A two-hour suspension...

I should have written this Friday night, just after it happened as it would have had more impact. Alas, I am writing it at 3:10 a.m. on Sunday...


  Friday.

It was the first day I had off from work in almost nine days, wherein nearly 100 hours were punched in to the time clock. Needless to say, I was running on autopilot - even amid the flu, which made me feel even more foggy and "out of it".

After catching a few moments of tormented sleep, I decided to text my former "pageant mom" to inquire about walking her two doggies. I used to walk them three times a week, on a regular basis this summer, but it had been a little while since my last canine outting. So, around three o'clock in the afternoon, I drove up to Cathy's house to be instanteously created by two excited four-legged balls of furry, fluffy adorableness. They could hardly sit still as I fastened their leash and headed out the gargage to embark on what would turn out to be a two-hour walk. Or, should I say, a two-hour "suspension" of sorts -

 The October air was brisk, and light, and the sun delicate and bright. It 'twas a  perfect day to walk two canine tender mercies, and - for the first time in months - allow myself to listen to music.

 Those who know me, likely know how much I love music. As a three-year-old all I wanted to do was dance to classical Ballet pieces. I was in a community children's choir from age seven to eleven. I began playing the flute at age nine. In middle school, I discovered Beethoven, Bach, Handel, Vivaldi, and began collecting every classical music CD I could purchase with my babysitting money. I performed with the Yokosuka [Japan] Little Theater Group in high school, and picked up the saxophone. Two years ago, my first choreography piece - based on "ah-has" gleaned from a song - was filmed. My last blog post (in February), before starting this new one, was simply a list of songs that personafied my feelings at that particular time. Yes, music is a passion of mine and lends itself to another great love of mine - dance.

Alas, I have not allowed myself to listen to music for months. Intially, its absence was caused by the fact my car stereo blew out and was rendered nonfunctional. And because I never invested in getting the stereo fixed... And because my CDs were still packed from my last move in May, music was not as accessible. (I never thought it possible to endure such a lack of music in my life.) There were a few times where I would go back to my last blog to play some songs listed there, but within minutes it became "too much". Too much emotion flooded over me. So, I quickly discontinued listening to them. My friend Beth asked if and when she would ever hear me play my flute, to which I responded with silence. Picking up my flute after having last heard it played on Christmas day 2010...was far beyond my capabilities. Again, too much emotion was associated with that. (There are only two people for whom I have played exclusive solos on my flute...) 

So, Friday, as I plugged my brand new pair of pink ear buds that connected to my brand new - and very first - pink ipod (which was purchased, on sale, as part of a breat cancer awareness endeavor), while walking the doggies in the pleasantly Fall afternoon, something happened. Little did I know what would happen during my re-introduction to the music-listening realm of life, but it was nothing short of enlightening.

Yes, the first four songs that played on shuffle mode made me cry. I was about to turn the ipod off, when something prompted me to continue listening to lyrics such as:

I don't want to spend my life wasted, jaded. To wake up one day and find, that I let all these years go by wasted.

and

If I could just hold on through the tears and the laughter, would it be beautiful, or just a beautiful disaster? (which, interestingly, was the topic of a psychology of music presentation I gave for a class in February, of which I dropped shortly thereafter).

and

What is it that we hope to find just past that other door? What is it that makes us throw away our contentment, and beg for something more? It's the trust and self-assurance, that lead to happiness which are the very things we kill, I guess.

"WHY", I thought, am I torturing myself by continuing to listen to these songs. Why didn't I download something fun and silly; nothing that would cause me cry - or...

To Feel.

Then, I realized why the prompting caused me to refrain from turning off the music.

Even though your world is torn and shaken. It's waiting for you to awaken, and someday you will. Learn to be still.

And, thus, I found myself waxing philosophical.

In a good way.

I kept walking, with the doggies happily keeping the pace (which is unusual for arthritis stricken Toby), listening to music. And even imagining what some of that music would look like put to movement. I was choreographing in my mind. Something I used to do, but haven't for a while. Too long. I was allowing myself to surrender to the music, and be enlightened - without resistance or rationalization (which Heavenly Father seems to be getting from me - a lot lately. Too much.)

