Death and Beauty

Last Thursday I checked my voice mail to discover that a beautiful being, Milissa Ann, had died a couple of days earlier. I met Milissa in Wimberley not too long after we moved to Texas, and she was part of our community for several years. After she moved to Santa Fe we lost touch, though I would see her occasionally when she came through town.

When I heard the news of Milissa's passing I realized that I had been thinking about her a few days earlier, wondering how she was doing. Apparently many people who knew Milissa had the same experience; none of us knew she was in the hospital, but despite the distance we felt her through the web of our connection.

And now I find myself thinking a lot about a woman that touched many lives, but that I hadn't seen in over a year and had no physical connection with. In her death I feel her strongly. While her family and friends grieve, she feels like pure light, a twinkle moving freely, released of her body's struggle. 

Saturday night was her memorial service in San Antonio. Her close friends Kim, Arielle, and Trisha attended, while a group of us danced barefoot at Toci. Milissa loved to dance, so it seemed fitting to bring her into our evening. I went to her Facebook account and we kept her photos up on my computer screen, next to a picture of Rachel, another young, vibrant woman in our community who also died suddenly (in January in a car accident.) We lit a candle for them both, and I giggled at one point to look up from my dancing to see Milissa and Rachel's photos hanging out together with a mango margarita in front of them. Perfect.

At the memorial service someone read this poem:

I'd like the memory of me

to be a happy one,

I'd like to leave an afterglow

of smiles when day is gone.

I'd like to leave an echo

whispering softly down the ways,

Of happy times, and laughing times,

and bright and sunny days.

I'd like the tears of those who grieve

to dry before the sun,

Of happy memories that I

leave when life is done.

Milissa, you have left many bright memories in our hearts, and a reminder to choose to love love love as fully as we can, knowing that our time here is precious.

Here is a Facebook post from Kevin Anthony Flores, that again shows how we are all connected in this web of life and death, and that while the physical form is fleeting, love is eternal.

... In my minds eye I saw the beautiful face of a good friend, beautiful smile of an angel, shining black hair cropped short to frame her face like the petals of a rose… And her eyes!  Big deep brown glistening eyes that seemed to caress my entire being.  She seemed to be saying hello and goodbye all at once — all at once.  My mind slipped back in time as memories superimposed themselves over her face; our first meeting and the beautiful feeling of knowing that we had always 'known' each other, the camaraderie of a sister found, siblings of Spirit wrought in infinity, such a beautiful feeling.  That day that we met we shared intimate stories about ourselves, dear ideas and thoughts about life and death, and the things that dreams are made of.   I gave her a ring; a silver ring with a mexican fire opal set in a swirling base and told her that if she ever needed me or just wanted to feel known, and loved, that all she had to do was hold it and think of me.

The memory dissipated and all that I was left with was the beautiful face, smiling, the eyes radiating hope and gentle passion for life in all its expressions, even the expression of pain, sadness and yes, even death.  I'll never forget those eyes.  And in those few moments of connection I felt good, I felt happy.  I felt as though she had said hello and goodbye all at once but also to say: '"never stop, keep on loving, and keep on dreaming.'"

And I opened my eyes and realized yet again, in a very definitive and decisive way, that I was dreaming awake.

I came home that evening to find a message waiting for me to inform me that a very good friend of mine had died.  Her journey in life was challenging, yet she was always smiling for me, she never complained about her journey, only recounted the facts and the things she was thinking about them, I do not doubt that she was sometimes sad, or angry or in pain, I do not dishonor her humanity, yet she always rose above it, usually with a gentle hug and a smile.  And even though it saddens my heart  that I may never again be able to receive a hug from her, or hear her sweet voice, I smile.  I smile in the memory of the knowledge she shared with me, to smile, always to smile even in the face of humanity's greatest challenge; physical death.  I know that she is dancing with stars at this very moment!

Her name was Milissa Ann and it was her face that I experienced on the rocks at the Giant's Causeway that afternoon.

Blessings to you, Milissa.

