Tag Archives: love

Headwinds

cardinals

I didn’t expect a difficult ride.

The trees weren’t blowing, I didn’t think there was a breeze. It was a sunny, happy morning.

So I headed north on the trail. The pedaling was hard. I dropped a gear. Still a struggle.

I mumbled, complaining about it the entire ride. Until the turn.

Heading south, I felt no wind at my back, but the ride was easy.

I saw the pair of cardinals, fluttering in their faithfulness.

The rabbits with their fuzzy faces full of grass, munching.

So many birds were singing.

Had I missed all this just moments before when I was riding north, complaining about unexpected struggles with my cycling?

Had I missed many other beautiful things in my life when I was in the middle of things not “going as planned?”

Probably.

Sky

hiker at cliff's edge

I stood at the edge

of that high, high cliff

and saw the expanse of All.

I wanted to lean forward

and just fly – float- forever

so I could see everything that is offered.

Go into the Expanse that is not limited Self.

For a moment I imagined myself there.

Then I stepped back

to the grounding of the rocks and trees,

taking some of that Sky with me.

Are There Guns In Heaven?

man in cloud

Steve Connors was a good man. A conventional guy meaning he played football in high school, made B’s and C’s at the state University, graduated, rabble-roused a little bit in his youth, got a job, married a good woman he had known a long time, had two kids, only cussed with his buddies or when alone, was a good son, was a good son-in-law, and paid his taxes.

He knew something was really wrong when he woke up. Everything was white. White sheets, white walls, white…

“What is that?” He wondered.

“White mist? Am I on a friggin’ cloud?”

Steve bolted up. He was wearing white cotton pajamas. “I never wear white cotton pajamas.” He looked around. There was no furniture, no windows, no doors.

“Am I in an insane asylum?”

He was feeling sweaty, agitated, confused, and a bit scared though he was good at keeping that last emotion in check.

He looked at the floor. White mist.

“I’m in a cloud.” He decided not to step down.

“I’m dead.”

He pinched his skin.

“Nope.”

He yelled, “Hello?!”

Silence. Absolute silence.

“Hello, Steve.”

“Holy shit!” Steve jerked. “Where’d you come from?”

“Just right there,” She said pointing nowhere. She looked older than Steve, but younger than his mother.

She’s kind of pretty Steve thought.

“Where the fuck am I… sorry about my bad language.”

“You’re in between.”

“In between what?”

“Life and death.”

Steve felt numb. He didn’t move at all for several minutes.

“It’s confusing I know. But you and I have to talk about some important things right now, Steve.”

“Is this one of those near-death experiences I hear about? People going to the light and then come back into the body?”

She smiled.

“Something like that.”

Steve shifted around in the bed.

“This is fucked up shit. Am I drunk?”

“No.”

“Then where am I? What is this place? Are we on a cloud?”

She smiled again.

“It’s like a cloud. You are between living on Earth or leaving Earth. You and I need to talk about some very important things. She paused. “ And then you have to decide what you’re going to do.”

“Decide what?”

“Decide what you’re willing to do if you return to Earth.”

“If!”

“Yes, Steve. You made a deal with me before you were born on Earth and you’ve not lived up to your part. Yet.”

“Lady, I’ve never seen you before.”

“You have. You just don’t remember.”

“Am I in a hospital dying from cancer or a car accident?”

“No. You were one of nineteen people shot at your daughter’s school picnic. A gunman with an AK-15 assault weapon walked onto the grounds and fired multiple rounds into the children, also hitting some parents.

“Fifteen children are dead. Four of you are being rushed to the hospital. Two will die on the way. Two of you are having conversations with your Guides right now.”

Steve had his hands on either side of his head trying to hold in his racing thoughts.

“Fifteen children are dead?”

“Yes.”

“Two more will die?”

“They just have actually.”

“Who?”

“You didn’t know them.

“I’m sorry to tell you that your daughter, Annabella, died earlier.”

