Transformations On This Path

[mfh]

I did not mean to rag at you but just share what I noticed. I thought this week was your retreat.... :rolleyes:

So glad you have plans solidly in place for your retreat. I assume you will still be here so we can all support you as you go but whatever your choice...we are here for you.

Love

Mary

[feralfae]

Oh, no, I don't feel ragged.

This is sort of a shake-down week, which with my life, is necessary to put everyone on notice. Protocols for client crisis. Foundation stuff that might come up. Yes, and the staff is getting trained so by the time we close the office, they won't need me much at all, is the plan.

Thank you, yes Mary and everyone, I hope to be here even when on retreat. And thank you so much, because I have seldom felt that such a miraculous Orchestration of *<Angels>* and a Callahan, were around me. And have my back. Wow.

Well, typing of Callahan, Spider and Jeanne Robinson's Stardance Trilogy arrived today, and I have an evening of reading, a glass of mead, and some nice Buddhist chanting to fill the house with peace. I go to read and really kick back, as they say.

Tomorrow, I get to learn how to play with this new toy called a sewing computer. Fascinating. And I am very excited about the day. The class is 9-4, and I we are to be there about 8:45 to register and check in and set up our own machine so we can each get personalized instruction on how to use our own particular machine. And I am picking up organic GF lunch at the health food store. It will be a good day. I am so excited to learn how to use my machine. This will be another fun toy for the winter.

And I have some new togs designed...

*<twinkles>*

fae

[mfh]

Have so much fun tomorrow that you will come home in bliss. I have a sewing machine (not sewing computer). I once had an old treadle machine and loved that. I seldom sew...I was assigned to sewing when in the convent. I had to make habits...which is no small task. The coif (part of the head piece) had a gusset 7 layers thick...I also got the honor of taking machines apart, cleaning them, and making sure they worked. I use a machine now only on a rare occasion...meaning once every 5 years.

But those new machines fascinate me. I have a friend here in Spring Green who has one and he showed me how to use it...I mean I watched him for an hour. He makes fabrics on his knitting computer (very delicate and fine work), dyes the fabrics and then makes upscale fashions. He is awesome and way too high priced for me but what he makes is worth every penny...works of art. I asked him once how he got a certain color in a piece and he used General Store coffee. He is a warm and gentle man...has a partner of many many years and never forgets to hug me and ask me how I am doing...it happened just today.

I hope you have fun tomorrow.

Mary

[kayc]

I must have missed something...what kind of a retreat are you going on? What kind of a machine are you learning to use?

[feralfae]

Hi Dear Kay, and Good morning,

I have a new Bernina that I got the last day of the annual sale, after thinking about it for a while and waiting until the last day.

I was supposed to go to the all-day class today, but I am going to need to call them later when they open to tell them I will not be there. I have sprained my left knee while I was trying to change a lightbulb last night. The muscle twitched and my leg twisted while I was standing on it in an awkward position, and now I have a compression bandage around my knee.

My hope is that I have not injured the regrowing muscles. It hurts a lot, and there is no way I can (1) drive all the way into and across town to the class (2) sit through 7 hours of classes (3) keep my leg elevated and still enough to let this begin to heal. Needless to say, I have not had much sleep, as I cannot find a comfortable position.

The possibility is that I have done such a good job with the PT that the upper muscle may be stronger than the lower one, and has pulled it out of line. My entire left leg, foot, and ankle have been beaten up pretty badly in my life. I fell on my left side in my bad fall, when I dislocated the knee cap, broke my ankle, a few foot bones, dislocated my shoulder, broke my pelvis, had two concussions on the left side of my skull, and a few ribs got cracked, and broke both arms as well, the left a significant compound fracture that required a few surgeries and rods and pins and things. I had both arms in casts for a while. My poor body has been through a lot, without considering children and all the other wear and tear of an active life.

