The Story We Call "2014"

The Story We Call "2014"

It is 3ᵒ Fahrenheit on this, the

last day that we call 2014.

I don't feel an ending.

Isn't every moment

a beginning?

You say something ends

before the new begins, and

that may be true.  Or

maybe it's all just rolling like

ocean waves - there's really no end to

a wave - but blending, morphing

swirling, ever renewing

NewnessOldnessSamenessChangingChangelessness.

Some brains - like mine,

for instance - can't find the

moment plains become mountains,

air becomes sky, I become All.  Light

can always be found in the darkness.

At 12:01 in what we call

tomorrow, even though the sky

will still be black and

our hair will not have

grown one iota longer,

we will say Happy 2015.  I

can play along. 

And it gives me great joy

to review a package of laughs

and tears and learning all bundled up

in words: 2014.  And, even more,

the fun of new possibility

and happy wishes to all

for love, joy, and

meaningful adventures

in 2015!

Some Memories of the Story of 2014

The Cleared Path

Every other week for the last two and a half years, my friend Arnie and I have gotten together to do an hour-long silent walk.  Afterwards, we stop for coffee and tea, and we talk about the most recent book that we are reading together.  Over the years, we have walked through cancer diagnoses, birthdays and the anniversaries of our parents' deaths.  While walking, we pass wildlife of various forms - those who live in expensive condos, those who sleep in sleeping bags under overpasses, many winged varieties, runners, bikers, and the show of constantly changing plant life.  Our walks feed me more than any food.  Thank you, Arnie, for being my walkin' buddy!

I wrote this about yesterday's walk: 

The Cleared Path

'Twas the day after Christmas and all through the city, 
cold snow and slick streets made driving a pity.
My alarm went off late, I had risen and eaten
For holidays, sleeping in can't be beaten.

Most people were snuggled all warm in their homes
but I had gone out into cold that chilled bones
for it was a Friday, the day of my walk, 
a time for being, with no need to talk.

When I arrived in the snow that slept by the river
I watched white-dusted geese, and my spine felt a shiver.
I looked through the trees, and what did I see
but my friend Arnie, here to walk with me.

We took off on sidewalks that were shiny with ice,
sliding this way and that way, it was fun and nice.
In silence we walked on a path that was cleared.
I thought to myself, "Whoever does this is dear!"

Then what to our wandering eyes did appear
but an unwalkable woman in a scooter she steered,
and running beside her with unfathomable glee
a beagle, so cute!, on a hare finding spree.

I know that at one time I'd have been sad to know
that the city was digging and cementing just so
in order to make a path 'long the creek, 
tearing up land, messing with animals so meek.

But this day after Christmas, watching woman and dog,
I let go of judgments, wishes, and fog,
and inside my head, in the place without fear,
to the woman, her dog, and path-makers I cheered.

2014 Carol Barrow

The Boogeyman Has No Clothes

Can someone really do what Michael is trying to do - heal cancer through these various weird things?"

Throughout the day, I write my thoughts on straggly pieces of paper.  They sit by my plate at the dinner table, next to the keyboard on my desk, and on the nightstand next to my pillow.  Most of them eventually get typed into Evernote as fodder for my exploration of life and as ideas to explore in the memoir that may get written some year.

Tuesday night I wrote this to the Knower of All Things Cancer,

Can someone really do what Michael is trying to do - heal cancer through these various weird things? I realize that both the possible yes and the possible no answers blow my mind.  If the answer is "No, he can't", he could die from this, and that knocks my feet out from under me.  If the answer is yes, and there will be a time that Michael is cancer-free due to his daily jumping on a mini-tramp, his hot baths, and many pills and powders (among other things), then my brain will explode from the shift in reality. Gravity might as well quit working, and the sun can rise in the west.  No matter the answer to my questions, I fear they will undo me.

Four days later, I saw my note on the table, and I suddenly let go of the need for answers.  It has taken a long time to be able to witness with the eyes of an outsider this crazy-making thought pattern that took over my head when Michael decided to choose his way of dealing with cancer. What a mean trap - to think I need to know where this is all going.  Ha! We never know where life is going.  Why should I be the person who finally knows the future?  And would I be at peace if I did know?

No worrying, controlling, getting angry, or wanting to know will change the outcome.  And putting out so much energy to control now (a useless endeavor) in hopes for peace later is absolutely insane.

