Cosmic Alchemy

I had to learn how to love myself
I had to learn how to put myself first
I had to discover my Truest Human Alignment
I had to Practice holding that configuration, that pose, that breath
I had to seek, find, maintain that balance
I had to so totally focus on the Me part of the One so that I could fully come on line
I had to fully transmute all that energy of compounded lies
I had to burn it all as part of my cosmic alchemy
I had to align myselfs through All Time/No Time
I had to delve into my own Akash and heal, transmute, align all those left behind bits
I had to complete that which I shrugged, shirked, failed, rejected, dismissed
I had to sit, plop, fall heavily into all the failures, rejections, misses, horror, drama, traumas
I had to bring it all up for review and revision like vomit followed by bile
I had to contemplate forgiveness from every angle

Yes, forgiveness
How can I forgive You if I cannot forgive myself?
You are Me
I am You
We are all One in MoreThanLove
MoreThanLove encompasses all the love, all the shades, all the shadows, all the tears, all the fears, all the failures, all the gold, all the coal, all the heat, all the cold, all the nuances of incompletion

your heat your life your power your warmth your depth your touch your heart your mind your soul so open never closed poured out in wistful longing in bliss just one more kiss in every memory of  longing combined into this one moment goodbye waiting always waiting for one more time oh Heart! hold me to this Truth hold me to this path to completion and all I can do is Love you from within the depth of this place of heart overflowing my heart your heart always yours always mine forevermore

A Raccoon, The Dolphin Balloon & Dragon Talons

Any manner of configuration manifests indelicately here within the confines of words understood, likely, by nobody but me. It's just as it should be. Reconnoiter, reconstruction...raccoon. I didn't mean to hit the little bastard. Neither one of us saw it coming. That's what makes it an accident. Still. I lift mine spirit to thine spirit, oh Raccoon and I am aggrieved that your life ended, not by my hand, but by my tires or by my car's body slamming into your body. There was nothing either one of us could have done. Such a metaphor for all that's wrong.

One thing leads to the other. That's life....


And then, inexplicably, I managed to lock Ashlin in my car. She was all snuggled in her winter coat, in her car seat, ready to go. All she really cared about was getting her hands on the big, huge dolphin balloon that I had just gotten her to replace the little pink one that had floated up and away to meet the stars the night before. Hilary, thankfully, was still there. All's well, as the saying goes....but my tenuous sensibilites were already compromised. Roiling emotions colliding into one another...hot friction building, as it is meant to...designed to draw me inward, ever inward, to that place where the dialogue is muted, urgent...pay attention, pay attention, it whispers. All this is happening for a reason. Be wise. Be here now and understand it all as it unfolds. Hindsight isn't an option I am willing to embrace this time. Tapped in, tuned in....adjusting the frequency for a better reception of the Universal messages that prevail. I'm listening with more senses than the five most known. Perhaps more accutely. And I am still in recognition of being just slightly out of phase. I know it looks like I'm in a fog. I know it looks like I'm not doing well...but, as with so many such occurances...things are not as they appear.


Then....

I find Mom sitting at a table in the dining area of the nursing home where she is being kept safe and cared for. She looks up and her face is suffused with the pleasure of recognition and an array of emotions flit there as if across a screen in montage. I stand still, my face on a level with hers, eye to eye, allowing all the other senses to connect for though her mind may not be fully at her disposal, I know her Soul is. The moment passes and we move on into her room. There is a bustle of changing her, testing her blood sugar, administering her insulin and settling her onto her bed. We are then alone. I focus my attention on taking care of some of her personal needs, things for a daughter to do for a mother. She acquiesces in silence, compliant in docility so unlike the woman that I have called Mother for 47 years. While I carefully clip what have become dragon talon fingernails, we are mostly silent. I decide to gently ply her. "Do you know who I am?" She answers, "Yes, of course I do. You are Diane," her younger sister who has passed on. In the quieter nuances of expression, I sense that she knows that this is not right. "No," I whisper. "I am your youngest daughter, Heather." Her energy has shifted into an unknowing place where she seems to float, disconnected and vague. It's strange how such vibrant, strong willed, independent people can disappear into a black cavern in the mind. I switch sides so that I can clip the dragon talons on her left hand. Clip, clip, snip, snip, being so very careful to not hurt her in any way, I am very focused. We are very quiet. I wield an emory board across her nicely shortened nails as if I know what the fuck I'm doing; like I've done this before. I look up into her fading eyes. She looks back into mine. We just stare at each other but we do not speak. Then, "How's that?" I ask. "Oh, that's...that's just...." Her words fall off into an abyss I believe she's become all too familiar with. Then she smiles a small little smile and reaches up to kiss me. Then, she ever so gently touches my hair and says, "Your hair...it's so lovely...so beautiful." I feel this heinous lump rising from some unknown depths into my throat. I can hardly swallow. She has NEVER touched me with such tenderness. NEVER looked at me with tender affection such as this. I say, "Thank you. It was a gift from you and Daddy." Not missing a beat she queries, "Oh, he doesn't miss it, having given it to you?" I could laugh and cry at the same time but she clumsily wraps her arms around me again, kisses me.


The ALL that she conveys to me is done in the language of the Soul, in energy, synergy and the belief that we are so much more than these physical bodies. And though most of my childhood, most of my adult relationship with my mother has been unadulterated SHITE...though we have battled for boundaries and fought for what we believed in, there has never been a doubt that some form of love is vollied between us. It's been a working relationship....one we've been working on for years. The things I've learned from my mother are not things consciously taught, but rather, learned through this life struggle, both of us earnestly interested in personal growth and independence. We, none of us, is perfect. We, none of us, have it all figured out. I find that we figure it out as we go along. I love my mother richly, deeply, intensely. I respect her for the hard struggle of her life. I adore her outrageous sense of humor and her ability to find the oddest circumstances hysterically funny. I love the humility that has not always been easily admitted to or arrived at. I am ever grateful for her love of words and books and all things British. And I know I would not be this complicated, complex individual without having had her as my Mother. And I know, for all the ways she really fucked me up, during some phases of my malleable years more than others, she loves me with a love uniquely generated from someplace in her center...someplace in that Soul that is so much more, so much larger than this physical body she presently inhabits.


As I guided her back to the dining area for her supper, reconnecting with the nurses aid, I heard her say to Taylor, "I don't know where she goes...." and Taylor, the CNA, gently responded, "Probably home." Thus Mom segues from one realm into the other. And so it goes....dementia today, dementia tomorrow......