Anyway, so my left leg was already traumatized, then when I had the cauda equina, it was the left side of my lower body that lost the most feeling and use. I recognize that this is the "feminine side" of my body, and also the heart side, and as my healer friend said, that is the side of me that needs the most healing on many levels since Doug left. So, to force me into total rest and total relaxation, as usual, I pushed too hard and am now here in bed, knee wrapped, behaving myself.

If I had known you and Mary were up last night, I would have joined you here, and we would have had a quorum for a party, as Doug would have said. Once, when he was in the hospital and not doing very well, he awoke to find the room filled with lots of medical people and three student nurses, there to use him as a practice pin cushion ( I stopped that! ) but he looked around and smiled, and said, "It looks like we have a quorum for a party. Where are the balloons?" I was always amazed at all the medical people, whom one would expect to make human contact, who saw Doug only as "the advanced cancer in room 324" and did not even bother to learn his name. I could write a book on that painful part of dealing with the medical profession. He had one surgeon who was a warm and caring human -- no doubt a total anomaly among surgeons -- but for most of them, it was schedules, measurements, and no room for the humanity as they "provided medical services" but had no vested interest in healing the person behind the numbers. I think I am remembering a lot of this because of Chris's account of their trip to the hospital. I am barely touching a lot of those memories yet. They are just in a file or stack somewhere in my memory, and they still hurt too much to give them much attention.

Well, so I guess this is a retreat day for me, here in bed or on the sofa, reading. I am certainly not going to be driving anywhere today or tomorrow. I am limping and my knee is swollen.

Thank goodness I have this new book to read.

I guess I'll be around today after all. It's fine and I will just focus on healing.

I am pondering new levels of the meaning of the word rest.

*<twinkles>*

fae

[feralfae]

Nattering.

Chris's posts about Paula leaving have triggered a lot of memories for me, and I might as well let them float up today and cry my way through them. This second year is bringing up so much of this sense of finality of the fact that Doug is gone. This acceptance brings up a lot more feelings as well. I am sure many of you have been through this: when Doug got sick, I truly believed that he would be the exception, the miracle, the wonder, and that he would survive and get better, and we would have another thirty years. I thought with his strong will and his love of life, that he would decide to just get well and everything would be fine. He was always able to bend reality to his will, it seemed. In lovely, beautiful, and caring ways he would make things better.

I thought he would stay. When he told me we were aborting the mission, just hours before he did leave, I had to believe him, because he never, ever lied to me about anything. We did not do that to each other. But he said he had to go. So I left the room and asked G*d to tell me what Doug needed from me, and then I came back to the room, and soon everyone else left, except for hospice visits, because Doug was still lucid and telling people to go now, go sit in the living room, go have ice cream, just leave us alone.

We held each other through the night here in our bed as his breath became more labored, and as the nurses sat outside the door, in case I needed one of them to help me. We talked. Every few minutes, Doug would push the button on his pain pump. He kept talking. He could no longer make notes. I have never felt so very loved, and he thanked me for still loving him even when we were not having fun. Of course, his idea of having fun might be writing an amicus for the Supreme Court, or challenging some bit of legislation that was a blatant violation of human rights, or mostly, working for peace, so it was not all parties and playing at ice towers and climbing and going to wine tastings. There was a lot of what most people call work, but we enjoyed it all.

I know I am incredibly blessed that we were together when he left. I know that I am incredibly blessed to have a husband of such brilliance and foresight. As I sit here in our bed, looking around this room we remodeled and decorated together, as I look at Estelle's copper engravings on the wall, at his oil of the loons on an arctic pond which he bought at an art show, at our pastels of the Winds that we found at a gallery in Jackson, and our watercolors from a friend in Colorado, at my beautiful copper jewelry tree Doug made for me, at his last card to me, which I have framed, and I look at the view he saw as he rested here, those last days, I am just remembering how wonderful, how magnificent, and how honorable a man I was so fortunate to have as my husband. I miss him so very much, especially at times like now, when he would bring breakfast to me, and make sure that I was all right. He would tell me jokes to make me laugh. He would amble around, humming 'Yellow Submarine" with his eyes twinkling and that infectious smile of his, and make up things for us to do when I was sick, like silly word games, until I would toss him out of my sick room so I would rest from laughter.

