Faith, Yoda, and the Meaning of Life

"... well the anxiety I get, but panic attacks we need to discuss..." says Dr. B
"I get them when I think of something happening to Stefan or death."
"Stefan I understand but tell me about death," Dr B
"Thinking about death gives me a panic attack. It's weird, I have such strong faith," I say steepling my hands in front of me and nodding slightly (don't know why I do that), "But when it comes to dying? I have such a hard time believing... I don't know, in afterlife or ... I just think we end." It sounds like a cop out to me as I say it. Kind of like being agnostic "well, I'll believe if I see proof..."

Dr. B laughs a little and explains something about me being existentialist something or other. Apparently a very deep thinker, like a philosopher, which means I could be really smart but likely depress myself. Now, that's funny. It did get me to thinking though. My favorite character from Star Wars is Yoda. My favorite Yoda quote is, "Do or do not. There is no try." Sounds kind of like faith to me. If your faith only extends to what you perceive some amount of control over (i.e. your life), then how strong is that faith? Not very.

You believe or you don't. It's like Miracle on 34th Street. That part when the handsome young lawyer decides to defend Santa and the department store starts the campaign, "Do you believe?" Then all those people all over the city start putting out their signs and gathering in crowds and even wearing symbols of their faith. I get so happy in that part of the movie, it always makes me cry. I bounce up and down, clasping my hands, and cheer (the dogs think I'm crazy but that's okay). I'm thinking, "I believe! I believe!"

And it is faith. You either believe and trust and listen to your heart... completely ... or you don't. There is no half way.

Happy Birthday to Me

Yesterday was my Birthday... Yay! I'm such a little kid about Birthdays. It was a wonderful day filled with many gifts. I learned that something I've been working on with a friend may help save their organization, KAG started her blog with a bang, Jackie, LN, and KAG all changed their profile pictures on FB to pictures of us together and I got tons of very bright sunny Birthday wishes. Stefan also called and was precious about giving advice and wanting to take care of me from afar. Not to mention I had the best evening out I've had in a very long time.

LN rescues me in many ways she doesn't realize or take credit for. She came to my house, boys, wonderful hubby, and even their little Jack Russel Terrier, Roscoe in tow. They came laden with gifts; a hat since I've started wearing hats, beautiful sun and moon decorations, and a handmade silver necklace with "Stefan" and "USMC" engraved on it. That was just the beginning though.

Her husband dropped us off at my favorite restaurant in the world, Malee's in old town Scottsdale, where a VERY handsome man kept us company while we toasted the start of our evening sitting at the bar waiting for our table. Then we had a wonderful dinner and headed over to Su Vino for dessert of Porto Cocoa (DEFINITELY taking KAG and Jackie there when they come to see me).

Porto Cocoa is the most decadent dessert wine that has ever been created, it's a dark red port infused with cocoa. It smells like dark chocolate, is smoother than silk, and is mine and LN's favorite way to celebrate. From there we went to little dive bar to listen to my favorite band and even had the opportunity to meet the band! They were so cool. We danced and did shots, the lights went out, there was this giant ferocious looking doorman that I kept making laugh... LN was a riot, dancing, laughing, doing shots. She even broke up a would-be tussle after hours between the band guys and the owner of the bar! Talk about super woman!

Okay, so admittedly getting to bed at 3:00 a.m. with a 7:30 Jasper wake up call wasn't exactly pleasant. The fact that he let us sleep for another hour and a half after that was great though. A little foggy, a little nauseous, and poor LN in even worse shape speaks volumes to the fact that we are no longer twenty-somethings. However, a surprise bonus to the evening was my self-confidence tentatively peaking back at me.

I've gained a lot of weight lately. If I were looking at it objectively, I'd probably say things have been a little rough the past year and that it's taken its toll on my physical health. I don't look at it objectively though and I've been disgusted with myself every time I look in the mirror (way harsh, I know). The "pretty, fun girl" in me had left. Last night she made a brief reappearance. We got lots of attention... from lots of different guys. Sounds shallow but I left the house feeling like an overweight, past-her-prime, woman and ended the evening feeling desired, flattered, and attractive. Oddly, that's more motivation to take care of my health than all the self-berating in the world could do!

So thanks, LN, for forcing me back, to KAG for joining us and for starting it with such a bang, and to Jackie for being wonderful too. I feel like the luckiest person in the world.

Last Straw

I keep thinking things are getting better and then something else happens. Every time I start to get my footing, start to try to make sense of things, something else happens. I can't think, I can't concentrate, I just work. When I come home, I sleep. I sleep until I can get up and go to work again. At work things make sense, things are coming together, and it's exciting. Of course who knows how the President's news will impact things. If there are no projects ....