I just realized: the last photo below I took in Taos on the day Milissa died. It was the most beautiful, clear, vibrant rainbow I've ever seen.... Now I know why!

Finding Balance with Technology; Choice vs Addiction

Early morning, Austin airport. I popped open my computer to send a couple of emails before I boarded my plane to Santa Fe.

"Oh, you are on the computer!" she said. I looked up to into the smiling face of a woman sweeping under my table. "My husband lives in Dubai, and whenever you comes home he is always on the computer. It drives me crazy!"

Sometimes a comment from a stranger is just that. Sometimes a comment from a stranger is actually the voice of spirit tapping you on the shoulder to pay attention.

I paid attention. I stopped mid-email and gave her my full presence.

She shared how her husband spent all of his time shopping on the computer. How she once deliberately pulled his computer out of the car and left it at home when they went on a vacation to Galveston, and how when he found out his computer was not with him he borrowed his daughter's computer. How even if he had been gone for months, when he came home his focus was completely hooked.

As she spoke I watched her body language and energy. She was frustrated, and open-hearted and loving. I felt laughter under her words, a sense of feeling incredulous that anyone would prefer a machine to a personal interaction. I realized I would much rather play with her than with my computer.

And the second she left, I went back to my email, but this time with a little more awareness.

I love technology. And I also am very aware of its siren-like lure that causes many to drown out everything else and immerse in its flow, to the detriment of conscious relationships and vital health. Our societal focus used to be on the television; now it is shifting to little computers we can carry with us everywhere. My goddaughter, Rowan, recently told me about how much fun she had at a slumber party with her girlfriends, where they stayed up until past midnight texting their one friend who wasn't with them.

When I hear these stories, I feel alarmed. Is the next generation going to be able to function in relationships? Are we creating a society that has no idea what personal intimacy is? And I recognize that my generation grew up with television as the focal point, and I imagine my grandparents worried that we were spending too much time sitting in front of it.

The answer is in finding balance. When I first got my iphone, I found myself playing with it all the time: checking emails, looking at Facebook, searching the internet, playing scrabble with far-flung Toltec friends. It started out fun. And then it started to feel compulsive. I HAD to check my email. I HAD to see what was going on with my friends and family on Facebook. What started out as a convenient  tool for me to create more ease in my life started to shift into a handful of distraction and "should."

Most addictions, whether to alcohol or an iphone, start off like a fun friend but over time turn into a controlling dictator that we are compelled to obey. We put the veneer of "this helps me relax/focus/stay-in-touch/sleep/function" over the top, but the truth is we are no longer making a choice based in the biggest picture of our lives, but in the fixated, fear-based beliefs of the mind.

I now find balance in keeping the ringer off my phone, and only answering when I actually have the space to talk to someone. When I feel the urge to check email or Facebook, I first stop, take a breath, and notice my surroundings. I come more present, and get clear on is this the choice I really want to make?

So now I will upload this blog, close my computer, and go enjoy the beauty of nature outside. Balance!

Taming Wild Pony Projects

Summer brings heat, long days, vacations, and for me, project wrangling.

Each summer Raven escapes the high temperatures and humidity of Texas by heading out of town. I delight in these long stretches of time alone to round up and tame my current herd of run-away ponies.

Many years ago I lived in a tiny cabin on the edge of the Sierra mountains. My horse, Chiona, lived at a stable many miles from me. One morning I woke up with a brilliant idea: To move Chiona to my land. I converted an old shed to a stall, bought some hay, and moved her in. But I had forgotten one major thing in my dreamy vision of being able to visit and ride my horse whenever I wanted to: Chiona was a high-spun, nervous thoroughbred who was an expert at getting herself into trouble.

Chiona waited exactly one day before she metamorphosed into destructo-pony. Then she turned her full powers on. On Day Two I awoke to the sound of hoofbeats outside my window. Chiona had broken out of her stall and was running in panic up and down the road. On Day Three she broke out again, but this time she headed for my garden where she made her mark by galloping repeatedly through my vegetables plants. Day Four we went for a quiet ride where I spent most of my time gripping the saddle so I wouldn't fly off when she stopped abruptly at every tiny noise or movement. On Day Five she broke out again and danced her hooves throughout my garden. One Day Six I realized my folly and moved her to a stable with a real door, fence, and arena.

