feralfae

Kay, thank you for the update on Butch. Butch, when you read this, I know you feel Mary there with you, and your knee will heal fast so you can play with the new grand babies when they make an appearance. QMary, I hope you have a super hit, and that the trip to California and the Grand Canyon are healing and joyful for you. *<twinkles>* fae

Dear Anne, Thank you for continuing to cast these beautiful pearls before very appreciative "silk purses".* Thank you for all the gifts you bring to us. I am so glad you can see the positive outcome of your writing workshop. You do write beautifully. Thank you. *I mean by that reference to silk purses that we have each felt impossibly broken, broken-hearted, bereft, and off balance. Other. Lost and alien to our own separate, solo life. And as we heal, our feelings of the impossibility of having any joy or grace in our lives —or any beauty—is being replaced slowly by hope, dreams, and the confidence that we can make a beautiful new life, in harmony with our healing. And since the healing process seems to be asymptotic so far, I guess we will be always growing in awareness, hope, dreams, and confidence. It is a nice outlook. To quote Seuss, "Oh, the places you'll go!" I feel that among us now. I appreciate being a member of this Tribe more than I can say. Thank you for bringing me in around this warming, healing fire. Thank you Marty, for your healing fire. *<twinkles>* feralfae

Dear Anne, ^How beautiful and perfect. Yes, being here around our healing fire is most certainly standing in the open. Perhaps one of the most significant benefits of standing here, opening our hearts to each other and to he vicissitudes of emotional phases as we mourn, is that we are forced to look within ourselves and find ways to express our feelings to others, even as we learn this new language of grief. We listen to others, and to ourselves, and we learn new lessons on grieving with purpose and with compassion for ourselves and others. I am slowly learning to pay attention to the soft messages that it is time to move on, to shift my focus more to living this life I am in now. And here, standing alone and acknowledging the alone-ness of my life, I am learning to be stronger, even without the protection and warmth of Doug's loving presence. I am reminded of the "shaking of the saplings" to make the little trees stronger as they send up slender stalks to claim a share of the sunshine. Shaking the saplings makes them stronger. We have been shaken, are still being shaken. And we are still standing. I hope you are having a lovely Sunday. *<twinkles>* fae

Dearest Anne, I know Jim is smiling. What a beautiful tribute to Jim, so filled with the wonder of nature all around you, and the music of men mixed with the music of the birds! How very perfect. Thank you, dear one, for this perfect tribute to Jim. Peace to your heart. fae

"...I might live a bit longer. That's the first time I've thought with optimism in a long long time." We slowly move into hope and dare to have dreams again, don't we? It must be the season, because I have just begun to feel that I have energy to do more things, and to also, like you, crawl further out of the darkness. What I have found remarkable lately is how as this "new me" emerges, I seem to be shifting in how I value friends. People who were friends a few years ago seem to have fallen away, and new friends have moved into more inner circles of my life. This may be growth, or simply shift, but the changes feel good and make me realize how my values have altered these last three plus years. I am feeling my own optimism return. I think I have finally forgiven myself for not being able to save Doug's life or to protect him from his family. But I did the best I could and I am finally am allowing myself the compassion to know that. So here we go—many of us—moving into more light, more shifts, and more health. I am so very proud of us all. *<twinkles>* fae

Cindy, Early on, I wrote scathing letters to many people. Fortunately, most of them I did not send. I would fold them up, often seal them in an envelope, toss them in the urn, and eventually, when I was ready, I burned them. There are still times when I write truly snarky notes, and then put them in my lidded big urn, which was wood-fired and seems to absorb a lot of my fiery anger. You have every right to be very angry. And you have every right to articulate your anger. When the result of expressing our anger appropriately, as I think you tried to do, is the ending of that person or event in our dreams, then we are being very good healers of ourselves, and getting rid of negative energy and harmful emotional states. That was a very clear feedback! You have had many losses close together. And many of them were at the central core of your support network. I am sorry you have had to bear loss after loss, and also the incredibly painful loss of your Matthew. I can only imagine how your heart must be broken, and how deep your grieving must go. Peace to your Heart, dear one, and *<twinkles>* feralfae