We were both bears when we were really sick: let me go into my cave, and leave me alone. I will come out when I am well. So, we would bring each other tea and dry toast, or chicken rice soup or something like that. And tiptoe away until Aunt Virginia's little antique bell would ring again and we had been summoned. Those last days, Doug could not reach for the bell, so I just stayed close by, so all he had to do was look at me, and I knew to pay attention. Sometimes it was very hard for him to talk, even with the oxygen. He would move his hand in a scribbling motion, to say he wanted pen and paper. And he would write notes. My wonderful husband. I hope I can come to take half as good care of myself as he took care of me. And, yes, as I took care of him those last months before he left forever.

I hate being in bed, but I am very thankful I have a good book and my laptop.

*<twinkles>*

fae

[enna]

Fae, I am so sorry you are hurting from the pulled muscle or whatever it might be. Do you take pain medicine? I usually elevate and try very hard to stay put when I injure anything in my leg area. Please tell me you were just stretching to change the light and NOT on a step ladder!

Our bodies have a way of letting us know when we do too much!! We have heard that many times before.

I am sorry that you are missing your sewing day. It sounded liked it would be a fun day.

I hear you about your Doug leaving. It takes awhile to awaken to the reality of our loved ones gone. The first year really was a traumatic one for me - mostly in that awful 'fog' we talk about. Now, this second year seems to bring many different feelings out. I certainly am more aware of my Jim's absence here on this earth as you are, dear fae. I feel that I am more compassionate toward others. I don't mind being alone with my Benji as a companion of course. I listen with an open heart to those of us here who are able to share their journey. Sometimes I have words and other times I just read in amazement at the sensitivity, caring, and love the people here express.

Enjoy a restful day. Anne

[lilacsandladybugs]

Oh Fae!

That Bernina thing really hit a chord and I had to respond. I still look at Kathy's machine which is the first real toy I bought her. It sits in her sewing room and will most likely be there when I leave this world. I am way over due having it serviced and though she always did it once a year, I feel the need to have it cleaned though it remains quiet and still. Quilting was her passion and every year she would be in Houston for the October convention. After a week of classes, I would join her for the romantic weekend we always had. I do so miss those times and her working away in that room, one which will stay until I learn to quilt myself. Oh what a journey that would be. I will always remember how we would hit every fabric and quilting place in every town we were in from Scottsdale to Calgary buying fabrics in sets of 8 quarters to go with each other. It became my job to search for different fabrics that would work in a set. I used to joke that I was an "enabler" cause I would always say, "just get it". I still find myself going in those shops every once in a while, and just feeling the moment. One day I intended to buy her a long arm.

I hear what you say about the hospice time and it brought back the memories of Kathy's last days. I was told by the hospice nurse that they so often will wait till you leave the room so you don't have to see them go. I felt guilty not leaving her side but ended up telling her although she was not conscious that I was going for a walk if she wanted to go, that I would understand. I fell asleep at 11:30 pm the next night our heads two feet apart to be awakened an hour later by her nurse telling me she was gone. She found a way to go without me watching her and so I guess it worked out the way it was supposed to.

I hope you feel better soon and the pain subsides.

Stephen

[lilacsandladybugs]

Anne,

I hope you are feeling a little bit better at least today.

[feralfae]

I guess you guys may be in for a lot of nattering today, since I am not able to do my usual routine of (tissue foraging break) working the body to let go of emotional stuff. Bodies come in very handy for letting go of energy, I find.