My current herd of out-of-control pony projects all start out as a dreamy vision of “won't this be wonderful and easy!,” but unattended they bust out of their confinements and create chaos. One is an overflowing heap of papers that attempt to escape each time I open the back closet door; originally I thought “What a perfect place to put the papers I still need to file so I won't have to look at them.” Another is our garage. Yikes. Definitely time for some serious corralling there. The third is Raven's side of our home office, which I received permission to tame after the piles of audio equipment and un-harnessed papers began to stomp over everything else.

Trying to coax a 1,000 pound, galloping animal into her stall at 5 am was great practice for figuring out how to approach the piles of paper that are stacked precariously on my closet shelves and put them into neat containers. And when I open my pantry and see rows of neatly organized goods I feel the same relief I felt the first day I visited Chiona at her new secure stall : all is right with the world and everything is in its proper place.

Lammas Intent: Write, write, write!

August 2 marked the mid-point between summer solstice and fall equinox, a holy day called Lammas, or Lughnasad. Lammas is the first of three harvest festivals that celebrate the ripening of grain, fruit, and vegetables that sustain life. Even though we are blessed to have constant bountiful harvests every time we hunt and gather at the grocery store, I like connecting to the earth's rhythms and remembering that there are seasons for everything.

For me summer is a season to up my play quota and to harvest ripening projects. This weekend I went to the beach and spent hours floating in the warm salty water (I love the Gulf), making sand castles, and learning to boogie board. Part of my intent was to clear the space to make a big shift in my life around my writing.

I tend to go in cycles with my writing; I am an expert in the procrastinate-adrenaline method of creation. Over the years I've discovered the beauty in the slow and steady method, but it only wins out periodically; mostly I use looming deadline monsters as my incentive to write.

And here is my line in the sand to myself: To make writing my primary job, rather than something I squeeze in between emails and laundry. This has always been my heart's desire, but I always seems to find at least one million other things that urgently need to get done first before I can settle in to write.

Which brings me to Stephen King.

Most people know Stephen King as an author of well-written downright creepy or upright thought-provoking books. I know Stephen King as a guiding light for me as an author.

In his book, On Writing, Stephen kicks writer butt. He describes the muse not as some little twinkling fairy who flies over and sprinkles magic dust on your computer, but a surly, cigar smoking fellow who lives in the basement. Our job as writers, Stephen explains, is not to wait like a longing lover for the muse to bless us with an abundance of profound words. Our job as writers is to move into the basement, furnish an apartment for the muse, and get to work.

Stephen goes on to describe what actions support muse relations: A place to write that has a door one can close on the world. A desk, not facing a window, but facing a blank wall. Specific writing hours. No phones or emails or distractions. Writing at least 20,000 words a day, or about ten pages.

I imagine Stephen King sitting down at his desk, day in and day out, writing, and I am inspired (he admits that he writes on holidays and his birthday.) Last night I took this inspiration into action. I set up a tiny table in our back bedroom, facing the wall. I made a weekly schedule. I even created a new user profile for my computer. Now I can log out of noise of my emails and to do lists and log into a new screen that has a picture of still water and gives me access to what I need to write, nothing more.

For the month of August I plan to harvest heaps of words, and to craft those words into a book. I now have an agent and an editor who are guiding me to share my core gifts to a mainstream audience. But more importantly than any one book or writing project, I aim to grow into a steady, dedicated writer who writes no matter what. Aho!

My Teacher Today: A Thirteen Year Old Girl Named Claire

A couple of months ago, on one of my rare surfs through the mysterious and sometimes treacherous waters of Facebook, I came across a video that made me love the human race even more.

The video was of thirteen-year old Claire Wineland sharing about her journey with cystic fibrosis (CF).

