* The smell of leather

Suddenly I found myself back in the thieves market in Italy being jostled by the crowds, feeling uncomfortable, my hand clinging to my father's arm while he examined the beautifully crafted leather belts.

Britain.  The leather coat factory.  My father handing me coats, one after the other.  "Do you like this one?"  "Wow, you do something for that coat."

A market in Spain.  My father's hands picking up classic leather bags and suitcases, enjoying the grain and the quality.

Mexico.  My father choosing a hand made leather belt for every male member of the family.

Today, in an old colonial town in Mexico, I wandered alone in yet another market.  The rich pungent fragrance of leather hung thick in the air.  It took me to other split seconds of reality.

I remembered.  My Papa appreciated leather.

* December 2, 2010, San Miguel de Allenda, Mexico

It's 9:40 am.  I've completed my banking transactions and am sitting comfortably in my favorite restaurant on the jardin.  It's still chilly out.  Locals are bundled in shawls with scarves over their mouths.  I wear a sleeveless tank with linen blouse and find the air refreshing.  The sun is bright and inside the restaurant it's warm and full of quiet chatter.  The town is still snoozing.  Stores are not open, street vendors have not made their appearance and the jardin is to cold and uninviting for visitors to linger on it's benches.  From my seat I observe centro's stretching and awakening.  Second floor balconies are being swept and streets dusted off to prepare for the bustle of later.

Maria cleans my house as I enjoy breakfast.  She is an attractive woman in her 50's, black hair, sparkling eyes and a quick smile.  I tend to think she does not work for the need of money.  Perhaps for other more interesting reasons.  Her outward appearance is one of confidence, she carries herself beautifully and dresses well.  Her car is silver grey, new and shining.

The shoe shine men carry their chairs into the jardin.  Perhaps an early customer will reveal themselves if they are present and ready.

It's December 2nd.  A surprise to me most of the time.  The year has faded into a vague blur and as I sit here in review of my adventures it's a little daunting.  It seems to me, at least at this moment, a year of extremes when I have felt very happy and at peace and suddenly, WHAM!  A huge sorpressa hits me from behind.

I'm creating my little dream casita from scratch.  Such a wonderful exciting esperience.  I'm studying art with an accomplished teacher.  This was one of my goals.  I've been embraced by the community and never lack for things to do or placed to go.  San Miguel itself exudes culture of all kinds.  It's difficult to know which pool to dip ones toe into next.  It's 'easy' to be here.  People are helpful.  Service still exists and is very much alive and well.  Still a deep part of the culture.

My lack of the Spanish language is beginning to frustrate me.  Next year I must begin to learn.

The sun shines through my street side window and it's beginning to feel to hot.  I'm longing to feel the Mexican sun directly on my skin.  It's still too cool to ask for the window to be opened.  The locals in the restaurant would be cold.   Magnificent star shaped white and silver wedding pinatas walk by on a pole.

So, I have found some peace and happiness this year in my new home.  As I reflect back, the number of large blows I have taken this year surprises me.  I find myself still standing.  During construction, my house was broken into and robbed.  I've been physically locked out of my home when the previous owner protested his non payment by the real estate agent.  I've been conned and lost a substantial amount of money.  A very dear friend disappeared from my life.  Most recently I have been informed I require a knee replacement.  Discontinuing a heavy prescription drug has thrown me into a temporary state of ill health.  Last but not least, my architect has run out of money and work on this project has slowed to a crawl.  I'm frustrated.  I still feel strong, grounded and in pretty good balance.  I feel more 'me' than I ever have in this lifetime.  More important, I have grown.  I am celebrating my own company and enjoying being with me.  I am loving flying solo.  I enjoy doing things, almost anything, with me.  Sitting here in this restaurant feels ever so wonderful.  Best yet?  I know there is more.  I am absolutely aware at some deep level, the best is yet to be. 

* Total Freedom

And so we sit
naked in the late
afternoon sun
drying ourselves.
Habibi wrapped in an
orange towel -
me plopeed in all
my 64 years of glory
in a blue chair
on the back terrace.
Hair once on my belly,
fondly known as
my 'hair strip'
has found it way to
my chin.
I sit with a ten times
mirror, attempting
to rectify the invasion
if only termporarily.

The warm Mexican breeze carasses
my skin
and drys my hair.
I glance once or twice
behind and upward
to see if anyone
may be gazing
down at our private moment
from the nearby roof.

The shadows are long
and form exact shapes
on the courtyard walls.
Birds begin their even song,
cocks crow,
distant traffic makes its way
to unknown destinations.

The sun sets as
I will set one day
Always there
Always in existance
Only disappearing
from our limited view.

* About San Miguel

And I, my dear Rain Goddess, live in the land of El Sol and La Luna.  Where the land and it's people are warmed by day with El Sol's soft rays and dusted in La Luna's beams when twilight falls.  Where the land is high and the air is clear.  Where rain comes only when summoned to grow crops, wash the land, and fill the taps for her people.  Where fruit drips from trees awaiting a hand to pluck, eat and swoon.  Where flocks of birds wing there way by dawns early light to rest in  trees by day and fly at dusk to nest by  lakes.  Where the music of her people is so deep and rich,  there is no beginning and no end.  Where fountains softly let their water fall to sooth the tired soul and trees alight themselves at dusk to embrace you.  Where home is.  A distant home from some far away life.  Where I long to dig deeper and deeper until I find myself hidden in the layers of history.  A land where angles come to rest their wings and find peace.