Steve screamed and started to get out bed, but looked down at the mist then fell back on the sheets.

“She was one of the ones who just died?”

“No, Steve. She was killed instantly. She didn’t suffer.”

Steve was sobbing. Shoulders slumped. Defeated.

“My precious baby girl.”

Steve rolled onto his stomach and buried his head in the pillows, crying.

He woke with a start.

“Shit. Am I in the same place?”

He flipped around. She was still there.

“How long was I asleep?”

“A while.”

“What is happening to me on Earth?”

“You’re just now entering the emergency room.”

“What? It’s been forever.”

“Time and space are different here, Steve.”

Steve closed his eyes. Rubbed them. Shook his head.

“OK. What is it I’m supposed to learn? What deal did we make? And why did Annie have to die!” He was screaming again.

“Annie died because she fulfilled her purpose on Earth.”

“She was only eight. What purpose could have been done by then?”

“The deal she made before being born was that she was willing to die the way she did.”

“She knew she would be killed?”

“She knew while she was here, but she didn’t know it on Earth. Steve, because she fulfilled her agreement she did not suffer at all when she died.”

“Why would she agree to die like that?”

“So you would have the chance to correct your life.”

Steve could only look at her.

She stood silently. Her face was gentle.

“Okay okay. So what have I done wrong?”

“It isn’t a case of doing something wrong per se. It’s a case of do you want to fulfill your greatest purpose on Earth instead of just living an average, decent life?”

“A good life isn’t good enough I guess. I don’t know what you mean by me living my greatest purpose. I’m a good man.”

“Yes you are. She waited. “And you agreed that you would be more.”

“Can you just tell me what I need to do? I’m getting really tired of this conversation.”

She smiled again. “Why do you think it was a gunman with a powerful, military-type assault rifle that  killed your daughter, sixteen other people, and has you and another person pending?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I’ve always been responsible with guns. Granddaddy taught me to respect guns. I’ve always had to clean my rifle before and after we went hunting. That was my Granddaddy’s way of creating patience and respect for guns. We always eat what we kill. I have never been sport hunting. I don’t believe there such a thing as ‘sport’ hunting.”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly. Exactly what?”

“You have always been very respectful of guns. You have always been very careful. Why do you let others talk and behave irresponsibly about guns?”

“I can’t stop people from buying what they are legally allowed to buy. Shit. Is this about gun control?”

She smiled.

“You’re fucking kidding me!”

“Steve, I think it’s a little bit more than just that since you’re here. You made a deal with me before you were born on Earth that you were going to be the voice of reason about guns. You’re agreed you would be willing to stand up to your friends and the NRA so that things did not get out of hand about guns the way they have.

“You’ve done nothing about it for years.

“Steve, people like you. People respect you. People follow you. You have never been out of control with guns. You have never been unreasonable with the type of guns and ammunition you purchase.

“The deal was that you would use your credibility as “one of the guys”, a hunter, to be a leader in your country to bring sanity to the type of weapons and ammunition that are available, and more importantly, how people gain access to guns.

“Annabel agreed to be your daughter knowing she was be gunned down if you didn’t step up to your higher purpose.

“You have a choice now. Her death can mean nothing or you can step up and live your higher purpose on Earth.

“You mean I live?”

She smiled.

“Yes, you live.”

Steve closed his eyes and cried again.

When Steve Connors opened his eyes, he saw his wife sitting beside him. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. She sobbed when she saw that Steve was now waking up after his surgery.

“It’s a miracle, thank you God, it’s a miracle,” was all she could say when she collapsed into Steve’s arms.

“Honey, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Annie…” his wife started to say.

“Honey, Annie is okay. I know she’s gone from us here, but I’ve been to heaven. I know Annie didn’t die with pain.

“And she won’t die in vain either, honey.

“Babe, there are no guns in heaven… and we’re going to bring some of that heaven here on earth.”

Want My Opinion? Oh, hell no.

