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Not happiness.
Better.
An All Encompassing Happiness/Glee
Open….
Full….
Total….
Wonder….
Gratitude….

May you feel it daily.

….eldermuse.net….

Joy is returning to my soul, my Being. I can feel her creep back in…. slowly,
yet surely.

One way she manifests is through music.
For months my world was silence, broken by the news, Bill Moyers, Ellen, Mad Men, Rachel Maddow; and regular sister phone calls. For months I was in a pit of limbo. The walking dead.

Slowly, slowly, I began to listen to music: at the computer, in the car. Only a little at a time, cause each song, each piece would remind me of Margaret. I’d cry. Especially when driving, and of course at home. Then I wouldn’t listen to music for awhile again. I knew it would cause me to remember.

But I discovered that I could find NEW music (duh! – I know, why didn’t I think of it sooner?….but… I wasn’t ready, truly) and just listen and enjoy this music which has no intrinsic associations with Margaret. So I found Annie Lennox’s new album and fell in love with her voice; and fell in love again with Tina Turner’s voice; and now Beyonce. She is the new Tina, she sizzles.

I’m now not just listening, but enjoying it too.
I am loving the sound of good music. I was unhearing before.

I was sleeping before, sleeping the Deep Sleep of Renewal,
the pullback, the necessary solitude of the soul.
I was sleeping to the world, to the beauty of Joy.

Extend the Thanksgiving holiday daily into your lives.
Give Thanks to the Divine, to the Divine Mystery, to your Higher Self,
for as much as you can.

Certainly for major events: you caught your child as she was about to fall badly;
you missed the two car collision on the freeway by seconds; you passed your enterance exam.

But more so, for the daily, hour by hour things
which work, which go as intended:
the keys found in a pocket; the bread with jam
which doesn’t fall jam side down;
the computer which works smoothly
most of the time;
music;
clouds; cell phones.
And all, any people, when they do something good.

These things, large and small, make up our lives.

Be conscious, as often as you’re able.

You’ll notice, that when we’re conscious of the here and now
(taking a nano second to notice),
only then, when we’re conscious of what we have,
can we give Thanks.

Create Thanks as part of the consciousness of the good in your life, in the world.

This is what I try to do. I wish this for you. Daily Thanking.

Sister, let’s not fight.
Let not words of bitterness, anger
pass between us.
Know that we love each other and always will.

We meet with friends of our most beloved,
departed middle sister.
We meet monthly, two remaining sisters,
two remaining dear friends, to honor her life.
She brings us together, these four who knew
her best.

Sharing a monthly meal, remembering her smile,
her wit, her politics.
In our monthly gather we see
each others’ near imperceptible changes
and comment on hair, health, a scarf, a pin,
some acknowledgement of love, of being seen.

We ask about the loved ones in our lives, spouses, brothers,
sisters, children. We ask about work, travel, the food.
We toast our lives, her life.
“Happy Birthday!” as glasses tinkle with touch.
“Happy Birthday!” has become our all purpose toast,
coined by a brother whose wit is used to confound others:
Someone always has a birthday, everyday!

The talk always turns to politics, and our sister is
watching and smiling from her place on the other side.
We all agree that things must change,
the insanity of their pay and benefits
while others suffer;
the hatefulness of their words meant to harm.
This is the worst it has ever been, even worse than
the nightmares of 1963 and 1968 and Nixon and Reagan.
This time is worse and God save us from their ignorance.

As we bullet fire our words across the table, my sister, my
sister’s friends, I, interrupt each other;
interject thoughts which can’t wait,
rapid words bursting into the packed din of shared ideas.

And it is always here, at this point, at this apex of our purposeful politicking
that you my sister feels slighted, left behind, unheard,
disrespected; by each, but especially by me.

Our banter winds down, our meal is ended, the next patrons eye our table.
We set another date to meet, next month again,
same time and place.

My sister has something to give me, so we walk to her car and she extracts a bag of her love.
A gift to her youngest sister, her flesh her blood
walking, talking in a separate body.
Always something extra from her home:
some fruit, dish soap, dog treats, a handy container;
something to share, to give, to extend the time, to extend her love.

And always at this time, the other two have long gone,
my sister tells me her hurt;
how she is not heard, not honored, interrupted, by each,
but especially by me.

And always I protest; not true, in fact she is the one who interrupts,
doesn’t let the others, but especially me, finish a sentence.
She vows to stop coming to our monthly meetings to honor our deceased sister.
She vents her hurt at her flesh, her blood, walking, talking in a separate body.
Her words fly, rapid fire, meant to show her hurt, her slight.

We must leave, we are loud in the California parking lot, someone might hear.
We say goodbye, “I’ll see you next week”.
We even kiss, give a slight hug; knowing we would always regret not doing so,
if the worst happens.
She always ends with:
But know that I love you.

And our sister is watching, smiling, silent, from her place on the other side.

Today we had a victory for reason vs. insanity!

The Food Industry’s “Smart Choice” program was banned by the FDA!! (See the blog: New Food Industry Fraud, Septembe 7, 2009). The FDA said:

“…such programs may mislead consumers about the health benefits of certain foods, and it told manufacturers it will crack down on inaccurate labeling.”

I wonder if Bush Boy’s administration would have put a stop to such a humiliating program. But HOORAY for the good sense of Dr. Margaret Hamburg!!!

