If I Could Live to be 100
By Sarah M.
If I could live to be 100, there is nothing more that I would want than I have today...
If I could have sung at Carnegie Hall, I would have, instead, my sister and I had a concert for my parents in the living room, and there were songs sung in cars on trips, and melodies sung in bathtubs by moonlight and candlelight, and that is enough.
If I could have written and published a book with my life story and some poems and thoughts about my life and those who shaped it, I would have. Instead, I have written e-mails and letters and cards to those I have entrusted with my heart that tells a story of sorts and that is enough.
If I could have had as many children as God would give me to fill a house and make it a home, I would have. Instead we have three in Heave, and I became a Godmother and I have the opportunity to love nieces and nephews that have grown from children into men and women and that is enough.
If I could have, I would have traveled to every town and city in every country, and experienced a day in the life of the world. Instead, I have had a handful of wonderful adventures, gifted to me and by my parents and friends, some in far away places, and some right here at home, and that is enough.
If I could have gone to a great University and done something big to change the world, I would have. Instead, I went to State College, met the man of my dreams, became a wife, grew into a woman of faith, and saw that I could change the world just by being myself, and loving those that I am lucky enough to call my family and friends, and that is enough.
If I could have gone to cooking school in France and learned to concoct food that would melt the mouths of the Western World, I would have. Instead, I learned to peel an apple in one long strand, and make a pie crust that made my Ma proud, and that is enough.
If I could have painted tapestries and canvases as large as the sky, I would have. Instead I paint ceramics and rocks and tiny pots to give to those I know and love, and that is enough.
Is there anything else that I have not done that I wish I could? Would I climb Mt. Everest or visit more far off places or learn more languages or read more books? Probably, if I could. Instead, what I would want most of all is to gather with everyone I know and to share a meal and some stories and some songs and celebrate the life we have lived together and still live today. And that would be enough.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
A Specific Sign
When anyone passes away in my family I get scared. To be specific, I sleep with the lights on and worry that they might communicate in some paranormal way, ie I'll see their ghost. Sure, it could be considered paranoia... paranormal paranoia I guess. My psyche needs some sort of solace to know that they're ok, and that they've crossed over (Thank you, John Edwards).
I admitted my fear to Star and she suggested that I ask for a sign. One afternoon, shortly after my Uncle passed away, I asked for a sign and made it as specific as possible. It had to be something that reminded me of him. That was my thought, and it made sense at the time. He was awarded the Purple Heart in Vietnam so that was the sign. It could be a heart that was purple like a sticker, baloon, whatever. That was ok with me. I shared with my Aunt, his wife, one day over the phone. She, too, was looking for a sign of her own.
About a month later, my friend showed up at the door. She was sweaty and irritated. "I'm trying to mail this thing off, and all I wanted was a few stamps. They were all out of the ones I wanted. They only had these!" There, in her grip, was a page of Purple Hearts. Not just any heart, THE PURPLE HEART MEDAL. I traded a few stamps withher and immediately sent my aunt a letter with the stamp right on the front.
To this day, I think of him when I see that symbol, and it helps me know that he's with me.
I admitted my fear to Star and she suggested that I ask for a sign. One afternoon, shortly after my Uncle passed away, I asked for a sign and made it as specific as possible. It had to be something that reminded me of him. That was my thought, and it made sense at the time. He was awarded the Purple Heart in Vietnam so that was the sign. It could be a heart that was purple like a sticker, baloon, whatever. That was ok with me. I shared with my Aunt, his wife, one day over the phone. She, too, was looking for a sign of her own.
About a month later, my friend showed up at the door. She was sweaty and irritated. "I'm trying to mail this thing off, and all I wanted was a few stamps. They were all out of the ones I wanted. They only had these!" There, in her grip, was a page of Purple Hearts. Not just any heart, THE PURPLE HEART MEDAL. I traded a few stamps withher and immediately sent my aunt a letter with the stamp right on the front.
To this day, I think of him when I see that symbol, and it helps me know that he's with me.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
To infinity... and beyond.
Sarah isn't the only person I find myself connecting to from the afterlife. That's sounds so paranormal when I write it and repeat to myself, but it's true. I've seen a significant influx of connection to my Dad's father, Cliff, and my Mom's aunt, Annie, on her mother's side. I never met either one of them.
I know that my Grandpa was a fighter. He boxed, like many people who grew up during the WWII era. Even though it was a common sport, it's certainly not as common for women. During my self-defense classes, I'm learning punches, jabs, crosses, and upper-cuts and it's coming quite naturally. I've been told that I fight like a boy. Maybe it's genetic, or maybe it's skill that I happen to be pre-disposed to, but it feels nice to think of him and feel a oneness.
Similarly, Annie (my mom's aunt) was a member of the SRF. I didn't find this out until recently. Whe share other commonatlities like a love of Japanese culture and art.
Happily, I'm not the only one who has said they feel kindered to people who have passed away. My friend, Star, adors Georgia O'Keefe. They are both artists, and oftentimes she will receive gifts and cards with orange poppies ~ her code and symbol for O'Keefe. My symbol for Sarah... red Volkswagon Beetles, and chrysanthemums. The first is obvious to me, she owned one. The second... no idea, the flower just resonates with my perception of her personality.
