Keeping the Dream

You know, there comes a time when you’ve just been so stressed, so pushed to the limit that when one more thing happens, you just have to give thanks.

It may sound weird, but I’m having one of those moments. Last night, after driving home from helping a dear friend, a light on my dashboard suddenly came on. I pulled into Turkey Hill and turned off my car to look in the manual and find out what it meant. SRS - supplemental restraint system. A light for your air bag…I didn’t even know I had one. I drive a 1990 Volvo.

Anyway, the check engine light came on, too, just before I turned off my car. And that’s the last my car ran for the night.

So here we were, my little girl and I, sitting in the parking lot of this convenience store at 11:30 p.m. I called my friend and he came out to drive us home.

This was just what I needed, right? I can’t begin to tell you what my schedule is for today and the rest of next week, except I go in to work this afternoon and there will be appointments canceled today and Monday and various plans all of next week if I have no vehicle.

And I could scream. I would think I’d want to…in fact, I actually did. But that was earlier in the evening, and had nothing to do with the car, but everything to do with how exhausted I have become.

And so my car has stopped dead…for the moment. Still, a very important moment.

Because as I write this morning, I realize that I, too, have to be careful that I don’t suddenly “stop dead”, because I have been pushing myself so far and so hard that there is no way I can keep up this pace.

Something has to give, and I don’t want it to be my health. And instead of stressing even further, which will accomplish absolutely nothing except drain me even more, I can choose to look at this as a good thing, and anticipate seeing how it will all work out, with me saying, “Oh, look how this all worked out!” And exchange those “it was meant to be” looks with the friend you share those kinds of conversations with.

I can think about last night and let my thoughts ponder the kindness of a gentle man who was unloading his service truck for Turkey Hill, his compassion and concern, and how he offered us two containers of donut holes to “make it better”. I took the chocolate ones.

And looking at and for the good doesn’t have anything to do with being enlightened or empowered or positive, at least not so much for me this time.

It just has to do with being very tired and realizing just how little control I have over things. It has to do with throwing my hands up in the air, and instead of with fists, with open hands to receive and to reach out. Because I don’t have the energy to clench them and I don’t have the illusion I like to carry around a lot that I can do this alone…you know, live my life.

So I might as well do whatever I can do with a grateful heart and thanks for what blessings will flow my way.

Because they always do.

Enter the peaceful and sacred space of Our Garden of Angels, a “homicide memorial park dedicated to the memories of loved ones who had been murdered”. Rick Waldroup shares the healing peace of the garden through his photos, revealing the beauty and resiliency of the human spirit.

There are words to describe the background for this memorial, but the true story is told in the photos that reveal the fruits of loving hands who respond to tragedy with the power of love, both stubborn and noble.

The photo of a plaque reads: “The Garden of Angels is not a place of death but a place representing life”.

This is why I love people. It’s not that the world is filled with so much hate. It’s that there are so many hearts who meet that hate with love, love that doesn’t roll over, but that in holding another accountable does not forget itself.

If those who have suffered loss can keep their hearts open in this way, then we who witness what goes on in this world can do no less. Each one of us has the capacity to build such a garden within our lives. Some of us will bring those metaphorical gardens into manifestation in whatever way is right for us. Others will reveal their gardens’ presence through a subtle smile or a tender touch.

Our Garden of Angels arose at the site of a murder. Right there, in the center of your wound, what will you plant?

Today is my grandson’s birthday party. I promise to take pictures and post one here. He turned two just last week and my daughter and son-in-law are holding a party for him today, when most of the family members and friends can attend.

It’s funny. Sometimes, I hear people act chagrined that their child has made them a grandparent, but I love it. And I love telling people about how perfect my grandson is. It comes with the territory.

But so does joy and pride. Not in my grandson, which I do have, but in me! Congratulations, I’m a grandmother! And I want to shout it to the whole world! Today is another occasion for me to be reminded of how blessed I am.

I know it’s not that people aren’t delighted in their grandchildren as much as admitting that they’re old enough to have grandchildren. It can be a disconcerting reality to wake up to, to realize that you’re not as young as you used to be. What makes growing older even harder are the stereotypes we have in our minds about “little blue haired ladies”.

Well, not everyone looks like that, but even if so, what’s wrong with that? What a twisted world we live in to feel we have to apologize for who we are…for our genes and the coding in our DNA and the ticking of our biological time clock.