Tina Turner’s song, Way of the World starts with:
“B-a-b-y, I need a hand to hold tonight.
One bright star to remind me, how dear is this life.”

What a beautiful refrain: how dear is this life.
Especially when sung in Tina’s expressive, husky voice.

Listening to Tina and thinking of Lizi.
I don’t want Lizi to forget How Dear is This Life.

Lizi, give yourself as much Time as you can, not eaten by the work of the world.
Give yourself the months, years, you’ll need to free yourself of the daily torture you presently face. The daily numbness, heartache, and depression which causes your soul to shrivel, to desire isolation and death.

I pray you can give yourself Comfort now.

We are entering the months of darkness and retreat,
the time of frigid days and nights when the world demands
that truly the strongest survive.
When life requires dormancy for survival.
May you have Comfort now.

A hand to hold, a bosom to howl in, the warmth of hot tea and family.
The long sleep needed for ultimate renewal.
Give yourself Comfort and Time, to slowly ease out of the
clutches of Cerberus, and the hounds of hell.

I pray that you keep the need for Acceptance always in your heart.

In time, when you are ready to renew your own life, when you can look around
and feel Joy, can let the music and light in, can dance and sing again;
then I pray you Accept all that has been asked of you by this dear life.

The ides of October, a new dawn, I awake to see a beautiful waning
crescent moon in Scorpio.
How fitting for my Scorpio friend who just left this life, yesterday.
She slowly slipped away, held in the arms of her eternal lover.

I hope to meet her again, as a formless drop
in the Divine Ocean of Bliss.

In December of 2008, when I felt at my abject bottom, I sought the guidance of a very wise, loving woman who happens to communicate her wisdom through horoscopes and the tarot. I first sought her guidance in 1976, it made sense to do it at my darkest.
She told me things which I seek to maintain each day as I write. Her words help keep me focused, help provide me with meaning in my life. I seek to be as authentic when I write as I try to be in person.

She told me to:
“Open up to letting the Universe write through you.”
“Communicate what I love.”
“Let my vision come through. I’ve been a writer in past lives.
Approach writing with joy and no attachment. Write because I love it. Write about what I feel passionate about. Seize it and do it. Seize the opportunity. Open up to Purpose energy. Don’t allow fear to get in the way.”
And most importantly the cards told her to say: “Give myself permission to have joy and happiness. Break my karma of grief.”

I’d written down her comments about this reading, and just now took the time to re-read them, and share them.

I believe that her love and vision for me is applicable to all women who seek to share what they love with the world. Honor your voice and your vision. Be a light and model for other women.

Thank you Amy.

As the cold hard reality of the impending death of Lydia takes hold in my being, I must take great care, great effort to not allow my own still fragile re-embrace of life to slip. The pain of her loss evokes my own pain of too many losses. This pain which I vowed to move beyond; I vowed to continue with my life, to live life. The pain is so ready to surface, a slight scratch and it bubbles up creating once again the darkness, the film which can too easily color my day.

Karen Armstrong is interviewed by Tavis Smiley, discussing her new book: The Case for God, and she states an essential truth, which I paraphrase:
It’s not the BELIEF in God/Goddess/The Divine which changes one’s life, which creates a sense of meaning in life; rather it’s the PRACTICE of compassionate selflessness which brings meaning, richness, deep peace to one’s life.

Compassionate selflessness. The ability to place yourself in the other person’s shoes. And not judge. Feel mercy and tenderness for another’s soul, for their human condition. PRACTICE this and your life will be full.

I am feeling deep compassion for Lydia and Lizi. They are suffering the knowledge of impending loss, Lydia’s death. I imagine a huge red ball of love hoovering over them, embracing and engulfing them. I imagine them holding each other tenderly, lovingly, stroking, touching, soothing the pain of separation, loss.

And I must continue to have compassion for my heart, my soul too. I must not let the anticipation of a dear friend’s death keep me from my vows to practice this art of living.

We survive an Earthquake. The earth quakes
beneath our feet. Disrupts our life, rips our
home to shreds. Causes pain and more pain.

Those who survive Earthquakes, Floods, Fire,
Death have a taste of Hell. A flavor of the
unimaginable, unspeakable.

May Peace and Peace and More Peace pervade
their souls, our souls.

Lizi, wife of Lydia, soon to be widowed.
I am widowed, three plus years, and want you to hear this,
want that these words somehow ease the enormity of your pain.
Which can never happen.
I know you will have your pain, despite my words, despite my tears.

I must tell you,
Now is NOT the time to doubt/regret/have second thoughts
about any of your actions.
Now is the time to act as clearly as your soul shines
reflecting Divine Love.

For the next number of weeks, just be with Lydia fully,
wholly, as a mother is with her newborn infant.
As new lovers are with each other.
She is all hers. You be all hers.

I wish you total clarity about what to do. The ability
to go inside, to be with yourself daily. The ability to
know what to do.

When with yourself, give time to reflect, give thanks,
feel loss; cry, cry, and more cry.

I know your pain intimately. I feel my pain when I feel yours.
It is hell; sheer hell. Nothing will mitigate your torture.
I wish I could.

You will survive this, you will come out strong and clear,
and you will even thrive.
All in time. All in time. But now is the time to Act
with clarity, without regrets.