* A little bit of Wisdom I am just learning

The Pen

Of course you could never understand why I would pay forty-five dollars for a pen.  Why is it I could never get that until this moment, sitting in a far away place, thinking of days gone by.

Nothing has ever flowed through your hand which was not part of number crunching or writing a proposal.  How could you possible understand the connection, the feeling of flow from head to hand through the pen and onto the paper.  Why would the feel of the instrument in your hand make any difference?

I am so sorry.  It was I who did not understand.

August 20, 2010, SMA, Mexico

I Love You

Every time I was going to tell myself "I love you Donna.", the ugly part of me showed up.  The "I don't care." part.  The "You're no good." part.  I got so angry I wanted to beat that part of me with a sledge hammer until it could no longer utter those negative words.

Who knows when this was written.  A long time ago, thank goodness.  DDP

Elvie (the beginning)

The light of the torches disappeared.  They rode hard all night.  Occasionally an invisable branch tore at the skin on her face, like the slap of a ghostly hand.  Elvie rode a little behind the others now.  She could feel the metal of the old key against her breast, warming itself by extracting the heat from her body.

Her mind wandered back to their earlier stop at the bridge.  A piece of metal had flashed in the light of the torch.  It lay at the end of the bridge almost hiden by the engraved rock.  As she took the net from Hughes hand, she quickly bent down to retrieve the object.  Once in her hand, the tag twisted and she had just made out the word 'Elvie'.  Her heart beat quickened now as she relived the moment.

"What can it mean?", she murmured half out loud.


November 2001

Thoughts on my Papa's passing

The day you died, Papa!  I have regrets about the day you died.  I was busy.  I was very very busy.  Why didn't I stop?  Why didn't I just STOP?  AND BE.  WITH YOU.

Looking back, I wonder about many things.  You weren't able to keep any food in your stomach.  It happened suddenly.  You were living on boost and the bread and rice puddings I prepared that week. I had also arranged for an saline drip so you wouldn't become dehydrated.  We arranged for some tests in the hospital, just overnight.  The Dr's. thought is might be something simple.  You wanted to go.  You wanted to feel better.  Determination was one of your strong points, Papa.  Looking back at the day you went into the hospital, I wonder if at some level you thought I was taking you there to die.  Did you?

You were only there for a day.  We hired R, who had stayed with Mamma, to be with you over night.  I didn't want you to be alone.  The next day, the Dr. called and said they wouldn't be doing the tests.  You wouldn't be coming home.  I held the phone in stunned silence, trying to pull some rational responses together.  "Why not?"  He tried to explain.  I wasn't ready to hear.  "You will have to come in and see for yourself."  I did.  The door of your hospital room moved easily under the weight of my body.  I leaned slowly and carefully on the door, preparing myself.  Finally I say you, sitting in a chair by the window.  I froze.  My brain stopped.  My heart stopped.  There in front of me sat an old old man.  I could barely recognize you.  Your energy was almost gone.  Half of you had already departed.

I hugged you.  "Come on Papa", I said with my arms around you, "we are going home."  You looked shocked.  "We are?" Your face was questioning.  "Can I?" you asked.  "Of course you can, and of course we are."  My bossy self was taking over.  I had already informed the Dr. I was taking him home.  He agreed.  "You will have to wait here for a little bit though, Papa."  "I can't take you myself.  An ambulance will bring you home.  I will go now and make sure everything is ready."  You lookd distraught.  Perhaps you thought I wouldn't come back.  Perhaps you thought I would leave you there to pass on alone.

It was a cold November day.  Gray and cold and windy.  I stood in the doorway of your home as the ambulance people unloaded you in your pajamas with bare feet dragging on the patio ice.  I was enraged.  I would have given anything to bundle you in my arms and carry you close to me like a child in the warmth of a blanket.  I was tense and frustrated.  I didn't show it.

Settled in your chair by the window, with a wheel chair near by, you looked more comfortable.  Suddenly you were no longer able to walk.  It was an amazing process for me to observe.  Overnight you could no longer walk.

R, our wonderful home care nurse came.  You wiggled your finger at her in a 'come over here' gesture.  She did.  You gently kissed her on the cheek without a word.  It was touching.  I knew you were saying goodbye.  She didn't.  We all chatted for awhile.  The night nurse arrived.  As I accompanied R to the door, she assured me you would be 'around' for another couple of weeks.  Deep inside, I knew you wouldn't.

I called Dr. A.  Our family Dr. for the last twenty years.  He wouldn't come.  He had always told me he would come for the 'end'.  I was furious and deeply hurt.  How dare he, after all those years, not make one house call of support and comfort.  It said so much about our society.  It saddened me.  I called a young hospice Dr.  He came.  He was on the 'path'.  We sat and chatted.  I was comforted by him.  I was so grateful for him.  He was there for you, gently, respectfully, and lovingly, there for both of us.