Stefan leaves in June. He's going to be going to Japan, then Thailand or New Zealand, then Iraq or Afghanistan. He'll be back in January... maybe. "They don't do long deployments anymore" but part of the time he'll be at sea and we'll go months at a stretch without being able to talk to him. Focus on the adventure of it for him, right? My mind agrees but my heart aches.

My Mom called yesterday, at work of course, to tell me how awful I look and how worried my brother is. Like an accusation. Then she brought up an illness I had a few years ago and started talking like she was sure that it's back and I need "treatment." My God, like telling me I'm going to die is going to help with stress right now?

Then I was looking for an email I sent and I ran across a bunch of emails from Mary. It was right around the last time I saw her and she was talking about her friend Terry. Terry had just died after a long fight against breast cancer. Mary was so sad, in shock, but loving and needing support herself for once. I'm numb. I can't even cry anymore. This is so not about me. So many people lost her, not just me. Guilt on top of grief. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. What am I supposed to do?

So many other little catastrophes some with big impacts and I'm numb still. I can't process anything. In the big scheme of things do they matter? Probably not but they have to be dealt with now, with energy I don't seem to possess.

For some reason it hasn't been "the" straw yet. I don't know why God thinks this is good for me. I can't see what's around the corner from here but I'll keep plugging away, hoping and praying, and things will get better. That kernel of hope is hard to squelch. As I read this, I make myself sick. Where's that eternal voice of optimism? Where did I go? It's amazing that I have any friends left. I wouldn't want to be around me.

I'm going to start wearing hats...

Mary's funeral was today. I wasn't surprised by the number of people that were in attendance, but I was surprised by the number of people who apparently knew Mary the same way I did. Same way in that she made everyone's life she chose to be a part of feel special, loved, and moved by her generosity. There were few dry eyes, hundreds of friends, and almost as many family members.

There were a number of epiphanies I felt strike me throughout the day. How much I love Ellen and would be lost without her eternal optism, support, and humor. I felt more "Catholic" than I have in a long time. The church was a comfort, the Mass familiar and soothing, the words and movements coming automatically. I also kept noticing this elegant, if somewhat defiant looking, older lady in a voluminous cloak with a silver adornment at the nape, wearing a hat.

I love hats. I go to the department store and try them on. I love big sun hats and caps, hats for warmth and hats for fun. I love the colors and textures and patterns. They make me smile. They're daring, in of and themselves, and bold. I don't generally wear hats. Maybe I'll wear a ball cap if it's summer and I'm running around on the weekend or I'll wear a sun visor if I go hiking. But those are good reasons to wear a hat, appropriate even. They seem too ostentacious for me. I am no fashionista. I'm not thin or beautiful. I'm not glamorous or mysterious, well traveled, particularly well read, or even just striking. Who am I to where a hat?

Regardless of all those truths, life is too short to make yourself "qualify" for what makes you happy. Even if I am none of those things, like Mary with her love of jewelery, big colorful bags, great wine, and adventures, I'm going to enjoy the little things in life that bring me pleasure. So, starting now, I'm going to start wearing hats.

Things we remember

Ganesha is the most recognizable god of the Hindu religion. This brave guardian is beheld today as the most auspicious God of new beginnings. He is worshipped during every festival and before people undertake a journey or embark on a new venture. You will also see him carefully guarding entrances to temples and homes. He is consider to be a remover of obstacles and a deliverer of good fortune.

Mary loved Ganesha. She sought out items possessing his image and often referred to using Ganesha symbols to remove obstacles from her life as she embarked on new projects or embraced change of some sort. I remember researching its meaning and history after a conversation with her over breakfast one morning. As we usually did, we met for breakfast and Wild Flower and then walked over to Changing Hands to look at books. She loved books. She loved little miniature journals, the more decorative the better and she was especially pleased if she found one with hand-made paper inside.

She loved tie-dye, these light green stones that I can't remember the name of, and was in a purple phase. She was on a quest for the perfect purple scarf. We were looking at them together one morning; this one too dark, this one too light, that one not enough blue, the other too much. I found the perfect scarf for her for Christmas, and a great cook book because she loved to cook and we were going to start cooking together sometimes just for fun, and a little tiny journal with Ganesha on the cover. I found a pretty card and wrote in it how much her friendship meant to me.

The gift sits on my dining room table still. I can't bear to touch it or put the things away. I suppose I could keep the scarf, write in the journal, and maybe LN would like the cook book. I can't disassemble her gift though. I want to give her her things. I want to see her face when she realizes that I was watching which purples she liked and which she didn't and that I found the perfect color. I want to see her smile when she sees the little Ganesha, hear her laugh when we talk about what we should make first, and see her eyes fill when she reads the card. I want her to know what it feels like to have someone notice the little things that you like. I want her to know she was so special that she deserved a million-fold what I could give her with my second-hand books and trade-in credit purchases.

She'll never know now and while I'm sure many people did many things for her, I didn't. I didn't and now she's gone and I can't.