Brian, I do hope you can discuss this with your supervisor. Perhaps your company has a program in place for bereavement assistance, in the form of grief counseling and fill-in pharmacists who offer their compassion through taking the shifts of others who need time for extraordinary circumstances. The loss of a spouse is one of these circumstances. Some companies offer compassionate leave, of course. Your standard medical insurance may cover some grief counseling. You are a wonderfully self-aware person to grasp not only your emotional situation, but how it could impede your competence. A true caring professional. As you are also aware, because your body keeps sending those emotional signals, your confusion and emotional flows are both strong signals to slow down, meditate more, and take a lot more time for yourself. Now is the time to take care of yourself as you begin the long journey back to stability and balance, if not the same wholeness you shared with your wife. Right now, you need to reach out for as much support as you can from those around you, and continue to care for yourself on your physical and emotional levels, as well as your spiritual one. I think you are doing a good job of listening to your heart, and that is the healthiest thing you can do. My prayers and good wishes are with you, as well as all of it sprinkled as *<fairy dust>* because we all need some, sometimes. *<twinkles>* feralfae

Hello Harry, Like QMary, I have been MIA, but now back in the home space. I am sending prayers and all good wishes. fae

Kay, I am sending happy congratulations for the whole family! Baby girl looks tired, but as cute as she can be. I hope you are resting and recovering from the emotional stress and the traveling. All best wishes to you and the parents and the baby. *<twinkles>* fae

It is good to be here, and thank you all for the welcome back messages. Between grave cleaning, spreading ashes in the river of two men I loved—one climber friend and some of Doug's—I feel I have had enough goodbyes for a while. I am tickled to hear Kay has a grand baby! And Butch is expecting two! Births of children have always felt affirming of life to me. I suppose I am impatient for my older grandson to marry and have a baby, or one of the godsons, but with everyone in college or beginning to put together the foundations of their lives, and how young they are, I imagine I must be patient. I am looking forward to being home for a while, as I have decided not to go to Alaska until I rest and catch up a bit here. And since it rained most of the days I was gone, and is supposed to rain today, I am going to have days and days of mowing to do. I am happy I will be here to "hang out" with all of you for a while. *<twinkles>* fae

Here is the amazing Martian popover, which the baker/maker poured into a pyrex baking dish rather than into muffin cups, and popped into the over to bake. She had used rice flour so I could eat it, and instead of a gentle rise and mounded cake of a pan popover, this is what happened. Truly amazing. And delicious. We were at about 6K feet of altitude, so that might have contributed to this wild shape. *<twinkles>* fae

"Start by doing what is necessary; then do what is possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible. ~ St. Francis of Assisi ~ " Thank you for that, Anne. Isn't that our journey? I remember when all that was possible was brushing my teeth and hair and drinking water, and eating if someone put food in front of me. I think each of you went through that phase of being barely able to do what was necessary. And now, I think we are doing what is possible, and dreaming of doing the impossible. Well, some days, dreams still feel impossible, but not as often these days. I am home from the Wind River Mountains and reservation, having sprinkled red ochre on the graves of loved ones, scattered some of Doug's ashes in a place he loved to play, and then sprinkled red ochre there as well. My girlfriends took good care of my house and plants. All is well. I feel as though I have entered a room from which I have been absent for a while. I imagine we are having tea with delicious little cream cheese, olive, and walnut sandwiches on dark brown bread, and maybe some watercress sandwiches, too. And stuffed eggs. (There are too many chickens where I was, and so I was making stuffed eggs by the dozens! And one person made a huge popover, and I will post a photo soon, because it looked like a marvelous Martian pastry! We had to buy only a few groceries, as we had so many eggs and egg dishes which we enjoyed. And elk burgers. I saw a tiny baby antelope, and of course many calves. I drove home today: 525 miles, ten hours, missing all of the many wild animals playing and living in the Tetons and Yellowstone country. My Honda did very well, and now has 200K+ miles on it. I also tore an ankle tendon and will begin PT for it tomorrow. I have a brace for it. And I'll be using turmeric, internally as well as topically (mixed in coconut oil)to reduce the inflammation, so it can heal more easily. And I found several videos on PT for the condition, and I will get it checked out by the doc too. It feels good to be back among you. {{{hugs}}} Tomorrow is the First of June. I hope we each have a beautiful and peaceful day. *<twinkles>* fae