During the night, the buzzer beside my bed rang.  When I reached you, you were on the floor.  The night nurse stood helplessly over you expecting me to take charge.  The brakes on the wheel chair had not been set and you had taken a bad fall.  Once again, I was livid!  I was unable to budge you from the awkward position on the floor.  I called B and B.  It seems like an eternity before I heard their car pulling into the driveway.  I had tried to brace your back with my body to give you some comfort.  Both of us were in agony.  At last the two men were able to lift you back into bed.  It was a job.  It took strength.  I was so thankful for them both.

You slept after that.  In the morning you didn't get up.  You were 'half here' and 'half there.'  In my entire life it was the first morning I hadn't seen you get out of your bed.

You were comfortable.  You were in your own bed.  You were in your own home.  That's all you ever wanted.  It was comforting for both of us.

T and P came and sat with you for awhile.  We chatted.  You lay quietly, enjoying the closeness around you.  They asked if you would like a blessing with Holy Oil from Jerusalem.  You nodded a strong approval.  They promised to come back tomorrow at 2:00 pm.  You were pleased.

C and B came.  They sat with you.  B's hand still looked small inside yours.  My heart was so full of deep sadness looking at you all together, perhaps for the last time.  Such a waste.

I had shopping to do.  Things they told me you would need.  Swabs for your mouth, depends, wipes, etc.  It seemed important.  Now I know it wasn't.  I remember kissed you before I left.  "Papa, if you feel the need to go to the other side before I get back,  it's OK."  I assured you.  I hoped you would wait.  You nodded.  I was gone for a long time.

People dropped in and out.  Mostly the wonderful women from home care who had been such a blessing to both of us.  They gave me respite.  They gave you company.  They rubbed your feet and washed your face while I sat in that big bedroom chair.  They comforted me with their chatter.  The day passed by and I had not had time to sit with you.  To hold your hand.  To talk with you.  Too busy with 'important stuff'.  About 9:00 pm I went to bed.  I was exhausted mentally and physically.  The night nurse with you.  I remember asking her to hold you hand so you would know you were not alone.  I retired.  I called my best friend to talk and release.  The buzzer rang by my best.  I quickly went to you, however you were already leaving.  It was about 10:00 pm.  I never said goodbye.  I never told you how proud I was to be your daughter.  How happy I was we had done all that personal work together the last three years.  It was meant to be.  All those talks.  All the 'hard stuff' to say.  All the growth.  I never took the time on your last day on this earth to tell you all of that.  That is what was important.

Yes, I have regrets.  They are hard to let go.  I was with you though.  I am forever grateful for that.  It was an honour and a privilege.  I shall never forget it.  You gave me an enormous gift that day, Papa.  You took my fear of 'death' away.  You crossed with such dignity, grace and a deep peace, a deep knowing.  Unafraid of the next great adventure.  Acceptance and surrender at it's best.  I was in awe.

You saw something on your way to the light.  Your eyes squinted, even though they were closed.  Your brow furrowed as you tried to focus.  There was definitely something there which you were witness to.  It gave me hope.  It gave me assurance.  It reinforced my inner knowing that you can never ever dissolve life force (energy) into nothing.  Energy once formed cannot be made to disappear.  It can only be altered.

And so we sat together, your hand in mine and my head on your chest.  Rissie lay by your feet.  Just the three of us for a long long time.  It gave me peace.

November, 2003

* August 29, 2001

I miss you today, Mamma.  We had such great news from the Dr. about Papa.  His cancer is sooo much better.  His PSA (tumor marker) is down from 176 to 4.6.  Dr. has taken him off the experimental hormone shots for 9 months and does not want to see him again until next August.  Isn't that just great news?

Papa misses you Mamma.  Sometimes in the night I have to go in and settle him.  Just lie in your bed and be with him.  He wakes up and thinks you are still there  -  still in your bed - still with him.  It's a shock for both of us when we suddenly realize you are no longer with us.  You are with others who love you.

Rissie and I go in and sleep in your bed when he is so upset.  It calms him and he is usually able to sleep again.  If not, we get up and have tea. We are all the better for it.  Rissie lies on his bed with him a lot and he loves that.  He said he's never really had an indoor dog who he has gotten to 'know' before.  He thinks she's 'real smart'.  She is!

I thought of you today when I watered your flowers.  The outside hanging baskets are so full and abundant.  Dad's tomatoes are very tasty to eat and gorgeous to look at.  We pick them daily and enjoy.

We have picked lots of apples lately.  Papa has a bicycle basket strapped to the front of his walker.  He pulls the high branches down with his cane and I pick them.  It doesn't take long to fill the basket!  We picked two baskets full today.  I washed and cut them ready for the freezer.  Papa sits in his chair at the table and we chat.  He says he likes to watch me work.  I am efficient.

 We now have twelve bags of apples in the freezer.  (I don't think Papa's going to 'the home' any time soon Mamma! ha ha)  He looks about 10 years younger since we had the good news about the cancer.  We had lunch at Carters.  The owner asked about you.

I love you Mamma.  Thanks for the hug in the night.  I felt wrapped in your love.  Love Donna xx

Journal entry, August 29, 2001, Ardrossan, Alberta, Canada

* Journal entry on my Mammas' passing

My Mamma, Dorothy Steele Parker slipped away on angels' wings at 7:02 pm, August 9th 2001.  I loved her so.  This journal (which has sunflowers on its cover) reminded me of her somewhat.  Sunshine sparkled in her eyes when she was happy.  Mama was pretty as a flower.  Delicate.  Nothing glamorous - just the beauty of nature itself and an inner beauty of a very old soul.