This helps reinstate my belief that it's never too late. We can connect and stay connected at any time, and any place for that matter. Wether you were related, friends, or just someone who's inspired by their life, we can all share something meaningful.
I know that my Grandpa was a fighter. He boxed, like many people who grew up during the WWII era. Even though it was a common sport, it's certainly not as common for women. During my self-defense classes, I'm learning punches, jabs, crosses, and upper-cuts and it's coming quite naturally. I've been told that I fight like a boy. Maybe it's genetic, or maybe it's skill that I happen to be pre-disposed to, but it feels nice to think of him and feel a oneness.
Similarly, Annie (my mom's aunt) was a member of the SRF. I didn't find this out until recently. Whe share other commonatlities like a love of Japanese culture and art.
Happily, I'm not the only one who has said they feel kindered to people who have passed away. My friend, Star, adors Georgia O'Keefe. They are both artists, and oftentimes she will receive gifts and cards with orange poppies ~ her code and symbol for O'Keefe. My symbol for Sarah... red Volkswagon Beetles, and chrysanthemums. The first is obvious to me, she owned one. The second... no idea, the flower just resonates with my perception of her personality.
This helps reinstate my belief that it's never too late. We can connect and stay connected at any time, and any place for that matter. Wether you were related, friends, or just someone who's inspired by their life, we can all share something meaningful.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
The Acting Bug
Ever since I can remember, I've had the acting bug. My sister and I wrote a series of Sherlock Holmes Mystery plays (before Robert Downey Jr. made it cool). We recruited our cousins, made our own props and costumes. Our first play was called The Scarlet Knife. Not bad a couple of kids under 10.
When AJ told me she was taking an acting class... I couldn't contain my enthusiasm. Our first class was last week and we're both having a good time to and from class singing in the car, trying out our accents, and skipping Wizard-of-Oz style from the parking lot to the classroom.
Inside is another matter. Suddenly, we become shy and nervous. This wave of terror filled me when I realized it was soon my turn to do a 2 minute bit on using an object to recreate a daily activity. AJ was having similar feelings. I thought she did a great job though.
On the way home, our song came on the radio! We blasted Hey Soul Sister and sang at the top of our lungs in loving honor and memory of Sarah. I can't help but think she is watching us silly girls and perhaps singing right along with us. I hope so from the bottom of my heart.
When AJ told me she was taking an acting class... I couldn't contain my enthusiasm. Our first class was last week and we're both having a good time to and from class singing in the car, trying out our accents, and skipping Wizard-of-Oz style from the parking lot to the classroom.
Inside is another matter. Suddenly, we become shy and nervous. This wave of terror filled me when I realized it was soon my turn to do a 2 minute bit on using an object to recreate a daily activity. AJ was having similar feelings. I thought she did a great job though.
On the way home, our song came on the radio! We blasted Hey Soul Sister and sang at the top of our lungs in loving honor and memory of Sarah. I can't help but think she is watching us silly girls and perhaps singing right along with us. I hope so from the bottom of my heart.
Monday, April 12, 2010
It's a SILENT retreat??? One reason to read the fine print.
In the new year, I signed myself up for a retreat. Little did I know... it was silent. Aaaaah!!!! Anyone who has ever met me can see that I enjoy talking and conversation a lot. It's one of the fundamentals of my personality. I like getting to know people, I always have a few questions up my sleeve saved for uncomfortable silences. Looks like I wouldn't be able to use my amo afterall.
What did I do for my beautiful weekend of silence at the Encinitas SRF Center? I prayed... to be able to talk! Well, not really, but I did write a lot, and I even wrote notes to my suite-mate and left them for her in our adjoining bathroom to discover the next time she used the Lou.
Although it was raining for the majority of the weekend, I did use Sarah-Vision to explore the gardens. I woke up early one morning before they had opened the gates to the public and just walked around. It was so blustery and cold, but the waves and clouds made it worth my while. Powerful crashing, ominous clusters of thunderheads staring me down. I loved it!
I visited with my coy friends and there was a smaller pond off to the side with baby coy in a submerged box. It made me think of how I live my life. There's this great big pond of a world out there, and I'm existing in this little bubble of an environment, and I can't wait for the day when I set myself free.
On the last day, the retreatants were taken on a tour of the Hermitage. You can do this on Sundays at a designated time in the day. Before going into the beautiful space, we sat in the Chapel for a moment of quiet reflection. I thought to ask Master forr a blessing. Before the words formed in my mind.... Guruji answered my prayer with a most emphatic "YES!" My heart swelled in my chest and I felt flooded with a warm energy throughout my entire body.
In the Hermitage, I saw the very room where Yogananda would spend his days and nights writing. He finished Autobiography of a Yogi on a wooden desk overlooking the ocean bluff. As I realized this... I mean words cannot describe how I felt. Overjoyed, thrilled, super duper happy. You name it!