You think if we want to apologize about something, we’d apologize for the state of the world or our rampant consumption of the planet’s resources. If we spent as much time assessing the state of our character as we do the lines of our face, just think of how much nicer a world this would be…

Well, anyway, this Nana is going to have a blast at my grandson’s party. His parents are renting another “bouncing” house…the name escapes me, but you know, one of those inflatable enclosures with a very bouncy floor.

If you stop by, that’s where you’ll find me…not being a kid again or acting like a kid again, but being me and acting as my free spirit directs me - not some calendar.

Because being old or older doesn’t mean stop having fun or being adventurous, and it doesn’t mean that after a lifetime of discovering and defining who I am, I suddenly let someone else do that for me!

A most amazing story about a remarkable person and his Microscopic Art. “Microscopic” is not just a creative adjective. Some of his pieces as a big as a blood cell.

I was at work watching the news when I came across this story. And while I was fascinated by his art, it was Willard Wigan’s spirit and his ability to transform what would have been a handicap to many into the impetus for greatness that absolutely captured me.

To watch a video about Willard and his art go here: http://abcnews.go.com/Video/playerIndex?id=3298352

Here’s another shorter video url: http://abcnews.go.com/Video/playerIndex?id=3297218

This amazing artist said he started when he was five. He said he has a learning disability and can’t read or write, and needed to find a way to express himself. He said his teachers made him feel like he was nothing. He said he’s trying to prove to the world that “nothing” doesn’t exist.

I smiled when the news caster said Willard Wigan just sold his entire life’s work for 20 million dollars. Probably just a tad more than what his teachers were making.

But more than that, was the enormous satisfaction this man is now receiving from the reactions of astonishment and wonder from others. What a big change from the disdain he must have received as a child, and all through his remarkable spirit and perseverance.

A comment by Patricia on Nick Watt’s blog says it all.

Mr. Wigan is sculpting his art for all of us who were made to feel “small” or made to feel like “nothing” growing up. He’s simply echoing what the Universe says and that is that each of us, every one of us, is not only SOMEthing, but a HUGE SOMETHING, a work of brilliant art, a holy sculpture, a blessed human being. Thank you Willard Wigan, and God Bless You!

I just watched the video “Animal School” at www.raisingsmallsouls.com Click on the purple rectangle graphic.

This deeply moved me…made me cry, because I thought of all the children who suffer because they don’t fit into a prescribed learning style. I thought of my daughter who, I have come to realize is very much a visual spatial learner.

She deserves the best. She deserves the opportunity to learn in the way that is right for her, to have the time and space to strengthen her weaknesses, not to be punished or stigmatized for them. She has the right to develop her strengths and to use them. She deserves the consistency and support she needs to reach her goals and to experience those wonderful feelings that come with success and a job well done.

And she deserves to be accepted and cherished for who she is.

This is such a wonderful video. I would recommend not only every parent, every teacher, every person who cares about children to watch it, but every person who has been made to feel stupid or inadequate because of not doing well in school. And I would hope that we, as a society, would stop this insidious form of child abuse under the guise of education.

Without a doubt, standards need to be set and goals reached, but how we get there and when we get there varies from person to person. We are not cookie cutter people. We should not think cookie cutter education would work. It does not. It’s illogical to keep insisting it should.

Thursday, June 14th, I sang the Star Spangled Banner for the State of the County Address at Commissioner Lori Mitrick’s invitation. This was a very significant moment for me. As a vocalist, yes, because it is a song that many singers consider challenging. But also because of an experience that moved the flag from a symbol, more often than not, associated with political rhetoric to something very personal.

Years ago, I had a dream about the American flag. In my dream, the flag took up my entire panoramic view. I could see glimpses of a clear blue sky in the background, almost like a frame, but across the wide expanse of my vision all I could see were the brilliant colors of red, white and blue, the flag moving in slow motion across the sky.

I was memorized. As I looked upon the flag I started to get a profound sense of ideals…of Justice, Freedom, Love, Compassion, Dignity, Truth, Integrity, Service, Community and Individuality. All those things whose synergy expresses itself as Democracy dawned upon my awareness, one by one. And the longer I looked upon this flag, the more real and deeper each one of those ideals became, until it was as if they had not only found their way into my awareness but had taken personified form and were standing beside me.

In that place, I began to wake up, and as I did I suddenly realized, “Oh! That’s what the flag stands for.”

No longer can I look at the American Flag and see it as somebody’s club colors or group endorsement. The American Flag is not a designer label to be slapped on the back of anyone’s political agenda or a particular administration’s policy to be either embraced or rejected.