Papa and I each spent time alone with you the day you crossed over, Mamma.  Remember?  I needed that time.  So did you.  With each of us.  Alone.  I needed it to study your face and imprint it into my heart.  I needed to stoke your hair, kiss you, and to hold your hands.  To share with you all my thoughts of the moment.  You lay quietly, enjoying our closeness, squeezing my hand now and then.  Opening your eyes to look into mine from time to time.  There were moments when you would gently pull my hand to your mouth and kiss me with only the tenderness great love can impart.

"You're going to cross over soon, Mamma., I began.  So many people who love you are waiting.  Granny and Wayne will be coming to take you there Mamma, so show you the way.  When you see that beautiful light - it's OK for you to go.  I've heard the light is filled with so much love you simply long to follow it.  We are going to miss you terribly Mama.  We will be together again in the blink of a Universal Eye.  Don't concern yourself about Papa.  We will take care of each other, you know that.

I want to thank you for the honour of being your daughter.  I believe we chose each other before we came to earth this time.  You opened your eyes and looked deeply into mine when I said that.  Anyway, Mamma, we were so fortunate to have each other.  Don't you think we were lucky?  I have learned so much from you.  Remember you and I when I was little?  Doing the washing every Monday.  Hanging it on the clothesline together.  If we had time, we would lie on our backs in the grass and find pictures in the clouds.  Sometimes I would put my face over yours - upside down.  You would talk and I would laugh myself silly because it looked so funny to see you talking 'upside down'.  We did everything together.   You at one end of the table and me at the other.  In the old kitchen in the old house --- remember, Mamma??  We would iron together.  You would put my little sad iron on the old wood stove and I'd be in charge of ironing Papa's hankies.  We'd make bread together.  That's where you taught me to knead the dough.  I'd make Papa a bread man with raisins for his face and down his tummy for buttons.  When you made big pies, I made little pies.  I had my little rolling pin.  Cookies, cakes, chocolates, bread, pies - all at that old table.  My very favorite was your chocolate devils' food cake.  Remember Mamma?  You'd always make that for my birthday.  And remember cleaning chickens?  You would scald them in boiling water and pluck them and open them up with a big knife.  I got to take their innards out!  I loved that part.  They were warm inside and my little hands used to be enthralled pulling everything out and inspect it.  Opening the gizzard to see what it had eaten was fascintating to me.  You were so delighted I loved to gut them.  It was not high on your list of faves.

Then I went through my saucy hateful state.  I'm so sorry I hurt you Mama.  I didn't mean to - I just wanted you to 'react' in some way, any way, instead of pulling away and going inside that hard shell of yours.  I never understood any of that until you told me your story many many years later, when you were 90 years old.  You carried that with you for all that time.  It made me so sad.  I understand everything now.  I understand YOU now.  How honoured I am you were able to share that with me Mamma while you were still here in this lifetime.  It has given me great peace about our past.  You will never know how much that meant to me.

And then we had all our shopping trips and lunches out.  You taught me 'how to be a Lady'.  You taught me about the arts.  We went to all the childrens' plays at Vic and you gave me a taste for theatre and music.  You took be shopping to see lovely things.  You took me to see art and listen to live music -- ah, Mamma, remember all those musicals we went to?  Live at the old theatre?  L and I used to sit on the balcony and spit sun flower seeds over the railing.  Much to your horror when you and AF found out!  You taught me about dressing and looking nice.  You taught me manners.  You taught me how to entertain and make good conversation.  You taught me how to 'work a room' and make others feel comfortable.  You taught me about God.  You taught me how to pray.  How can I ever thank you?

What else, Mamma?  What about our travels together.  Had some fun doing that didn't we?  Visiting me when I lived in Britain, traveling to Europe, Hawaii and the States?  Some good laughs Mamma, some good laughs.  So many things, so many things .... my voice became low and drifted I off into thought.

If you can send me messages or signs from the other side, you will won't you Mamma?  I know you always understood about those things.  Your understood about being physic.  You understood about your own intuition.  It scared you, but you knew.  That side of being human was always of interest to you, even if you were unable to act on it.

We will always love you my sweetheart.  Remember, we are only a breath away."  Just then the door opened and Papa came in.  "You will always be in our hearts and we will never ever forget you."  Papa stood beside me, tears trickling down his cheeks, his hand gently and reassuringly on my shoulder.

I don't know what Papa said to his lady love during his time alone with her that day.  I know that he too held her hands, kissed her, stroked her brow, and spoke softly to her through his tears, just as I did.

That August evening - not long after we left, Mamma chose to slip away peacefully on Angels wings.  We told her we were going home for dinner and would be right back.  For whatever reasons, she chose not to wait for us.  It was what she wanted and we accepted that.  We had both wanted to be with her when she crossed over.  We had to come to terms with that.

Later that night, after Papa and I had sat with her body for a long time, we said our earthly good byes.  I will never forget the love on Papa's face when he kissed her good bye and told her softly and with a wavering voice "I'll be along in a little while."  He walked toward the door.  Halfway there he hesitated for just a second, turned and went back to her bedside.  He put his hand on her forehead.  Bending down close to her said, "Thank you for being my partner, because that's what you were -- my partner'.  He kissed her one more time and slowly pulled himself back to a standing position.  Mopping his eyes with his handkerchief he slowly moved toward me, took my hand and we left the room together.

