Saturday, October 19, 2013

if only she had known...

“We all shine the moon and the stars and the sun...we all shine on...come on and on and on...”  John Lennon
The star was shining out of the center of my mother's head as she stood on the hill some distance from me. A radiating star. I was fascinated in the dream and somewhat lost in it's beams flashing out like an aura.

She died when she was ninety-two, a decade ago. In this place she is in her fifties. I notice her own unique attractive hair style which she created herself. For me, hair in my dreams symbolizes the condition of my spirituality -- hair mussed, spirituality mussed -- hers was perfect.

My mother and I had a difficult relationship that caused her to be deeply hurt and me to be continually protecting myself. Yet I always admired her for her integrity. She was self reflective and honest about herself to a fault, taking the blame in our relationship for far too much. I thought of my own flaws and "if wishes were fishes..." or something more tangible... .

I get lost in my humanity, my short comings, in my five senses trying to get along in the world, often bogged down as if this is the only reality. My mother loved me greatly, tried her best, looked after everyone and everything in her sphere. Yet her childhood had left her damaged. No self-help books, no social services to work through a shame that was not hers. Opportunities for her smarts and artistic creativity were limited by her role of wife and mother.

In the dream, as I watched her from the distance, I was transported into a larger knowing, into a personal/impersonal love not only for her but for myself, and every face I've ever known. I longed to tell her, to shout up the hill to her, "Oh, if you only had known how perfect you were. If only..."

My mother belongs to the invisible now.  I suspect she knows stars need not stay in the sky. “We all shine the moon and the stars and the sun...we all shine on...come on and on and on...”

photo source: fotolia

Friday, October 4, 2013

sand days...

The golden moments (days) in the stream of life rush pass us; and we see nothing but sand; the angels come and visit us and we only know them after. George

Another ordinary doing-nothing (sand) day looms ahead. Where is my merry heart? Gone and seemingly replaced by a feeling of mundane-ness, routine, habit, and getting chores done. Dropping in on a friend I mention my droop. She picks up a children's book from her coffee table, bought at a second hand store last week. Flipping through the pages I noticed some are worn, some stained and the pictures are faded. This book does reflect my day.

Yet when closing the book, the edges of the pages coming together are embossed with gold.  Focusing on the faded parts, I had not noticed.  Maybe my no-nothing-droop has a purpose and isn't a wasted day after all "in the grand scheme of things." (I hope.)

Maybe just being and doing nothing is enough. The yellow finch sits here on the deck and breaths. I glance up and feel a flutter of beauty in my chest. I never tire of looking at it doing nothing. The water just lays here horizontal in the lake yet my eyes are always drawn to it, calmed by it. The fall flowers sit here on the table dressed in maroons, oranges, reds, not moving yet filling me with meaning as I write. All do nothing. Twenty minutes later and water is still in the same place, so are the flowers and so will they be tomorrow morning.

I find it comforting that soul-gold possibly etches my do-nothing days when there is nothing new; same chores, same routine, and no potentially exciting things to do.  Hopefully, like the water and flowers merely being is enough. Maybe when the book closes on  all my days, each will be embossed whether I feel it or not. Like George Elliot, maybe my ordinary days, my sand days are angels, too.

photo source: