Posts Tagged with Being human

Loss is Part of Life

Redemption
Posted on 12 Comments on Loss is Part of Life

Life and Death walk hand in hand.
There are many folktales filled with wisdom and insights about this relationship, and our relationship to it. From Nepal, Greece, Turkey, Canada, Africa, China, Mexico and beyond are these tales of tricking Death, making deals with Death, hiding from Death, befriending Death.

A Mexican tale about an old woman who tricks Death to climb up into a tree, a tree with a magic spell which holds him captive in the tree. Over time, no one dies. The world becomes over-crowded, people suffering do not die and so on. Things start to way back up, so the old woman makes a deal with Death, if he doesn’t take her, she’ll let him down. He agrees, and life goes on. There is a Greek version of this tale as well.

In 1939, the movie, “On Borrowed Time” was made, starring Lionel Barrymore as Gramps. He tricks Death into climbing up an enchanted fruit tree, from which no one can escape. Death is trapped up there. Over time, negative consequences accumulate when no one can die, including Gramps’ suffering grandson. So Death is released.

Another folktale about Luck and Death walking along. They come across a farmer working his field. The farmer recognizes them. Luck says “Let’s see who he trusts the most,” thinking this was a trick on Death, he’d show Death who was the coolest. When they ask the farmer, he looks straight at them and says, “I trust Death. He treats everyone the same.”

Hinterlands outside Prineville, Oregon (c)MDessein

We each have lost people and pets and relationships we love: parents, siblings, a child, a spouse, pups, cats, gerbils, a best friend, the list goes on. For me, I have learned it always contains gratitude. Yes, gratitude for all the warm, rewarding, loving times. Endings tend to be difficult.

Many of you know the tough decisions that often are required: when to end life support measures, when to remove apparatus, to decide when to put down a beloved pet. A lovely friend who recently lost her husband sent me this song as I am preparing to put down my kitty, who is purring on my chest.
I hope you enjoy it as much as I have: Tell Your Heart to Beat Again by Dan Gokey
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F77v41jbOYs

Does it matter?

Family, Chia pudding
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Most of us have heard the proverbial phrase, “We stand on the shoulders of those who came before us.” Which I take to mean that those who came before us, teachers, parents, ancestors, historical figures, learned and discovered multitudes of things that help us move forward. We don’t have to re-invent the wheel, as is also said.

Meeting my cousins recently, separated by a couple generations and a few thousand miles, has continued to resonate within me. Does meeting them matter? Absolutely. Not only are they wonderful people, they are family. How does it matter? That I am still pondering about. When will I see them again? Will my children and grandchildren meet them? Qui sait?

Charles Dessein

My mother’s grandfather was Charles Dessein. I had no idea who his parents were, nor did I give it any thought until I was at the family crypt near Langres recently. His parents were my great-great grandfather, Alexander Dessein and great-great grandmother, Marie Billant. How does that matter now? Obviously, I would not be here without them, nor would a lot of other people! Do I stand on their shoulders?

famille crypt

What legacy, shoulders to stand on, do I leave for my grandchildren? For great-grandchildren I may or may not be here to meet?

Maybe this is as much or more about being present in the moment, being conscious of my choices, being aware of what I have learned in the last twenty years so I can make wiser choices now.

Chia seeds are reportedly healthy for you on many levels. I made some pumpkin chia pudding this afternoon. Sounds a little dicey to you? I’ll try it and let you know. Pondering takes nourishment.

Thanks for reading!

Blueberries from Peru?

Authenticity, Being human, Belonging, Bookstore, Change, Choices, Music
Posted on 10 Comments on Blueberries from Peru?

Indeed, it is the end of December. Blueberries have been out of season for months here in the Northwest. Yet they are on sale at the local supermarket. The label says they’re from Peru and Chile.
Again the question and thought arise: How has the world changed so much in the last decade? I will spare you my theories about that, I am working on clarity and not blaming!

Successes this year? Getting healthier, being more patient with my pup, who is now 2, helping my family, scads of work done on my home, walking regularly. And getting my book completed and published! Up on Amazon, so now the ongoing marketing.

Dmitri Matheny, my book, and I at the Anacortes Library in October.


A piece of clarity recently delivered was how the book, my pup, and the myriad of issues with my house have distracted me from my music. A couple of recent gigs and one coming up have brought back that missing element to my life. And it feels good to have it back, a void that I had not noticed until it said, “Hey, no practice, no gigs! No practice and your playing sucks!” Oh yeah, and I forget stuff! There is a richness and a being present when I play music, even practicing scales.

Practicing gratitude daily has also become part of my life. My opportunities, my freedom, my view of Admiralty Inlet, having a carport, my pup, caring and supportive people in my life, my adult children’s stability and families, my return to lap swimming. Oh yeah, and blueberries in winter.

All the best to you in 2023, it portends to be an abundant, productive year.
Thank you for reading.

Who’s Garden?

Angeles Arrien, Belonging, Living fully
Posted on 12 Comments on Who’s Garden?

Kenney & Josette 1944
Last Thursday would have been my parents’ 74th wedding anniversary. This coming February will be my grandparents, Marguerite and Alfred’s, 96th wedding anniversary. My mother has only been gone three years; her dad, Alfred, died eighty-one years ago.

My, oh my, where is my place in time? Now, for sure. At least I like to think so. This is an abundant time in my life as I reach out to friends, new friends step into my life, my creativity has moved to the forefront of my priorities. It was a luxury before, now that I admit how quickly my earthly clock is ticking, I realize it is now or never to write that novel (and the ones in the idea pipeline), ruminate and publish these blogs, choose the gigs I want to accept, and get my next award-winning CD done!

I am learning to release the things I wish I had done: been more present for my Mom when my dad was dying, then later when she herself was dealing with a cancer. When I did not follow up with a friend, who died before I got out to visit her. Talk about my, oh my: the times I did not protect my children. My son at a young age had to do many things on his own, including as a first-grader to ride a bus to daycare with older, mean-to-little-kids kids, and later, catch the bus way early a quarter mile down the country road we lived on.

Actually, that ‘what I failed at’ list is getting pretty long, so the things I did right is the list I’m thinking about now. And even better, the above to-do list. If I had known then to be more attentive, to ask more questions, to be more compassionate… famous last words.

“Commitments that are broken are those where there is non-alignment among mind, heart, and action, when one or more of these parts are not willing to participate fully,” Angeles Arrien.

I have come close to that understanding by saying when someone, including myself, didn’t follow through, it was because they were not ‘invested’ in whatever the project or commitment was. Dr. Arrien gave me a deeper understanding of this. And my commitment to others has often taken precedence over a commitment to myself.
This path of finding my place in time interests me more all the time. This is a path most of us revisit over and over at different stages in our lives.

Alfred & Marguerite 1923

The 74 year anniversary got me thinking. I have kept so many things, linens of my great-grandparents’, paintings of my grandmother’s, and keepsakes of my mom’s that I have no specific attachment to, however I think I am obligated to keep them because of my attachment to the people who were precious to me.

Surprise! Guess who was keeping all these things before me? Bonus prize: you’re right, it was my mom.
I am coming to realize what is mine and what is not. Big light-bulb for me. The precious part of those people is within me, which I can’t lose. It seemed the cardinal sin was to forget someone. God forbid I do something I am not supposed to do. Mary always does what she is supposed to do.

Sure, I have done well at lots of those things: my boss, Marcia, thought I’d do well in Drug Court. She was right, I did great. I also was a good optician, a good receptionist, a good office manager, a good counselor and advocate. I enjoyed doing those things, and know I did my best to help others; every now and then, a voice from those times will find me. I love that. Yet, those jobs were usually someone else’s idea. Even as I bloomed like a rose, which helped me learn and develop, it now seems I had been planted in someone else’s garden. If that was my apprenticeship – I’m good with that. Where is my place now?

In my own garden – of friends, stories, music, novels, CDs, and blooming again as my true self. The richness of all those previous experiences will deepen my creativities. I am learning to say Yes or No without worrying what others will think. I am learning to take nothing others do personally (oh yeah, this is ongoing!) I am learning to listen more deeply. I am learning to release judgments (okay, this is ongoing, too.) I am learning to trust and follow my heart’s calling.

Where is my place now? I’m not sure, however, I am delighted to follow the path. You are so welcome to come along~

I Just Had To…

Authenticity, Being human, Community, Story, Youth
Posted on 14 Comments on I Just Had To…

Drawing by S., CP Elementary student
“I stayed in from recess to make this for you.”

She reached out tentatively to hand me a water-color drawing she had made. She being a 6th grade student who had been in the first class I performed for that morning.

“I just had to do this. When you told the story about the two sisters with one’s name like mine and the harp made of bones, I had to draw this.”
What a picture: there was my harp, me, and three of the stories I’d told! She’d heard, she’d listened, she’d thought.
No wonder I do this.

When I was in Juvenile Detention last week, the jail facility for kids under age eighteen, I was in the library waiting for my first class of kids. One of the boys saw me from the hallway and snapped, “Oh f—.” Not the usual response when kids see me, I am happy to report, however, it was his that morning. The boys trooped in and sat down in the semi-circle of chairs facing me. He pulled his tee shirt up to below his eyes, crossed his arms, and looked down at his feet, legs stretched out in front of him. Thirty minutes of stories and music later, he was sitting up asking questions, and forty minutes later he was telling me how he would have changed one part of the folktale from Ecuador I had just told them. After the Haitian tale, “One My Darlin,” he made a comment about forgiveness, which started a discussion among the boys.

No wonder I do this.

Jill Johnson, an accomplished writer, teacher, storyteller, and actor, wrote about when she was telling to and with elders in Auckland, New Zealand in February of this year, that when she saw the elders tell family stories, the youth listening, and the priceless connection being made, she said, “THIS …. is why I do this work.”

I get it more clearly every time I perform lately – telling and making music for elementary school kids, incarcerated kids, or my neighbor. The connecting, the re-discovering the truth that people have common elements of being human be they from China, Patagonia, Egypt, Saskatchewan, or Iceland. You never know what will reach someone. My part, and privilege, is to deliver the story, keep out of the way the best I can, and let the story spin out its storyness.

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