Goodbye My Friend

The last post was written over a week ago. I had to put the finishing touches on it before putting it out to the world, and so had not published. So much has changed since I began writing that. I wanted to honor where my thoughts and feelings were then, however, before writing again based on recent events.

M, Mary, Mary O'Connor, is gone. She died last Friday. She was visiting her niece in Washington, DC and her niece came home from work to find her dead. I don't know what happened yet or any details of her service.

I was angry with my brother this morning. He made a comment last night that infuriated me. Just before Christmas a buddy of his from South Dakota died. He was a young guy with a family; someone my brother would hang out with occasionally. He was driving in a snow storm and lost control of his truck on the ice. He slid into a pole and was killed. I don't know if he was drinking or not but from what Lee tells me it was likely. Lee made the mistake of saying that he knew how I felt, in losing Mary, because he had dealt with the same thing in losing his buddy. I was so furious I couldn't speak.

How dare he compare some young guy he would party with once in a while to my relationship with Mary. I slept on it, stewed about a bunch of other things that have been going woefully wrong, and then spoke with him this morning. Just so he was clear, I explained to him, Mary was NOT like his buddy. She wasn't just some random friend I would do things with now and again. I had known Mary for nearly thirteen years and over the past several years she had been more of a Mother to me, more family to me, than my own had been.

I saw Mary at least once a week, sometimes more. She never missed an important event, she never forgot my Birthday, she didn't have to be coerced into being there for me, she just was. She loved me. She was wise and warm and wonderful. She counseled me through some of the most difficult times in my life. She let me cry and worry and vent. She made me laugh and was generous with her time, patience, and spirit. She offered her support, emotionally and financially, when my "family" couldn't be bothered. She never took but always gave. She loved music, wine, laughter, art, and her community. She was part of the fabric of more than just my life. Everyone knew her and everyone loved her. She was Mother to me. My own doesn't really care, doesn't remember my Birthday, can't attend events, would rather be married to my molester than be mother to me.

I know she's gone but she can't be gone. My friends all have lives. They have children and families, jobs and homes, things that they have to focus on. I'm an intruder. Even when they welcome me and I know they're sincere, I'm not family not really. Now that Mary's gone I feel so alone. I miss her so much. I can't believe I'll never again hear the sound of her voice, listen to her wisdom, or share laughter and wine with her. I feel hallow. Did she even know how much she meant to me? How much she meant to everyone?

Four Muses

I drafted a post and then read it and decided to start over. My original post was negative. It spoke of my frustrations. It spoke of all the things I'm struggling to adjust to and work through. I always have so many things going on at once. I can't slow down. For all the million things I've committed to, there are a million more I feel guilty for not pursuing.

I decided to start over today because if it's true that we attract what we put out into the world, I need to focus on what's right in my world as opposed to what's wrong in it. So what's right in my world? For one thing my four muses. Muses are described in Greek mythology as goddesses of art and science. They were the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory. These goddesses were muses of tragedy, history, various types of poetry, music, dancing, astronomy, and harmony.

I have four modern day muses. These wonderful women inspire me and possess qualities that I don't think they even realize they possess. Ms. LN is my muse of hearth, home, and family. She embodies generousity and joy. She gives selflessly, without hesitation, and brings sunshine into every life she touches. From day-to-day, she is my solice and comfort when I've lost hope. She is my closest sister.

M is my muse of history, accountability, self-awareness, and honesty. M embodies what it means to be responsible for yourself and the impact you have on the world around you. She cares. She's intelligent, respected, and diligent in her awareness of what can be versus what is and what will be if we do nothing. She is warm and bold, doesn't avoid the difficult, and is ever ready to help. She doesn't offer her allegiance or friendship lightly and once received, it is something to be deeply treasured. She believes in a circle of grandmothers that guide us spiritually. Envisioning these wise, timeless, women engenders a vision of who M is herself; timeless, wise, unruffled, practical, patient, and loving.

KAG is my muse of knowing. She's mysterious. I described her recently as having characteristics similar to Mata Hari. She's "spies like us" in a real world of high-level, self-important people. She's the woman behind the curtain, the imp laughing at the absurdity of it all, and the mirth realizing that none of it really matters anyway.

Ms. J represents the world that is unseen. She's such a deeply spiritual person, such a giving, and joyous person. I have a connection with her that reminds me that all is not what it appears to be. It reminds me to celebrate living and to not fear death. Ms J reminds me that we all have a song in our hearts, a dance to undertake with pure abandon, and that a woman lives within that is tied to an ancestry, a history of healers, teachers, mothers, daughters, and lovers who have suffered but survived. Not only did they survive, they ensured the survival of those around them. We are a part of that. As women, that is what we bring into the world, and it is ancient and pure, wild and powerful, and both our essence and legacy in this life.