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So now I have started January way behind, but after the things that have been happening lately, I can't possibly start this year on a negative note. Although there have been a fair number of difficult things to deal with last year, it was over all an amazing year. Not because Gordon Campbell finely saw the writing on the wall,or because one of my favourite dissidents won the Nobel Peace Prize and China embarrassed itself, although those were all good things. These were small victories and small steps forward on a personal level, that have added up to make a better life.
I am wondering how my friend is doing this morning. She is waking up in a hotel on Salt Spring Island, which sounds like a beautiful thing, unfortunately the purpose of her being there is a sad one. Her sister who had lived on the island for the past 15 years passed away. She had lived on a small boat with no heat for the last few years, and my friend's job was to organize all the things that had to be done, one of which included cleaning out the boat she had been living on. A very scary task.
Apparently another friend of hers had gone to the boat when she was in the hospital to get her guitar, and had nearly passed out from the stench. It took him about 20 mins to actually uncover the guitar, there was so much mess over top of it. The community centre had offered to send over a clean up crew, but my friend was too embarrassed, I think, so she and her sister went over to clean it up themselves. I can't imagine what it looked like. There will be stories.
It was a sad event. Her sister had a stroke a few weeks ago, and was flown to the hospital in Victoria. She went to see her a few days later and things were looking pretty good. She seemed to be adjusting and doing well. But when my friend was in Mexico over Christmas, she received an email from the social worker that she wasn't able to read. But she knew what had happened. When she arrived back she started making arrangements, but then received a flood of emails from her sister's friends on the island. They were organizing something.
It will be a celebration of her sister's life attended by the hundreds of people her sister had connected with on the island. My friend thought that she was quite isolated and turned people away, but was surprised to see how many people knew and loved her. Her sister had said when she was in the hospital, when asked if she liked living on the island, that she had been happy every single day she lived there.That is something that not a lot of us can say. She seemed to say that if she died now she had no regrets.
The reading that I had the other day was so rich and full of beauty I can hardly believe it. I wish there were more people in my life that I could tell about such things without being embarrassed. I have difficulty with listening to myself because I have always been able to hear the other voices of the dissenters. Those that wish to be critical, and are afraid of seeing any beauty in life, and prefer to believe that they are "realistic", never mind the fact that that they have killed of any true emotion they might actually feel.
The fear of emotion is so strong in some people. I work with a number of people who believe that they can be health care workers and not feel any sadness or connection to the people they work with. They figure that if they have specific tasks to carry out, they can get in and out of a human encounter unscathed. I'm note even sure what draws them to this type of work if they do not wish to feel in their hearts the beauty and fragility of being human. It couldn't possibly be the money could it. Could it?
I was introduced recently to the term lightworker. I was told by somebody that I am one. She said that the job of these folks is to bring more light into the world. Interesting since my name actually means "bringer of light". She suggested that I look up some websites about the subject, and that I might be interested to find a community of like-minded people. I was excited...until I went to some of the websites and was sadly disappointed. The quality of the websites put me off right away. You know, bad graphics, smileys, stars and rainbows, broken links...
It's not, I hope, that I am so shallow that the visual quality of a website would stop me from examining an interesting idea. It's just certain websites you go to, you can sense the tone of the content purely by the nature of how it affects you visually. I started to read some of the information, and visited some of the forums, and unfortunately my first impressions were reinforced. I didn't trust what they said, once I could get past the bad spelling and grammar. It made me feel icky.These were people that just wanted to feel special.
Was I just wanting to find a way to feel special in my ordinary life? This was the path I started going down, and I did not want to travel any farther. The ideas that this woman introduced to me resonated with me in a way that I cannot really describe. It was not really about feeling special, not in the way that you might imagine. It was about illuminating who I am and what I have to offer the world. I used to want that to be something earth-shattering. Now I would just be happy with uncovering the truth.