Anne,

I am not much into pain meds. I am not much into corporate pharma, actually. If you read anything Life Extension puts out, you begin to learn about some of the serious NEGATIVE (e.g., 'side') effects that sometimes more than cancel out any Positive effects of some of that stuff. I take penicillin, red willow bark tea (sipping it now, it is an excellent analgesic), and some other herbals, including, since Doug left, St. John's Wort. I am elevating, resting, keeping warm, and drinking lots of fluids. If my knee is better enough later, I will haul it into the jacuzzi for a hydro therapy session. At present, I am in some pain, but I do know that when I get really sleepy, I will snooze. Thank you dear one, and I knew if anyone would have good advice on knees, it would be our Dancer. {{{hugs}}} No, I was Not on a ladder. I was on tip-toe, though. But, I was in stout boots. It is already better, so it is healing. It is just going to be a very quiet day for me. I twitched it hard, I think. But I did not break anything or tear anything too badly, I can tell. It is just scolding my awareness and reminding me who carries me around and is my personal, fairly maintenance-free vehicle and all while I am human and on Earth. Spirit and Body are scolding Mind. It is going to be a good day to do a lot of meditation, I can tell.

I have you all here to keep me company, while we are all saying prayers and flinging *<fairy dust>* for Bill's Mary today, as he smiles at her and warms her from her heart. She is making it through this trip to the eye doc. I pray she will see Bentley soon and much better. And we will pray for our Shannon and her Leo. (Actually, I think they are fine and playing out there among the stars, probably in the Constellation Leo, but that is my own theory.) And their dear Mary, who now joins us here. I guess she will be our S&L Mary, or she will tell us her nick for here. And a color if she wants one. Will all of us just stay well for a while, please? I am not counting this bum knee, because it will heal in a few days. Is there a prayer list thread here somewhere, around this amazing fire? I mean, besides this ongoing, never-ending, love-filled prayer circle around this spirit fire we have from Marty?

Tea break, more later, and I see your posts, Lilacs&LadyBugs Stephen, and I know it must be hard to look into Kathy's sewing room. Those places where our Beloved lived: where they Imagined, Thought, Acted, Created, Manifested while they on Earth with us, sharing our human lives from our very married eternal spirits. I can remember that last part and smile sometimes now. *<twinkles>* There is a lot of solace there somewhere, and I am beginning to find it sometimes when I look around me at all the things Doug made for me. He was an amazing artist in so many media. Their presence here among us endures in our hearts and in their works. Their spirits simply endure, of course.

Tea break.

*<twinkles>*

fae

[MartyT]

Fae and Anne (and Chris, and Shannon's Mary, and Bill's Mary, too), I am thinking of all of you today and sending healing thoughts to you. Get well soon and stay that way! ♥

[feralfae]

Thank you Marty, we will continue to carry on and do the best we can this minute. I was going to go make tea, then I discovered I have this veritable MOUND of tissues that missed the little bin. I can type without looking, but I cannot make tissue baskets without looking, obviously. Tears were obscuring my vision. I am smiling at the mess.

*<twinkles>*

fae

[mfh]

I have arrived folks. Waiting for MD. I think I am next since I am the only one waiting. Pretty tired on 3 h r s sleep.

[feralfae]

... and another thing ....

yesterday, I had caffeine. I am not good with such chemicals. Too sensitive. Most humans are more sensitive than they know, but we get used to being over-sitmulated, over-medicated, all that. So, my body was tired but my brain was on drugs. "Legal speed." I kept going when I should have stopped yesterday. And I was not listening as well to my body -- I was not as in tune with my body -- as I should have been, or I would have stopped and rested. There are times when one cannot stop, and stimulants have their place, but when there is no external pressures, one should walk clean as much as possible, I think.

It is so very easy to throw our bodies out of whack, especially while we are down here in this Valley of the Shadow. We are given these great bodies, with all these feedback systems, and half the time we ignore them.

If there is one thing I am learning from this time of Doug's leaving, it is to listen better to my body. Really pay attention. So, this was a cheap lesson about anything but food into the body. Most of Ayurvedic medicine is based on the concept of food as medicine, which we both found brilliant, and which helped to keep Doug going for two years more after the docs had told him he would be gone. So now, I pretty eat that way all the time, eating only organic meats and foods as much as possible. Thank goodness for all the hunters and fishers in my life. And mushroomers, and berry gatherers.

