ONLY LOVE....

Monday, November 21, 2011

The 'BONNIE' Story.

My daughter, Shannon, arrived Friday…getting/fighting a cold.  We had intentions to 'go and do' tons.  Hadn't seen each other for ten months and she hadn't been where she was raised in fifteen years.

We did nothing.  We were sequestered in my safe cozy sanctuary talking, reading together, and sharing all weekend.  We saw no one, did nearly no thing.

This morning, the day she is to leave, we were sitting talking about many things and segued into sharing about Neil (her father, my former/deceased husband whom I was divorced from).  We journeyed, revisited that whole unfolding: what it was to us 'today', viewing the past, experiencing our feelings, our processes, and -of course- with grace, sharing our love.  Mine, of gratitude for the love and healing with Neil….my subsequent frequent recurring dreams with him….in a happy, fun, easy, loving relationship.  Yet lucidly always with the lingering questions of:  "Aren't you dead?"  "Aren't you married to someone else?"   That strange and curious and sometimes humorous way of dreams.

Shannon then asked me about John (the leader and dear friend of a spiritual group I  had belonged to that facilitated transformational work).  Where was I with all that? What had my experience been with him? With leaving the group abruptly? I shared my experience…the sequential unfolding, as 'I' remembered it.  That I had felt 'he' had had to be right, would never have given up control, had never taken responsibility for 'his' role in the demise, and still held judgment against me.

Tears unexpectedly and spontaneously came.  Then full-on crying.

Shannon reminded me that:  'THERE IS NO JOHN.'  That ' Bonnie's victim story' is still intact.  That it is the safe, justified place in my ego mind where I can be a victim, where I can defend, judge….and separate…."FROM MYSELF."  Where my ego self can subtly, insidiously….WIN….again.  Keep me in the certainty, solidity of this dream.  Keep me, yet again, from waking up.

Thank God for 'this'.  For 'her'.  For the perfection of our intimacy, for our seclusion….for the catalysts for annihilation, destruction, revelation, healing, recognition…..re  membering.  (Another catalyst has been that Audrey, a dear friend, is in her dying process…as I write.  So this has been up and contributing to the dying, to the death of the Bonnie, the Bonnie story.)

I collapsed into my grief over the disconnect…the non-contact with John.  Whom I love.  Whom I miss.  Whom I know loves me.  Misses me.  We were/are such wonderful reflections for each other.

I told Shannon:  "He is the one.  He is the one I need to heal with before I leave this body.  I CANNOT leave my body until he and I are 're/paired.'"

So this all showed, through Shannon's facilitation and she having her own process simultaneously, that the hook for me egoistically was:  "I am a victim, therefore, I am justified to judge, defend….defend in righteousness…The 'BONNIE' Story.  Rather than….the invitation:  "Bonnie, there is no John…this is YOU (and not you…there is no you)."  

But.

And.

IN  THE  DREAM……

"…the hook, the block, at 'this' time……to remembering.  To awakening to where 'I' am justified, where 'Bonnie' is justified…the keep the Bonnie story alive."

Where am 'I' right?  Where am 'I' not accepting my responsibility, 'my' part in that demise?

Where is….What is:  THE DARK BONNIE?  THAT Bonnie that as the Course in Miracles talks about:  keeps a secret dark corner reserved…for no one to know about…that secret place to have grievance, a place where love is not welcome. Thus the place where I will not be healed completely.

Is Bonnie, am I,  going to keep that hidden?  And kill and murder…'other'…to keep Bonnie safely 'here', secretly and safely 'separate'…so I can, she can, keep the dream?  This illusion... 'alive'…keep Bonnie out of the REAL terror of fully taking in the reality that this place, me, others…IS NOT REAL?

There it is.  

There is THE TERROR.

How deep it is.

It is so releasing, so real, to admit - or rather- be allowed to pop out of the dream long enough (a minute, a few moments)to not witness, but more deeply, honestly, 'experience' truth….yet again.  Be annihilated…to be reborn…yet again..into remembrance.

"Oh, yeah…it wasn't, isn't Neil, John…it was, is Bonnie."  It is ALL for Bonnie….."TO WAKE UP."  It is ALL GIVEN…for me to wake up.  

