Keeping the Dream

It’s amazing who you can find to be your teacher. Everyone can teach us something, but sometimes someone so unexpected can change your entire world, how you see yourself, what you thought you always knew.

These are usually not the ones who hold degrees or positions in institutions of great learning, although we can learn a lot from them.

They are usually life’s teachers, the ones life sends your way when you least expect it.

I have met such a teacher. I can be a hard head. One of the hardest things to break through can be our own self image. I am no exception.

We are usually not that grateful to the one who challenges our comfortable notions about ourselves. I wasn’t. But in these early morning hours, after letting my thoughts ponder these new realizations…slowly, at first, but growing in depth over time…I wake up realizing that I have been blessed by the presence of a truly great spirit, someone the world would not acknowledge, but is, nonetheless.

I am still reeling from the loss of Kenny, but in wandering through my grief, my path has brought me to one who has delivered me a big dose of awareness and opportunity for growth, for which I am now truly grateful.

I don’t listen to the radio often, and I watch television even less. But when I’m in the car with my daughter, sometimes we’ll turn on the radio, and if it decides to work, we listen to some music. I’m not impressed. But I found a program I like listening to. It’s John Tesh “Intelligence for Your Life”. The music is your standard music, but it’s what he shares in between that’s uplifting, challenging and interesting.

Just the other day, I happened across his blog. This morning (I had to subscribe), I received his blog post, entitled “Having a Greater Impact on the Lives of Others” (in its entirety) in my inbox.

The message is the reminder to “start living outside of yourself”. But what really jumped out at me was this quote.

You can’t wait to get all your needs met before you notice the needs of others.

You know, I think I’ve been doing that – waiting to get my needs met. That somewhere along the road being a single mom and homeschooling my child, I’ve developed a kind of tunnel vision called survival.

Which is important, especially when you have a child, but there’s got to be more than that. And I think the growing frustration I’ve been feeling and the constant feeling of exhaustion comes not only from physical and emotional stress, but from feeling constricted.

Because I haven’t been writing or singing or recording. And I can’t remember the last vigil I sang at, and when I don’t allow myself to create and share in that creation, I die – slowly. Imperceptibly, perhaps, but steadily.

It’s not just a question of time, although that is a factor. And it’s not just about money, although being able to take care of yourself and your child is no small matter. But if I wait for all those things to be just so, then I may wind up waiting forever.

I’ve been away, from myself, from my art. I see the difference I make when I sing at vigils. I feel the difference in me. It’s been too long since I’ve brought my creativity to that healing place, to the hearts those songs were meant to touch.

And if I’m going to be homeschooling my child, if I’m going to be teaching her anything, I want it to be to live an authentic life. And there is nothing more real than to let the love flow in and through you in the way you were designed to.

It would be foolish…and selfish not to.

How can we not be inspired – even more, energized to move on that inspiration? This speech was given in 1992. More so than ever, we need to heed her words.

Last night while exploring, I found this wonderful sight, Save Our Tribal Youth or the MySpace site, http://www.myspace.com/saveourtribalyouth.

The children, and issues concerning them, have always been of paramount importance to me. It seems to me that while every child is important – and I recognize no boundaries among countries that would lessen the value of any child – it does seem to me that we often overlook our “own” children.

All children are ours, but if that means we don’t lessen the value of children of other lands, it also means we should not lessen the value of children who live in this land.

Native American children have the highest suicide rate among children living in this country. They lie forgotten amidst other more popular campaigns, which isn’t surprising, since the entire Native American culture is pretty much invisible – except as entertainment, mascots or the focus of the latest New Age Pseudo “Native American Spirituality”.

I’m not against people finding inspiration among different cultures or finding something that works for them. I’m just against trespassing and harvesting the wealth, spiritual or otherwise, of a culture with no regard for that culture. It’s another kind of imperialism.

But anyway, getting back to the children, I do feel while looking at the needy children around the world, and rightly so, we don’t become farsighted and forget to address the suffering of children right in front of us.

And they are there. Silent tears are just as wet. Native American children are crying, but like other abandoned children, they have learned that their tears are often unheeded and hopeless. There are people trying to make them realize that’s not true. Nothing is hopeless, and there is hope for each and every beautiful child…just because.

I want to be a “just because”. I hope you will too.