It was a scene of 57 years together.  A love which had grown strength on strength time.  It was a scene of true love I shall never forget.  Bitter and ever so sweet at the same time.


August 20, 2001.

* Note to my Mamma

Souls live on and run their endless course in Gods' Unlimited Universe.  Each day it becomes clearer to me we are not human beings on this earth to search for a spiritual experience.  We are, however, Spiritual beings here on this earth to experience being human.  Dearest Mamma.  Just as you have done for me of this earth, you have gone on ahead to clear the path of thistles and fallen debris.  You have done this so I may see the beauty and not be hurt. Love you and miss you.  Butterfly kisses enclosed.  Donna

August, 2001

* First trip to the Ashram

Today has been quite a day.  Up early.  To J & M's for a beautiful breakfast (another story in itself).  Then off on our adventure, our exploration.  Or is it an archeological dig into our souls.  "The Ashram", "Yasodhara".  YIKES.  We spent most of the day in semi hysteria - sometimes full blown, muddling through the cobwebs of our lives.  Sometimes wiping our eyes of tears of sadness and sometimes sheer maddness.  Ah yes, the Mad Hatters.  We are both a little mad on our own, but together ... well - if only we could find Alice - missing in action!

Beautiful trip along the lake,  I had forgotten the beauty of this patch of Divine Mother's garden.

Closer and closer!  Finally I broke the ice.  "I'm scared J, I screamed!"  "I'm glad you said that.", she replied.

And so we came to the Ashram.  Hysterical, and afraid of everying, especially the unknown.  We were not encouraged when taken to our rooms.  It brought back so many memories of boarding school.  Rules taped on the mirrors stating, no candles, no insense.  I felt the rebel in me rising.

J's room was dirty, at least the energy was.  She moved in with me and will most surely suffocate from the pillow she holds over her head to prevent the noise of my snoring from driving her completely off the deep end.  Oh well, I warned her to bring industrial earplugs.  Not my stuff.  lol

We're feeling somewhat more settled tonight after having a tour of the buildings and grounds.  We've been fed a wonderful fresh vegetarian dinner. After that, satsang and chanting in the temple.  We now feel very safe and protected and possibilities abound at the probability of becoming Holy Mothers.

It is quiet now.  10:15.  Night has fallen over the lake and mountains.  It is time to put our heads on our own pillows which we hauled all the way from our homes like security blankets.  The truth is, J DID bring her security blanket.

We now know it is our time.  Our Divine Appointment.  Our time to let go of the old.  Bless it and let it.  Find the new.  Venture forth into the unknown.  Welcome and embrace it.  AND ... the minute we get home ... call our beloved therapist!

June 6, 2004

* A New Awakening

My senses awake
anew
Over and over again.
A sunset
A sunrise
The richness
of old red
wine.
My Spirit awakes
from her deep sleep.
Old wounds slowly
subside.
Heaviness lifts and
slowly, slowly
a new lightness
comes gently
to my spirit.
Angels abound
to encourage
me forward.
The chains are
breaking away,
being crushed
and disapating into
dust.

I begin to FEEL
again!
My tears
for music
which touches
my heart.
A spine shiver
at the afternoon light
across the prairie.
New Inspiration.
The stars just
before dawn
low and waiting
to be plucked
by God's hand.
His angels are near.
I am never
alone
always
loved.
Awaiting and opening to
receive my gifts
with gratitude.
Open to new inspiration
and strength
with each
new day.
A soul
being healed.
I AM so
very grateful.
How may I
Thank YOU.

December 21, 2001
light

Only Child

I put my head on the goose down pillow and snuggled under my 600 thread count cotton bed sheets.  I realized the cold, bare, stark facts.  I was alone.  Really alone!  No one was coming to assist or help.  There would be no more warm hugs, smiling eyes, tender touches, words of encouragement or the 'faith' in you which only family can have.  At the age of fifty nine, I realized for the very first time - I really was an only child.

Untitled

Her voice was like the high screech of the telephone wires on a forty below day on the prairies.  As I held the phone to my ear and listened intently to her news, my ear drum begged for relief.  The receiver itself could not contain her voice and it spread like a super virus to my dogs ears.  He could do nothing to defend himself, and thus, sat at my feet and yelped.  The combination hit me like a hangover after a bad night on the town.

Musings while on a plane ...

She was a woman of some age.  White hair and hands with thin skin.  Her shoulders rounded as her head nodded in sleep.  Her face was another matter.  Somehow young, smooth, rosy.  When we chatted her clear eyes sparkled with wisdom.  I'm sure she had long talks with God every day and he had allowed her face to remain young.

Untitled

The mountains were dusted with a light coating of icing sugar.  The kind that has been put carefully through the sieve five times before it is allowed to fall.

Worth fighting for?

I want to fight for you
to shake you
to make you realize
how foolish this all is
how irrelevant this all is
how wrong this all is.
But you had your choices
you knew your options.
You had many doors to open
and you simply chose one
we could not walk through together.
You knew that when you
opened the door.
I love you
and now
I wish I could hate you.
You have betrayed everything
I thought we stood for.