If 'that' isn't 'divine dispensation'…I don't know what is.  Somehow…the terror subsides.  Somehow…now, after all this apparent time…the idea that this is a dream is not only more understandable, but appreciated, for what it is….."AS THE GIFT IT WAS INTENDED TO BE….TO ME…EVERY SINGLE THING, EVERY SINGLE PERSON, EVERY SINGLE EVENT IN THIS DREAM OF MY OWN MAKING FOR MY OWN AWAKENING."   Truly…the miracle. That I am being held every moment, being given every moment what I need, and somewhere have asked for, to wake up….wake outside the dream…to whatever is…to love.

ONLY LOVE.

Can understand now where 'everything' is important and 'nothing' is important.  Here.

I know now (talking within the paradox) that John and I will heal this karma…the 'apparent' grievance.  It is already done.  Because it never happened.  I am dreaming.  I asked for this to help me wake up and it was given.  

I am at great peace about this…great gratitude about this.

I fell on the ice, hit my head….hard.  Even heard/felt a 'crack' the night before Shannon came.  It felt concussion-like..was/still is painful.  And….felt it was a 'karmic slap' (like my rear ended experience a few years ago).  I wondered why.  Why now?  What is this about?

Today, I 'makeup' that it created an opening, a vulnerability, for this insight into my self to occur.  

The tiniest 'crack' to let light in.

This is annihilation.  Something I/we will nearly DIE to avoid.

But.

This morning, my beautiful, courageous daughter, my reflection in this moment of me…facilitated this necessary healing, this imperative confrontation with self…exposed that secret hidden spot of righteousness…so that I/we could safely pop open.  Let in the light of truth, of what is, of love….and take, yet another step toward SELF.  Toward the God that is us, the God that is all, that is Love.

To   re    member.

Literally.

Please. 

Please. 

Please.

Dear God.

Let me forget not.

This time.

Jack O'Neil (August 22, 2011)

Two Boise girlfriends were up this weekend and we had one of our wonderful five hour sit in your pjs, talk and drink coffee mornings.  Sharing life, spiritual growth and confusion and clarity and current experiences of reality, love and pain, hopes and dreams.  

At some point I shared there was an elderly gentleman I had seen walking, shuffling, energetically on the Sun Valley Fairway Road where I drove to the Proctor Mt. trailhead at the end culdesac.  That I had seen him twice and was totally moved to tears because he so reminded of my father whom I missed terribly. That the next time I saw him I was going to follow my strong urge to pull over, engage him in conversation and ask for a badly needed hug (vicariously from my dad.)

This morning I hiked that hike and was driving back and on the phone with one of those girlfriends sharing how wonderful the weekend had been when………….there he was!  I hesitated only a moment…but there was a shoulder for parking and my friend said, "oh, go…call me back." 

Which I did.

He had gained on me.  So I jogged after him and called, "excuse me, sir?"

He turned.

WHAT a beauty he was!  In his shorts, tennies, and baseball cap (some mornings, if earlier, he donned gloves).

I shared that the Smart car was mine and that I had seen him twice before, that he totally reminded me of my dear sweet father whom I missed terribly, that I had committed to stopping the next time I saw him and ask for a hug!

He said, "well, first of all then, let's do the hug."

There we were in the road in a fabulous sustained full body hug.  Both of us tearing.  While hugging, he shared he hadn't been hugged like that since his wife died four years previously.

Isn't the universe magical?

Two lonesome souls missing a beloved find each other serendipitously.  Miraculously.

There we were standing in the road arms around one another like long lost friends sharing how we happened to find ourselves there.

He shared first, voluntarily.  His name is Jack O'Neil.  He is 91.  From Ohio.  Runs a heavy equipment construction company and had forever.  His sons now running it.  Twelve years ago he and his wife Betsy bought a condo in SV because they had visited here, loved it and wanted to return and have a place for family reunions.  I think there might be other children who live in New Mexico and California. 

That he had had a heart value replacement and his doctor recommended walking four miles a day which he was determined to work up to.  I shared that since he was walking at six thousand feet elevation, I'm sure he actually was walking four miles.

Anyway…his family had literally just left.  He was alone again until his return to Ohio on Sept 2nd.

Then I shared I had lived here 20 years ago for 20 years.  Had taught high school, raised my two kids here and left after a long term marriage and divorce.  Taught college in Sacramento and Mt. Shasta.  Then helped my dad run his helicopter business after mom had died.

That dad lived till 94.  Ran the business till the day he died.

That, in fact, he had that day pushed himself from the dinner table announcing he was going to die that night.

And did.