Finally, we ended up at a park. It was the furthest the doggies would allow me to walk them. I sat on the bench, still listening to music - amazed how beautiful the weather was for a late October day. The grass was so vividly green, and the sky so picturesque blue. The air so clear. I bowed my head to pray, while listening, to

Have you forgotten the Heaven lying at your feet? Learn to be still.

The tears flowed.

I felt Godly sorrow.

In a calm way...for a change

Instead of the anxious-angsty-almost-alarmingly-angry way...like I have for some time.

I walked to a swing, gently moving back-and-forth while sobbing, reflecting, missing, longing...and listening to the next song shuffle played into my ears

When you get the choice to sit it out or dance. I hope you dance.

Then, I swang higher and higher. The five o'clock sun's rays shining tangibly yellow in my eyes. And therein time suspended. Reality suspended. And I was shown a few things...

And I was reminded...

How it was [is] to feel a sense of light, airy, magic

How it was
To breathe
To feel

And later, while at the grocery store to pick up garbage bags so as to clean my horrendously messy, disgustingly chaotic room, I was listening to music - and caught moving to DANCE steps by others around me. Noticing, I smiled at them. And I echuckled aloud at their quizzical looks. And then twirld when the music told me twirl.

Yes, I was doing a little bit of choreography in the middle of the store.

Something that, at one point, was not all that unususal for me to do. But, has been so foreign to me for so long.

I so deeply wish that I had a pensive so as to translate both into words and pictures/shapes what I was creating in my head to

:

[Enter mp3 of "Learn to Be Still"]


So, in a brief suspension of time, swinging higher and higher toward that bright sunny ways that reached for me, I was reminded that this "reality" I've been living has merely been wormhole of numbness lately. I have been on autopilot. And here I have been wondering why I feel so lost. so empty. so blah. so not "really here". so practically dead. Hmm...

Quite frankly, it's because I have allowed so many aspects of what makes me "me", fall dormat to the brink of extinction. I have only felt like "me" around the brief, sproadic moments shared with the friend who knows me best. It's probably because it is around that person where/when I am reminded of who I really want to be, and what/who I truly love most...

And I have let too many of those loves go unattended to and unnutured, even ignored and/or nearly forgotten.

Why?

 I am not quite sure how to answer that question in sensical words...

But,

Where is the dance, the writing, the poetry, the creativity /the making of things, the dabbles at art, the taking pictures of pretty things, the playing with children, the laughing with and sharing with those dear to me, and the spirituality, which are the metaphorical and literal "music" in my life.

And I see that an instrument cannot play any music if she is left to collect dust, and thus tarnish from neglect.

And that is what I have, in many ways, done to myself.

I pray often to find the energy to do these things, particularly those of a spiritual/religious nature, only to have an inclination that goes fleetingly away.

"How do I do .... [fill in the blanks]?" It's a question I ask God constantly.

I ask, but I wonder if I ignore the answer because well, it will cause me

To Feel

To feel

What's really Real.

Would it be beautiful, or just a beautiful disaster?

But, wait...

  Just a little over three hours ago, I walked into the care center to work the graveyard shift, undifferent to any other late Saturday night. I was still reflecting upon the afternoon spent having a pair of TOMS painted by one of my favorite people. It was so good to see her. It's amazing how, regardless of circumstance, or happenstance, there exists an abiding sense of care for and connection with certain people. Miss Arteest, designer of my new TOMS, is one of those special individuals to me.

 And so was [is] one of the residents at the care center where I work. For the purposes of this blog, she will be affectionately nicknamed "E.P."

  From the very first day I began working at the care center in June, I bonded with E.P. I knew she was the reason for me to take the job (other than needing another source of income). And she warmed up to me right away. While reading her profile and paper work, there was a literally a "still, small voice" within that confirmed to me that she was [one of] the reasons I was now working at this particular house. We would go on many long walks together, where she would hold my hand tightly and sing heartfully and unabashedly - at the top of her lungs (in her slightly slurred speech) - ol' Gospel hymns such as Go Tell It On the Mountain, along with her favorite Elvis song - Love Me Tender.


