Night Rain

A thunderstorm is gracing this lovely evening. It’s been warm and misty all day, and tonight as I returned home, the mist turned into a more steady drizzle. A light, lovely fog has lingered since morning, too, adding a stunning haziness to the clear edges of the world. What a stunning evening this is, too. It’s warm and humid, and the sweet, thick smell of wet earth permeates the night. It is delicious, heady, and intoxicating. I have been lulled out onto the porch by this glorious rainy evening, and am grateful for the temperature, which allows me to linger without the least bit of discomfort.

Dare I mention how strange it is to experience a thunderstorm in November, and to enjoy an evening that is likely near 60 degrees? To keep my windows open, just a little, each night as I go to sleep, though Thanksgiving is nearly a week away? Each year, I play a little game with myself: how late can I wait before turning on the heat? And last year, I made it to mid-November before freezing my ass off. Right now, it’s later than that, and I haven’t yet felt any need to turn to heat. Global warming, anyone?

Surely it is. Mother Earth is doing her best to keep balance in her ecosystems, but change is clearly here. Is she ill? In spite of the common belief that she is dying, that she is terminally damaged, I have my doubts about that. She is changing, for sure. She is doing her very best to purge the damages that we humans have wrought upon her sweet soils, and rivers, and oceans, and skies. If necessary, she will purge us right off her surface, I have no doubt. When there is an imbalance of harmful bacteria in our human bodies, our immune systems kick in and oust the invader that is causing so much trouble. And true, bacteria live in our bodies in great balance much of the time. It’s when the tipping point is reached and illness occurs that the purging must begin. And all this changing in our weather patterns is Mother Earth’s global immune system trying to set things right.

God bless her, for sending these beautiful purging rains to cleanse her of the harmful, toxic elements that we have hoisted upon her systems in our ignorance. And God bless this heavy rain that now falls. And God bless this sweet sacred Tobacco that has brought me into a deeper, more intimate connection with this night, with the cool air, damp and sweet.

Thunder rumbles again as the rain becomes heavier and heavier. And as I sit here on the porch in the candlelight, I am feeling good inside. Simple. Sweet. Content.

It has been six weeks since Familiar kitty died, six weeks yesterday. And I am feeling my body return to its own state of equilibrium, releasing the pain of sorrow and grief. My life continues, and I am grateful for that. There is electricity in the air tonight, and I am feeling alive and alert, and grateful for having a life that allows me this connection with Mother Earth. A television flickers in a house to my left, and I wonder if those people have any idea what splendor they’re missing. While they sit in their house following sitcoms or dramas or news, out here Mother Earth is telling her own story, a story of renewal and simplicity and ease and necessity and life. Lightning flashes brightly, followed three seconds later by deep, rich thunder.

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...

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.

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.