(First posted at my healing voices forum)

Presenting Frederika Yumei Kocoronis, named after both grandmothers according to Greek tradition. I had a choice of my first name or Chinese surname, by my daughter, changing the tradition a bit. I chose my Chinese surname, as my mother carried it, both her daughters carried it as a middle name, and both my daughters carry it as a middle name. Now the name is passing to yet another generation.

She arrived Saturday morning close to 11:00 (mother and baby doing very well!) but I have been so busy caring for my grandson that I have not had a chance to post much sooner!

At the hospital, I held Ricca (for short) in one arm…what a treat that was for me! My lightest baby was 8 1/2 pounds and my last was 9 1/2 pounds! She was like holding a little doll to me!

I am in love.

This whole thing with Megan Meier has been such a triggering experience for me, deeper than what I would have expected. And I didn’t know why for a few days, except only on an emotional level…until I read an article.

I’m not quite ready to write about it yet, but tomorrow when I have time to myself, I think I will be ready to share what I’ve been going through.

In the meantime, take care and be strong and gentle.

Thinking of you fondly.

I’m sorry I didn’t post yesterday. I missed it. I’ve really come to look forward to sitting here on a daily basis. It’s become a lovely daily ritual, and it just doesn’t feel right when I skip a day.

Yesterday was a day of preparation. In just a little over an hour, I pick up my nephew. We have a special relationship, he and I. I was his mom’s sister…still am, as far as I’m concerned, and she was the world to him. We see her in each other.

I look at him and remember how much she adored him, how hard she fought to stay here.

He was seven when she passed away.

You know, when she died, in trying to explain why, a spiritual teacher of hers said to her husband, “She wanted to give you the highest.” And through my grief and tears a resounding thought came through – What a crock!

Death had to drag her out of her body, and there’s no doubt in my mind Death has a few extra scars to show for it.

Few people would fight so tenaciously, cling to life even when one of her own doctors was telling her to quit, because he couldn’t stand to see the pain she was in. A doctor, no doubt, who has seen a lot.

It was hard to witness. But she said she made a promise to her son that she would do whatever she could to stay. And she did. Way beyond what anyone would think possible.

I suppose it’s comforting to think that when something you don’t want happens, it’s for a good reason…or was meant to be. But it isn’t to me, and it especially isn’t when it doesn’t honor the real passion or discount the tremendous effort that person put into attaining something…and failed.

My sister did not want to go. She didn’t want to suffer either. There was no grand purpose in it for her. And she never would have broken her son’s heart for anything. I was with her as she was losing her battle. I held her hand, climbed into the hospital bed at times, to hold her as she was wracked with pain. I know why she put herself through that. It was to stay long enough for the tide to turn. It didn’t.

What she was was true to herself all the way to the end. That is the inspiration in this story.

Not some hyped up explanation as to some cosmic purpose.

I don’t know why she had to die at this time. Even that statement implies there has to be a reason for everything. Maybe that blank needs to be filled in by us. It goes without saying there’s a lot I don’t understand, especially where suffering is concerned. I don’t understand why my sister died to not see her son grow up and my abusive father lived to have another set of kids.

But I still believe in Justice, even though it doesn’t always manifest here. And I still believe in Grace, even though it’s sometimes absent in the lives of those who deserve it the most.

There is no greater way I can honor my sister than to not become disillusioned.

My not understanding doesn’t determine my belief in hope or in something better or more than what we see. But that doesn’t mean I invalidate the experience of the suffering or pretend that what is clearly unjust and sad isn’t, just because it doesn’t fit into what I need to believe.

So no, I can’t tell you in the great scheme of things, why my sister died. But I can tell you what reason she didn’t die for. She didn’t die because she was in cahoots with some cosmic plan to express some noble idea of love as sacrifice, or because suffering and early death is the mark of a truly great soul.

If achieving that stature required the breaking of a child’s heart, never mind her son’s, she would have been content to enter heaven as the lowliest one.

Cancer took her, when she didn’t want to go. She never would have abandoned her son…and she didn’t.

If I have anything to do with it, he will know that.

A most remarkable video. What I like most about this is what he has to say about the importance of creativity, with no small amount of wit and charm. Though he focuses on education for children, Sir Ken Robinson is really talking about that creative part in all of us, and the value we place on it – a wonderful perspective, and gentle, yet urgent, nudge…

(If you have trouble viewing it here, just click on the link right below and it will take you to the site, itself…but it’s worth watching all the way through)

TED | Talks | Sir Ken Robinson: Do schools kill creativity? video