Jan, turmeric is also a great anti-inflammatory. I have a friend who sprinkles it on her dog's food. Kelley sounds as though she is her own dog, and knows what she can do and when. I think if you give her options, and maybe shorter walks, things will be fine. She will let you know what she needs. You two are close enough that you can tell what she wants to do. As for a walking partner, I have several available here, but I love my walks as a t time of solitude and allowing meditation, and so although there are lovely friends who would walk with me, I enjoy the time alone. Belleruth has some walking meditations on her CDs, I think. Yes, Jan, you and Anne and I are all about on the same time frame, and I can see how much more stable we are now, and how much better we are doing at carrying this grief without falling into despair so often. I think we are all doing fine. Jan, I am thinking of you and Kelbi today as well, as you adjust to this new phase of life. Change is constant. We learn to live through it, and to move into new spaces with grace, don't we? And yes, we are incredibly fortunate to have Marty. namaste, fae

Dear Brian, I am so very sorry for your loss. I know how unbearable the pain can feel in the early days, and how lost and disoriented we can feel without our beloved. My Doug has been gone more than three years now, and yet in many ways, he is still at the center of my life. I know you must be in a fog of grief right now. Right now, it is important that you take very good care of your health. Eat well. Sleep as often as you can. Stay fully hydrated. Grief is hard work, and tears are dehydrating. You need more rest, lots of water, fresh fruits and vegetables, and time to pray, meditate, and write in your journal. Be as compassionate and caring of yourself as you can be. I am glad you have family to share meals. Having supportive people around is a true gift for helping to comfort our broken hearts. I am glad you have found your way here, although I am so very sorry that you have arrived because of your loss. Healing takes time, and the journey as well as the time it takes are different for everyone. Be patient and loving with yourself. Take good care of yourself. Have a physical to make sure there are no overlooked medical issues which can result from grief. I hope you find a good grief counselor and perhaps a support group when you are ready. Peace to your heart, and many blessings, feralfae

Dear Tribe, I have found living in the present is a true gift. Some days, I am able to stay there for quite a while, enjoying the day. But very often some sight, or situation—or sound perhaps—will trigger a memory, and then my heart travels back and I have no where to go but to follow it, back to the days of happiness, and often back to the days of illness. Sometimes, I escape into the future, making up dreams of Doug still being here, and what our life would be like if he were still here. Those times of wishful thinking and day dreaming bring tears fairly often, as I sympathetically pull myself back into the present; into this life without Doug. It is still difficult, this being alone and without him, after being so in love and being with him. Being so deeply in love is such a risky business, because we have truly given our hearts away, shared our spirits, and opened our lives completely to share and mingle it with another. And yes, I now know it is true that great love can bring great sorrow when the Beloved leaves us. But the pain seems ineffable to fully relate to another, so while we do our best, our emotional vocabularies seem far more limiting than our medical vocabularies. I think when we make time escapes, we are only doing what is human—finding a way to escape the pain of loss when it becomes unbearable. So I let myself slide into memories and dreams, knowing that in a little while, I will gently pull myself out of those places in time, and return to today. My heart is with you Anne, and Carrie, and Kay, and Jan. I face this life this morning, so grateful for having known Doug, and so deeply empty that he is gone, but with my heart warmed and comforted by the memories of his love and his presence. I know each of us are having these same times and experiences. Last night, I watched a lovely movie with Judy Dench, "Mrs. Henderson Presents" with Bob Hoskins. It is the true story of a widow in London between the wars, and her "hobby" she took up after her husband died. Well worth the watching. I think it had 4 and a half stars. If you have Amazon Prime, it is free. Anne, I will be especially thinking of you these next few days. I hold you in my heart. namaste, fae

