I don’t.

Why?

Because the most important thing that happened today is that my hubby decided to take a vacation day and spend Sunday evening (for the first time in a very long time) home with us.

No matter the outcome of the game, I win.

Funny how the Universe works sometimes.  After writing my last post, “I Get It Now”, I suspected that there would be more opportunities to integrate what I was now embracing.  Yesterday, one of my spiritual teachers, Anita Pathik Law, experienced a death in her family.  I am sharing a portion of her blog post about it to illustrate that even the most grounded among us can have a difficult time with “the flow.”  The entire post can be found on her blog, Power of Our Way.

Ani writes:

I’ve been through my share of losses. Death is not a stranger to me.  Yet, yesterday, its visit took me some place entirely different than I’ve ever been before, and it sucked big time. I’ll tell you right now, that this sharing comes thru swollen eyes and tears of deep sadness. I will not edit, nor attempt to make perfect what just needs to be processed through writing.  I will share, openly, a very human moment and a re-emerging pattern; one that you may relate to, or judge, or have compassion for.  For some, you may be surprised that someone of such incredible faith and deep groundedness in purpose, can still experience a crisis of faith and get messy on occasion. I make no apologies, rather, I just write what comes.

Yesterday morning, I woke up feeling, for lack of a better word, rather “pissy.” I even shared, quite vulnerably, my current foul mood during a monthly call with my fellow Beloved Community Ministers.

During the call, my ministerial mentor, James Twyman, had invited us to share “what we are grateful for.” Although I could have stated a hundred or more things, there was such a sadness in my heart, that I found myself opening up and asking for prayers.

I shared my frustration and deep sadness for having so much that I wish to share with the world and lately, feeling a sense of futility. “Why bother?” was the thought I had woken up with. “Why bother recording our next  music cd when no one ever buys our music? Why bother completing these four damned books, only to be heartbroken to find no one valuing them? Why bother doing what I do at the expense of our security and financial stability? Why work so hard for so little?”

For whatever reason, I woke up threatening to quit. “Look God,” I said, “I can’t do this anymore, not like this. I can’t justify sticking with something that seems to be less and less valued (financially). I’m getting more scholarship requests than registrations. I do what you tell me to do. I’m tired of the struggle. I’m tired of writing music that everyone loves but almost no one wants to buy. I’m tired of writing articles that almost no one reads. I’m tired of wondering, from one month to the next, if the bills will get paid.”

I was not unconscious of the “not enough” theme that was wreaking havoc and causing me to question everything. I was aware of the self-judgment and regret that was stirring underneath the surface. I am ridiculously tough on myself.  I still need to regularly re-wire the “not enough, not good enough” pattern that seems to have been born to me, and aptly reinforced (by me more than any other) for what seems to be multiple lifetimes, and at any moment of perceived failure.

So, when asked to add to the conversation with my Beloved Ministers, I asked for prayers to support what I saw as a huge need for self gentleness. I said, “I am not practicing gratitude towards myself. I need to forgive myself for making decisions that haven’t worked out so well.”  My fellow ministers thanked me for my vulnerability. As uncomfortable as it was to share my pain, I was glad I did. I needed to, and had needed to for weeks, evidenced by the tears that seemed to come from nowhere. Thirty minutes later, my irritation had not really subsided. I took a hot shower. I prayed some more. I was still feeling angry at myself and was feeling very, very alone.

And, then, in an instant, everything changed focus.

In a moment of frustration, I ran to the front door (half dressed) to give Brent a check that he had just asked me to sign, yet forgot in the bathroom. I turned and slammed the door, and my sweet and innocent kitten, Kayden, was crushed by the weight of the hurricane resistant door. I fell to the floor and scooped his little body into my bare chest, and heard myself singing a prayer song.  He died in my arms, with Brent by my side. I don’t know that I have ever seen, with my own two eyes, something so devastating.