Jack was silent a long moment as we stood still entwined, baseball cap bills touching, intently focused on one another and then said, "I am so glad you shared that story."

"He must have just been done."

We hugged again.

Jack reached for his wallet.  Had also a pen (sooooooooo like my dad!)  And said, "I forget names but never faces…will you write your name and phone number?"   Which I did.

We hugged yet again and tearfully parted ways.

Him calling, "Until we meet again."

I called my friend back and shared briefly.

Then cried all the way home.

I WEPT.  I WAILED.    

May 31st the moving van pulled away from my Whitefish house.  Karen, my sweet friend, started cleaning and I, without a look back or a twinge of regret, wearily climbed into my '87 Vanagon full of plants and some 'last stuff' and headed south.

It was so easy.  It was so nonclimatic.  Just another drive towards Kalispell.

I was heading 'home.'

No bells or whistles.  No breaking out in song.  No jivin' in the car seat.

The most natural drive in the world.

I stopped in Missoula at the Good Foods store and picked up some healthy treats for dinner on the road.  It started pouring, thundering.  "It's okay,"  I thought, "I'm only going as far as Darby.  Not over Lost Trail Pass tonight where it could be snowing."  My VW was pretty loaded and I didn't want to tax it or me at our ages.

Only had an hour and a half more to go….maybe two with all the road work.  Then I could eat and go to bed.  

I don't remember when I have been so bone weary.  So utterly physically and emotionally exhausted.  

(Well, actually…yes, I do.  It was during my initial separation from my husband at the beginning of our divorce process.  I was teaching high school. So exhausted that I would sleep under my desk during lunch and prep period just to keep going.  That was in 1986.)

So.  Not this tired for twenty-five years.

But.

I was heading 'home.'

I pulled into the sweet little individual cottage I had reserved in Darby.  Still pouring.  Grabbed my food and small bag and went in.  Ate.  Happened to catch a new episode of Glee…very fun.  Then crashed.

Awoke early with yet again some recurring diarrhea and upset stomach which I had been attributing to an incredibly stressful month trying to cope with discovered mold during my house inspection (the dryer vent had fallen off the pipe in the crawlspace creating a perfect petri dish all winter!), fearful the buyers might change their minds, worried of the domino effect with the condo I had committed to buy in Idaho should that happen, the coordination of Montana closing date with the moving van with the closing in Idaho. 

Craziness.  

I 'knew' this move had to be now or never if I was going to have the energy and stamina for risk taking.  I 'knew' even if I moved now there may be a price to buy.

The body.  It usually seems to be our physical health that pays that price, yes?

Ate a banana slowly, cautiously, tentatively.

Lost it just before starting out.

But. 

I was heading 'home.'

In the five years I lived in Montana I would always take this route if heading south anywhere so that I could drive through, and sometimes stay in, Ketchum,  where I had lived for 20 years, 20 years ago.  Where my heart has truly been ever since.  Where I hadn't wanted to leave after my divorce and yet knew I must.  'Life' was calling me for new experiences, new growth.  The unknown adventure.  My next step.

So traveling south on 93 to Idaho one must go over Lost Trail Pass.  Not an easy pass from October to June because you could hit snow and ice unexpectedly and it  has a steep grade and elevation gain both sides.  This day was turning out clear and that would not be a problem for which I was grateful being in my faithful yet old VW.

The Montana/Idaho state line is at the summit of this pass and in times past dropping over to the Idaho side and most especially catching the first sight of the waters of the north fork of the Salmon River, I would mostly deny that my heart always leaped and I felt an emotional reaction.  I would just appreciate the state change and keep driving.

But.

This day.

This day was different.

I was heading 'home' and somewhere in my body was the cellular, even molecular, knowing.

At the first sight of the small rushing winter melting Salmon River...I cried out.  

My mouth simply opened and a wail burst forth.  I started spontaneously weeping.

Neither was to be voluntarily stopped or lessened.  I pulled over two or three times thinking that might help.  It was temporary.

Until I saw a hillside of purple lupine.

Until I saw my first prairie dog.

Until I saw golden mules ear.

Until I smelled the sage.

Until I saw a once visited camping site.

Until I saw a long forgotten memory in my mind.

What I saw I was.  

I wept.  I wailed.

Unceasingly the forty miles to the town of Salmon.

I pulled myself emotionally spent from the van to get fuel.  Rushed instead inside where I vomited and had diarrhea…tricky choices occurring.

