The surprise from one song

I picked up the Church hymnbook with the intention of singing the whole thing.  (Who says I still don't have the impulses to 'do it all at once'.)  With my heart functioning better, I planned to sing all the songs I knew - which are quite a few.  In an effort to be wise, I planned to just sing the section of songs about 'Gratitude'. 

I got through the first verse of the first song - and tears started coming.  "Oh my goodness", I thought, "Not again."  Why couldn't I sing without crying?  What was going on?  My roommate came in (Marcia), and I started telling her about what was going on.  As usual, as I spoke, understanding came.  I saw so clearly how the words of the song were being transported to my soul, through my emotions, by the music.  Many times before I had been able to read the words, nodding my head in the recognition, understanding, and agreement.  But putting the music to them, and singing the words in my own voice, had a different effect entirely.  I never would have thought.

I cried for awhile, and talked, and cried some more.  When the tears subsided, I sang again - the whole song - all four verses.  I felt such peace and joy reverbrating through my enitre soul as I finished.  The quality of energy and power within was marvelous, and it took me easily through the busy-ness of the entire day following.  And from just one song!  Awesome.

We trick ourselves

Yes we do.  How do I know?  Because I do it myself, and wherever there is the voice of one, there are the voices of  a thousand others. 

I stepped on the scales to weigh myself this morning and I was surprised.  No, I was shocked!  How could a body weigh four and 1/2 pounds more than it did just a few days ago!  Wow.  I thought I had more control over my weight than that.  It's Thanksgiving's fault.  Magically it took it's toll, that's it.  If I needed something to blame it on, there it is.

Of course I was careful not to put 'too much' on my plate, not to have 'too much' pie, not to snack 'too much' on all the goodies in between times, and not to have 'too many' tastes of all the yummy things I cooked up in the kitchen.  That was my intention anyway.  I was even proud of myself after enjoying a lucsious Thanksgiving dinner that I'd kept my amounts in check and I didn't have that 'too stuffed' feeling when I'd finished eating.  That's why I was so surprised when the needle on the scales hit so many pounds higher today than it did just two days ago.  Somebody must have fooled me.  Somebody must have been behind me and put a rock on the scales while I was weighing myself.  That's all I can figure.

The day after

Thanksgiving day was indeed wonderful.  Peaceful company, bountiful goodness on the table, beautiful tableware gathered from here and there - and every bowl that could be gathered was full.  The overflowing table was mainly the results of gardening, and a week of cooking. 

And then there was today.  Sinks still brimming with odd dishes, even though we'd worked on washing them.  Pans still needed scraping, and all those little bits of flour and other little food spills hiding around the food processor and under the cutting board.  Someone's been cooking in my kitchen, I can see.

There was just too much relaxing and 'just hanging out' to be done.  Cleaning up in the kitchen has been too boring to even think about.  And there was certainly too much to be done all at once.  Little pieces of work, that's the plan.  This slow and lazy day has given me time to think, though.  Little bits of understanding, waves of gratitude, and questions to ponder over time.

Tradition

I'm so grateful I'm feeling well enough to prepare and cook most of this Thanksgiving dinner.  Even though it's requiring lots of extra care because I'm not at my best, physically, it's gratifying and fun for me.  I notice there are two sides to every coin though. I saw an ad yesterday on a local restaurant for a full holiday dinner for $9.99, and $8.99 for seniors.  They offered a buffet, so there would probably be many choices.  The thoughts of an 'easy' Thanksgiving dinner were tempting.  Maybe next year?  If I just 'went out to dinner', I wouldn't have to purchase, prep, or cook anything.  All I'd have to do is sit down to- the results of what someone else had done.  Hmmm.  And no leftovers- good and bad.  And no fun of digging my own root vegetables from the Garden, no enjoyment of making food with my own special twist, no yummy smells filling the house, and..., and.... Well, maybe not.  It would just be 'going to dinner'.  Each holiday, each year, each situation, merits it's own decision.  This time, no.  Next time,... We'll see.

