What's Next?

88/100

I've been watching people change their facebook icons to photos of their mom. My mom died long enough ago that I don't believe I have any digital photos of her. I always think about my mom on days like today. About the good memories and the difficult ones. I wish I knew where the eulogy is that I wrote for her. I thought it was beautiful and I remember I sang at her funeral. She died on my sister's 30th birthday. It was a difficult time for all of us, she had suffered a long time and in many ways we were grateful she passed so she could find some peace.

I remember about a year before my mom died, when she was still mostly lucid, she told me about a dream she had. In it, she was dressed in a beautiful ball gown. There was music playing and she told me there were candles everywhere. She told me that God came up to her and asked her to dance. She told me she refused and walked away. "By god I sure showed Him who was boss!" I remember her saying. She wasn't ready to die. In fact, I remember my mother said that she wanted to be cremated an put on the fireplace so she could watch everyone. I think she was only half joking.

I think a lot about that. About her fear of dying. About her anger at God for asking her to dance. It makes me sad. Sad for all the pain and sadness that came after that dream. That long year that she, all 82 pounds of her fought, raged and ultimately lost the battle with death.

I remember when I was learning to do journey work (sort of a form of meditation). For some, journey work is about going outside of yourself to connect with forces to get insight. At first, that is what I thought it was as well. Going to speak to my guides to get 'answers'. Because I somehow felt some entity outside myself actually had answers for me. Now? When I look at journey work, I realize it is to go inside myself. To look at my own mythology, my own patterns, my own stories and find my own answers. In training, one of the first journeys we did was to create a 'garden'. A 'sacred space' in our spirit that we could go to grow and learn. I loved my 'sacred' space. All the items I found there were items that had personal meaning to me. Once we learned about our sacred space, we had other journeys to learn different techniques, etc. During the second round of training, I remember one journey in particular. I think about if often. In the journey, we were to seek the 'boat' that would come for us upon our deaths. One that would meet us at our sacred garden space and take us forward into the journey of death. One that we were not afraid of, one that was sacred to us. It may appear different to everyone, but one that we knew was there to help us with our crossing.

As I've aged, I've realized how terrified of death many people are. I'm saddened a bit that as a culture we don't have some 'death' awareness that eases the fear and anxiety that the thought of dying engenders. I met a friend recently who told me he had plans to live until he was 120. I smiled. I listened. I could hear his determination. He had THINGS TO DO. He asked me how long I wanted to live. I said... "oh... as long as I live I suppose. But not over 100. That doesn't really sound appealing to me. Maybe 90 or so. As long as I am healthy, that's fine." He couldn't understand why I didn't want to live as long as possible. I couldn't answer him but to say that I want to be healthy, I am taking better care of my body, I am spending more time with spirit, but I have no desire to live forever. Not even close. I see my dad watch all the people he loves pass away, and I think to myself. I don't want that. That isn't the end of life I want. I don't want to fight like my mother did. When death comes I want to feel like I have lived a full life and that I'm okay to leave it for whatever comes next. If death comes suddenly? I want to know that everyone I love knew that I loved them. I tell them all the time and I know if I love you? You know it. I don't wait for a special day or a special moment, as if  love is some 'limited commodity' and I can only share it on given days and in given ways. Love is a gift and one I give of freely.

My best friend Candace has a gift. She can sit with people while they die and hold their space for them. I don't know how else to explain it. She talks to them, encourages them, comforts them. Even if they are in a coma or in a medical haze, she has the capacity to surround them with love. She can look at their feet, look at their eyes and tell you how soon they are going to cross. I wish she could get paid to simply sit with people and help them make the transition between living and passing. It is a rare gift and I cherish it about her. I wasn't able to do that very well with my mom and I hope, when the day comes, that she will hold my hand and comfort me while I cross into whatever I find to be next.

For me? I like knowing in my spirit that there is something next. I'm not sure I understand the people that insist that when you die, that's it. Game over. I do not claim by *any* means to KNOW what is next with some absoluteness, but I do believe there is something. What a long life it would be to think.. well I live this and then *poof* I'm worm food. (Or in my case, fish fertilizer. I'd prefer they just burn and scatter me on the lake somewhere. I see no reason to bury my hollowed out skin that has been pumped full of toxic chemicals that will pollute the soil around for an extended period of time. Ew.) But I wonder, if there is nothing more, if I do simply die, where is the harm in having lived a life where I believed there would be more? If I'm dead and now fish food, I won't know so it isn't like I'll have some big regret that I was 'suckered' into thinking there would be more, right? I guess it is a mystery to me.