November 3, 1997

The Pain

A million small knives
tear my flesh
slowly, deliberately
pulling small bits
from the bone.
The pain is endless
and I watch
unable to move
held by the love
I once knew
and the hope it will return.

But it is over
and only I can turn
the small knives
into the wings
of angels
to kindly caress
my skin
and once again
make me whole.

November 1, 1997

Where?

Where is my heart?
From where doth it call me?
From its' place by the sea,
Or from some mountain top?
From a green pasture
In which it takes
its' rest?
From where do I
hear my hearts' longing?
Doth it call me at all?
Doth it sleep?
or wake?
or doth it die
the slow and agonizing
death from
not being heard.

(1997)

Secrets of Babies

Look deep into our eyes.  Do you not see wisdom?  Do you not see the purest of joy?  The newest of joy?  We bring it as a gift for you.  Take it.  Feel it in your hearts.  Allow your hearts to open.  Ask us who we are, where we have come from and why we are here.  We will fill your spirit with words and thoughts so pure and clear you will fall to your knees in wonder!

November 2008

* Pray thee - speak to us

Pray thee - speak with us, for we are amongst the living souls and long to hear your soft voices of encouragement.  Encouragement to grow and blossom.  To bring forth our best beauty in order to please you.  To please your eyes, for you shall appreciate our colours, shapes and sizes.  To please your ears, for if you allow yourself to become very quiet you will hear our blessings upon you.  Your nose, for we shall bless your sense of smell with notes to beautiful you may swoon.  Your lips, for once you appreciate our essences, you will want to share it with all on your earthly plane.  Such a simple joy.  Being with us in your garden and allowing us to become part of who you are, part of your existance, part of your deepest soul.  You must share your knowings with the young on this planet so they may understand they are part of us and we them.  We are all ONE!

October, 2008

* Is That You?

The air is soft tonight.  Mother natures' breath brushing softly over my skin.  Or is it the first kiss of a would be lover as his lips caress my neck every so gently.  I'm not really sure I've been touched and yet I notice a small shiver up my spine and goose bumps on my arms.

That's what the air is like tonight.  Scottish mist.  London fog.  There but not there.  Moist.  Full of life.  Succulent.  The fragrance of wet leaves stir my senses.  Autumn, fading with grace into winter.   Canadian west coast evenings.

November 30, 2008 

* Which rule is it?

Dear H,  So, what is your rule you are afraid of breaking?  What rule have you established for yourself about our relationship.  No contact?  I have never been able to figure out how you can just slam the door, lock it, and throw away the key.  Not only that ... you then walk away from the door ... or do you run away from the door, so you don't have to look at it anymore.

You, my darling, are an interesting study. 

What if you simply 'allowed' your feelings? What if you simply allowed them to 'be' what they are.   What if you just allowed them to bubble up?  What if you simply had a good look at them?  They are in all probability not scary at all.  We were so programmed by our parents, H.  They almost ruined my life.  In fact, in many ways they did ... or I allowed them to.  I simply was not 'aware' or 'awake' enough to do anything about it.  I am now, and I am very thankful for that. I am choosing to live my life in a very deliberate way.  Being awake and aware.  I know I can't ask you to be in the same place on the path.  I have changed so much in my thinking since 'you and I'.  I am so much broader now, so much wider as opposed to narrow minded. So much less judgmental. I no longer demand perfection of myself, and I have actually been able to move out of depression.  Perfection, which my parents expected of me, actually stopped me in my tracks.  It stopped me from doing any thing for fear I would fail, for fear I would not please, for fear it would not be 'absolutely perfect'.  You have some of that in you.  That was our problems with self esteem and lack of confidence.  Our parents never prepared us.  Never gave us the tools for life.   I see things from such a different place.  You and I are a gift, and always will be.  It doesn't matter if we are not together.  It's still a gift, it's still special, you are still my special person.  So what?  Does that make the world spin out of control?  Does that cause earth shattering catastrophes to occur?  No.  It's only complicated if we allow it to be complicated. As one of my spiritual teachers used to say:  Donna, you can either choose to make it hard, or you can choose to make it easy.  I am learning, slowly, to make my life easy.  I still want you to be part of it in whatever way possible.  An email .... yes that would be great.  A conversation sometime ... yes, that would be great.  As I said ... anyway I can get you, if for only a moment.  It's worth it to me.  It scares you silly.  Nothing to be afraid of, H.  I am not a threat to your life, unless you choose to make it so.  I know you enjoy my company.  I know you love being with me.  And I you.  Are you going to ignore that for the rest of your life.  One day, you will be on your death bed, and you will regret it.  That's when we can't do anything about it.  I think there would be nothing worse.  Think about it.  Perhaps you might think about putting aside your 'no contact' rule.  What is that rule really doing for you?  Do you think it's keeping you safe? 

Anyway, H.  That's all for tonight.  Hope you are well and happy.  San Miguel is lovely ... D xx

January 2010

* Dear H

Have you gone silent on me, H?  Are you feeling threatened by my e-mail?  I hope not.  As I've said before, rest easy, Babe .. I don't want you back!  Just don't want to loose you completely, and think we will never have another wonderful conversation.  Is that to much to wish for?  Maybe, I don't know.  I really don't want to upset your life in any way ... but something is there .. you have to admit it.  I guess I simply want to honour that.  Every time I get too personal, you shut down.  For you to shut down, there has to be fear involved.  Fear of what?  Talking about it?   Is it really that scary?  I guess it is for you.   I think we are two very normal human beings who still have some wonderful feelings left over.  Is that to be feared?  Why?  I think it's actually pretty special.  Why can't it be celebrated instead of stuffed under the carpet.  The more I learn about life, the less I know!   Is it guilt?  perhaps?  I don't know.  TALK TO ME please.