Earlier this year I thought I was going to lose a longtime friend because he said I wasn’t “honest enough” with him. I only said good things about his writing, his opinions, what he was doing, etc. and he felt that just couldn’t be right. I couldn’t possibly like everything he was doing.

He said that it can’t be a really true friendship if we only say god things about one another.  We have to be able to say the good and the bad.  Truth.

Now, I have  another longtime friend who is at risk because, at her insistence, I gave my opinion about how she might beheld through an enormously stressful period right now by asking doctor about anti-anxiety medicine. Wrong answer.

She now thinks that I am belittling her and thinks she can’t manage her life well.

Then earlier today I asked my husband to “speak more deeply” about a topic. He was offended that I didn’t think he was already “being deep.” (We had barely started the conversation; I was wanting more).

So I guess I need to shut up.

Something I’m doing is offending people who are very important to me. Maybe I just need to go away, alone, for awhile.  Something is out of sync and the place to look first is in the mirror.

Shoot The Morning Finger

What would cause you, young, late-20-something year old male, to “shoot me the finger” so aggressively early yesterday morning?

It was a sunny and not yet oppressively hot day.  I was standing with my bike in the bike path, patiently waiting for all the cars to pass the cross road.  I was stationed well back from the road so it was clear I wasn’t a threat to cars. I wasn’t going to somehow lurch out into the road causing you to brake or dodge me and my little bike.

I don’t even look like a cyclist.  I don’t have the spandex.  None of my clothes match.  My helmet isn’t event same color as my fifteen year old bike.  I don’t look like an athlete.  How could I be a challenge of any sort?

There you drove though.  You and your passenger seat buddy.  He was looking straight forward and it was his huge grin that even made me look at your car.  It was then that I saw you leaning over from the driver’s seat to shoot me the finger through the open window.

If you wanted to offend me you didn’t.  Your action was irrelevant to me.  I just wondered what is in you that would cause you to do such a thing.

The others cars cleared the road and I continued on the bike path. The little brown rabbit off on the side chewing his morning grass made me smile.

Stranger in Her Backyard

Maris wasn’t a light sleeper, but her ear would catch unusual sounds in the house at night and wake her for investigation.  Her husband of twenty-seven years literally slept through lightning striking the tree outside their open window once, so she knew, if there was ever a noise, she would have to look around the house on her own.

So when she woke to the sound of running water, she lay still in her bed, listening over the hum  of the ceiling fan, to determine the source.  Her first thought was to wonder if it was Sunday or Thursday, her automatic sprinkler days.

” No. No, that’s not it because it’s Saturday… Unless my timer has screwed up.

“That sounds like the water faucet just outside our bedroom window.”

Without thinking, she reached out and touched the spot next to her where her cat always slept. He wasn’t there. She rolled around to look toward the bedroom window where she saw him sitting on the edge of the sill, staring at something outside. His head was slowly moving back and forth, following motion outside the window.

Maris got out of bed and tip – toed to the window, hoping to peek out the sliver of a gap in the curtain made by her cat’s body.  No luck. She leaned forward so her head was at the same level as her cat’s. Still no luck in having the right angle needed to see what was going on.

The water shut off. She froze.

“Did he see me? Why do I think he is a he? It could be a woman. Would that make a difference? Why am I thinking all this right now?”

Maris walked to the den, which also had a view of the backyard. She peeked around the corner, but saw no person and nothing unusual. The house was quiet again. She thought about doing something else to see what was going on, but, for some odd reason, decided not to. So she went back to sleep.

The next morning she looked to see if the backyard faucet hose was off its holder or looked disturbed.  It was slightly jumbled, “but it always is,” she thought.

It happened again three nights later.

The sound of running water. Her cat in the window watching something. This time though, Maris decided she would pull the curtain back far enough to see who was out there. Again, she thought about waking her husband but knew he would simply say, “What do you want me to do?”

“What if, like a horror movie, his face is right outside the window and he’s waiting for me? I have to know what’s going on.” That was Maris’ approach to life, always curious, fearless in that curiosity.