[Love me tender, love me please. And I always will love you. Love me tender, love me please. You're a dream come true. For my darling, I love you. And I always will.]

  The neighbors would return her loud out-of-tune yet joyus noise with quizzical and/or perturbed looks. E.P. was blissfully unaware, and continued signing. It would cause me to smile from ear-to-ear, and my heart to melt. "Atta girl, E.P. Atta girl! What a way to make a joyful noise onto the Lord," I'd say to her loud and proud. Her response: "Jesus lives up in the Heavens above the world, Dan-YELL (how she pronounced my name). Huh? Right, Dan-YELL. Yeah, He does." And she would repeat this until she was satisfied with how enthusiastic my "YES!" was, then match it with: "YES!" I would ask her, "E.P. Does Jesus love you?" And an enormous grin on her soft dark face, featuring a sea of missing teeth and sweetly in her Southern drawl: "Yeah, He does. Dan-YELL, Jesus loves all the children. Yeah, He does."

 This scenario would play out anytime I walked, or sat outside with her to watch the clouds. And I never tired of it. No, rather, it warmed my heart and caused me to smile incessantly to the point my cheeks ached.  Typically, I would redirect her repeated comments, as per her behavior plan. Yet, how could I deny a 50+ year-old woman, with a childlike heart, the opportunity to bear her testimony of the Savior? There was no squelching this "grown woman" (as she constantly referred to herself as).

  Truthfully, it wasn't always easy, so to speak, with E.P. She would have frequent outbursts, and need considerable redirection to deter her from harmful behaviors, etc. She would obsess over certain things to the point of fanaticism, fixation, and even force her will (and self) on to others. She had serious uncontrolled "behaviors" as pertaining to her specific health conditions, etc. And, yes, could be a real challenge to "handle". She required a great deal of emotional, physical, and mental energy. Nevertheless, she was [is] dear to me. I just loved her to pieces. E.P. was one of my rays of sunshine in the soul.

 When I tucked her in (upon her request) at night, I would whisper: "Who loves you?" Happily she'd say, in a "regular" voice: "Jesus and you, Dan-YELL." When I would go wake her up in the morning to get ready for the day, she would immediately open her eyes, and with a smile, say: "Good morning, Dan-YELL!" If she misbehaved, she would come to me, hug me tightly and say: "I'm sorry, Dan-YELL! I'll be a good girl for you, Dan-YELL! I love you, Dan-YELL!" "I know," I'd say softly back, "Thank you. I love you, too. You know how you can really show me how much you love me, E.P?" She would immediately respond, loudly: "WHAT?" then a millisecond later say: "BE GOOD! I'll be a good girl for you, okay, Dan-Yell? okay? Okay. I'll be good. Jesus sees everything and loves all the little children of the world."

Yeah, He does, E.P. Yeah, He does.

  There are many poignant reminders and insights gained from working with E.P. And, therefore, it seems so wrong to walk in to find her gone. [But, wait! I wasn't ready!] I wonder if tomorrow I'll find that it was all some belated April Fool's joke; a Halloween hoax. Have I been asleep for a few days, only to wake up and discover the wrong ending in the adventure book? [But, wait! I didn't get to say "good-bye"]. Certainly if this really was a choose-your-own-adventure book, I would have chosen the one set  to the harmonious out-of-tune sounds of Gospel hymns and Elvis Presley songs.

[Love me tender, love me please. And I always will love you. Love me tender, love me please. You're a dream come true. For my darling, I love you. And I always will.]


    I suppose it's silly to become "attached" to a resident, but who denies a blessing from the Lord? Not I, said the fly. And so my tears could not wait, because I didn't get to say "good-bye".