I arrived in San Miguel today.  It's wonderful.  I'm tired - been up for probably 36 hours now.  There is a feel about this place.  The church bells and ringing and the roosters are crowing.  How fabulous is that.

Take care.  Talk to me if you can.  If not .... well, that's your stuff.  It's a shame. Life is too short.  D xx

January 2010

* Fuck it!

Well, H, I am once again becoming very tired of not expressing my feelings ... of not saying anything in case I upset someone.  Fuck it!  Not expressing my feelings makes me sick, in fact it gave me ovarian cancer.  I refuse to ever go there again.  So, for better or for worse, here goes ....

Simply put, last time we were together, I fell in love with you all over again.  Oh, I'm not sure I have every really fallen out of love ... at some level it's always been there for me.  Actually the whole thing is annoying, because no matter what I do, no matter who I am with - you are always there - at some deep level, lurking around.  It will always be that way - I have given up attempting to banish this kind of love.  It's special - even if it is one sided. I'm not convinced it is one sided, if you were totally honest with yourself.  I also know you are not able to go to that place.  I have accepted my deep love for you as some sort of mysterious, maddening, completely insane gift.

Don't get me wrong - I totally know the facts, thank you.  I have absolutely no illusions.  You have your life and that's just as it should be.  Obviously, though, you still have feelings for me, there is still love buried deep.  If it was completely over you never would have showed up on my step four years ago.  As we have discussed, and we both agree, there will always be a bond, a spiritual connection, something we will both have always.  It's not going to go away, just because you stop thinking or talking about it, H.  I wonder what it would take for you to acknowledge it verbally.

You have always loved your 'earthly goods', H.  I totally realize how important they are to you.  You do have much to loose and I wouldn't expect you, being who you are, would ever consider doing that.  That's who you are and I understand that part of you.

I remember one time you told me ... "Doni, I will take you any way I can get you."  I suppose I feel somewhat the same way at this time in my life about you.  I will take you once a year or once in a life time ... I don't care, as long as I can see you for a minute, an hour, or 15 hours.  I need to see your face.  Just seeing your face makes me smile.  I need our conversation. I need your body. It fills me up.  It makes me complete.  It makes my heart sing.

I know at this time you are shut down as far as discussing this.  It would be wonderful if you could open up just a little and express how you are feeling about this entire relationship.  I realize it's complicated.  I realize you are afraid to say how you feel. I realize you have retreated.  I have no expectations.

I'm doing this for me.  I'm doing this so I don't explode, go mad, or something even more crazy. I need to say it.  I need to get it out of me.  I hope this will help me heal after I push the 'send' button.  I'm not really sure.  I know I can't keep it inside.  It's making me ache. It makes me nauseated.  You will remember emotions upheavals always hit me in the heart and the solar plexus.  This whole event, not expressed at regular intervals, as needed, gives me a heavy heart.  Take care of yourself.  Happy Happy Christmas, H.  Life is very very short.  Enjoy the moment.  Much love and many blessings, Doni xx   ..... here we go ..... pushing send .....

December, 2009

Perhaps you might want to ponder these thoughts.

DIABETES Physical block: Diabetes is a disturbance in the metabolism from lack of insulin secreted by the pancreas, or from its inability to function normally. 85 per cent of adults diagnosed with diabetes are overweight.

Emotional block: The pancreas is the gland linked with the solar plexus, which deals with emotions, desires and all intellectual activities. Pancreatic disorders indicate imbalance on the emotional level. If you are diabetic, you are often very emotional and have too many desires for yourself and others. You want everyone to have a slice of the pie. But you can also be envious if someone has more than you.

You are a devoted person but you expect much from yourself and others. You tend to blame yourself readily for others’ dissatisfaction. You also tend to expend excessive energy to respond to your needs. This behvaiour is caused by an inner sadness from an unmet desire to be loved.

Juvenile diabetes may manifest in children who feel insufficiently acknowledged. They are exhibiting an inner emptiness that seeks some form of compensation.

Mental block: Diabetes is a signal that you need to learn to let go and let things happen at their own pace. Stop trying to control the course of events. You need to realise that it is not your purpose to make everyone else happy. Others may not even want what you want for them, or they might not desire it intensely. Acknowledge all the goodness that flows freely in your life, become mindful of the moment and taste each moment in all its delicious glory. Don’t let yourself be distracted by what you may want tomorrow. Accept that, even though you may have been unable to fulfill a very important desire in the past, you still can enjoy smaller ones in the moment.

* No friends you say?

