me. He loved it. I bought some. He gobbled it down. So I bought some more, hoping that feeding him that stuff once a day wouldn't interfere with his food requirement by the vet - to keep his urinary tract from having issues. And now, a week after these new canned foods, he is having problems.

He whines long and loud, begging for more and more food. It's so hard to deny him! And I wonder, with him being so skinny, does he have some deep deficiency or problem that I am not aware of, that hasn't shown up in any other ways before now? He has also been peeing on the floor for the last few days, which is bizarre. He isn't exclusively peeing on the floor, and uses the box, too. This is apparently one of the issues that arise with urinary tract issues, but fortunately he isn't peeing blood or trying to pee and having nothing come out - which means a blockage. So, I have gone to the natural food store, and bought some natural remedies for this problem. I am hoping and praying that this does the trick...and also wondering how long to wait before taking more action and going to the vet. I have also given him some detox medicine, which is homeopathic, as well as a homeopathic remedy for intestinal issues...in case the food itself has caused some issues. He has been having lots of gurgling in his belly, and some stinky gas. And Reiki! I have given him some Reiki this morning, too, hoping that will connect with these beautiful medicines from the Earth, and bring him a quick recovery.

I love this little guy so much. He's my first cat, and probably the first being that ever completely melted my heart. He has taught me to love. And he has driven me crazy at times, too! But beyond any of that irritation - mostly related to begging for food - I have nothing but deep, profound love for this little one. And I know that all of us will eventually pass from this realm of life, and that he's not so young anymore - he's 13 1/2 now - but I would love to have him around for a few more years at least!

What worries me a bit more is that he's sometimes got a little stagger. Now, I do too when I'm really not feeling good. And he does have the energy to bolt down the stairs to try to beg my food from me - even a few minutes ago - but other than that, he is pretty lethargic and just laying around. I don't remember the last time he didn't meet me at the door when I came home, but last night he wasn't there. So sad! =(

For now, I'm going to stay intuitively connected to him, continue to give him these homeopathics and Reiki, and keep my prayers going nonstop. And I ask that if you're reading this, could you please send some prayers and love his way too?