I remember all of the years that I felt compelled to run up the basement stairs as though my life depended on it.  It wasn't the speed up the stairs that got my heart racing, but the knowledge that I had to outrun the boogeyman who was following me.  At some point - maybe about the time I turned forty-five - okay, maybe I was nineteen - I admitted what I had always known somewhere deep down: there was no boogeyman in the basement.  I was safe, and I had always been safe.

Well, I have been running away from the boogeyman of cancer and loss for over two years now. As of this past Saturday night, it is done.  Put down.  Life is not a boogeyman.  I see its benevolence everywhere.  It's all okay, even when we think it isn't.  We can do this thing called Life, no matter what it brings.  And right now, it's bringing me two dogs who are staring at me as if they want some attention or something.  I can handle that.

Ten Dekaaz at Christmas Time

Dekaaz is a new form of poetry using the format of:

Two syllables

Three syllables

Five syllables.

Dekaaz is supposed to be spoken out loud after it is created.  Pretend you hear me speaking out loud when you read the poem below.  

I have created ten Dekaaz that all go together into one poem for this holiday season.  You can also find a message in it by reading only the first lines of each Dekaaz.

Ten Dekaaz at Christmas Time

during

Christmas time

our hearts might soften.

these days,

as light dims

we think of others.

we send

peace and joy

to all humankind.

loving

seems easy

this time of the year.

kindness

magnifies

in our hearts and minds.

may we

continue

to love like Jesus

always

forever

may peace dwell on earth.

know that

all is well

each precious moment.

life gives

all we need:

love, a lush planet.

rich gifts

are not bought

but found in each breath.

2014 Carol Barrow

What We Can Afford

In a past life, I bartended.  I bartended in a neighborhood bar, and most of my customers were regulars.  If  anyone, regular or just passing through, apologized for not having the cash for a tip, a man named Dave who came in daily - and who happened to be about six foot one hundred inches tall and at least 300 pounds - would boom out, "I figure if I can't afford to tip, I can't afford to drink."

Yesterday, as I was showering, I really took the time to massage my head.  I had applied conditioner to my hair when I flashed back to the wonderful scalp and neck massage I had received before my last haircut.  The memory of that blissful feeling inspired me to take some time nurtuturing myself.  I don't always do that.

I have now realized the immense life wisdom of Dave's philosophy.  If I can't afford the time and energy to massage my scalp, I can't afford the time and energy to shower.

This could apply to everything.  It would slow us down so that we might only do a few things in a day - but they would be done well.

If I can't afford the time to create a healthy meal, I don't have the time to eat.  What a great weight-loss plan for Americans!  If I can't afford the time and energy to research the facts on things, do I have the time to speak my opinions on them?

Interesting to ponder all of this while living in a fast paced world where depth is not valued much.  On my deathbed, I think I will want memories of really being present to the experiences of my life.  To remember the softness of my dogs' ears, the confidence of my daughter's voice, the blue of my son's eyes, the strength of Michael's hands.  Those will soothe me more than knowing I rushed through many experiences that I only remember as fleeting stories.

Last week, I flew to Seattle to hear talks given by the man I call my teacher.  I am glad I did.  Still, teachers are everywhere.  Right here, right now.  Sometimes they show up as a little Vietnamese monk and sometimes they appear as a giant American in a bar.

Stay Sweet

Last month I flew to Florida to attend the funeral of my ex-mother-in-law.  I have not been married to her son since 1986 or so, but I have stayed in touch with her and her husband since the day I met them.  Some years we sent many letters and a Christmas gift.  Other years, only a letter here and there, and a card at Christmas.  I rarely saw them after the divorce.  Until the funeral, I had not been back to the farm since the separation.  But Jean and Claud came to Colorado a few times, and we always got together. I loved them.

Yesterday, a month and a half after Jean's death, Claud died.  He had experienced two strokes this year, and they had left him with pretty serious dementia.  As long as I knew him, he was a good and kind man.  It appeared that the stroke purified him even more, leaving him in a state of easy happiness.  While spending time with him after Jean's funeral, I would look at him, and he would mumble something unintelligible to me.  I would respond with "It sure is!" and then we would laugh.  We don't always have to understand another's language in order to share love and happiness.

As I hugged Claud goodbye last month, he said something he has said often:  "Stay sweet."

Okay, Claud, I will do my best.  I promise.