  (I'll sing tomorrow.
And I'll dance on Monday.
But, for now, it'll have to wait.)

file:///C:/Users/Public/Desktop/iTunes.lnk

Water. The perfect anecdote

   Growing up in San Diego, then living in Hawaii and Japan; it only makes sense that I was fan of the water. My mother would joke that part of the reason I was obsessed with The Little Mermaid was, in due part, because I, too, was a mermaid. "You'd live in the water if you could," she said. In fact, when we moved to San Diego, during my Kindergarten year, the reason we moved into the apartment we did was: 1) it was close to all the schools and 2) it had a pool. (thank you, mom!) There was scarcely a day that went by when I did not plead with my mom to let me go swimming. My 14th birthday was akin to a right of passage; I had finally earned the privilege of jumping into that pool without a chaperone. (yesss!) And jump into that pool and do laps is just what I did - nearly every day. All that lapping paid off as I tried out for the high school swim team in ninth grade. Oh, the water. Oh, lest I forget the fact we were in close proximity to several beaches. Mom even worked at place located right on the shore of a beach. Perfect for a water fiend. Even when I had swam so far out into the ocean once - beyond the markers- and received a reprimand in the form of a stingray's lashing, my love for water continued.

 [Sometimes, I wonder why my residence for the past 12 years has been in a state without any ocean...]

Water.

  I even enjoy watching how water flows; from the faucet to watching rivers and water falls to seeing how the slightest movement in the wind can create shapes in ponds and puddles. Water is such a fascinating, powerful yet soothing element. It can go from a solid to a gas to a liquid (which is scientifically fascinating), but it also sustains all life here on Earth in myriad ways.

  And you combine water with the sun (which I also very much love!!!!), rainbows appear!

 Water.


[Enter story here...]

 Well, early this past Sunday morning, while working at the care center folding laundry and drinking my fifth bottled water (I'm trying to get back to my dancing days where/when all I drank was/is water - oh, and to wean myself off a tenacious Diet Coke addiction), one of the residents was watching - of all things, a Christmas movie. "In early October," I thought to myself. I was somewhat less than excited. So, I proceeded to quietly fold laundry and, eventually, found myself unwittingly engaged in this movie. At the end of the movie, the family's house is engulfed by a raging, blistering and merciless fire. The intensity of the flames, and how quickly it destroyed everything this family struggled to earn and keep blew my mind. The fire was so intense. By the time the fire department came, it was too late. All that was left was a hallowed out frayed frame and a pile of black ash that once was a home; a haven for several children. If only the firemen had come sooner with their long, durable, strong water hoses to counteract the flames; what could have been salvaged?

I finished my fifth bottle of water by the time the credits scrolled, and soon thereafter hitched a ride home.

   Now, I am back at work doing the graveyard shift like any other Sunday night/Monday morning. While folding more laundry, and opening another bottled water, suddenly a few metaphors came to mind. I contemplated these, as I proceeded with my work. Yet, the more I did the laundry and cleaned the house, the more symbolic and vivid the metaphors became. It even "forced" (or, prompted) me to stop in the middle of my chores to type this blog entry. I tried to rationalize it, thinking "I'll do it when my chores are through"; however, the concept of "doing what is right at the right time, without delay" is something that I have been  pondering cosiderably for quite some time now (especially the concept of following promptings, promptly) - and was just recently reminded of last Sunday.

 And so, I am typing now what metaphors/connections/symbols about water that have been twirling around in my head.

 First, water sustains every form of life here on Earth - from the fish to the human, making it a perfect metaphor for - and of - Heavenly Father. Granted, this analogy has likely been made long ago, so it isn't an entirely original thought. Yet, it is new to me. God, the Father of our spirits who gave Jesus Christ, our Savior and Redeemer, the power to create the Earth and all the animals and plants that flourish in it. He created the oceans, lakes, rivers, ponds, and all water forms to nurture, sustain us and give us life according to the Father's Divine Plan. He even walked on water to rescue Peter. He even caught nets of fish in the water (where no other could)  to feed the multitudes. He gave His life so that we might live again - and forever - with Him and Heavenly Father. They, together, are our LifeWater. They have the power to force change upon the face of the Earth like the towering tide waves of a typhoon, but have the calming, soothing, refreshing, and life sustaining qualities to quench our deepest thirst. Like the ocean houses a slew of wondrous, beautiful, unique creatures, so are They to us. Essential for survival. And so, it isn't any wonder why we can go only a few days without water; we need it - and the Godhead - for every life sustaining benefit it and they provide. In essence, they are essential to our lives. We cannot afford to live without them. Again, the Godhead is our LifeWater. (Perhaps, that why it feels so invigorating to shower after a long day of exertion, labor, and worry. And to sit in a cool pool after a sweaty, hot day. It is much like how it feels after receiving His help with a trial - refreshing,relieving and rejuvenating.)