Bought a coke hoping to settle my system, fueled the van and somehow continued driving.

It is another three hours from there to Ketchum.  And.  Time seemed nonlinear.

I really cannot explain what was occurring for me, to me and yet, simultaneously, not me.   A catharsis not experienced since some intense personal workshop processing nearly 20 years earlier.

I felt like my DNA was remembering where I was supposed to be.  What I was supposed to be.  Where I naturally syncopated with the energy.  Where my vibration was matching the vibration of my 'right place.'  

It was like my body was throwing off, getting rid of anything that wasn't truly 'me.'  But also like there was no me, and everything was me?

In that three hours, my weeping, wailing episodes unexpectedly surfaced until that episode seemed over, that memory, that grief, that sorrow, that fear, that regret, that relief, that joy was processed???

Twenty years of living, twenty years of 'paying due diligence', twenty years of karma, twenty years of …..what?

...before I could come back 'home.'

The grief.  The pain.  The relief.  The joy.  The gratitude. 

Seemed intrinsically and equally exquisite.

Was 'home' just simply coming to my true self?  A recognition?

What is 'home' really about?  Metaphysically?  Karmically?  Geographically?  Historically?  Spiritually?

I don't know if I will ever really truly understand my experience.

It was powerful.  It was real.  It was ineffable. 

The best I can express is that "home and who/what I am" reunited after a long, even somewhat, unconscious separation.

I am deeply humbled.

And deeply grateful.

To "be" who/what/where home is.

70 to -19 Wind Chill

Baja to Montana.

Culture shock.

That's what that is.

Does 70 to -19 also mean seventy years old minus nineteen equals fifty-one years old?  Maybe in someone else's life!  Not mine.

I haven't written because, frankly, I have been 'speechless.' 

Silenced.

Humbled.

It was/is a mile marker.

For me.

It is snowing right now.  Snowed last night several inches.  Left my world in a 'new winter sleep.'  Quiet.  Waiting.  To be 'kissed by the sun' in some future month.

A good metaphor for me right now.  I feel somewhat dormant.  

Caterpillar-like.

Quietly, gently, gestalting what is true for me.

Now.

Earthshaking.

Yet not.

Am finding what a relief it is to not believe much of anything.  Have read, heard, for years:  Let all your beliefs go.  

No easy thing.  That.  

Yet, also...surprisingly seamless.

At the Course In Miracles Academy years ago, we used to say:  "Goodie, I am wrong...again!"

Was hard.  At first.  The ego doesn't like to admit being wrong.  Ever.

But.  Now.  Truly.  What a relief it is.

To be wrong.

I don't have to 'take a stand.'  A position.  Defend.  Anything.

I know nothing...for sure.

Only.  That I seem to be 'self aware.'

Nothing.  For sure.  Beyond that.

I can just be.

I can just do what I do.

Not for a reason.  But.  Just because I happen to do it.

And that, surprise of all surprises, seems to work.  

Just fine.

More than 'just fine.'

I feel like I am in the flow of life.  Have actually pulled the oars in and am going where the current takes me.  

Choosing that adventure.  That unknown.  See where that takes me.

I was planning on going to Vietnam.  Now not.  No real reason.  The current just shifted.  I now may go to Toronto?  

I guess I will go where I go!

ahhhhhhhhhhh 

I love the 'don't have to' of my life.

And guess what?

I now ski for FREE!  

What a fun perk.  What a fun 'don't have to' if I don't want to without feeling guilty of wasting ski pass money!

Is now the 'free' feeling I get when skiing....magnified.

My new metaphor for living.  

That free, quietly exhilarating, dance down the mountain.

Rather than the difficult, stressful, trek up.

I'VE HAD MY RUN.

So many thoughts, ideas, feelings to express.  And in one writing no less!  Good luck with that being journalistic material!

Oh well.....who cares?

Not me.

Anymore.

Am leaving Baja early....a trip to Vietnam in early March with my way adventurous travel buddies just popped on the screen!

So.  Life keeps happening.  I will now spend my 70th birthday in the town where I was born!  Go figure.  Feels quite right actually.  And will be with my daughter and sister then which also feels quite right actually.

A girlfriend just wrote and said she never thought she would say Bonnie and Hanoi in the same sentence.

Me neither.

But.

Why not?

I've had my run I have decided.

What freedom that idea brings.  It doesn't really matter when/where/how I die now.

