Keeping the Dream

…and yesterday I had a touch of the flu, but I’m feeling much better now. I get really busy going to work, driving to Southern York to tutor my child, and have time to spend time with my grandson and help out a friend with a health challenge.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be able to find the time to actually work on a music project again or work on my books with any real consistency. Perhaps “finding” is the wrong word. Creating time is more like it, taking charge, choosing priorities.

But what if you have more priorities than time in a day? Or maybe that’s just an excuse.

Without a doubt, I am very, very busy. But there is a way. I suppose it’s about drawing boundaries, too. That’s not something I’m really good at, though I am getting better.

Right now, I must say my daughter is my biggest priority. She went to the Harry Potter event at Borders last Friday and felt very self conscious about the fact that she only saw the movies and heard some audio tapes, but never read the books. That’s because she can’t at this time.

So I feel renewed in my commitment to tutor her in the way I am, and I see she is making significant progress. This means a sacrifice of what I would ordinarily do on those days I drive to Shrewsbury. My music and writing is put aside, but when I see her pride in her accomplishments, and conversely when I see the hurt to her self esteem when she sees the gap between where she is and where she wants to be, especially in relation to her peers, I am all that much more convicted to stay the course.

When it comes to children, it’s their needs, not ours that takes first place. This does not mean caving in to their wants. That only fosters a kind of selfishness that can grow into full blown narcissism, but meeting their needs is a part of our parental responsibilities. And what is sacrificed is not our convenience when we do what we have to do to meet their needs, but our children’s welfare, when we don’t.

This is usually something we don’t think about unless we’re renewing our driver’s license or are suddenly smacked in the face with the prospect of life or death for ourselves or loved ones. It’s amazing how such a simple thing as marking yes on your license for organ donation can mean so much to someone. Very rarely do we have such power to make such a tremendous difference with so little effort.

I remember being with someone who was adamantly against it to the point where not only would he not make this choice for himself, but let me know that if the situation arose he would not honor my own wishes about it for myself! Fortunately, that is no longer an issue.

The BlogCatalog Community is doing an organ donation campaign, and I applaud them for their efforts, but I want to take this time to, also, remember those whose wishes are not honored regarding organ donation. In my case, it was my wish to have my organs donated.

But in other cases, particularly in China, there are people who are denied the right to say no to organ donation. Political prisoners and those just executed become victims of organ harvesting.

I have heard of this atrocity for years from the Chinese dissidents I have met, and have read a number of articles and testimony, as well. I hope you will consider donating your organs, especially when you no longer need them to help another human being, although you can. also, consider becoming a living donor, if that’s right for you.

And while we’re exercising our right to make this decision, we might want to really contemplate what a blessing that is in itself. Because it’s not just about living, you know. It’s about living a life with empowerment, dignity, and compassion. For those who have that right to make choices, I hope we will not forget our less fortunate brothers and sisters.

Anyone who can make a choice is not powerless. Sometimes it’s just as simple as clicking a box on your driver’s license. Sometimes it’s more intricate. But whatever we choose, may we not choose complacency.

For more information about organ donation in America, please go here: http://www.organdonor.gov

…you will not see what lies ahead.”

I saw “Ratatouille” last night with my little girl, and loved it. I love any story about being true to yourself, finding your creativity, living an authentic life and making a difference.

There was one quote that just jumped out at me, and I found myself repeating it throughout the movie so I wouldn’t forget it. It might not be exact word for word, but the meaning is what struck me.

If you are focused on what you left behind, you will not see what lies ahead.”

And that’s when I realized from the mouth of a figment of an animated rat’s imagination that that’s what I had been doing. I made choices in my past that changed my relationship with my children forever. There was no going back, no trying to recapture. There is only being accountable for my actions, feeling the grief and letting go. In that moment, I knew I would do just that. “Okay” I said. And I felt a sense of peace.

Spiritual insight can come from anywhere. You just have to be ready for it, to be aware enough to recognize it when it speaks to you.

It’s funny, the other day my daughter and I spotted three hawks within one afternoon, and I told her according to some native traditions, the hawk represented a message from Great Spirit. So I told her to be on the lookout for anything that may be particularly meaningful to her.

She asked me what would the message be. I said that was different for each person. She asked how it would come. I said that, too, was different. It could reveal itself to you through the dance of light on leaves or whisper through the breath of wonder as the sun sets. It could shout at you straight from the radio or spell itself out in black and white in ink on paper. It could speak to you through the lips of a loved one or stranger.

The invitation is to be aware, to let yourself be taught by something in your reality and to feel the love that reaches through it to you.

As we walked out of the theater, I turned on my cell phone, and received a voice mail notice. I checked it and heard the voice of someone I hold in very high regard, someone very special to me I haven’t seen in 16 years, except for a brief moment after a show 14 years ago.

You know, you never know who will be standing on the other side of the door when let yourself open it.

A song to start your week

Sometimes miracles aren’t about parting the waters, but just not getting your feet wet.

Today, a friend of mine and I talked about trying to find time to do all the projects we want to do. We talked about how we engage in one project and then another, and the frustration we feel in wanting to do it all.

This brought to mind people we’ve run into who took mundane jobs to give them “something to do”. This always boggles my mind. I can see working at a job one doesn’t care for to make ends meet or to bring home a paycheck. There are times we need to do what we need to do to take care of our families, to meet our obligations.

