This Time I Said, “I Love You”

So many people live days, weeks, months  or even years angry at someone, losing the precious time that could be spent creating joyous, loving memories. We misunderstand or ignore premonitions or gut feelings and when it is too late, we struggle to forgive ourselves. Sometimes, we learn from those painful lessons and we do it right the next time. The next time has arrived.

While in college, Dad and I created a special time for us before going to work and school.  Each morning, Dad would get up at 4 A.M. and begin the percolator and then sat at the end of the table in his Captains chair, lunch packed, and a cigarette in his fingers. His arms would be crossed across his chest, legs outstretched and his ankles would be crossed. On the mornings I had to open the store before classes, I would come out of the darkness into the kitchen and Dad would sit up, smiling and face me at the table, and  ask me about my life. Instead of giving advice, Dad had just the right way of asking questions and Immediately I would find the answers I didn’t know that I needed before I sat down.

One morning, I woke up unusually exhausted. For some reason I had been sleeping on the sofa for the last few nights.  I pushed myself off the sofa and slowly walked into the warm kitchen and slid into my seat and slouched back. Dad asked me what was wrong. I answered with confusion and honesty, “Nothing.”

“You can tell me anything. I am concerned about you. Why don’t you trust me?” he pleaded. His voice shook as he tried to hold back emotion.

I was dazed and confused and asked him why he asked. Dad had heard me crying in my sleep over the past few nights. He was lost for explanations.  Again, I could not remember the dreams and I certainly did had no idea as to why I would be crying. I promised that indeed  if I had a problem I would come to him immediately.

Not long after these foggy mornings, I found myself changing my routine and arrived home for school much earlier. It was an unusual day and as I stepped over the threshold  I noticed a sink full of dishes and the trail of chaos leading from the kitchen to the living room. Dad had never allowed the dishes to sit in the sink. He had four dishwashers and one of them was going to work if any of the other three were not home or busy. My morning felt emotionally heavy. I had snapped at Dad the night before and I didn’t know why. I was not angry with him and had never been angry at Dad. I dug in and began with washing. Lost in the absence of thought, a place of no where, I was returned by a knocking at the kitchen door. Startled, I turned to peek through the yellow curtains. We lived so far off the path, no one ever came over unannounced, especially when my parents were not home.  My stomach sank and a darkness loomed as I opened the door to two men I recognized as friends of my father.

The two friends also worked with Dad. In my mind I insisted they were here for a good cause. Slowly and with their heads slightly bowed, one of the men  asked when my mom would be home. I wasn’t sure, but she usually arrived before noon; the men replied it was okay, they would wait for her. I offered them a seat and something to drink and I continued my tasks at a much faster rate. I had to keep my mind and hands busy. Mom sauntered in and the men rose to meet her. All I can remember at that moment is the screaming.and watching her fall to her knees and the men trying to catch her.

There are no other memories until the  viewings and funeral. During the viewings I realized that I had lived the scenes of this surreal experience before. The tears and cries that my father had asked about were the dreams that I could not remember, but now could while standing in the funeral home. I cannot remember anything else of the days following the accident that killed Dad.  The only memories I carry are ofof the night before. I wished that I would have said, “I love you” to Dad instead of snap at him.

It was  on a Wednesday morning, I awoke up and couldn’t see. A film  covered my eyes and my eye lashes were stuck closed with the goo. It reminded me of a young baby with a cold. I didn’t remember crying in my sleep. I had dreams that I remembered toward morning, but none of them were sad. But, I had cried. I ignored my instincts and curiosity, I did not want to go there. I did not want to remember the nights before Dad was killed.I did not want to remember this was a premonition.

Thursday night I had a vivid dream that was first person, fantasy and yet, real. I opened our back door and o nto the grass to find a large turtle lying on her back. I gingerly picked her up and placed her in the wood. I returned to the steps to find the turtle lying there, again, on her back. I held the edges of her shell and returned her carefully to the edge of the wood and spoke to her and once again, I returned to the steps to find here there on her back.  My mind’s eye was now standing behind the room full of the guests inside  who were all dressed in white. I could read their minds, they all could see me and they thought my hands were empty and that I had lost it.They saw me as if I were talking to an empty space between my hands. Immediately, I was behind the the men in the security office watching the surveillance video. The video picked up the turtle on the tape leaving me to wonder about alchemy and magic.

Immediately, my eyes flashed open and I felt  wide awake. I recorded the dream in my journal and slipped downstairs to meditate. I could not clear my heart or my mind. Thinking that I would come back later and try again, I dressed for the day. In my closet, I was pulled to a white tunic that I wear for sacred ceremonies and a wooden necklace with a salamander on the disc; a high school graduation gift that I had never worn. I was not concerned why I felt that I needed to dress in such a way. It felt right. I honored the guides and gently pulled the tunic over my head. I felt a need to gently adjust the necklace over the tunic as if performing a ritual.

It was urgent to use my time wisely and decided to work on one of my continuing education classes when the telephone rang. There were no men at my door and my mother was not here, but the message would be the same  I did not scream nor fall to the floor. I cried bittersweet tears of joy and sorrow. I rejoiced that my sister who in truth was more of a mother to me journeyed Home. The tears of sorrow were for the living.

Now, as I prepare for the funeral, I will prepare to see what I cannot remember of my tearful sleep.  This time it will be easier. This time, I had said,” I love you.”