It is not to be abused. It is not to be worn on the seat of your pants or torched by the match of your anger no matter how justified that anger may be.

It is not to be misused. It is not to be hijacked to serve your agendas or to become synonymous with your personal beliefs.

The American Flag does not belong to one point of view or one style of music or one group of people…or even several. This national symbol belongs to every American, because it represents nationally what belongs to every human being truthfully.

The American Flag belongs to us, as we belong to one another.

The fact is we are all brothers and sisters to each another, regardless our views, backgrounds or religious or political affiliations, whether we like it or not. The question is do we get along or do we squabble like angry relatives? Like most families, we might find ourselves at odds with our siblings. This is our strength. We can learn from each others perspectives, our mistakes and successes. We can learn about ourselves and the veracity of our beliefs, just by how we deal with those who disagree with us. And we can find a way to explore alternatives, to find a solution to the problems that face us through our combined effort.

We have so much to give to one another.

And if we must divide ourselves into “sides”, then let them be drawn with permeable boundaries, so that hearts may be united even as our feet stand on different grounds, on different ideologies…under one flag representing that which unites us all.

But we’ll continue learning and exploring throughout the summer, just not as formal as the past two months.

I enrolled my daughter in Agora this year and while I really like their curriculum, it just didn’t work out for us. I share custody of my child and it was too hard on her and on myself to try to do an entire curriculum just when I had her, so I’ll go back to independently homeschooling her for next year. It wasn’t impossible - if I wanted every single day I had her to be school day with no time for us to do anything else.

I love homeschooling my daughter, but it seems like there’s very little time for me to do much else these days. Not sure how I’m going to keep handling this, but I need to find a way to attend to my writing and music projects. I get so many ideas and I have so many things that I should be working on, but my daughter is my priority, and I have to see to her first.

I sang at Unity Palmyra this past Sunday, which was wonderful! First time I’ve been there this year I believe. And this Thursday I sing at the State of the County. Lori Mitrick, President York County Commissioner, asked if I’d sing the National Anthem. I’ve never sung that song as a solo before. I’m really honored.

I need to find more time to do these kinds of things. They are a part of my life, but then my little girl is the largest part. I’ve learned poignantly how fast these years go by with my first two. My little girl still wants to be with me and really cherishes my company, my thoughts and ideas. I will be here.

This writing is based on correspondence I had with someone a few years back from within China - someone very young wanting to know more, eager to take a stand and desiring to know how to honor the students of Tiananmen Square. ~ Demian DreamSinger

To Honor the Dead

“To My Young Friend,

Your time to speak freely, to fully spread your wings and fly will come. That I truly believe. But for now, you must fly in your heart. And I and others will be here for you to encourage you and be inspired by you as well.

You are especially precious and very important to your people because of your brave spirit, your beautiful passion to learn and to know more than just what others would have you know. But you must be wise and pick your battles carefully.

There were many people who stood up for a dream when you were cradled in your mother’s arms, and paid for it with their lives. To honor them…or their dream…to honor the sacrifice of those giving up their lives for a principle or an ideal, means embracing the ideal first - even and especially if you can’t embrace the people or the cause openly by name.

The students of Tiananmen Square wanted to live in a world where their voices could be heard without punishment, where thoughts could be freely discussed because they believed in the worth of every individual, therefore to honor them you must value yourself.

Whether you know what actually happened or not back then, if you honor your worth as an individual now and hold that vision for all in the future, you honor the students even more than someone who vocalizes their support but carries cynicism in his or her heart.

I support your desire to seek information and to know the truth, because that’s important. But what I’m trying to say is the reality of who you are is even more important than the facts of what has been.

It’s when you become so angry you lose the ability to feel compassion, or so guilt-ridden that you become numb to the sounds of your own heart beating that those who fell in Tiananmen Square are truly dead. While you live with hope, they live with you.

So live. Where they can no longer reach out, embrace. Where their eyes are closed, see. Where their ears are deaf, listen to the sound of truth all around you and within you. Perceive with all your senses the richness of the beauty and the potential for good in all humankind.

Do not be blinded to the ills of our world…but do not be blinded by them either.

Now their mouths are motionless with silence. Let yours move to speak words of kindness and love…for these are the greatest truths, greater than the greatest political speeches.

And where they no longer walk, dance.

In this way you honor those who died. Those who honor them as you do in spirit, whether consciously in their name or not, will find you as you will find them.

And the dream will unfold through your lives and those who follow. Nothing will stop it.”