   Secondly, despite the immense power that fire beholds; how quickly it can consume something and thus destroy it.  Fire is no match to water. Surely, fire can start with the slightest initiation; abruptly and arbitrarily it blazes speedy trail engulfing as much as it can to grow larger, stronger, and more powerful until all you can see is an amass of red-orange-yellow-blue flames. And a variety of elements can further instigate the fire's fury - oil, grease for example. Yet, water, a cool, clear liquid substance that seems so simple (because we use in it countless ways daily), can cause a fire to die down, and - with enough water - it can even squelch a fire entirely. This reminds me of Heavenly Father's power to dispel and conquer Satan. Lucifer, the ultimate deceiver and destroyer, with the slightest provocation can - if we let him - engulf us in flames, and those flames can burn quickly in vast directions reaping a long, wide field of mass destruction. If we do not call upon our proverbial 'LifeWater' to help us pull out the water hoses (i.e., prayer, hymns, scriptures, the Holy Ghost - the GOSPEL) to put the fire of Satan out - and do it quickly, we, our soul and spirit, can be akin to that scene on that movie - a hallowed out frame with piles of blackened ash.

  Now, I see (or, am reminded as it were) that is not enough to just  build within our hearts a sturdy, steady, safe, strong, durable home for HIM in our hearts. Our entire being must be a literal tabernacle where the Godhead resides. (hmmm...the concept of our "body is a temple" is taking on even more meaning to me). And we mustn't give Satan any reason to stir up a raging fire of destruction within us that we, suddenly, are no longer a home in which the Spirit of God can reside. Though, fortunately, because God is so good, if this does happen, we can - like that struggling family with limited means did - rebuild a stronger house (with the help of loved ones and especially) with the love of He Who First Loved Us. Water, like HIS Love, can extinguish any fireball that Satan throws or just even the overwhelming fire that "really hard, hellacious life stuff" erupts. Yet, we must partake of it. He can lead us to that water, but we must actively drink.

Water, like Him...
Is
The
Perfect
Anecdote.

Seems so simple. Drink of the waters of God and we shall live. And live well.

 Alas, it is not always as easy to remember and apply, than it is to say/write. I have found myself, for far too long (it seems) begging and pleading emphatically for Heavenly Father to pour His Love upon me, and thus thwart the fiery darts of Satan. And I realize that this well of water has already been built so as to retrieve this life sustaining, soothing, calming, refreshing, saving water. Yet, I must tie a bucket to a rope, attach it to the rod, take hold of the lever and pull up to scoop the water up from within the well in order have a cup full  to drink. He has provided the water. But, I must seek after/ for the water to fill my bucket. This  means that I cannot simply pray, pray, pray harder, prayer longer, pray more, pay longer, pray still. I have to proactively follow and do all the steps it takes to receive a fullness of His outpouring of  love and blessings - that metaphoric 'Water'.

(then, why is it that sometimes it is so hard for me to follow/do this?)

Hmm. I think I'm needing to go refill my water bottle up again right now. I'm thirsty.

Literally.

And figuratively.

Oh, yes, and resume finishing my chores before the shift is over, and it's time to go home.

(see isn't water. and symbolism. and God. Awesome?)

(!!!)---> By the way, speaking of Water - here is Handel's piece entitled "Water". I thought it was fitting to share, considering the blog topic. Enjoy! music rocks.

Handel - Water Music  download at emp3