This was a day to stop the constant movement and chatter, and to take stock. It is 11/1/11. These numbers are supposed to have some ability yo be spiritual wake up calls. When you see ones or elevens, it is the "universe", the world of spirits telling you to stop and be mindful. Be aware. Without thinking too much, take stock of your life and look directly at what needs to be done, what needs to be changed. Even though it was a difficult day, I realize in hindsight how many times I stopped the past from repeating itself. Again.
I cannot decide whether to join this writing workshop this weekend, or not. I am getting an incredible deal, and it sounds like a workshop that I really need to take part in. It is about writing more honestly. Whatever that really means. The problem is the presenter is someone that I don't really believe. Reading some of her writing, I wonder what it is that she thinks is so honest about it. My question is do I really need to have somebody else tell me how to write. Is this not what I am trying to get away from?
I have been too focused on reading this month and not writing. I am in one of those phases that I want to absorb things. I get these cravings sometimes to learn about a certain subject, and it becomes my focus every time I have a spare moment at the computer. That includes work unfortunately, as I find myself putting aside work that I should be doing and reading stuff that I would rather be reading. Most of the time I can get away with it. Many times I get caught...nothing to worry about, I am not the worst offender.
My friend's sister who just passed away ( at the tender age of 62) left behind a mess of half finished projects and unresolved relationships. Understandable you would think considering her death was sudden and unexpected. Looking through her things that she had left behind, a different story appears. It is a story of a woman who knew she was very ill, was attempting to heal herself, not only physically, but emotionally as well. My friend found a collection of letters, many of them to her, that were obvious attempts at reconciliation and understanding.I think she was preparing for something.
It's amazing how long we will leave things when we are alive, perhaps hoping that they will resolve themselves, or waiting for a time when we will be ready. I have seen so many people that are close to death at the point where they are wanting to clear the air,and they suddenly realize how unimportant so many of these things are that cause sometimes life-long rifts between family and friends. Yet when we are living in the illusion that we are going to live forever, we find it hard to let go of the need to be right.
I had a friend once, at least I thought she was my friend, who ended a fifteen year friendship because I finally called her on her behaviour after putting up with it for all that time. My stupidity for not saying something sooner. I could have saved myself a lot of grief. It happened because she was hounding me about how hurt she was because my husband got mad at her. He didn't leave it for fifteen years before he called her on her annoying behaviour. She didn't like coming face to face with her faults.I haven't seen her since.
My ex-friend decided to hound me about how my husband upset her without caring about how I was feeling. I had just gotten back from visiting my family, and had found out that my Dad was dying of cancer and my Mom was going to have to go into a nursing home because of Parkinson's and dementia. She started in on me, and I told her that this wasn't the time to talk about it. I was emotionally spent. But she would not stop. So I just told her that maybe she really needed to think about her own behaviour.
I was quite nice at first. I just wanted her to stop. But she kept on at it. So I said...my father is dying, my mother is slowly disappearing, and I really don't care about your petty grievances right now. She was so mad that she stormed off. My 40th birthday was two weeks later. I just assumed she would get over her grudge. Nothing. For months and months, nothing. It took me almost six months to realize how happy I was about it.I never once felt the need to call her. That is one thing I will never regret.
I am wondering where my muse is these days. I am getting so far behind in 100 words and with all my other writing because it (whatever it was) that was giving me that jolt of unstoppable creative energy seems to have left me. Undoubtedly I am looking at it the wrong way, or my expectations are too high, or I have beaten it to death with questions and self-doubt. Who or what would want to be my muse, when I really show so little respect and don't provide an outlet for it's tiny, childlike voice? Where has it gone?
Sometimes I just accept things exactly as they appear to me without digging any deeper. I think I am afraid of what I am going to find. Good or bad. In this situation, my muse appears in a certain context and I accept as it is and as I wish it to be, but in fact, it is not what it seems, and it is just waiting for me to figure that out. Perhaps it's power is being held back from me until I do figure it out. Unfortunately I am not known to be too quick about these things.
Lately I have been seeing animals that I rarely encounter in my little world, in very unexpected places.