Claud and Jean with my daughter at two weeks old

Pierced

A piece I wrote today, inspired by an on-line workshop assignment to use the word, "pierced":



piercing is violent,
fierce.
it doesn't gently penetrate,
but instead,
it punctures without permission.
words into closed minds,
needle into unsuspecting skin.
painful, strong.  it can be
good medicine.

it wakes you up,
shakes you up,

if you let it.

jesus' bleeding palms
when crucified,
track marks on the skin
of someone high,
the harvest moon
intruding ebony sky,

and words of truth
gently stated,
yet splitting wide
the mind's eye.

piercing is violent,
fierce.
it doesn't gently penetrate,
but instead,
it punctures without permission.
it changes the landscapes of
our earth, our hearts, our skin
it can be
good medicine.
if it wakes us up,
shakes us up.

if we let it.


2014 Carol Barrow

Sacred Money, Part III

I wanted to have relationship with the people to whom I gave the money  It's so easy to send a check to a cause.  We do that often.  But this money needed to be given in a different way.

And...

The Wild Animal Sanctuary kept sending out notices that they had done three big rescues in a short amount of time, and that had drained their funds. They were asking for money, and I couldn't resist, because I love the

 Lions 

Tigers

and 

                       

    Bears!

I have visited the Wild Animal Sanctuary a few times.  The animals there are spiritual food for me and for all people who spend time with them, so I sent a small portion of the Sacred Money to help with the work of this special place.  

A few days later, I visited Amy.  When I walked in the door of her house, I noticed the Wild Animal Sanctuary newsletter on her table.  (Yes!)  As we talked, I gave her three options regarding the stories of the Sacred Money:

1)  I could tell her nothing about what I did with it.
2)  I could give her generic information about what I did with it
3)  I could tell her where every dollar went.

I ended up telling Amy that I had given some of the money to the Wild Animal Sanctuary.  The hug I received was as big as a happy bear belly. 

Here is a story about the arrival of some bears who were rescued and brought to TWAS:

These bears had been living their lives in deep concrete pits in a tourist trap in the U.S. state of Georgia.  When the bank started foreclosure on the business, the Wild Animal Sanctuary was able to rescue eighteen bears and bring them to their new home.

The bears were transported for twenty-two hours before being moved, each in his or her own cage, out onto the acreage of the Wild Animal Sanctuary.  There, they were kept in their cages for awhile so that they could adjust to the sights, sounds, and smells of their new location.  And then, one by one they were released.

As I read of the bears' release out into new-found freedom, I wept.  Don't we all know somewhere in our cells the feeling of coming out of imprisonment?  We are all held captive to some degree, and each one of us has also freed ourselves from something.

From TWAS newsletter:

"Dakota", a very large male Grizzly Bear was the first one to step out of his transport cage... and after a couple of short steps getting used to the feel of real grass under his feet... he suddenly took off running!

It was truly amazing to see the highly over-emphasized loping action he was doing as he ran - which was clearly a result of having never run a single step in his life.  Even though his body instinctively knew to rock back and forth to allow his front and rear feet to work in harmony with each other... he had never had the chance to refine these skills.  With each forward and backward motion of his body, he over-compensated with extra height, which made his overall lope seem to be a cross between a beautifully galloping horse and an over-sprung jack rabbit!  

It was nothing short of oddly beautiful to watch!  He was actually covering a good amount of ground as he traveled along, and when you combine this measurable success with his brilliant enthusiasm, it was impossible to do anything but smile!  He was truly a free spirit at that moment, and a wonderful feeling enveloped everyone who was witnessing this tiny miracle.  