I didn't think I would be writing a Mother's Day blog on death, but in some ways it turns out that is what is on my mind lately. I certainly don't want to die, I have such a wonderful, fulfilling, happy, frustrating, delightful life. I'm not ready to be done with it. But? I don't live every day fearing it might be over tomorrow. Fearing I haven't left my 'mark on the world'. My life is what it is and where it is. I don't believe I let life live me, I believe I live life. Sometimes I take silly chances, sometimes I play it safe, but no matter how I play it, I am grateful for it. And when the end comes? I hope I can die with some grace. I want to meet my boat and feel a sense of contentment and joy that I was fortunate to have walked on this planet as long as I walked.

I hope my mom found peace and joy in her passing. I want to believe that 12 years ago, God was there waiting, and this time, she took His hand and smiled and said, "Why yes, yes I would love to dance."

Peace,

MaryKate

Tripping the Pet-fantastic
4/100

This morning while making my breakfast, I looked out the window and the color of a stump for a moment reminded me of my cat. Not my current cat, but the cat who first stole my heart - Rubio. The moment passed quickly and I realized what I had done and chuckled to myself. I remembered the day he was born. I had just graduated from college and was about to head to grad school. His mother had been a stray that had wormed her fat bellied, yellow-eyed, squishy-faced mug into my life. I had named her Mukata (meaning 'owl' in some obscure language as I recall...). One day, when I walked into my tiny apartment, Mookie was giving birth in the corner next to the couch. The floor was bloody and she was crying out, I didn't realize what was wrong until I walked over and saw all the kittens. I named them after Shakespeare characters, Romeo (he was adorable), Desdemonda (she was gray with marbled circles on her), Hamlet (who was always confused) and Rubio (who wasn't named after a Shakespeare character, but a cute boy I met in Mexico...)

Mookie's end was tragic... she accidentally drown chasing a raccoon into a pool she couldn't jump out of. The reason I bring it up? Is because of my mother's response. My mother who seldom cried, seldom expressed overt tenderness? Had deeply connected with Mookie. My mom would sit and do puzzles for hours. Mookie would sit on the table with her, keeping her company. She'd sleep above my mom's head on the couch and never demand more of my mother, than my mother was physically or emotionally able to give. When Mookie died, my mother looked at me and said, "Don't ever bring another animal into this house." And I knew, beyond a doubt how deeply my mother was grieving the loss of her pet.

I still miss Rubio. And even though I now have the "Princess" and love her tremendously... there is a place in my heart where Rubio lives and will always live.

I'm not going to make a blanket statement here, but oh wait... yes I am. Pets change lives. Or, pets can change lives. One of the healthiest things I did after my divorce, was get a pet. When I got married I gave up the cat I had adopted at the time. Due to allergies and such, I certainly (although foolishly) did it willingly thinking it would be no big deal to me. But it turned out to be one of those 'painful learning experiences' I've had a few of...  I felt lonely and like something important was missing in my life. Even when my marriage was going well, I wanted a dog or an 'allergy free cat' or *something*. And while I didn't end up getting one, I realize now how deeply pets matter to me. They connect me to my heart and speak deeply to the ability for me to be devoted. They are such bundles of drama, but they are also bundles of warm snuggles on the couch, purrs in the evening, and alarm clocks in the morning. I adore the new addition to my family and I realize how devoted I have become to my little 4 legged monster. This morning, and well... every morning she gets under my feet. Tripping me all the way to the kitchen... for her? love = food. I have a pet with weight issues. This does not surprise me. *chuckle*

Pets give us the opportunity to love. To fill our lives. To connect on a deep level with another being. We don't have to understand their language (although I am CLEAR what the 'I'm hungry' meow sounds like) but we connect with them anyhow.I remember the first cat we had in our family. My father, from the depth of his lungs scolded us "There will be NO cat in this house it is an OUTSIDE cat!" It took two weeks for that cat to be following him everywhere and sleeping on his lap at night. Pets? Are just like that I suppose.

From my kitchen window I can see horses at the farm next door. These horses are show horses. They are absolutely magnificent. And I see the people that pet them, and love them and I think about so many of my students who show horses. Their admiration for their animals truly goes beyond 'pet' and into the realm of 'partner'. They learn to read each other's language: horse to man, man to horse. It is a beautiful and graceful dance they do together.

For so long, I used food to fulfill an empty space in my soul. And while I'd love to say getting a pet will help you lose weight, I don't know that's true. But having a pet that I love and that loves me? Makes walking away from that brownie, just a wee bit easier...

So give your pet a hug today if you have one... if you don't? Consider adopting a pet  from the shelter or pound, I did. If you have room in your life, giving a pet a forever home? Is a gift that can and likely will change your life... I know it changed mine.

Peace,
MaryKate