She peeked through the curtain to see a bearded man, bare-chested, scrubbing his shirt under the running water.  He was very thin, gaunt. Maybe only 150 pounds on his 6’4″ body. His collar bones jutted out like sticks.

His boots and socks were sitting off to the side.  The socks appeared to be laid out to dry. The heels of the boots were worn almost flat. His tan workman’s pants were cinched tight with a brown belt blackened by use. A small backpack was sitting nearby on the grass.

He laid his shirt out on the hedges then turned to the faucet and started washing his face, neck, chest, underarms… He was meticulous in how he cleaned each part of his body. He cleaned his fingernails by running one nail under the other until all were clean. Or, at least, Maris assumed they were clean.

The moon was full and bright.  The natural light and the fact that he was only about four feet from her window made it easy for her to see that his skin was tanned mahogany, his hair was touching his shoulders and parted in the middle, his beard was full and hung mid-length at his neck, he stood very straight and appeared “refined, cultured, dignified… how to describe it?” wondered Maris.

He turned off the water and sat on the grass beside his drying clothes. Knees tucked under his chin.  He closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep immediately.

She stepped away from the curtain.

“Who does he think he is coming into my backyard?” Maris tried to be angry and offended, but wasn’t.  “I need to lock the gates.”

“But why?” said another voice. “What has he done, but use a little water to clean himself?”

Her cat stepped away from the curtain and looked up at Maris as if to say, “Let’s go back to sleep.”  Bootsey jumped on the bed and started cleaning himself.  Maris peeked out the window. The man and all his belongings were gone. Disappeared.  It was just moments before that he looked like he was sleeping and now he was gone. “Is he a ghost? Or an angel? Or a test?”

Maris had a theory that anytime she encountered something that needed care it was a test by God to see what kind of person she was.  How did she respond when something, or someone, in front of her needed help.  It could be as simple as picking up trash to nodding “hello” to  homeless people, or giving them food.

“Food. I bet he’s hungry.  He certainly looks hungry. But is he coming back?”

Four days later, again before Saturday morning sunrise, Maris woke to the sound of running water and her cat sitting in the window sill, watching. Maris didn’t bother getting out of bed. She knew what she was going to do.

On Monday night, after her husband had fallen asleep, Maris filled a water bottle and put fresh bread and bananas in a zip lock bag.  She sat these items in a basket next to the water faucet outside her window.

On cue, before dawn Tuesday, she woke to hear the running water, saw Bootsey in the window watching, but decided to return to her sleep rather than getting up.  “Let him have his privacy.”

In the morning she checked the basket outside.  The food and water bottle were gone. The basket remained.

Maris sat food and drink out every Monday and Friday night for the next six weeks.  And every Tuesday and Saturday morning before dawn, she heard the water running outside. She added Ensure (“That’ll give him more nutrition”) and sandwiches to the basket.  She only used soft food because she assumed his teeth were bad and he wouldn’t be able to chew well.

When the first cool breeze of the fall came, Maris added a sock cap, scarf and socks to the basket.  She didn’t look out the window anymore when she heard the water.  She’d just look at Bootsey watching the Stranger and then return to her sleep.

Then it stopped.

One Saturday morning she woke on cue, but heard no running water.  Bootsey was asleep beside her. She couldn’t go back to sleep and just laid in bed until sunrise. While her husband still slept, Maris went into the backyard.

The food and drink were gone. In the basket was a note that said, “Thanks.”

Maris smiled. She knew he was gone. She’d passed the test.

Go Fly Now

Son.
We’ve given you love.
We’ve been steady all these years.
We’ve paid attention to you.
Been engaged in your life.
Believed in you.
Love you.
Just…
loved you.

Now,
you have to find those places in you
that make you,
you.

You have to feel your power
separate from us.
Defining and
refining.

We can’t do it for you.

It’s strange
being a loving parent
who must push her child
out of the nest.