Those big doctor words don't mean much until you meet someone that is carrying the label around, usually weighted down by the heaviness of the diagnosis.

And with CF the diagnosis is difficult: cystic fibrosis is a genetic disease that causes heavy mucus buildup in the lungs and digestive organs, causing infections, digestive issues, and often early death.

For most of her life Claire has traveled in and out of hospitals, and she spends literally hours everyday clearing her lungs and taking special medications. Last year she spent 17 days in a coma.

But her illness is not a weight to this little girl. She is not resigned, she is on fire to educate and help others with CF, and to enjoy her life to the fullest. The girl has more spunk and heart and vision than most healthy adults I know, and her capacity to make things happen on a huge scale catches me on fire about the immense potential each of us has to make change.

This morning I found a new video Claire did on You Tube, sharing her five steps to following through on goals. She recorded the video right before going into ICU for a lung infection.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AKY_owo4PO4&feature=channel_video_title

In her words: "Why are we here? I don't know the answer to that. But what I think is that we are here to affect other people's lives."

And this is one thing that Claire does daily with her blog posts, video, and by sharing her story.


Today I'm going to print out a picture of Claire and put on my altar, both to use as an anchor to pray for her and all children who have chronic illness, and as a reminder of the power of faith and the power of setting and completing goals. I'm going to bring Claire into my heart in the places where I get stuck, or scared, or pull back from my goals because of fear.

May she inspire you, too with her wisdom, courage, and faith.

Here is the original video I watched about Claire's story, which I posted in a newsletter a few months back:

http://www.myfoxla.com/dpp/news/local/lessons-from-claire-20101124

Bright blessings

Summer Sabbatical 2010; City Lights, Temples, and Flower, Flowers, Flowers

To listen to the song Raven wrote in Bali (sung by the fabulous StormMiguel) click here

Raven wrote a poem one night, then the next day his poem blossomed into a full song in his head. He sang it into his ipad, and in a brilliant trans-oceanic partnership emailed it to our dear friend StormMiguel Florez. StormMiguel put it to music, sang and recorded it, and sent it back to Raven. All of this happened in the span of two days.... The recording is rough, and yet both Raven's inspiration and StormMiguel's talent shine through. We have both been singing it in our heads now for days, and it encapsulates our journey perfectly. Enjoy! Thanks, StormMiguel... and to Raven and his new song-writing muse! Check out StormMiguel's website for his newest CD, long lost sun. http://www.stormflorez.com/

HONG KONG

On our first day in Hong Kong (where I took my first breath almost 44 years ago) Raven and I sat in the lobby of the Peninsula,  an ancient British queen of a hotel that was built long before I was born, and had high tea. I remembered the thrill I felt as a little girl having tea with my parents and sister here. Raven and I talked about consciousness, truth, the impossibility of sharing the truth, and I cried at the beauty of the silver cream pot.

It has been a whirlwind, full, marvelous journey to Asia. I'm trying to take in every morsel of it, sight sounds smells tastes touch. I have always loved Hong Kong, and experiencing its energy and vibrancy once again is magical. One morning on one of our many wanderings we spotted incense billowing out of a tiny stone doorway. The many street vendors surrounding it selling candles, flowers, statues, fruit, and incense by the handfuls made it clear we had discovered a temple. We bought three roman candle-sized, red and gold incense sticks and headed in. It was a small space, about 40 feet wide by 60 feet long, crammed full of Buddha statues, offerings piled high, massive incense coils dangling like thin snakes from the ceiling, and at least twice as many people as would have been legal in the United States. As I lit my offering with the flame of an oil lamp, pressed body to body with strangers and inhaling sweet smoke, I smiled to myself and thought, "Welcome back to Hong Kong." 