Whatever I was 'going to do in life' I have probably done.  

At least the 'pressure' to do something, to be someone is finally gone for me.

Thank you, God!

Truly.  This aging, this reaching this winter season of my life, the acceptance of that is really quite liberating.

And.  I hadn't really been fully conscious that I had accepted it until recently.  

Like.

Yesterday!

When talking to a dear like-minded aging girlfriend  who had called after a deer hit her while leaving black ice Montana on her way to San Diego.  She was relating that the whole experience was just somehow...okay.....she saw that it was going to happen, couldn't hit the brakes because of the ice, and the deer hit the car, bounced up onto the hood, hit the passenger side of the window which shattered, landed on the other side and ran off.  She was able to continue driving after having the car checked for alignment and am sure was quite the spectacle on the Salt Lake City, Las Vegas, San Diego freeways!

But basically her experience was:  well, hmmmmm....wonder if this is it?

That's how life feels to me now.  Detached.  In most ways.

Not flat line.

Not indifferent.

Just.

Not particularly interested anymore.   Impassioned anymore.  Certainly not striving anymore.

Not planning on 'meeting a man' anymore.

My friend and I admitted that we really don't like 'anyone' anymore.

Except ourselves, of course!

And isn't that the sustaining truth?

Surprise surprise......

I LOVE 'ME' BEST OF ALL!

And honestly.....don't we all?  We are THE HEROES of our life, of our story, of our dream.  We are who we truly watch out for.  Make sure desires are satisfied for.

Be it food, shelter, clothing....you name it ...are for.

Isn't it a shame that all this freedom, this honesty seems wasted on the 'old?'

How liberating it would have been to 'get this' when thirty, forty.  How much more relaxing and enjoyable life would have been knowing that all the ambition, all the striving, all the identity seeking doesn't mean squat.  

Zip.

Zero.

Nada.

This poem by Mary Oliver seems timely:  Wild Geese

"You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting..

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things."

So.

Since I've had my run.

I'm going to "let the soft animal of my body love what it loves" from now on.

Without guilt.

With self compassion.

With.

Abandon.

I love you....

BUT I LOVE 'ME' BEST!

Phew. I Made It! (...said from the deathbed)

In my last post I mentioned 'posting' this chapter from my book, Am I Dead Yet?
It still seems up for me, this illusive idea of some sort of survival mechanism from death?
...So, here it is.

(P.S...all my prompts for my blog are now in Spanish!!! So I am never 'really' sure quite what will happen!)   :0)


PHEW:

Phew.  I made it! (said from the death bed)

Isn't it interesting that we spend so much, all?, of our lives trying to survive so that we can be relieved on our death bed that we made it?!

Maybe this is a futile attempt at expressing the unexpressable.

But.

I watched my father...I could use me and may...and, right now, I'll use him.

I watched my father, after mom died, go to heroic lengths to finally 'make it' to his death bed....heroically!  (See:  "Well Guys, I'm Going To Die Tonight.)

He pool exercised, often twice a day, even in 58 degree water to 'outsmart', to beat, the effects of Parkinsons, the effects of the aging body of a 90+ year old.  He had regular deep body work with a friend of mine which often left him exhausted.  He went to physical therapy.  He begged his neurologist  to have him be a guinea pig for experimental brain surgery.  He would have done ANYTHING to prolong "making it" to his death bed.

Bless his heart.

How I miss this man.  Love this man.  Because of this I think he is with me more than when he was here.

One talks about 'Keep on keeping on'.  He was the king of keep on keeping on.  He was the model for 'passion for life'.  

How could I possibly judge him?

Why would I?

Did I?

Yes.

I did.

Near the end.  Certainly, the last year.

Dad, let go.  Give it up.  You won't win this battle.

SO much will to live.  Like the new young tree growing out of the seemingly dead stump.

Reasons to live.  The last one:  buy a new helicopter for the business.  It wasn't about rationale.  It was about a reason to live.  Something to look forward to.  Scorpio intensity.  He could sit in it.  He could be a passenger in it.  Heartwrenchingly, he could not fly it.

I think he ran out of reasons to perpetuate himself:

---Burt, the quintessential pilot.

---Burt, the quintessential employer.

---Burt, the generous father, grandfather, great grandfather.

---Burt, the willing guinea pig.

---Burt, the battler of Parkinsons.

---Burt, the battler of aging.