The thought itself is tempting though.  Because of that, I wonder where I may not be totally 'clear' about something I'm doing, or I've worked too hard and tired myself out unnessarily.  Ah hah.  There's a way I can use the very appearance of that thought to help me see what's really happening, underneath,  especially if it sounds tempting to me.  That's a good way to use that thought- to help me in getting more clear on what I'm doing in the present and the real reasons I'm doing something.

I want my actions to be from a clear, conscious place within me - not from unconsciousness, habit, or tradition.  Especially not tradition.  I've found that when tradition (which is meant to 'make meaning), is acted upon from or in unconsciousness, it makes no meaning whatsoever.  And sometimes it ends up being negative. If doing a traditional task is actually meaningful, the 'pluses' outweigh the 'minuses', and the doings are my own choice, then it's worth my effort. That makes it simple.

Priorities

I followed my 'to-do-' lists today, along with all the notes I'd made about 'what to do when'.  And I found out that writing it down is not the same as being able to get it done.  I worked all day and only had two things left to cook ahead.  I grabbed something to eat for dinner and sat down on the couch to rest while I ate.  That did it.  I found myself eating more and more slowly, drank 1/2 my glass of water, and closed my eyes 'just for a minute'.  Oops.  I woke up quite awhile later with a kink in my neck, and a loss of a sense of time and place.  It took me a few minutes to get oriented again.  I must have been really tired.

The decision was made.  I guess both those new recipes- the 'Spicy Cranberry Chutney', and the 'Green Tomato and Apple Pie'- will wait to be made after Thanksgiving is over, not before.  Priorities.  Trying to squeeze them in tomorrow won't work.  If I'm going to get in my Physical Therapy tomorrow, I can't take any more time to cook.

I am proud of myself that I got as much done as I did.  I can see that I need to learn better balance between what I want to do, and what's best for me to do though.  I'm actually glad my body just gave up on me, so I wouldn't 'push through it' and over-tax myself.  I've done that in the past, and I've found I always pay the price later.

Wintery weather

The first snow has fallen, and the wind has a winter nip to it.  The temperature is the same as the coolest of the Fall temps, but I found myself digging for my mittens and pulling on a warmer coat today.  It smells crisp and clean.  Since my surgery I seem to be more sensitive to cold.  My fingers get cold more easily, and I need to be careful to layer an extra sweater over my shirt, even inside during the daytime.

I had 'blues' about this cold coming though, because I knew the snapdragons in the pots on the balcony are going to freeze and die.  So far, they've liked the cooler temperatures, growing so very lush and green.  No blossoms, but the leaves are beautiful.  I keep thinking, "Maybe if I brought them indoors and tended them through the winter they'd bloom again."  I've tried that before in past years though, and they need more light that I can give them indoors.  The smartest thing is for me to say to them, "Thank you, and goodbye. You've been wonderful plants this year."  Next year, I'll start fresh.

One thing I like about this cooler time of year, is that my balcony acts like a second refrigerator.  It's nice to be able to keep certain things out in the cold.  They don't freeze at night, and it doesn't get too warm for them during the day.  Today, I put the turkey out there.  It will be just perfect to pop into the oven for Thanksgiving in a few days.

I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving this year.  Sometimes I haven't.  There has been a lot of heartache for me about Thanksgiving, and the way it's 'supposed to be' traditionally.  I gave trying some years ago.  But this year seems to be different for some reason.  I've even written a menu plan, and I'll be trying some new recipes.  Dorie said she'd help me, because I'm still not up to lots of cooking yet.  It will be a small Thanksgiving, with just me and Dorie and Marcia.  Nice and quiet, with truly loving friends for company.  Sounds good to me!

Heart-lifting news!

The thought crossed my mind to call a friend for a chat.  I don't talk to him often, and it was good to touch base.  He said he has been enjoying my writings on the blog.  I didn't even know he was reading!  (Sometimes I've wondered if anyone 'tunes in', and if my words are helpful at all.)  I shared with him some of my 'I've wondered if it's really worth it' concerns, and he reassured me that not only is he reading, but that "the way I put things" and "my telling of my own experiences" has been helping him understand things better on his own journey in life.  Yahoo!  What delight, what joy for me!  I've wanted to 'make a positive difference' for as long as I can remember.  I'm tickled that I can, and that I am.