Dear Lady Carrie, You are a wonderful gift to us all, and thank you for your loving words. Your peace, acceptance, surrender to the will of G*D, and your beautiful spirit shine through your words. Thank you for your presence. *<twinkles>* fae

Three years ago today, I was in Fairbanks, Alaska. In a few hours, Doug's Life Celebration would begin, going on for two days. People had arrived from all over he world, many camping in their mountaineering tents in the open fields behind Musher's Hall. Musher's Hall is the home of the dog sledding teams, where they have sled trials, and where mushing events often begin, with all those beautiful dogs yipping and prancing in their traces. But today, three years ago, there was the sound of people talking and laughing, gathering gear, wandering about, coming in to the building to get coffee and breakfast from the large industrial-like kitchen, where volunteer friends were preparing and serving a hearty breakfast for everyone. One of our friends from Australia came over to hug me and hold me for a few minutes, and we talked about her diving adventures with her husband. Other people drifted over, but most people took their meals and wandered back outside to enjoy the sun on this low-mosquito day. We set up the screen and projector so we could play the DVDs, transferred from Super 8 film, of climbs where Doug had taken his movie camera. Some of them had recent narratives, with Doug talking about the climbs. We recorded those here, making a small narrative box in the corner of the screen so Doug could be seen as well as the climb. Three years ago today, by 9 am, people began to wander over, sit before the screen, and occasionally comment, especially if they saw themselves, younger and stronger, in these films made in the 70s and 80s. And Doug's narratives, made when he felt well enough between chemo treatments, were priceless, quipping about his partners, explaining rime ice, making us all smile with his wit and humor. I am so very glad we got a few narratives done. The band guys set up a microphone for me, and I spoke, read the inscription in the new. leather-bound Club Journal, and invited others to speak. Later, there was music by the band, whose members are doctors, geologists, and geophysicists. Being all in their 60s, they play a lot of loud rock 'n roll. Loud. They are all Doug's good friends, and this was their own, special tribute to Doug. Music, food and beer, wine and stories, flowed all around. I made it through the two days, sleeping little in the days of the long light of the circumpolar Earth. Now it is three years later, and my heart is much more at peace, I am slowly settling in to this new life, and slowly regaining my health after a series of medical adventures. Three years. More than half of the cells in my body are new cells. Our home is now my home, and I have almost finished clearing Doug's closet, and have begun on his shop space. I have rearranged and redecorated to banish sad memories of Doug being sick and weak, but his place is still set at the table, and his chair is still his chair. Last night, I prayed that he would let me know he is here, and that he is still watching over me. As I was falling asleep, I felt a presence enter the bedroom, and stand near the bed. It surprised me, and my initial reaction was a twinge of fear. But it was Doug, and I think that he was both reassuring me and also letting me know that my life was my own to enjoy, and that everything is fine, and that things would be all right. I fell asleep comforted, safe, and smiling. Three years have passed, and my heart is still filled with love for Doug, but now I have more confidence that I can go on and make my own way. The woman who stood before those hundreds of people, speaking about her husband and his magnificent spirit, is still here, but so, too, is the woman who has learned to carry this sorrow, and to smile this morning at the electric blue of the bluebird perched on the rail of the sleeping deck outside my window. Life is all around me, and I am slowly, cautiously opening my heart to the beauty of life again. Where will life take me these next three years? Will Doug watch over me then? Will his love keep me strong and confident? I have no idea, but I do know that I am a very different person now. I am far more caring and compassionate with myself, and that is a gift I learned while caring for Doug. I have more patience, because once I lived with the overwhelming pain of life without Doug here beside me, I learned that no matter how bad the pain, it will ease. It just takes time. I am not certain yet what the outcome will be of the present discussion about the Club HQ, our former home in Fairbanks. I have had my say, and no matter how things go, I will find a way to make a good life and go on. Mercury went retrograde yesterday, so I'm aware that communications may be a bit of a struggle right now, if one considers such things as planets' energetic emissions. No matter what, communications can be tough when discussions are about issues that bring up emotional responses. It is tough for us to talk about Doug without having emotional responses, and I know that some of the guys in the Club are struggling emotionally with some of the decisions they need to make. But Doug left very clear instructions, and funny though it is, no one but me and the trustee had bothered to read Doug's written instructions until yesterday. Maybe now they can make some decisions. Meanwhile, I am going to take this day to remember other anniversaries and birthdays, when we had parties, picnics, and sang songs with friends. When we sipped champagne, savored a torte au chocolate Callebaut, served with fresh raspberries, raspberry sauce and whipped cream. I can see Doug smiling with each bite. Doug blowing out the birthday candles on the torte. Being held and almost smothered with a big hug for some gift that he really wanted. And, on another birthday, our vows to each other, as we both shared our amazement that we had found each other in this lifetime. I remain amazed that in my life, in my lifetime, I got to play for so many years with Doug, and to work with him, write with him, and to make our beautiful life together. But before I knew Doug, I had made a beautiful life. So I know I can make a beautiful life again. And while this journey of grief continues, there is room and energy and vision to continue to make this life one that I wish to live, and to let my heart heal and open at its own pace, knowing that the time for this is in the hands of our Creator, and that it will all work out. Time to go forage for a cup of decaf, and then to decide what fun I can get into this special day of many memories, of celebration, and of acceptance. namaste, fae