One we traveled via subway, ferry, and bus to the Tian Tan Buddha; a HUGE statue of Buddha high in the rolling hills of Lantau, and island adjacent to Hong Kong. Part of my intent was to release some emotion and pray for my dad, who has been in my thoughts a lot as I travel in the countries where he raised me. So many memories. I stood inside the building that is the lotus that the Buddha sits on and wept, surrounded by hundreds of tiles of people's ancestors that lined the walls. Some just had names, black Chinese calligraphy on white tile, some also hd black and white photographs, mostly of older moms and dads. Lining the walls were offerings to the dead: neat arrangements of real and plastic flowers and incense, porcelain kuan yin and buddha statues.

I cried for the loss of my dad. I cried for all the people who have lost beloveds and mourned them. I cried for the incredible beauty of this world, and the overwhelming knowing that it is all temporary. In the edges of my consciousness I can taste the freedom of letting it all pour through me, the wisdom of drowning in the sea of life and death and rebirth. 

And as we took the impressively long cable car ride back down the mountain to the subway station and the Buddha slowly receded in the background, I felt like a bird flying free over the green hills and calm water below. 

THAILAND

Even though I lived in Bangkok for several years, it was VERY helpful to have a guide when I arrived in the form of a friend of a friend. Jim Morris connected with me with his long-term friend, Jim Coyne, who lives in Bangkok. I was grateful to have him show me around my old neighborhood, which was pretty much completely unrecognizable after 28 years of growth. I did finally find two things I recognized (the hotel we lived in and the Erawan Shrine, see below), which made my heart happy and my head relieved that there was SOMETHING that linked me to Bangkok! And Jim showed me how to use the SkyTrain and subway so Raven and I could get around. Plus he filled me in on the politics and quirks of living in Thailand. I loved it.

The next morning I took Raven to a shrine that was next door to the hotel my family lived in for six months when we first moved to Bangkok in 1981; it is called the Erawan. We way overpaid for supplies: four rose wreaths, twelve sticks of incense, four packets of leaf gold, four little orange candles. There are always people praying at the Erawan Shrine, and it was so grounding for me to pray there. I'd always been drawn to it as a teenager, so what a gift to go back as an adult and be able to engage fully with the energies there. You pray at each of the four sides of the shrine, which is a white temple open on four sides with a golden statue of the god Brahma (who has four faces that look each direction) in the middle. The first side I sent my blessings to Thailand and her people and all I learned while I lived here; the second side I said prayers for my father. At each side you light incense and a candle, leave flowers, and also rub the gold leaf onto the pillars. 

The Thai's main religion is Buddhism, so I was surprised to see that the statue in the middle of the Erawan Shrine is the Hindu God Brahma. There are Hindu influences everywhere, which I learned was brought in from India by Brahman priests. Each Thai house has at least one, and sometimes two, spirit houses, that guard the land and house. Many spirit houses are empty, others have statues of the elephant-god Ganesh or the Goddess of abundance, Lakshmi. 

My main reason for visiting Thailand was to visit my first two horse-back riding instructors, Mrs. Rhodes and her daughter Puki. They live west of Bangkok in Kanchanaburi, the home of the well-known bridge over the River Kwae. (The River Kwae is where I learned to canoe and water ski! And swim with horses....) What a step back into time to see the stables and the dining room and these two dear women after almost 30 years. 

It was really a trip to visit the camp; Mrs. Rhodes is now 94 years old and still perfectly sharp and present. She shared lots of amazing stories of riding her horse around Bangkok before WWII, then starting her horse riding school after she returned to Thailand from her native land of Germany after the war. Her daughter Puki is 70 years old and very active; she raised two granddaughters, who are now 14 and 16; and all total there are 8 grandkids from Puki's two sons, Peck and Piet. They are currently starting a riding program for autistic and disabled children, which I'll write more about soon. 

We took one side trip to the Erawan waterfalls.... cool blue water, incredible curly vine trees, and fierce monkeys...

Our last day we visited a huge temple called Wat Pho; it is still in use and is the main center for teaching Thai massage. Many many buddhas; including a reclining gold buddha that is about 100 feet long. I found a statue of Buddha that at the base of it had a little statue of the Thai mother earth goddess, so it was by rubbing gold leaf on her and saying prayers that I said goodbye to Thailand.