Whenever I've had doubts about whether continuing writing was of worth or not, I often remembered how hard it has been for me before to share with another person about my own doubts, fears, feelings and discoveries.  Judgement runs rampant in this world, and even those of us who are 'working on our issues' catch ourselves in judgement sometimes.  I know I do.  I'm just quicker at letting go of attachment to judgement than I used to be, and going to a more clear place about things.  Still, it takes courage to share what's real in the process.  I never know how it will be received.

So for now, I feel good about writing and sharing my experience.  Maybe tomorrow will be different - Maybe even the very next minute.  But right now the remarks that my friend shared with me about how my writings have been 'worth it' to him, make it more 'worth it' for me to keep making the effort.  I'm grateful.

Mud and questions and lessons

As I mentioned, my new heart function helped me be able to sing last Sunday, for the first time in years.  And I have been singing since.  Something else happened though.  Mud, awareness, and mud clearing away.  Here's what I mean.  I know that what goes on with the physical has emotional components, and vice versa.  I've experienced it before, and I've coached others in this area.  Even so, it's unexpected when it hits me, again.  And it felt like mud!  I couldn't see through it, it was 'icky', and I wanted to be clear of it.

My face was wet with tears, my body wracked with sobs.  At first, I was puzzled.  I had no idea what was going on.  The lessons came trickling in. The 'mud' seemed to be connected with feelings of sadness, anger, embarrassment and grief all combined.  When I tried to look for any causes, at first all I could see was the mud.  Emotions are pretty muddy and swampy sometimes, not clear at all.  Same here.  So I let it 'be' for awhile, and just allowed myself to cry,.... and talk.

It helps me when I talk with another person - someone I trust - in times like this.  Not that they have any answers for me, necessarily.  But as I talk, awareness and answers emerge into my consciousness.  And sometimes questions.  When I allow myself to 'be with' those questions (rather than seeking for answers and conclusions), I become more conscious again of what's going on.  Ah-hah!  More answers! The 'mud' starts clearing.

Now I know so much more about what the sadness, the anger, embarrassment and grief were really about. I am more aware of so many of the life situations that have prevented me from "feeling like" singing - to the point that it becoming impossible for me to do.  Of course, having it physically become more and more difficult didn't help, I'm sure.

Does the emotional create the physical?  Does the physical create the emotional?  Since my Doctors have heart condition (aortic valve and core were 'too small' for my heart) is genetic, could there be an emotional link as well, that continues to run in my family?  Hmmm.  And also, because my heart has genetically (also) had problems with racing, etc., could I have ever been physicall and/or emotionally been trully able to naturally love 'rightly', or has it always been a struggle?  Is this one of the reasons why I love 'differently' now, and loving feels more 'clear' to me now, than it did before?  I may not be one to teach about this, but I certainly am learning.  Questions remain.

Now, it's a safe time in my life.  Now I can have 'me' without guilt and shame.  Now I can breathe - both physically and emotionally. I look back, and I was able to do neither fully, ever since I was born.  Life in interesting, is it not?

Being accurate

A family member said to me, "Gwyn, when you told me that you'd recently had days when you took 2-3 hour naps, sometimes twice a day, I heard it as: You were 'just busy', but didn't want to say so."

I try to be as accurate as I can when I speak, and told her so.  What I'd said was what had actually happened.  She didn't believe me, but told me she felt I was being defensive, and she was "just trying to be nice".  She told me (very patiently) that she understood if I didn't want people to know what I had actually been doing, and that "telling little stories was OK".

I tried again, but it ended still with misunderstanding.  We live in different worlds.

Thinking back now, I can remember being taught as a child in my family that people usually don't say what they mean.  My life was full of 'manipulation of impressions'.  I've changed since then, and my experience of life has too.  Apparently, it has't changed much for her.  We've had different experiences, and have ended up with such different beliefs.  I've noticed before that she and I each experience the same sets of life circumstances differently, ascribing different meanings. 

It's been said, "We hear, see, and understand from where we are".  That's my sense too.