Synchronicity, The More You Look The More It Happens

Yesterday was so wild!  It is not often that an unknown person walks in your home and begins talking about your life as if he or she had been reading your diary.  The lively woman had barely stepped through the threshold when she cheerfully shared that she was delighted that I was a coach and our personal lives were so very similar. Her eyes were smiling as she declined a tea and indicated that she wanted to see the bedroom set for sale that was the purpose of her visit.

The details behind the reason of needing bedroom furniture was all too familiar, but I was stunned to hear the details unfold as if she was sharing my specific life story.  One would think that she researched my life, but those details are not public and I know very few people in this community. I led the woman through the door of the bedroom and opened invisible drawers for privacy and continued on showing her the exceptional condition of the finish and drawers. The woman smiled broadly, “This is synchronicity. I love this set. I tore a photo of this bedroom set out of a catalogue and told the Universe that I wanted it. Have you heard of Abraham Hicks?”

“I have. It is sychronistic. We were not planning to sell this bedroom set. We decided to follow the idea that just came out of the blue and posted it. There are two other women who expressed interest after I posted the set for sale. You were the first to come over.”

I wanted her to feel secure with her deposit so I asked her to come downstairs so that I could write a detailed receipt.  The woman’s exhuberance was refreshing and I was happy to meet a new friend who shared similar gifts and experiences. What makes this new friendship and the sale of the bed more synchronistic is that I had just decided to make more things happen by being more mindful in noticing synchronicity.

I had been reading the Synchronicity Key by David Wilcox and in a lark at the library fell upon the book The 7 Secrets of Synchronicity, Your Guide to Finding Meaning in Signs Big and Small by Trish and Rob MacGregor on Sunday. I had not yet read it and know a bit about synchronicity, but I believe I can always learn more and I love to see through the eyes of others. Now, I had to re-evaluate how I see and think through my day.

I like to plan my day and my life. Or at least I used to do it far more in detail.  The problem in living life the way I used to is that it made it tough to be open to synchronicity and manifesting and miracles. I have learned that if I do not tell the Universe  how to bring me what I desire, what I pine for comes much faster. Now, I see that there must be room for synchronicity.

On Friday, it just popped into my mind to sell two beds. I wasn’t sure why, I like them both. It was just a strong pull to a clear idea. That is how synchronicity works.  You get a feeling to do something. Synchronicity works in many ways, like seeing someone in three different stores or perhaps you considered selling your house and a realtor called you out of the blue that day asking you if you want to sell and at the same time you are pulling out a realtors postcard out of your mailbox.

Synchronicity works like miracles, the more you look for them, the more they happen. I am still reeling over the incredible details of this new friendship and the sale of the bedroom set that she really wanted and asked the Universe for.  It is really awesome to be on the end of both giving and receiving.  Life is Grand! Absolutely Grand!


Dropping the New Year Resolutions and Winning

There is absolutely no reason to fret over your New Year resolutions.  It isn’t just the idea that if you fall down you can get up again. It is a matter of how you see resolutions and when and why you make them.

I have always seen a direct correlation between the way I brought in the New Year and with whom and the event of the rest of the year.  I suppose that is why kissing someone Happy New Year is so vital to many, they want to be sure their year is full of love.  This year there was a deep need to be in our home with close friends and or family.  It was necessary to be sure that I invited those who may not have plans of their liking.  It didn’t matter how many came on New Year’s Eve to play board games and partake of wine, cheese and fruit, it mattered that we made the effort to extend the welcome.  The evening was relaxed, intimate, fun and warm.  We felt blessed with abundance of love and prosperity.  If our year is going to be like New Year’s Eve, it is going to be the best ever.

The resolutions to be better at this or more mindful of that become an overwhelming project when they are all dumped on the table at once.  I don’t think I have ever made a resolution for the New Year.  As a child I was painfully aware of the feelings of others and my actions.  In the night under the cover of darkness and blankets I would reflect on my day, what I saw, what I said, how well I had done in school, sports, social situations and at home. I know a few times I pulled the pillow over my head and hoped it would hide my perceived crimes from others.  I would vow to do it differently next time. In my mind I would see how it would look and feel and I would set the intention that I would be successful the next time.  If inadvertently I hurt the feelings of another or even perceived I had, I would beeline the next day to the victim of my transgressions and apologize.  Quite often the victim never saw it as I did, but they were always happy for my concern for their feelings.

I added my classroom practices, my interactions with students and my children to the nightly reflections.  Eventually,  it became necessary to reflect upon my students and classroom at the end of the school day and from there evolved to the end of each class in the upper grades.  It was not a chore to do this or a loss of time. I had discovered that this saved time and pain.  More importantly, it saved myself from becoming a person I did not want to be.

Over the years my daily resolutions have fined tuned themselves to a more proactive approach.   Reflection still is important, but there is a freedom and a beautiful outcome that comes when we temper the daily life by seeing every event, person or thing from a place of Unconditional Love as well as living the Golden Rule.  This is why we are here.  We are here to be responsible for our Self and only our Self, living it in Unconditional Love and Service.  It doesn’t mean we do not use discernment or keep our boundaries.  It means that the “bad” things are quickly bathed in a perspective that allows us to see it as Spirit does. Then, we can choose our reaction or action.  Life is a series of reactions to reactions to reactions. In our daily resolutions we remain true to our Self and in this we live in balance and harmony and living in total balance and harmony brings miracles.  The more miracles you notice, the more miracles you will receive.

Everyone is inherintly a good person. Getting back to good health or a place you wish to be does not need to be overwhelming or difficult.  Having a moment when you forget your resolution or lose your resolve does not mean you quit on yourself.  It is much easier to stay in the game when it is one bite at a time, one day at a time.  It just begins with you, one moment at a time.