It was perfect to leave Thailand and travel to Bali; someplace I had always wanted to visit, and that has the same energy as Thailand. Singapore, where we moved in 1982, was so sterile it was really hard on me to live there. So going to Bali was great, and my body is happy. I feel like I got to leave Thailand in a proper way, very consciously saying goodbye and sharing my love and appreciation. I do feel like I've reclaimed something I had left behind.

BALI

The first two weeks of our journey I was focused on experiencing; going to some of my favorite places, or places I'd never been but wanted to visit.

Bali is about integration and slowing down.

The Balinese are wonderful people; I've been amazed to find they are even sweeter and more loving than the Thais, more like the Thais when I first moved to Bangkok so many years ago. When I pass someone and smile I am greeted by huge grins and open hearts. So beautiful; Pixie is happy!

The whole island is based in ritual and ceremony and making offerings to the gods. As we walked the streets of Kuta when we first arrived there were small, square banana leaf plates filled with flowers and moss scattered all over the ground; Raven told me they put out offerings this way three times a day. The Balinese place them on altars that are everywhere, or on the street in front of their house or business. The altars range from bamboo woven, open-ended little boxes that hang from the eaves to tall, elaborate moss-covered stone pillars, topped by what can best be described as a throne. The one to my right is surrounded by a short wall, has two pillars on either side of the doorway, and is about ten feet tall. There is a delicately carved Buddha statue to the left of the altar; when I woke up this morning someone has already been by to put an offering in front of it. I added a flower.

The Balinese are Hindu, a very interesting thing since of all the many islands of Indonesia, only Bali is Hindu, everyplace else is Muslim. They have obviously combined the original shamanic, earth-based practices creatively with Hinduism. Yesterday at one hotel we were looking at staying at there was an altar by the pool that was a large stone slab with rocks on it, being blessed by incense and flowers. The statues that are everywhere are often fierce animal crosses from Indonesian mythology; dragons and demons and guardian garudas. 

Hindus worship many forms of gods and goddesses; but they know that all the different forms are all representatives of One unnameable force. To show this most of the thrones on top of the altars in Bali are empty.

We spent long, wonderful hours sitting on the porch watching the wind lightly blow the rice, listening to the water rushing by in the canals on its way to the fields, going for long walks, and eating at our favorite hangout, the Yellow Flower cafe (Raven: lattes and banana berry pancakes, HeatherAsh: tumeric and ginger drinks and spicy veggies and eggs on toast).

One day we followed a tiny paragraph in our pocket-sized guidebook to a nearby river. Luckily we were found by Wayan, a river raft guide who had the day off and spotted us trying to figure out how to get down to the water. He cheerfully led the way, walking us across the river and across his rice fields. We traveled on tiny, muddy paths, snaking our way through jungle to cultivated areas and back again. Along the way he showed us bright red clusters of coffee beans growing in the shade of tall banana and banyan trees, tehe chubby green pods of cacoa (the mama of all chocolate), date palm where they tap the flowers for the dark, rich date palm sugar that Raven now loves, and a hidden sanctuary of temples surrounded by enormous, many-limbed banyan trees. Later we drank coca-cola at his home, which looks more temple than house. It was a delight to have a local to ask questions about Bali, religion, schooling, and more.

Our last day in Bali we walked along the looong beach at Legian and Kuta, swam in the ocean and got tumbled by a huge breaking wave, and drank neon orange mai tais as the sun set. 

I feel content and blessed, and somewhat wordless around the impact of the journey. Suffice to say I feel a new level of stillness and peace in my being, and though I miss the flowers and smiles, I'm happy to be heading into Austin tomorrow to see my Thirteen Moons circle and share this energy with my sisters.

Here is a video Raven and I made from our porch:

Or watch it on YouTube at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NpsbZlhKvhk

To see more photos, visit my facebook page: 

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2072436&id=1298096210&l=bc9768b192

You don't have to be on facebook to view them.

Blessings!