Ah, by the way, since I am over in Native thinking mode right now, I also know that twisting my knee to have the pain come out is a lot better than the ways of some of my ancestors, who slashed arms, hacked off hair, and often cut off joints of fingers. I have close loved ones with one of more finger joints missing. Not many people still do these things, but I did hack my hair off about an inch long all over some time ago. It is a lot longer again now. I will get yelled at by some of those same elders if I cut my hair off again for no reason. Ah, tales from gram about making ropes from long hair.

Ah, posts, I will go see who is at the Window.

But I have a Mac. *<twinkles>*

fae

[feralfae]

Oh, Mary!
It is so good to see you here. Sit there and take a nap. *<twinkles>*

Someone will wake you.

Okay, we are with you. {{{hugs}}}

I keep wanting to add more love and comfort, so consider yourself snowed in with beautiful light snowflakes of love and comfort. We will be here when you come out of the visit.

*<twinkles>*

fae

[feralfae]

well, somewhere around here, probably over on the eyes thread, watching.

[kayc]

Mary, glad you've arrived, I hope you get a good report.

fae, I'm so sorry! Gosh, your x-rays must be interesting! I hope it's not a bad sprain and heals quickly. And I'm sorry you missed your sewing class, hopefully they'll have another one to sign up for, a great winter activity. I have an old Montgomery Wards machine, long overdue for servicing too.

Stephen, I had to laugh at your being an enabler, picking out fabrics. Ahh, George and I always went together to buy anything too.

[KarenK]

Fae,

I'm so sorry that you have twisted your knee. For me, one of the things about getting older is that my brain and my body are not always on the same page. The brain says "Yes you can do that" while the body says "Excuse me, I don't think so". Really frustrating isn't it?

I so understand what you meant about the doctors and hospital personnel. So many times I felt that they viewed Ron as just another steer in the herd. I realize though that for the sake of their own sanity, they can't get personal. I was actually very hurt that Ron's cardiologist of 10 years did not even bother to offer his condolences. Silly me! The man had no bedise manner while Ron was alive, so what did I expect. The nurse from his office that always monitored his heart device did call me and also sent a card. I really appreciated that. And I'll never forget the pulmonologist(I didn't know his name) who on that last day in the hospital told me I needed to let him go, but then, complete stranger that he was, looked at me and said "Can I give you a hug?" I was very touched by that.

I hope your knee is feeling better. I know Doug is right there telling you not to get out of bed.

Karen

[feralfae]

HI Kay,

I called them, and they will let me take the class any time I am ready. They have them at least once a month, sometimes twice. This thing is computerized, and I am coming off of a 40 year-old Singer, which Doug and I both used.

Doug learned to sew as a boy from his mom, who was a quilter. Doug made a lot of his own stuff sacks (for climbing) and even his climbing clothes, as well as once making a grizzly vest from a hide he rescued from a dumpster, of all places. An angry wife had cut off the head and claws of her husband's prized possession, and needless to say, they are now divorced. Doug asked the guy why he was throwing it away, and so he got not only the hide, but the story of how it was taken on a kayak trip up in the Circle and why the couple were fighting so extraordinarily. And Doug did not even live in the apartment complex: he was visiting a buddy who lived there, and saw the young fellow tossing it into the dumpster, and went over to find out what was going on.

We would go to get fabric together for projects: we once bought different colors of ripstop to make a banner to hang from an ice tower, but Doug got sick, and we did not make a tower that year, after all, and the banner never got made. I still have the fabrics.