Clarity moments

Clarity is important to me.  I look for it, and I'm finding it. Looking for, and experiencing, clarity is a great learning ground for me.  Three illustrations from just the last few days:

First  My Doctor told me that she has witnessed two main results in the emotions after a person's major surgery - depression or enlightenment. She said that she was seeing enlightenment in me. - that I looked different, acted different, and that my whole demeanor was different.   Hmmm, interesting feedback.  And validating.  I know that I'm experiencing the world differently, with different responses to things.  I feel the same though, just more clear.  Some of the things I value have changed, and the way I handle life happenings.  (Lesson:  Wherever I happen to be on my path in life is not 'good', not 'bad'.  I heard the Dr's comment simply as feedback, and as validation for my own experience.  No judgement. No thought of what that might, or might not, mean.  Nice.  It just feels 'clear'.)

Second:  A friend called last night to chat with me on the phone, while I was trying to cook dinner.  Before, I might have been so concerned with not 'hurting feelings' and 'inconveniencing' that I'd immediately stop or put off what I was doing to do what someone else wanted me to do instead. This time, I sent the message that I was not taking the call then, but cooking dinner.  I wanted to use my limited energy to cook, not talk.  Nothing personal, I chose to do something else important to me.  (Lesson:  I've never put myself first before like that.  I'm now doing less of what my enculturation has told me to do, and more of what is really best for - body, mind and spirit.  If communication is needful about it, we can talk another time.  No personal feelings attached, no guilt afterward.  It just feels 'clear' and very nice.)

Third:  I received a letter from my aunt today.  She has written to me often during my recovery.  Before, we hadn't been in touch for years.  I've been glad for the exchange of letters, looking forward to a deeper relationship with her.  This letter today was a bit different.  She told me again that she's been 'worried about me',...  but then she told me all the things I 'should' be doing, and time frames. She also admitted that she was only writing to help my mother, who isn't able to write (not for her own desire).  She blew off my past explanations, telling me 'what I really had meant'.  Hmmm.  (Lesson: I let the human emotion of disappointment, frustration, even loss wash through me unabated, rather than acting it out.  I let myself 'have it all'.  In the past I would have written back in an attempt to 'fix' the things with her. Today I was able to get to that more clear place deep within, and I read between the lines.  My dear aunt is wrapped up in her own world, having troubles of her own, and 'trying hard to do the right thing'.  She wants to be seen as a good person, and as a wise person.  I get it - I've been there. Lovinge my aunt, and accepting her without condition, is what is needed here.  No need to judge, no need to 'try hard' for a different result.  Compassion reminds me that she's 85 yrs old, proud of it, and wanting to be understood and appreciated, rather than trying to understand.  From the space of clarity, thoughts came to me  that I can act upon, that will help her to be happy where, and how, she is.  I like that.  It feels nice.)

I sang today

I guess I haven't realized how ill I have been, and for so long.  I used to sing.  I enjoyed singing as a child, a youth, and as an adult.  As a Junior in High School the Choir Director asked me, a girl, to be the lead tenor in the High School Choir.  (The boys were having such a hard time!)  I sang in an award-winning girls quartet in California.  We sang in Utah, where we were offered a record contract from Columbia Records.  (Two quartet members got cold feet, so we didn't finalize our portfolio and their offer.)  I sang with my family, with my friends, with the car radio, and I sang at Church and around home every day. 

Then I stopped singing.  I can't say exactly when it happened.  As I look back now, singing seems to have become just too hard to do.  I shake my head now, and realize that I just "didn't feel like it" for some reason.  I know it puzzled me.  I've thought about it many times,  And when I've tried to sing, it has seemed to take more energy than I've had to give.  So I haven't even tried now for many, many years.

Until today.

This morning I felt well enough that maybe I could go to Church, and that I should make the effort.  I went to my closet and scrambled through it, finally finding something that fit, and that looked good enough to be considered 'Church clothes'.  I drove up to the Church building, having to park way in the back because I was a bit late.  I walked all the way across the parking lot and up into the Chapel, slowly, but easily.  (I noticed - I couldn't have done that just a few months ago. I wouldn't have been able.)  I found a seat, and as usual, I took hold of a songbook, reading along the words in stillness while the congregation sang the song. That has been my usual pattern for many years now. 