---Burt, the buyer of new helicopters.

What happened?

Was it running out of reasons?

Did he just finally get tired?

Finally see the futility?

Made a decision to stop?

Stop trying to 'make it' til the death bed?

Let whatever Burt was, go?

Bless his heart.

Bless his heart.

Bless his heart.

Bless our hearts.

Bless my heart.

Bless your heart.

Is this the 'die before you die'?

I think so.

Yes.  

Can I?

Die before I die?

Stop?

Quit trying to 'make it'? 

In Baja & Nearing Seventy

Well, here I am again, in warm, sunny Todos Santos.

Ahhhhh.

From -5 to 68.  From white/grey to technicolor.

Flowers, birdsong (yes, roosters, too), hummingbirds, open windows/doors, palms rustling, waves crashing, aromas, t-shirt pjs, dirt roads/pot holes, and retraining about not throwing t.p. into toilets!

From wearing 'chains' on shoes to wearing nothing on feet.

From cautious stepping to mindless wander.

Liberation.

Freedom.

And yet.

Uncannily, experiencing "Ground Hog Day" movie.

"Been there.  Done that.  Again."

Life seems to be that in most ways for me of late.

Rereading: I AM THAT (talks with Sri Nisargadatta Majaraj).   And.  Am revisiting, again.  Remembering, again.  That this world is a dream of my own making.  An illusion.

Some excerpts:

"To crave is to slave.

Everything happens by itself, quite spontaneously.

To want nothing and do nothing--that is true creation.

To watch the Universe emerging and subsiding in ones' heart is a wonder.

When effort is needed, effort will appear.

You need not push life about.  Just flow with it and give yourself completely to the task of the present moment, which is the dying now to the now.

For living is dying.

Without death life cannot be.

Don't be afraid.  Don't resist, don't delay.

Be what you are.

There is nothing to be afraid of.

Trust.

Give your real being a chance to shape your life.

You will not regret.

The Universe of Pain is born of Desire.  Give up the desire for pleasure and you will not even know what is pain."

on and on............

So.

Here am I.  With some time to contemplate.  Reflect.  Remember.  From Whence Am I.

To once again.

Surrender.

This life we live.  This self-awareness we have.  This apparent duality.

What a thing it is.

Before leaving Montana, a dear friend visiting her family, asked me:  What is it like nearing seventy?  What are you feeling?  Thinking?

Provocative questions.

I am noticing several things.

My temptation to keep trying to 'be somebody.'  Establish a viable identity.  Like 'be a Human Design Analyst.'  Like 'DO' something in the world.

Have noticed feeling more and more 'invisible' as I age.  In social environments, noticing that if I am quiet....I am not noticed.  Engaged.  Unless I initiate.

I think in our primarily narcissistic culture with so much focus on being/looking eternally young that our elderly are not as honored, respected, included as in other cultures.  And that is even changing as those cultures are westernizing.  Having 'the reflection of aging' front and center just brings our mortality to close to home.  Too painful to accept somehow.  So.  Need to avoid that reflection?

It has not been without some effort, some struggle, to surrender to this aging process.  To no longer being middle aged. The mirror is not so friendly.   The uphill grade when hiking not so friendly.  The subtle and not-so-subtle memory challenges not so friendly.  The wearing out of body parts not so friendly.  

I am noticing that the idea of death doesn't bother me so much.  The idea of the process of dying is not so friendly.  But how else are we gonna get outta here?

More.

The idea of more is up to consider.

More time so that I can see the grand girls grow up.  Whom they become.  Whom/if they marry.   More time to watch my son, my daughter's lives unfold.  Yet that inkling of fear for them.   What trials ahead?

Maybe I will post  the story:  "Phew, I Made It" from my book.....seems timely.   It's like:  Phew, I made it.....without (fill in the blank) happening.   Phew, 'they' made it without......     Made it.....where?  To 'their' deathbeds?   

Crazy world, this.

Crazy mind, mine.

I think I have decided to do nothing.

Do what shows up to do.  

Not strive anymore.

Try that.

See what happens.   What life brings to me.  Without me trying to bring it to me.

Not strive to return to Idaho.  Not strive to sell houses.  Buy houses.  Move.

See what the flow of life brings to me.

Do what I do.

"Give my real being a chance to shape my life."

Experience that.

Just.

Stop.

Trying.

And.

See what happens.

Feliz Ano, all.

Besos y Abrazos!