Karen, that is a nice story to hear about the doctor who gave you a hug. I am so glad you at least had that much compassion shown to you and I know you really needed it at that time. Yes, I think they are wary of getting emotionally involved, but I think as humans it's about Time we get emotionally involved in what we are doing with each other in loving ways. Emotions are a part of our humanness. Love is an emotion, as well as an expression of that emotion (love is an active verb) and I think as humans in this culture become more comfortable with death, we will learn to identify and manage all our emotions a lot better. Nothing wrong with emotions -- it's how we express them that we are still learning how to do. A lot of the Rules for Humans seem to be about handling our emotions. I think crying a lot is a great way to handle grief, by the way. It is just painful, but then, we are letting out pain when we cry. We seem to be designed to cry out our pain from our bodies, making tears of sorrow and loss and letting them flow from us. I think it works pretty well for us. We are a good design,albeit a young species.

I am taking care of this knee. Nothing like being sent to the bench to get my attention off the game. Sign. Everything is now on hold, so I am just letting things flow. I thawed enough Thai curry for lunch and dinner.

I am sipping my red willow bark tea. I am just taking it very easy, reading a bit and napping.

Checking on the eye thread, too.

fae

I need to comment on my comments: I think what I am learning, or rather, one of the many things I am learning, is that we come to a place where the fear of our Beloved leaving; the fear of our heart being forever painfully broken; the fear of being swamped by the waves of emotions; the fear of never finding our way again, finally begins to recede, and we begin to walk with a bit more assurance in our step, like someone who has been totally in the dark, and now senses the shift in the air, as the turn of our Earth brings the farthest eastern horizon into the most subtle shading of indigo against the blackness. Then the lavender comes next, and with it, sometimes a breeze. I painted that time once. I am still trying to do it with cobalt and other glazes. It is a challenge.

Slowly, the photons begin to bounce off particles in our energy field with its forward stream, angled with exquisite "english' to ricochet into our eyes. Stars, sleeping on the eastern horizon, begin to fade into the light. From oceans and seas, as some of you will know, there is a shift in the very energy of our planet's reservoirs of the substance of life, water. You can feel it in the sense of your place on the water, I find.

Here where we humans make our home, on the land part of Earth, if we are blessed to live in such places, a chickadee sings outside our window with the first photons to ricochet around and bring the Sun's signal to the senses of birds, whether roosters, ravens, crows, or chickadees. I love being alive here, and all the richness of this Earth.

And I as I learn that the fear need not be a part of this grief, as I move into so much gratitude for, among other things, this Fire, where I can be unafraid of treachery, deceit, or greed, I am beginning to see myself the way I used to be, only a lot wiser, because I am still a pretty geeky introverted person, with a lot of talent and energy. I can go back to trusting people, and keep allowing the anger and distrust to leave, because I do not need to defend myself any more. If I will have the patience and compassion to bring my body back gently from all it has been through these last many years, I will make it much faster. It is time to practice more turtle energy here. And that is the truth the chickadee is bringing to me this day, as it calls from the deck. (They are also thanking me for putting out seeds for them, and apples and carrots for the deer and rabbits. The gang is preparing for winter, and it was our job to make sure each cache was appropriately filled since foraging is limited in this burgeoning development these past ten years. I carry on the tradition.)

So, I am learning to let go of fear, be more patient. More trusting, is what it all boils down to, doesn't it?

Trust the flow, trust those with open hearts, trust your intuition, trust your Creator. Trusting. It is a good time for trusting, as we approach the this energy shift of the Solstice. Harvest. I am watching hay bales around me, in the fields, stacked along the roads, and I missed the spectacular hay bale contest up near Great Falls so far this year. I hope to see them soon. Quite the show. Everyone decorates their bales, and I understand there are some great castles, Hobbit homes, all sorts of wonderful creations. From bales of hay. It started innocently many years ago, and is now a state-wide tradition, greatly appreciated.

So, I am coming back to this home place here in this land I know so well, here and Wyoming. I know secret draws where humans don't go, and trails that were laid down before white people came. I forget that sometimes. I know a lot of good things about the Earth, and I hope to be able to better express that synthesis of my cultures in my art. I have a vision slowly materializing. I know I will do more Sumi-e on porcelain, and I don't know what else will show up. This is a good day, sitting still, to have a lovely chat avec moi.