Until the closing song.  As the music began again, I felt the energy swell within me, and the words crossed my mind, "Just try".  I began to sing along.  My singing voice was unsteady, from lack of use I'm sure.  But I kept singing.  I was filled with amazement as I continued to sing, more and more strongly through the familiar words and music.  No gasping for air, no discomfort,.... and I "felt like it".  I sang all through two of the four verses of the song.  When the third verse of the song began, only one small sound came out of my mouth, and then no more.  The tears prevented anything else.  Gratitude and joy filled me to overflowing.  When I reached down into the pocket of my coat, thankfully that little packet of tissues I'd put there a long, long time ago was still there.  I sure needed it.

After I ate the tomatoes....

Dorie helped me can the rest of the ripe tomatoes, and I'm SO happy!  Tired, but happy.  I'm sure she did most of the work, but I did what I could.  I fell onto the couch afterward, to sit and rest for awhile.  After I just sat for a bit, I reached over and grabbed the bowl of mostly ripe cherry tomatoes, and held it in my lap.  That bowl of multi-colored tomatoes was absolutely beautiful!  I carefully picked out the most red ones and ate them, and then the mostly red ones, and ate those too.  They were all so good.  When I was finished, I felt much more rested (and quite full!), and I noticed that there were mostly just pink and greenish tomatoes left in the bowl.  They still looked pretty in the bowl, but I wished I had thought to get my camera out and take a picture of that beautiful, full, bowl of cherry tomatoes - before I ate so many!

There were enough ripe tomatoes that we made some fresh salsa to eat with cornchips, and some bruschetta that we put on crispy toast for dinner.  It's amazing and wonderful to eat tomatoes from the garden in November!

For healing and awakening

I'm always on the look-out for stories and metaphors that lift the spirit and move the soul.  One is from the video by Cris Cade called, "The Two Wolves Inside You".  Here are the words:

"One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, 'My son, the battle is between two 'wolves' inside us all.

One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.'

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: 'Which wolf wins?'

The old Cherokee simply replied, 'The one you feed."

Feeling Better

I feel better today, both physically and emotionally.  I'm remembering now - they are connected.  I have more energy, more focus, and I feel more full and at peace.  My mind is not so distracted as it was a few days ago. 

The cold weather has hit in the full force of early winter.  I took all the plants in off the balcony so they wouldn't freeze.  Lots of trays of green tomatoes, quickly turning red, are all over every empty space that will hold them.  I looked at some nice big ones today and I think I have enough to can 3-6 jars of bottled tomatoes.  I'm not very excited about it.  It's cold outside and doesn't feel like 'canning weather' to me.  I also know how much energy it takes, and I want to do other things.  Dorie has offered to help - maybe I'll let her.  That feels so odd.  I'm usually the person who 'helps others', rather than allowing others to 'help me'.  I've counseled other people in this area, now here I am. 

Dorie came over and helped me clean and sweep leaves - I can't do those things yet.  I'm grateful for her help.  I'm glad she comes in and 'takes over' in a way, saying, "I can see that you need help here, and here, and there.  Let me do it now while you are still not healed yet."  And there are times when she just comes in, doesn't say a word, but just pitches in and does the task.  Like today.  I came home from a Doctor's appointment and physical therapy and my bed was made, the dishes were done and the kitchen floor was swept and mopped.  She said she'd had the time, I've given her an extra key, and she'd felt like helping.  Yes I'm so grateful, but it a bit hard to bear, in a way.  There are thoughts I struggle with, like, "How can I ever pay her back; What can I do to make it even, somehow?"  Thoughts like that.  I know that the Higher Law says that "Giving and Receiving are the same".  I believe that, although my analytical brain has a hard time wrapping around those words and making sense of them in the face of here being so "there" for me. 

The Halls of Learning

It's been four days since I've posted.  I could have said, "I got too busy", or, "I couldn't get to the computer because...."  Those are true, but it was nothing about anything 'of the physical world', really.  I've thought of posting, but it wasn't until this morning that I have found myself clear enough emotionally to do so.