The first one was a lone Eagle at Granville Island, first flying above my head in circles for about ten minutes, and a few minutes later, perched on the mast of a sailboat. The second was a massive skunk wondering around by where I park my bike at work, in broad daylight. The final one was a coyote, about 6:00am, inside the gated parking lot of the building across from us. There is no entrance to this lot except through a locked gate....
My writing time is slowly being squeezed out of my life. I stupidly thought after NaNo that I had found the answer to my procrastination blues. This situation has reminded me that I am hopeless without a deadline. Not me, on my own. On my own I would do it without hesitation (at least I like to believe that). But I have a problem, when sharing my life with another person, just taking the time to do it. Just saying "I am going to do this now, because it is important to me". It is not the other persons' fault.
The recent death of my friend's sister, at the relatively young age of 60, has led me to think about my relationships with my siblings. She had been estranged from her sister for almost 15 years, and when she died she felt the guilt of not having tried hard enough to stay in contact with her. It is never so simple. When she met with the people her sister had known in the ten years prior to her death, she was shocked at how much love was expressed. She felt more guilt, at not accepting her sister's ability to change.
But then the dreams began. The truth of what their relationship had been, and the fact that it is hard to erase those things, that baggage. I started to think that I shouldn't try in my own way to make peace with ,y siblings, some of whom I have not spoken to for 7-8 years. It sounds nice, but then I am faced with dealing with possible further communication. And truthfully, I am enjoying a freedom I never felt in my life when I was in contact with them. I could never get away from the negativity and the judgment.
I have completely lost the rhythm that I had developed for writing. I was writing regularly in the mornings, and getting quite a bit done. I was really feeling like I was getting somewhere. I was peeling away the layers of bullshit that have covered me for years, and was start to see a glimpse of what may lie underneath. I do not want to believe that I stopped because of that...because I was starting to get at the core. I want to blame it on other things in my life, but that is so much a habit of mine.
I really think I have been taking a good look at myself for years, but the truth is I have been really looking at what other people have done to me, their behaviour towards me and how I have been hurt by them.But do I really believe that I am blameless? Do I really believe, poor me I am such a victim of cruelty and inhuman behaviour? Do I really believe I behave is so much better than everybody else? Just because I have played the "good girl" all my life, does not mean that I have not hurt people.
So what does this realization mean? Should I go back through my life and apologize to people? Should I just do it in my head? I honestly can't think of how I have hurt some of the people that I believe hurt me. I still feel the sting of what they have done to me,and I think that I want to hold onto the hurt. I want to be the victim. But I am just starting to realize that it is this acceptance of the victim role that has kept me feeling weak, helpless and vulnerable. It is the darkness.
So how what do I do with this? I have had so many messages about darkness and light lately. That sounds ridiculous when I put it down in writing, but it is the truth. Yes, I actually had a fortune cookie message that said, "darkness cannot dispel darkness, only light can do that". How funny that I will believe in a message from a fortune cookie. But there have been so many. The message from that woman that calls herself a "psychic" who said that I carry the light within me. Then realizing that my name means "bringer of light".
Those are just the instances that I remember, there have been many, many more.But my skepticism is going into high gear. Do I believe all this crap, or is it just coincidence that I have put together in my mind to make my life more meaningful. Does it matter? Am I harming anyone or anything by believing that there is something going on inside me? That I am in fact coming to a point of shedding light on some of my darkness that has been hidden for years? It can only serve to make me a better person I think.
I think my mind just works that way. It is part of my make-up to find some meaning in what we do on this earth. Some people say that it is human nature, but I work with a lot of people who try very hard everyday to prove that there is really no meaning to it, there is no magic, no mystery, no beauty, it just is what it is. Maybe they find comfort in that, but I do not. I find it hopeless and colourless. It is not that I want to hide from reality. It is the opposite.
Trying to look for meaning, for connections between things, for the beauty in the sadness is what makes me able to face reality. If I did not I would cut myself off, try to make myself numb to the pain of it.I think that is what kept me going for a large part of my life.Being numb. The cynicism and skepticism that I grew up with made it hard for me to be the way I am because I was always considered too much of a dreamer, too emotional, not rational. Not O.K.
There I go again, poor me.
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