This amazing little creature, who spent probably 6 hours a day curled up in my lap and loved pizza, gorgonzola cheese, and salad (he actually was known to dive head first into the salad bowl), was dead. This little guy, who loved to join me while I was drumming (ohhh, he loved it when I drummed), or singing, or meditating, had become a constant companion. Kayden, an amazingly social, playful and adoring kitten had somehow won over 4 of our 5 family pets, including my Belgian Sheppard, who became his instant mother and protector, was gone. And, I killed him.

Brent and I did ceremony, and wrapped him in sacred red cloth. We sang and blew sacred smoke onto him. I held him in my arms for almost an hour before Brent buried him. The worst was telling my 14 years old daughter, Kiera, my animal loving “Kiera Doolittle,” who had sheepishly brought him home just five weeks ago. At first, she said she hated me and would never forgive me. I knew this was the grief and did not take it personally. In some way I felt the same things anyway. I canceled my next appointment and postponed a class I was scheduled to teach. Waves of grief hit me over an over again. I prayed with my friend Lorraine Cohen and one of my treasured clients, Donna Poler, an animal communicator, and gifted healer, called me. It was the only time I picked up the phone, other than when family called. She did some EFT with me and shared some beautiful and much needed sentiments.

I wanted him back, I wanted to erase that moment. I wished I had been more present. I wished I had not been so frustrated and angry that I slammed the door on my innocent friend. I waited to wake up from the nightmare.  Honestly, I probably cried more than I have since my father died 22 years ago. It is awful to lose a loved one, regardless of whether he or she is a two legged or four legged friend, but something about feeling responsible for someone else’s death, even by accident, is exponentially devastating.

A little later, Kiera, my 14 year old, called me and said, “I’m sorry for what I said mommy. I am so sorry this happened to you; I can not imagine how you feel mom. I’m sorry if I made you feel worse, I know you loved him as much as I did and took good care of him. I know it was an awful accident mom. I feel so bad for you and wish this didn’t happen to you.”

She then said to me, “Mom, he’s in a better place and you know that everything happens for a reason. Maybe he was just supposed to be with us for a little while. Now he’ll be able to eat all of the pizza and potato chips he wants!” We actually shared a few moments of smiles and laughter, in between the tears, reflecting on this odd little creature who had blessed us with some wildly un-cat like behavior since he moved in.

Rather than coming home, Kiera decided to go to church with a friend and opted to stay the night. We called each other many times, cried, and each time, she offered such incredible empathy and compassion that I felt as if she was an angel herself. I witnessed my baby sharing messages of faith and wisdom and my husband kept affirming, “Well, she is your daughter…” Over the course of the evening, every single one of our pets came to me as if to console and say, “Its ok mom, we’ll take care of you.” My dog looked for baby Kayden several times, each time coming to me with questioning eyes, as if asking, “Where is he, where’s my baby?”

For hours, every time I closed my eyes, the awful scene replayed in my head and ears. I would feel the rush of sadness and sob, still hoping I would wake up and realize it had all been a bad dream. Then, suddenly, I realized that the grief I was feeling was not just about this loss. I was aware of the synchronicity of prayer request earlier that day. I could feel all of the fractured moments of my life coming up to the surface – to be felt and healed.  I felt deep compassion for others who may feel responsible for someone’s death, even when an innocent accident, and several people actually came to mind as I extended myself into their experience.

All of my regrets and losses flooded into my awareness. I knew that the most important question to ask was not “why did this happen, or how did I attract this (the dreaded law of attraction/metaphysical malpractice approach)?”  Rather, it was “how can I grow from this?” For what purpose was I being offered in this unusual and immensely sad gift? I was being given a grand, albeit awful, opportunity to practice the self gentleness and forgiveness that I requested in prayer just 30 minutes before Kayden died.

As f%*#!d up as it all was, I knew, somehow, there was something to receive and honor, if I chose to. At the moment of this thought, I felt an invisible and loving hand touch the top of my head, not unusual for me, yet, incredibly comforting. We went to bed and Brent massaged me as I prayed for some rest and cried myself to sleep….