*<twinkles>*

fae

[feralfae]

Mary was just over on the eye thread!

*<twinkles>*

[enna]

Yes, Mary posted on the 'eye' thread and she is at the hotel and she will rest until tomorrow for her trip back to Spring Green.

"I need to comment on my comments: I think what I am learning, or rather, one of the many things I am learning, is that we come to a place where the fear of our Beloved leaving; the fear of our heart being forever painfully broken; the fear of being swamped by the waves of emotions; the fear of never finding our way again, finally begins to recede, and we begin to walk with a bit more assurance in our step, like someone who has been totally in the dark, and now senses the shift in the air, as the turn of our Earth brings the farthest eastern horizon into the most subtle shading of indigo against the blackness. Then the lavender comes next, and with it, sometimes a breeze. I painted that time once. I am still trying to do it with cobalt and other glazes. It is a challenge." fae

This is our grief journey, Fae. We will come out of our fears. I believe this. Many very wise people here have mentioned how catharic crying is to one who is grieving. Not everyone crys and that we all know is all right. As long as we deal with our emotions honestly we are dealing with our grief. I have heard that somewhere before.

Jan, I love your not knowing what xxx&ooo mean. We are so connected here that we don't even think about where people are from - xxoo to you also, dear friend.

[kayc]

xxx&ooo that is cute! We used to put that on love notes as kids.

And fae, I hope you are being good, staying off your leg...stay on the phone, computer, reading, but off your feet!

[feralfae]

Dear Anne, thank you for the beautiful images and messages. God's special reel of film indeed, Custom-made for each individual.

I have known people who did not cry. It was not their way, and I think each of us has our own unique way of expressing our emotions, so I think it is normal for me to cry, and I have thought about it, but then, I also know people who do not cry and they are probably more emotionally healthy than I am in most ways. I think it is good and natural to cry, but not the only way to release the pain of the grief. A lot of people use alcohol and drugs, I think. Some of them survive and come back after a while. I have seem men who do not cry throw themselves against all sorts of "impossible" feats -- not that all adventurers are there for that purpose -- and I have seen them come out emotionally cleansed. But I wonder: do not all human babies cry? I thought they did. If so, then crying is natural, but like hair styles and foods, we grow up with cultural imprints that shape our taboos and contests.

So, I did not mean that there is anything wrong with not crying, only that is seems to be one of the most natural ways of releasing pain from the heart. There are as many ways to do that as there are people, of course.

Kay, I am staying off my knee, and you keep a close watch on that toe.

I am just so very happy about Mary's news that I am smiling.

*<twinkles>*

fae

[enna]

In appreciation of Fae's dragonflies:

Here at our fire we reflect our light upon one another. Much like a butterfly, a dragonfly represents transformation and life’s ongoing process of change. We come here and show many different sides of ourselves just as a dragonfly is able to show itself in different colors depending on the angle and polarization of light falling on it.

The bright colors of a dragonfly take time to develop, expressing the idea that with maturity our own true colors come forth. They represent moving past self-created illusions that limit growth and change in the perspective of self-realization with an understanding of the deeper meaning of life.

Most of us here are moving into a beautiful self-realization of who we are now and who we are yet to be – it is an on-going process. There is something we are learning about living life to the fullest – learning how to just BE. Grief teaches us to appreciate the finiteness of life.

I believe that when we open ourselves to feel the pain of our individual losses we become transformed much like a butterfly or the dragonfly. I may be so wrong but this is what I believe. Loss changes us. When we present ourselves at this fire we are allowing our true selves to give off our very own light.

Anne

[feralfae]

Dear Anne,

Thank you, that is very beautiful. Do what you love (follow your bliss, follow your heart, do what makes your heart sing, all those expressions of the message) are the most important message.

I do not think, if we are doing what we love, that our Spirit can do anything else but soar, don't you?

Thank you for the beautiful expression of your sense of the miraculous opportunities within this transformation, a vision and hope which I share.

Namaste

*<twinkles>*

fae