No friends you say?  From milky ways they come.  Friends of mine.  Alive amongst the stars and in the rivers deep and cold. Forging passage through thick and mossy covered paths of forest green.  Beyond my view they wait and watch. I have no doubt they escort me.  When darkness falls they ride the navy skies on Spanish steeds of dappled gray.  Fast moving, like shooting stars they soar, taking leave of their creator.  White water proves no match for them. They ride the current, strong, with nerves of steel. With laughter and excitement and anticipation they face the twists and turns and undertows.  Shadowed paths of moss and ferns and tallest trees seem quiet.  Yet softly there they step, invisible and unheard.  By my side they travel on my walk through life.  Over byways smooth as silk and craggy trails of dark and rocky cliffs they steady me and hold me near. Silent and unseen.  Into my heart their love is sewn. Deep in my palm their caring is ingrained.  Their wisdom woven through my hair with silver threads.  My load is lightened when I tire.  I am lifted up when I cannot walk.  I’m led to updrafts when I need to fly.  To smooth and quiet currents when I must rest or glide.  At my birth, they accompanied me.  Forever in my soul.  For eternity.  No friends you say?  Look deep inside.

* Grateful for Bathrooms ....

It is a day to be grateful for a bathrooms.  Thank you, Divine Mother for bathrooms.  Thank you, Divine Mother for Starbucks in San Miguel de Allende, who have public bathrooms.  For longer than a few unconfortable moments, I suspected I might be an embarrasement to myself, to my country and to every other human being within visual distance.  Thank you Divine Mother for bathrooms!

It is nice to sit here, in Starbucks, in a comfortable chair for a time.  It is nice to listen to jazz.  It is nice to enjoy a cappuccino and enjoy taking deep breaths.

I have been holding my breath and praying for a bathroom for so many blocks.  I did not realize how good it feels to take a deep full breath of incredible air.  My jaw was tightly clamped together and grinding.  Thank you Divine Mother for oxygen and a relaxed jaw!

I have never before uttered a prayer of thanksgiving while sitting on  toilet.  Today, I did.  Thank you Divine Mother for bathrooms!  Thank you for getting me there on time!

I'm in a buiding on the square which surrounds the main Jardin.  The walls are well over a meter thick.  The arched windows are set so far back into the walls, a small window washer could easily loose their way while attempting to locate the glass.

I wonder what this building originally was?  I wonder who built it?  When?  This town began as a stop on the silver route about 1550.  Now, as a Unesco historical site, businesses must be very disreet not to distroy the ambiance or historical view and authenticity of the architecture.  Starbucks' sign is barely visable.  Even inside, it is much less commercial appearing than the rest of North America.

Allow me to utter this gratefulness from my lips once again. Thank you Divine Mother for bathrooms.  Thank you for allowing me to reach a bathroom on time.  Thank you Divine Mother for Starbucks who has public bathrooms in San Miguel de Allende.  I am forever grateful!  You have saved my dignity.  I give thanks.

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, January 11, 2010

* On Writing

January 6, 2010.  San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

I've never had any writing lessons - doesn't one not have to take writing classes in order to be a writer?  Or does it simply pour forth - fall out onto the blank page whole and complete without instruction.  Is it part of your soul which expresses itself unattended?  I'm not sure.  I think I'll just keep writing and see what happens.  What more is there?  Surprise me!

* Complicated

January 4, 2010.  San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

Is life really
that Complicated?
or
is Complicated
an illusion
a thought
which has led us astray
off the path.
Have we taken
the left fork
in the road
instead of the right
and ended up in
Complicated?
Have we taken
the wrong path
when we live
and settle down
in Complicated?

Is it all
very simple?
It is all a
glitch
in our intellect
which takes
us to Complicated?


What if we
believed in
Simple?
What if we
lived in Simple
and never
took the road
to Complicated?

Is life really very easy?
If we allowed our
soul to guide us -
to take us there?
Would we live there -
in Simple?

Is it only
our mind
which leads
us to
Complicated?

* Pay Attention, it's time ..

Her body hurt.
It was the
kind of pain she
had never
endured before.
Her body
cried out to her ..
"PAY ATTENTION
TO ME!! .....
For once in
your life
Look at me
Feel me
Appreciate me!
I have been here
for you all these years
and you have never
so much as given
me a passing
glance.
How dare you!
I have carried you
when you could not walk.
I have helped you live
when you should have been dead!
I have accepted the
disgusting way you
have treated me,
your earthly home,
the one who
holds your soul!
You have ignored me
loathed me
hated me
but you have never once
looked at me,
never really seen me,
felt me,
heard my needs
or acknowledged my pain.
I am making myself
known to you now
whether you
like it or not!
You cannot
ignore me anymore!
It's time for you to
listen!
It's time for you to
PAY ATTENTION!!"

June 2009

* Cruelity

Verbal Cruelty --
Physical Violence ---
Enraged angry voices.
A powerful slap
from the shoulder.
The sound of
a jaw as it
snaps.
People running
someone intervenes
one person verbalizes
another offers a hug.

Talk to me of
the silence
of a heart shattering -
fragmented into
a million pieces.
Falling and breaking
without a sound or
single recognition.
No one there to bandage
No one there to repair
No kind word
No 911
No sirens
No knight in
shining armour
to rescue.
Simply the long
silent
anguish
of a treasured heart
ripped to shreds -
taking forever
and a day
to heal.

"You'll soon be back
to your old self"
friends cajole -
The truth is
in loving you
I am forever changed -
for better
and for worse.

Where do broken
hearts go?
Do they
find their way home?

Dec. 22/01