As I read Anita’s post, I cried and cried.  I can’t even imagine what she must feel like.  But I do know that she will find peace as long as she is willing to 1) experience her pain and loss and 2) decide and act on who she wants to be going forward.

We don’t get through this journey without a few scars, that much is certain.  But as I am learning, how we choose to move forward from those wounds can make a profound difference in our experiences of the life, both “good” and “bad.”

And what if it really is, ALL good?

Much love to you, Ani, Kayden and Source for another opportunity to “get it.”

Today is my best friend’s birthday.

Although today we are celebrating her “arrival”, for several months we have commiserated about the challenges of living on the planet. Both of us contemplated suicide in our younger years, so death is not a conversation we avoid. In fact, we have somewhat of pact for our afterlife. If we indeed get to choose to reincarnate, we have promised each other that we would pull the other out of the line, “Sign up here to return to Earth.”

You gotta love friends like that.

This morning we laughed about her “following” me here (My birthday was last month) and how grateful I was that she made the brave choice to come after me.

You see, she has been one of the few people who has stood by me over the past few years as my former life fell apart. I have her phone # memorized (who needs speed dial??) and when I call, we can talk for HOURS. She reaches out to me when she is creatively stuck. (She’s a gifted graphic designer, so that’s pretty fun when you consider that I can’t draw a stick figure). We laugh together, cry together, create together, and always see the best in each other.

The most amazing thing about our friendship? We have never met face to face.

She lives on the coast of Oregon and about 5 years ago, I stumbled on her website. To this day, I have no idea how I found her.

But more than her portfolio spoke to me. You could see that she had the capacity to love deeply. You could see the joy she derived from creating something beautiful. Once we spoke on the phone, her amazing intuitive nature came through as well as her crazy sense of humor. She understood coaching (and is a pretty gifted one as well) and was really curious about my diversity work. (Even now, we continue to have LOTS of conversations about race, class, and politics).

She designed a beautiful logo for me that really captured my vision. I knew that I would always highly recommend her to others and that I would return to her for other design needs (Bless her heart–she’s done 1000 website designs for me!) but I never imagined that she would become the rock upon which I would lean, the shoulder I would spend countless hours crying on, in what has become the darkest period of my life.

And because of my dear, Susan, I know that there HAS to be a God(dess). It is because of her, I can see the best, the potential in humanity. And the reason that I still have hope.

Thank you, Susan. And Happy Birthday!

I am so lucky to have friends in high places.

I can’t believe that it’s been some 14 days since the election and I have yet to write about it.

Truth is, I’m not sure if I have the words.  But Alice Walker, the award winning author of The Color Purple, voiced many of the thoughts I’ve been having about the Obamas since the election.

Many thanks to my dear mentor and friend, coach and author Mary McHenry, for taking some time out of her busy schedule to share this with me.

Open Letter to Barack Obama from Alice Walker
Nov. 5, 2008

Dear Brother Obama,

You have no idea, really, of how profound this moment is for us. Us being the black people of the Southern United States. You think you know, because you are thoughtful, and you have studied our history. But seeing you deliver the torch so many others before you carried, year after year, decade after decade, century after century, only to be struck down before igniting the flame of justice and of law, is almost more than the heart can bear. And yet, this observation is not intended to burden you, for you are of a different time, and, indeed, because of all the relay runners before you, North America is a different place. It is really only to say: Well done.

We knew, through all the generations, that you were with us, in us, the best of the spirit of Africa and of the Americas. Knowing this, that you would actually appear, someday, was part of our strength. Seeing you take your rightful place, based solely on your wisdom, stamina and character, is a balm for the weary warriors of hope, previously only sung about.

I would advise you to remember that you did not create the disaster that the world is experiencing, and you alone are not responsible for bringing the world back to balance. A primary responsibility that you do have, however, is to cultivate happiness in your own life. To make a schedule that permits sufficient time of rest and play with your gorgeous wife and lovely daughters. And so on. One gathers that your family is large. We are used to seeing men in the White House soon become juiceless and as white-haired as the building; we notice their wives and children looking strained and stressed. They soon have smiles so lacking in joy that they remind us of scissors. This is no way to lead. Nor does your family deserve this fate.