Mostly, I've been dealing with grief.  I know that in our world, grief is usually acknowledged when someone close to us dies.  There are other losses that can be acknowledged here as well, such as the death of a much loved pet, a catastrophe, or changes in any meaningful situation..  Many losses are not usually mourned traditionally, such as the loss of our childhood.

This time for me, I deal with loss of a quality of relationship with people who I'd thought I had a close, loving relationship with.  And I'd had my expectations about what that might look and feel like.  Not that anyone has died, or that there has been a physical change, really.  That might be easier to deat with I think.  These last few days I have received unmistakable validation that some relationships themselves are different than I'd thought they were.  Umm.  Maybe different than I'd hoped they were.  Maybe this is how they've always been and I didn't see it.  Maybe I'm the one who has changed and I just don't want to 'play the game' anymore.  I'm still learning in this process, and it's still going on.

As part of the grieving process, I've checked and checked again, at what I've tried in the past, what I could try again, if there were anything new to try.  Nothing, nowhere.  Oh the pain of this kind of realization, and loss.  (Breathe, breathe, and just let the tears flow. Feel. Trust. Have it all, truly.  Let it can be as big as it is.)

My vision is now more open.  I see a broader picture. Much of life has been made up of 'conditional love' in relationship.  I've become aware of that in the past, but never to this extent.  I've tried hard to have love that had no conditions to it.  My history is chock full of "I love you, but...", and other forms of conditions around love and acceptance.  My parents, siblings, spouse, children, friends, teachers, leaders.  I do realize that each person has done the best they could in the moment - from their own unique perspective, with their own circumstances - and their own pain.  I've had this experience of realization before - but not with these particular people and these particular relationships.  This process now is opening me more deeply to qualities of loss and grief and change this time.

I'm getting it.  I'm learning.  I'm not saying it's all 'done' yet.  There is still a part of me I can feel that habitually wishes to try, saying "Don't let go yet - Keep trying - it's worth the effort - even if there is no response from the other side - even when their responses are cruel."  I see I've been conditioned and enculturated with thoughts grounded in hope for the future.  In the past, that hope soothed somewhat the pain of the present, and fueled the continuance of 'trying'.  It took a lot of energy.  It took a lot of HEART energy.

So much has been fueled by that very hope that saps energy.  As I look at my life, the results of all that hoping and trying have been small indeed, if at all.  Especially in relationships. I've been so conditioned to believe that what really 'matters' in life is doing, rather than being.  I lost myself in that.  I now know my do-ings really don't matter in the long term, except for learning. What matters is the 'I Am' of who I am, and be-ing that.  Each of us will 'do' what we will.  What we Do is about choice, learning, and the experience of it all.  The only thing we take with us is our Be-ing.  There's the dance.

So, I am allowing myself my human experience.  I've been finding myself retreating and going inside.  I do that when grief is present.  I cry at loss and at tenderness, both.  I laugh when I find humour.  I have what I have, notice the thought present in my mind, and I feel what I feel. 

I realize this is all part of 'The Process'.  For that I am grateful.  No, the experience isn't always fun.  (Good thing fun isn't a requirement in this process!)  Opening to what is 'new' is always scary.  To me it is anyway.  I must remember it's worth it though, especially when there's learning to be had.  Like now.

Frustration

There are bags and boxes of late-garden produce all over my kitchen floor, down the hallway, in the front room and on both front and back porches.  I'm glad all the veggies got in so they wouldn't freeze, but now I'm beginning to see the first signs of rot.  I am unable to work fast enough to keep ahead of all the veggies that need eating or freezing or canning or giving away.  I could usually do this,....     I know the Doctor said the 'basic healing' should be done within 6-8 weeks, and I am feeling better and better every day.  I guess I did have an expectation I'd be more 'well' and 'capable' than I am.  I just don't have the energy and strength to keep up with the demands of something like the final picking and taking-care-of from the garden.  And there's no one to ask for help.  My helpers have gone back to work and on with the necessary doings of their lives.  I see now - this is mine to do.