Butch, I just want to push past the first part of what you wrote ^ and focus on the wonderful news about the twins, and don't they just love to keep us in suspense? I am excited for you that you have this wonderful present—these wonderful presents!—coming into your life. I can almost see the sparkle in our eyes as you write about them. What a wonderful helping of happiness for you! Lovely! I am so happy for you and Mary that you have the twins coming. I think this will brighten your life so much that you will be able to release more of the anger. Some of have been here since Shannon was here, and we miss Shannon and loved her dearly. Then, darling Mary came into our hearts and cared for Leo and Shannon. We loved Mary's beautiful soul, and know that she was on her perfect path, even if we don't understand it all. People tried to get me to take breaks from caring for Doug, but he wanted me there, and I wanted to be there. I am so very thankful that no one tried to pull me away, because that was a very precious time. I know that all the love flowing between Mary and her family made each day a blessing of a day for her. You, being a loving husband, never tried to stop Mary from being who she was, and doing what she wanted to do. You let her shine her light in her own way, and we all saw her beautiful spirit. Thank you for letting Mary be who she is, from her spirit. I know why she loves you so much—you two have unconditional love for each other, loving spirit to spirit. I am laughing at you feeling Mary's excitement, usually chill guy. She is bringing happiness and delight, laughter and excitement, to your heart. Thank you for sharing that with us. I am smiling. *<twinkles>* namaste, fae

Dear Jan, I woke up this morning, remembering where I was three years ago. I was in Alaska, preparing for Doug's two-day memorial celebration to be held May 19-20 in Fairbanks. I could not bear to have a funeral either. And the best I could say was that Doug had escaped. He did not feel dead to me: he still does not feel dead to me, just in a different energy state. I am amazed and grateful to be alive after these three years of such grief and trauma. I am thankful that I have made it this far, and that life is slowly settling in to a more peaceful pattern of day-to-day life. I have learned to be more gentle, accepting, and compassionate with myself. I am learning to adapt to this new life. More of my work now is centered on the land rights of traditional cultures, reviewing the takings going on in many places around Earth, where people are being displaced from their ancestral lands to make room for "progress" which is usually a byword for destroying a traditional culture and herding the people into "settlement" facilities, which is, truth be told, a way to concentrate pools of human labor for corporate use. Not a pretty picture, yet I see it going on in many nations. This was an area in which Doug and I had been working for many, many years. Jan, I was delighted to visit your web pages, to read some of Pete's poetry, to read about your interests, look at the various pages, and delight in the images. Your talent, depth, and works are both impressive and inspiring, and I hope you can save your beautiful area from ugly development. You have my very best wishes. I scattered some of Doug's ashes in the forest yesterday, in the rain, leaving small scatterings at some of his favorite places, thinking of the wonderful times we had. Next week, to mark our anniversary and Doug's birthday, I will spend Tuesday remembering our years together and thanking Creator for having had such a wonderful, miraculous (magic) life with Doug. I wish Doug were still here in this physical world, but it comforts me that he is still here in this energetic world and that I can feel his presence in my heart. We have made it three years. I never thought I would, that first year. I find my life still shifting and changing, and I have no idea where life may carry me. I am incredibly thankful to have this place, to have all of you who are on this journey, to share your insights, coping, adjustments, and grief with me. How much I learn here in how to make this journey! We carry on. namaste, fae