One way of thinking about all this is: It is so bad now that there is no excuse not to relax. From your happy, relaxed state, you can model real success, which is all that so many people in the world really want. They may buy endless cars and houses and furs and gobble up all the attention and space they can manage, or barely manage, but this is because it is not yet clear to them that success is truly an inside job. That it is within the reach of almost everyone.

I would further advise you not to take on other people’s enemies. Most damage that others do to us is out of fear, humiliation and pain. Those feelings occur in all of us, not just in those of us who profess a certain religious or racial devotion. We must learn actually not to have enemies, but only confused adversaries who are ourselves in disguise. It is understood by all that you are commander in chief of the United States and are sworn to protect our beloved country; this we understand, completely. However, as my mother used to say, quoting a Bible with which I often fought, “hate the sin, but love the sinner.” There must be no more crushing of whole communities, no more torture, no more dehumanizing as a means of ruling a people’s spirit. This has already happened to people of color, poor people, women, children. We see where this leads, where it has led.

A good model of how to “work with the enemy” internally is presented by the Dalai Lama, in his endless caretaking of his soul as he confronts the Chinese government that invaded Tibet. Because, finally, it is the soul that must be preserved, if one is to remain a credible leader. All else might be lost; but when the soul dies, the connection to earth, to peoples, to animals, to rivers, to mountain ranges, purple and majestic, also dies. And your smile, with which we watch you do gracious battle with unjust characterizations, distortions and lies, is that expression of healthy self-worth, spirit and soul, that, kept happy and free and relaxed, can find an answering smile in all of us, lighting our way, and brightening the world.

We are the ones we have been waiting for.

In Peace and Joy,
Alice Walker

Let us remember to keep our focus on the best in each other.

With love,

Lisa

I’m always fascinated at our culture’s seeming need to set aside a special day to recognize something or someone.  I really believe in acknowledgment, but I wonder sometimes about the other 364 days of the year. 

Today is Mother’s Day in the US and Canada and while I appreciate the warm wishes from friends and family, I long for the day that people are acknowledged and celebrated, not just for the roles or titles, but simply for who they ARE.  And that won’t require a special day, deep discounted prices, or anything other than a heartfelt “thank you.”

Even though a day has rarely passed that I don’t give thanks for my husband and daughter, I felt like I just wanted to write about it.

To my daughter, Olivia:

From the moment I knew of your presence, I really began to celebrate the gift of being a woman.  As I watched your father’s excitement grow along with my belly, I was sad that he could not experience the miracle of carrying you.  

For 40 weeks, it was you and me.  We shared everything, kiddo.  I knew that my mood, my energy, what I ate affected you.  And you never missed an opportunity to communciate your displeasure, even then.    

It was a time that I learned to believe in magic and miracles again.  You brought a smile to my face when I didn’t think I’d ever smile again.  And you’re still doing it, 17 years later.

I am honored and forever grateful that you chose me to be your mommy.

To my dear, sweet Ken:

I remember sitting next to a woman at work a few weeks before we got married.  She was pregnant with her first child and said to me, “there is nothing in the world like carrying the child of the man you love.”

I remember thinking how hokey that sounded and even for a softie like me, it was too much.  There was nothing remotely attractive or beautiful to me about being pregnant.

But then we found out about  our “boo” 3 1/2 years later.  And one night, you rolled over and kissed my belly and I remember that woman’s words.  And she was right.

Becoming a mother has been the most beautiful gift I’ve ever been given.  Thank you for chosing me to bring your child into the world and for allowing me to mother her in my own way.  I know you haven’t always agreed with my approach, but you never asked me to be anyone else…ever.   I’m honored to be your ”best bud” and your baby mama.

 Love you both.