I have to make some hard decisions.  I will have to use the energy I have to sort out what I can, throw lots away, fill up a 'give away box' and put the rest in the crisper.  Maybe I'll line up a few good green tomatoes on the kitchen cabinet to ripen.  (Last year I had enough ripening that they lasted until the week before Christmas!)

When the crisper is full, that's it.  No more 'making it last', or 'saving for a rainy day'.  (Old habits die hard.)  I'll write out some meal plans and focus on using what's in the crisper.  I'll give my meal plan to Dorie and Marcia and have them tell me what they can help me with, and what they can't.  We can then go through the crisper, with meal plan in hand, and just throw away or give away what really, really can't be used.

Whew.  Lots of work when written out like this.  We'll see how much of this I'll actually be able to do.

I wonder what else there is in my life that is just too jam packed full?  Maybe there are the beginnings of 'rot' in other places, with other things.  Wisdom needed here, I can see.

The Robe

Yesterday I had my follow-up appointment with my heart surgeon.  He said I'm doing great.  He also dropped a bomb on me.  He suggested I should think about coming in within the next month or so for hip and knee replacement.  I know my osteo-arthritis in my back and right hip and knee has been painful, but somehow I'd thought I needed more time after open-heart surgery.  Apparently not.  I'm not sure how this will play out, but I know it will happen - somehow.  Lots of details.

As I was driving yesterday, I was drawn to stop into a clothing store for a moment.  First time since my surgery.  I didn't think I was really up to trying clothing on, so I was puzzled about why I needed to go in.  With a little hesitation, I did anyway.  Inside there was lots of beautiful clothing, and a section way in the back that really drew my attention.  I threaded my way through the racks until I was standing right in front of one certain rack.

Since I was a little girl I've felt drawn to 'robes' of different sorts.  Bathroom-type robes had to do for years, but they didn't quite fill the bill.  When I was older, I made a robe or two to wear with my everyday clothing, but I was too self-conscious to wear the robes without feeling embarrassed.  They weren't the style, and I got 'looks'.  But I've always had that sense of wearing a robe hovering somewhere in the back of my mind.  In my dreams I have often seen myself dressed in a robe of some sort.  Often, that's how I recognized myself.

In the last few weeks I've often had the thought come clearly to my mind that there were still things I needed to do in this life.  Nothing has come to the forefront specifically, but the thoughts has been definite.  I've been wondering what the future might hold.  I've actually been looking a bit for a 'path' of some sort to help guide my way.  That's always seemed to happen before in my life.  A path of some sort appeared, and I'd walk upon it toward what seemed to be my destiny.

In the clothing store, I went directly to a rack that had beautiful, dressy, robes.  There were many colors, but the simple black and white drew my attention the most.  There was only one.  I pulled it off the rack, tried it on, and it was a perfect fit.  I didn't want to take it off.  It felt so 'right'.  It felt as if it had been made just for me.  Wondering why, that morning I'd happened to put into my wallet exactly the right amount of money needed to purchase the robe. Perfect.

The robe is now hanging in plain site next to my computer.  I know when it will be time to wear it, and for what.  It seems to give me the hope and direction I was seeking.  I can settle now, and just take it one step at a time, to whatever is my destination.

Listening and following

I find it utterly exciting when I see evidence of others 'listening and following', too.  It's what I've worked on doing for some time now.  Listening to the unspoken 'Voice', and following those instructions seems to work out for the best.  Good happens.  Yesterday I felt prompted to go to Physical Therapy in the morning.  I've always gone in the afternoon before, but it felt important to go in the morning.  So I did.  I got on one of the treadmills, and one of the Therapists put another woman on the treadmill next to me.  For some reason, it felt important to have certain conversations with her, and I asked some questions and made some statements that seemed important to make to her.  She seemed to appreciate our conversation.  Afterward, she told me that the things I'd told her had really made a difference for her.  She even said she'd been wishing someone would talk to her about just the things I talked to her about.  Hmmm.  I got to be the voice of a much larger 'Voice'.  Very cool.

The Physical Therapist overheard what the woman said to me, and later pulled me aside to tell me, "I felt strongly prompted to put her onto the treadmill next to you.  That was just where she seemed to need to go.  Now I know why."

Listening and following.