Dear Harry, What a beautiful tribute to Hank, and how wonderful that you two can at last share love and that he is able to tell you he loves you. I am glad you have been able to spend some time with him. For you, this is another link to Jane being released. I am sorry for your loss as well, because now there will be one less person to share your love of Jane when you talk about her. Peace to your heart. namaste, fae

. . . nattering, coming over from the Quotes thread to here. After all this time, I am beginning to feel safe in my house again. I got in the car a while ago, and drove into town, just to be out and to drive. I am moving through a paradigm shift, and I needed to move faster than I could walk. So many things happening very fast these days... I think I am going to start a thread over on New Beginnings if the *<Angels>* keep weaving such beautiful patterns for me. People who would not speak to me three years ago or who were very skeptical, due to having been slightly infected with greed and maybe jealousy viruses, seem to be getting healthier. I have been invited to join the board of the club. But now, three years later, at least a lot of things are cleared up and straightened out. And I got to spend my time and energy healing, which I am still doing, but I am much better. I don't know if I want to be on the Board yet. Those climber guys, some of them have very big egos. Which, at their ages, comes across as immaturity more than anything else. Great guys, but some still caught in the ego thing. I had to give equal time to two distinct philosophical camps at the Doug's memorial service just so they could rag each other. Then, I had to get the undisputed leader of the pack, a neutral dear friend, not a climber, but the Big Guy in Fairbanks, to get up and settle them down with a humorous tribute to Doug. He got them smiling. And these are men around my age! Climbers! Adventurers! Explorers! Superb gentlemen and brilliant, each in his own field, writing for NatGeo, professors, amazing guys. But whew! they can be a hand-full. And these were Doug's men, because of course he saw himself as the leader, which he usually was on climbs and in their philosophical positions with respect to the ethics of climbing. (I just knew this was going to be a long natter) So, I have offered a counter-proposal and a vision, which they really need. I am raising the bar. We will review the present structure of the executive board. Doug said they would call me back after a "couple of years" which I had thought meant two. So this is my first anniversary gift from Doug: the board invitation. I feel deliciously vindicated. Excuse me while I crow just a tiny bit. Then, during a call with my cousin, she fondly mentioned Doug, and how much she misses him, and that it will be good to spread some of his ashes at the ranch, which I will do over Memorial Day, when we also visit the family graves out at Fort Washakie, where we decorate with red ochre. (I have the ochre, because I use it in glaze recipes.) And we talked about Doug, and how he loved being there. And we will also be scattering our dear friend's ashes, a climber who showed Doug where to climb walls on the ranch. And they did. I am having such good memories these days, of times of great beauty and joy. Going out to sleep under the light of the stars in the shadow of Baboquivari was a time of wonderful healing for me. Being under the stars, where the starlight cast shadows on Baboquivari and the Milky Way arched brightly above me, while the coyotes sang to each other across the savannah, I remembered so much of the beauty of the life I have lived. I have had an awesome life so far. I have dared and done some pretty neat stuff, at least by my personal, private reckoning. I love my life. I am getting excited again about being alive. Each day is such a gift. I remember, not that long ago, when I woke each day with a sense of adventure, to see what I could solve, what I could create on that day, how I could use my body for fun, often climbing. That sense of adventure and fun is returning. At some deep, psychic level of my energetic body, healing is happening with highly recognizable results, which I can feel. Doug took me to Baboquivari the first time I was there. Another gift from Doug. It is very nice to look around at my life and see all the gifts from Doug that are still coming in to my life. So, as I approach our anniversary and Doug's birthday, I simply want to express my deep gratitude to my Creator for all the love and beauty that flows into my life each day. This is a whole new way of living—on so many levels and with so many meanings—that I know it is going to take a while to sort it all out. I am healing. Healing from the trauma. I am convinced that we need to focus human energy on healing the Earth—and all life—from trauma. At the level of my spirit, I am beginning to love and celebrate my own sense of myself again. Being here with you has been a significant Leading for me. I have been led to a new level of awareness, of compassion, and of self-knowing. Because trauma made me forget who I am, and healing from trauma means I get to discover and validate my true self, with a caring examination of my identity. A good opportunity to clean up some stuff that needs clearing. But I do not recommend trauma as a way to healing. Actually, I wouldn't recommend grief as a way to healing, either, but we know that it is. I have come to understand grief as a way of being, an active state of being that is how the body and spirit gradually heal from the trauma of loss. Grieving is not an emotional state which one can easily examine, as one can feel anger and examine it rather than acting on the emotion. With grief, it felt as though I was in an alternate reality, where I had no power to resolve any of my own feelings, where I had no power to create my life, where I had no power to defend myself or even take care of myself. I had no power. Death had come, and I had no power to stop the process. And in response, my own process became the process of grieving, not only Doug's escape, but the loss of my sense of perfect efficacy as well. I see now, from this perspective of time, how important it is to be reminded about self care, about putting off major decisions, about focusing on self and survival. None of it can matter when we have lost control of our hearts, and have felt them break within us. None of it can matter when the world has become a dark, shadowy and cold place, with no light and love left that can comfort us. Lost in this place of no power, how can it matter what we do or do not do? But, because we are truly loved, some Malakh reaches out to us, speaks to us, gives us some words that were just what we needed to hear, and the grief begins to flow, becomes a torrent, and we learn to control the process, to lessen its ability to sweep us off our feet, to leave us ungrounded. If we ask, I think we find places around fires like this one where we learn how to live with this process, how to honor it and welcome it, to bring it into awareness for ourselves and for others, and to share our healing story. And then, by the Grace of G*d, we begin to grow stronger, and to move into our healing with more and more compassion, patience, determination, and willingness to participate in the process. And so I continue to heal. *<twinkles>* fae