In this narcissistic society, we tend to think that self actualization somehow means entitlement, when it actually means developing the character and discipline to accomplish the steps to reach our goals, and to seek the blessing each step might have to offer us.

But to take a job that does not challenge or fulfill, just to fill up time, just to give us something else to do other than watch television or “sit around” all day just blows me away.

“Having nothing to do” looks different to different people. To me, it’s the exact opposite of boredom. Having nothing to do would mean not having anything to do for others.

“Having nothing to do” would look like a fluffy quilt, soft couch and hot cup of tea…or ice tea in the summer with the AC running or an open window with lovely breeze blowing, and lots of books, both old friends and yet to be introduced, lying around for me to read. I’d start in the morning and go throughout the day into the evening with a break every now and then to perhaps weed my flower garden or go for a walk.

If I were independently wealthy or had the financial support so that all my survival needs were met, I would absolutely have no trouble filling up my days. In fact, my biggest problem would be filling it up with too many things, which is my problem today. So, in that sense, money wouldn’t change that aspect of my life at all.

And I like it that way. I’d rather have the challenge of having to narrow down my projects than feeling compelled to fill my time with something, anything to give me something to do…to have to kill time.

Because time is my friend, and I want lots of it around. Because sooner or later, we’re all going to run out of it.

Do you remember this song?

It used to be my favorite. As songs go, it’s beautifully written and delivered. Its message is poignant. I hadn’t heard it in years, but when I came across the video, I remembered.

I remembered how I used to sing the words to this song. It reflected my views of how hard the world was, what a betrayal life was and how I intended to protect myself. Of course, I knew it reflected the depth of being wounded, but becoming hardened like a rock and isolated like an island seemed an appropriate response to it.

Now I hear the song and I hear a cry for deliverance. More, I see hope for that deliverance. The harder the shell, the greater the determination to break through. The higher the fortress, the bigger the spread of your wings.

Because in the depth of your pain is the passion to overcome, and in every ash of bitterness lies the phoenix waiting to arise.

Today is July 7th. Perhaps it means so much more to those who are taken by the numbers 07/07/07, but to me this day and this month have always held special significance.

Decades ago, my mother decided to pick this day as her birthday. Having been adopted…or purchased, she never knew her real date of birth.

The following is a forward from a story I had rewritten for her, a story that, also, holds the seventh day of the seventh month with significance. This story opened the doors to getting published as a children’s author with another manuscript. I wrote this for my mom, so I offered them another manuscript that I was willing to edit.

Today, I share the background to the story and hope it will not only open the door to a sense of wonder but to another step of healing.

I will upload the full story in pdf form in honor of my mother in a few days.

Story Behind the Story

In the western world the galaxy in which we live is called “The Milky Way”. From where our little planet sits on the edge of the Milky Way, we can see a wide sweep of stars that make up this galaxy across the night sky.

People in the East call this celestial wonder, “The River of Heaven”.

In one of version of an ancient story, a beautiful Goddess, the Star Maiden, and a simple shepherd boy discover one another and fall in love. They are granted permission, by the Star Maiden’s father, the Emperor of the Heavens, to wed. But the young lovers are so taken by each other that they neglect their duties.

As punishment, the Emperor decrees they be separated forever, except for one night out of the year. On the seventh night in the seventh month, the Shepherd Boy may ascend to the sky and cross the River of Heaven to be with his love. But when the night is over, he must return to Earth

The legend says if it rains on that night, the raindrops are tears of sorrow, for the Shepherd Boy was unable to cross and must wait another year. But if the skies are clear, the lovers are reunited and the sparkling stars reflect their happiness.

The story of the Star Maiden and the Shepherd Boy has inspired the imagination and touched the hearts of poets and lovers for hundreds of years. In Japan, festivals are held every summer in honor of the two lovers and their devotion.

My mother loved this story, its romance, the longing that is finally satisfied when fate is kind, if only for a moment. My mother’s own life was filled with trauma, heartache and disappointment. She lived with a deep and burning desire for love, for the happiness that always seemed to be just beyond her reach, and as far away, as the other side of that river.

Sold at the age of two by her Chinese mother to a Japanese couple, one of her earliest memories was of that fateful day, and her long waiting on a balcony, overlooking another river, the Yangtze River, for her rescue from a brother who never came.

My mother never knew her real birthday. It is only fitting that she would have chosen July 7th and its legend, with its theme of sorrow and constant looking to the stars, to mark the beginning of her life and each passing year.

It is, also, ironic that my mother should pick a date that not only reflected the longing in her heart, but the wounding between the two cultures who would come to mean so much to her - the beginning of Japan’s full scale war against China.

My own relationship with my mother was filled with ambivalence. My life is a journey of healing each layer of wounding, that mothers, who never dealt with their own wounds, inflict upon their children.

Ten years ago, in 1997, just several weeks after I told her I was with child, my mother passed away.

Sometimes I get the feeling she is still just on this side of the River of Heaven unable to go on, tied to the earth with guilt, regret and the anger that comes from too many things unfinished, un-experienced, a life of potential un-lived.

Sometimes in our personal lives, as within the greater context of a culture, we need to tell a different story in order to live one.

So, with respect for its roots and faith in its wings, I offer a new story, a message of healing, of love and hope for Japan and China - the culture that helped raise and shape my mother, and the homeland my mother loved so much, yet never returned to.

But mostly, Mom, I’ve rewritten this story for you. May it set your heart free and help ferry you gently across the River of Heaven.

Love,

Your daughter,
Demian
2007