Divinely Human

DivineHuman

I’m not sure if it was the rainy day today that made me even more dreamy than usual or just the seemingly random events that occurred this morning.  I read a woman’s post on Facebook that said she remembered her birth, that there were bright lights flashing in her face as she entered the world.  I thought about this (and her) for most of the morning.  Marveling that somebody remembers her own birth.  I believe her.  It’s just that I don’t think there are many people that remember their own births.

I’ve been tripping out on that more and more.  How special each one of us is…and how really getting to know somebody (for me anyway) is like learning a new language.  Sometimes like becoming an expert in a whole new species, surrendering preconceived notions and judgements.

***

I am driving on the road, past where the body of a young raccoon has been decomposing for a couple of days.  I can smell it.  But today I see another raccoon, a big one, dead on the other side of the road.  “Oh no!” I exclaim.  I wonder if they’re related, was this the already decomposing one’s Mama?  My heart sinks as I touch my heart.

I have a vivid memory of riding  in the backseat of my grandparents car.  We passed a dead dog on the side of the highway.  I was shocked to see it.  I didn’t realize that this could happen.  That dogs could get hit by cars and their bodies could lie by the side of the road, cars whizzing by.  I spent the rest of the ride in silence, deeply saddened.  That was a gray day too.

***

Early this morning the phone rang and I didn’t recognize the number but I answered it anyway.  I rarely do that.  “Is this the Grief Support Network?” he asks.  “Well…not exactly”,  I answer.  Yes and no.  The hotline still transfers over to my cell phone even though I haven’t worked there in 6 months.  They don’t know how to fix it.

I start to go into a rambling explanation but then stop myself and ask if he is looking for support (sometimes it’s a sales person.)  He is.  He tells me what’s going on and I listen.  He explains to me that he has plummed the inky depths and also connected to his brightest divine nature.  “I can tell you get it,” he says.  And I do.  I am sitting at my computer in the darkness, having an intimate conversation with a “stranger”.

***

The older I get, the more I feel that each one of us speaks our own language and to really listen to somebody, to really get somebody, takes a certain amount of amazement and awe in humanity in general.  What delicate and finely-tuned creatures we all are;  senstive, unique, miraculous energy bodies that communicate on so many deep and subtle levels.   Right now, for me, this is the best show in town.  Peace and Love.

Sweet Memories

Santa Cruz Harbor
Santa Cruz Harbor

When I was a kid, I would spend every 4th of July in Narrangansett, RI with my grandparents.  Just me and Mimi and Grandy.  It was idyllic.  Not just the romanticizing of childhood that can happen with sepia toned memories, but truly perfection…and unconditional love.  Lots of that.

It took me a long time to figure out why I get so emotional about fireworks (they’re magical to me) and an even longer time to consciously “get” why the 4th of July is such a big deal to me.  I love gathering friends together and burning sparklers, kids running around like crazy, sweet treats and later…fireworks in the black night.  I’m embarrassed to tell you that it wasn’t until a few years back, with the help of my husband who gently pieced it together for me, that 4th of July goes hand in hand with happier times in an often grim childhood spent with alcholhic parents.  This is one holiday I don’t have a single memory of alcohol crashing in like an unwelcomed guest.

For the past 3 years Andy and I have been spending the 4th in Santa Cruz, a beach town in California.  The thrill of spending this holiday at the ocean is beyond description.  The part of my brain that holds all the sensory memories of summer gets stirred and a peace and joy comes over me.  Salty air, sunburned skin, charcoal fires, music playing, the occasional loud ‘POP!’ down the street from a clandestine fire cracker, the holiday goers lugging their coolers and cranky babes, the locals sitting outside Deke’s Market, playing ukeleles…all of it weaves an old familiar tale with new traditions.

Santa Cruz lighthouse
Santa Cruz lighthouse

My daughter is backpacking in the mountains of Colorado, my son is in Europe on a cruise with his dad.  Both unreachable by phone or email.  But my step-daughter arrived  today for her first experience of 4th of July, California style.  Andy and I sat on the shore and watched her step into the ocean… uncertainly at first, then more and more sure of herself.  Soon she was was out past the breakers.   As the sun tried to burn through the fog, I had a vision of my grandparents watching me in the waves years ago: “Don’t go out too far Zan!”  Mimi would call and I would laugh.

I’m filled with gratitude for the all the love my grandparents showered on a growing girl that needed it.  Grateful that they can live on in my heart for as long as I do.  Concentric circles of love rippling out and lapping at other’s hearts like gentle waves.  I miss you guys so much.  And was and continue to be so lucky that I was loved by you.

Best Grandparents Ever

“The wave is the same as the ocean, though it is not the whole ocean. So each wave of creation is a part of the eternal Ocean of Spirit. The Ocean can exist without the waves, but the waves cannot exist without the Ocean.” 

-Paramahansa Yogananda