Anne, Mary, Jan, Kay, all of us here around Marty's fire, namaste I have been reading back over posts I had missed while birding and catching up (I am still doing that!) with friends and relatives and stuff. I went back and savored the last couple of pages—an oasis of beauty and heartful-ness in the midst of the aridity which life can sometimes be, when we are working through those clouds. Ah, Mary, how true it is about those clouds that hang over us. I find myself sometimes dealing with vestiges of things—things never fully grieved—left like tiny grains of sand from my younger days. Some of them, thank goodness, have become pearls of great beauty, those times when I sought refuge in art or mathematics. But some, I find, have set up a permanent base of irritation, and it is those that take the work to be able to release them. I am going to drift off the quotes thread, rather than entirely thread jack it, and natter over on my own string. fae

LOL

Karen, I am only just beginning to catch up with reading here. I am so very happy to hear about your new fur baby! Congratulations! I am glad the medical was good. What fun for you! I am going to watch for more good furry stories here now. Kay, I hope you are feeling better. Mary, good to read that you and Bentley are holding your own. It's raining here, and I am having a quiet day, remembering so many beautiful memories, all glowing with love. I am so very grateful to come here and step into the warmth of this circle of love and grace. *<twinkles>* Thank you. namaste fae

Thank you Anne for the "I must decide" It is humbling and inspiring to know that we have a choice. I am choosing to shine, although some days are still very shrouded in the clouds of grief. But I know we are each doing our best to shine. I know, no matter how much I might change, that Doug would still recognize me. Jan, isn't it wonderful that we have this strong faith and love to comfort us and remind us that we are still loved as much as we were when they were standing next to us while we said our vows? I find such great comfort in knowing that, and feeling the constancy and eternal nature of Doug's love for me and mine for him. I think that some days, it is all that keeps me going. We do change so very much. We move into the days, and into the world, with a different sense of not only who we are, but what the world is around us. A whole new way of being in a whole new place. What an adventure! namaste, fae