...Tall grasses streamed past him as he ran, and with each step we're sure he could feel the earth giving beneath the weight of his massive body.  Gone were unyielding concrete floors... and for the first time in his life, his powerful claws were able to grip the earth in the exact way his divine creator or evolutionary development had intended them to.

 ~~~

Do we dare walk out of the cage and run?  Maybe we lope wildly and awkwardly, but this is the life for which we were born: a life without limitation, free to explore and to "be".  

 

See Sacred Money, Part II here, and Sacred Money (the first part) here.

Sacred Money, Part II

At this point, I have seen Amy once since she put the folded bills into my back pocket.  It was then that I heard the story of how she came to have enough money to be able to tithe a few hundred dollars.

As I mentioned before, Amy doesn't have a lot of income. And she has a lot of expenses. She has taken in numerous stray animals of all types over the years.  She is an animal whisperer.

Recently, one of Amy's animals had become deathly ill - so sick that he had to be hospitalized.  The hospital bill alone was around $4,500.  The medication that was prescribed was another $500.  Mary put these expenses on her credit card.

I don't know how long after this that a woman gave Amy a check for $5,000.  This woman hasn't had much money in her life, either, but the generosity of a relative had recently brought her some unexpected income.  And because Amy has spent many hours with this woman's granddaughter, building her confidence and teaching her about caring for animals, this woman wanted to thank Mary with a big, fat check! 


I have not been one to trust the universe to supply all that I need, to trust Life - or whatever anyone would want to call it - enough to give away money that could pay my bills.  I listen to Amy's story, I watch her display an impeccable trust, and I have to say that something in me starts to wonder if everything doesn't all work out if we just let go of the need to control and then get out of the way of Life.

I was given this money as a tithe because Amy thought I was a source of spiritual food for her.  But who is getting fed here?  Amy is knocking down some old beliefs in me.  Beliefs about having enough.  I should be tithing to Amy!

Or maybe we are all big platters of spiritual food for each other.  Everything is already here; take what you need.  There is enough for all of us.


Next time, I will tell you about the first donation that I made out of this Sacred Money.

Sacred Money

This is an unfolding.  I do not know how this story will end.  If you would like to follow this journey, come back often to read the next installment.

As you read this and the other posts that will follow, I ask one thing of you:  I ask that you read these installments with no judgment, putting your opinions and expectations aside.  Just read it as a story that is unfolding in ways we don't know. Life is a mystery.  Let's let it be that.

~ ~ ~

The story began in late September, 2014.  A friend of mine told me that the next time she saw me, she would be giving me some money.  She subscribes to the belief that it is important to tithe - as a way of being a part of the flow of abundance.  For her, tithing means giving 10% to someone who she feels gives her spiritual food.  And for some reason I don't completely understand, she feels that I offer her spiritual food.  Very humbling...

When I next saw my friend (I'll call her Amy here), she started to give me some money.  Feeling somewhat uncomfortable with this whole thing, I turned my back to her and told her to please put the money in the back pocket of my jeans.  Amy doesn't make much money at all, living off of a little Social Security and a small amount of side income.  I figured she might be giving me $60 or $80 dollars.  I didn't take the money out of my pocket until long after Amy went home.

When I took out the wad of cash, I saw that it was a lot more than $60 or $80.  Nowhere close to a thousand, but much more than what I had ever expected.  Amy had recently had medical bills for one of her animals, and I knew that this money could have paid a chunk of that.  The beautiful trust that was displayed by the giving of this money from someone who needed it brought tears to my eyes.

For me, this money was holy money.  Sacred.  I didn't want to pay my bills with it.  I wanted to help others with it, in ways that were meaningful to me, and hopefully meaningful for the recipients.  I thought long and hard on this.

Come back in a few days to read about how my friend Amy came to have enough to tithe a nice amount to me.  It's amazing!

The Side Effects of Love

She crawled into bed & snuggled into the crook of his arm.

He said he felt her healing energy.

If she loved him enough, would that heal his cancer?  If she loved him enough could she have him forever?

Childish magical thinking.  But more peaceful than the fearful worrying that sneaks in unexpectedly.

And the label says the side effects of overmedicating on Loving are...

...a heart as big as the universe.

Yes, dear one, if you love enough, you can have Him forever.  You can have Him; you can have it all.  And so much more.

2014 Carol Barrow

Symphony

When you walk through the woods
and happen upon a creek noisily dancing
over ancient rocks worn smooth,

take a seat

and listen. 

Do you hear the perfectly blended
symphony?

So perfect that you can't determine
    which rock plays bass and
        which branch adds woodwinds.   

Now, cup your hands behind your ears.

Who knew this orchestra played so loudly?

With larger ears,
    the music of the little creek
        nears the edge of unbearable.

It is the only sound that can be heard

inside and outside of your body,

and your mind doesn't know where to focus
among the myriad
splashes,
    sploshes,
        blurbles,
            and gurgles
all happening
at once. 

Maybe,
while sitting there next to the creek,
you are reminded of the limitations
of your senses.
Maybe
you feel that familiar doubt,
wondering if you are even capable
of honestly knowing the sounds
of this Earth.  

Have you ever truly heard the voice of your lover?

Religious friends have told me
that we in these bodies
could not survive
beholding
the beauty
and majesty
of God

Maybe it is Life's kindness that
tempers our senses
so that we only perceive
enough to hint at
the Heaven that is
Here Now,
God's Magnum Opus.



2014 Carol Barrow