After I came back to the main room, something flew into my eye. I kept trying to work it out with the tips of my finger when I was suddenly spotted by one of the nuns. She looked at my sympathetically, opened a small drawer next to her and produced a small tissue. She nodded and said, "It can be overwhelming sometimes for people. I understand."
I was about to tell her that she didn't, but I enjoyed her sympathy and the humor of the situation much better.
What did I do for my beautiful weekend of silence at the Encinitas SRF Center? I prayed... to be able to talk! Well, not really, but I did write a lot, and I even wrote notes to my suite-mate and left them for her in our adjoining bathroom to discover the next time she used the Lou.
Although it was raining for the majority of the weekend, I did use Sarah-Vision to explore the gardens. I woke up early one morning before they had opened the gates to the public and just walked around. It was so blustery and cold, but the waves and clouds made it worth my while. Powerful crashing, ominous clusters of thunderheads staring me down. I loved it!
I visited with my coy friends and there was a smaller pond off to the side with baby coy in a submerged box. It made me think of how I live my life. There's this great big pond of a world out there, and I'm existing in this little bubble of an environment, and I can't wait for the day when I set myself free.
On the last day, the retreatants were taken on a tour of the Hermitage. You can do this on Sundays at a designated time in the day. Before going into the beautiful space, we sat in the Chapel for a moment of quiet reflection. I thought to ask Master forr a blessing. Before the words formed in my mind.... Guruji answered my prayer with a most emphatic "YES!" My heart swelled in my chest and I felt flooded with a warm energy throughout my entire body.
In the Hermitage, I saw the very room where Yogananda would spend his days and nights writing. He finished Autobiography of a Yogi on a wooden desk overlooking the ocean bluff. As I realized this... I mean words cannot describe how I felt. Overjoyed, thrilled, super duper happy. You name it!
After I came back to the main room, something flew into my eye. I kept trying to work it out with the tips of my finger when I was suddenly spotted by one of the nuns. She looked at my sympathetically, opened a small drawer next to her and produced a small tissue. She nodded and said, "It can be overwhelming sometimes for people. I understand."
I was about to tell her that she didn't, but I enjoyed her sympathy and the humor of the situation much better.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
A New Perspective
This last Christmas Eve, I had another dream. This time, Paramahansa Yogananda himself was there. He founded the Self-Realization Fellowship in 1920 and brought Kriya Yoga to the United States. The first time I'd ever heard of him was in Yoga Journal in an ad for Autobiography of a Yogi.
In my dream, Yogananda was very young looking, even younger than in the photo's I had seen of him. He looked timeless with brilliant terracotta tan skin, sparkling eyes, shining long black hair and a full-length orange robe.
We took a tour of the gardens. We walked the path that inclined a little with arching green trees and low hanging branches that looked like arms. Yogananda walked with me arm-in-arm and I couldn't stop talking. I tried to impress him with my knowledge of spirituality and all the while I kept telling myself to simply 'shut up' and listen to what my Master had to say.
There was a bit of fruit on the way in the trees and in baskets. He asked me if I would care for some. I said yes, so he picked up a pear and began to eat it. He took a few bites and then tossed it behind him before it was finished. I was a little shocked so I ran behind and picked up the pear, dusted it off, and took a few bites myself. Guruji told me there would be more and there wasn't a worry even though I thought it might be considered 'wasteful'. I carried the pear for a little while and then put it in the crux of a tree when I was satisfied.
He then spoke of perspective and told me to look ahead and tell him what I saw. I saw more of the garden, trees, branches and I felt anxious but also bored with what the scene. It was more of the same really. He told me to look to my left. To physically turn and just look. I looked and saw golden statues and figurines. It excited me, but there wasn't a path to it. Just a beautiful thing to look off at.
The dream ended shortly thereafter. Five days later, I gained a new perspective... through Sarah's eyes.
In my dream, Yogananda was very young looking, even younger than in the photo's I had seen of him. He looked timeless with brilliant terracotta tan skin, sparkling eyes, shining long black hair and a full-length orange robe.
We took a tour of the gardens. We walked the path that inclined a little with arching green trees and low hanging branches that looked like arms. Yogananda walked with me arm-in-arm and I couldn't stop talking. I tried to impress him with my knowledge of spirituality and all the while I kept telling myself to simply 'shut up' and listen to what my Master had to say.
There was a bit of fruit on the way in the trees and in baskets. He asked me if I would care for some. I said yes, so he picked up a pear and began to eat it. He took a few bites and then tossed it behind him before it was finished. I was a little shocked so I ran behind and picked up the pear, dusted it off, and took a few bites myself. Guruji told me there would be more and there wasn't a worry even though I thought it might be considered 'wasteful'. I carried the pear for a little while and then put it in the crux of a tree when I was satisfied.
He then spoke of perspective and told me to look ahead and tell him what I saw. I saw more of the garden, trees, branches and I felt anxious but also bored with what the scene. It was more of the same really. He told me to look to my left. To physically turn and just look. I looked and saw golden statues and figurines. It excited me, but there wasn't a path to it. Just a beautiful thing to look off at.
The dream ended shortly thereafter. Five days later, I gained a new perspective... through Sarah's eyes.
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