Never underestimate the ability of things to go sideways when you least expect it.
That said, I’m trying to maintain my sense of humor. OK, maybe not a lot of humor. How about perspective? Yes, that might be more accurate.
I’m definitely not finding myself feeling a lot of hilarity at the moment.
However, I have to figure that I took this photo of Cletus this morning for a reason. I am finding it impossible at the moment (for whatever reason) to access the photo I was going to write about tonight. So…I’m going full Cletus.
A Model of Serenity
Maybe those of you who are reading this post (whenever you end up reading it – either minutes from when I post it or a year from now) need to see this usually oh-so-cranky cat exuding this palpable air of calm repose. I mean, really: check it out. Even the position of his paws is zen-like.
Funny thing is, he’s been particularly irascible lately. I’ve been chalking it up to both a cold (he’s been sneezing) and the appearance of two feline ‘cousins’ for a few days. It’s been so bad that he even deigned to sleep on our bed this morning, which is when I managed to snag this shot.
Full Cletus
If you notice yourself feeling a little edgy over the next few days, try going ‘full Cletus.’
You might even find a peace that leaves you purring.
It’s just strange how you can be going along, living your life, basically minding your own business and doing your best to be as conscious as possible, when – thwack!– you get hit upside the head and challenged to hold your center.
That happened to me today.
And it wasn’t until I got home this evening that I felt the repercussions and even fully realized I’d received a spiritual thwack! upside the head – a cosmic reminder of why I engage in the discipline and commitment of my 1111 Devotion.
An Unexpected Flood of Sadness
Come to think of it, I was hit with the overwhelming wave of emptiness as I was driving home from my session. I told myself it was because I hadn’t eaten all day, but I knew that didn’t ring true. It’s not an unusual occurrence for me not to eat on days I see clients, and it doesn’t bother me at all. The truth was, I was missing Karl. And it was creating a pit-in-the-center-of-my-chest kind of sadness.
The short explanation is that my client had a connection to my son Karl that they didn’t even realize. When the appointment was initially set up, I’d had this vague tickle at the back of my mind. In the minutes before they arrived for their appointment, I literally wrote in my journal, “Why does that name sound familiar to me?”
I whipped out my phone and searched the name in my email, just to see if perhaps I’d seen this person a long, long time ago, perhaps in another context, unrelated to my shamanic practice. Maybe as their lawyer?
Nope. No record.
Realizing the Connection
There was no recognition on either of our parts when they arrived. They didn’t even mention that my name sounded familiar, so I shushed myself, opened Sacred Space, and began the session.
It didn’t take long before I realized that their son and Karl had had a strong bond back in high school. Indeed, so strong that, the last time Karl was home, the final Christmas and New Year’s holidays he spent in Pennsylvania, indeed, on Earth, he’d made a point of getting together with this friend specifically to give him permission to imitate Karl’s artwork – a unique art form he’d developed and honed since elementary school and eventually won awards for in high school, as well as in independent juried art shows.
An Uncommon Generosity of Spirit
I’d always wondered why Karl went out of his way to give this friend his ‘blessing,’ so to speak. I’d been shocked when he told me he intended to do it; and was even more shocked when he followed through with it. Perhaps on some deep level, both of us knew his time was growing short. Did he know? Did I know? It’s impossible for me to answer.
It was such a profoundly magnanimous gesture – loving and kind and generous. Made even more so because he’d only discovered through others that his art was being copied by this friend; his friend hadn’t disclosed it himself.
So why would he do that, I wondered. Why would he make it OK to be copied, imitated?
I remember standing in the kitchen and asking Karl, “Why?”
And I distinctly remember him shrugging and saying, “It doesn’t really matter in the end, Mom.” I just looked at him, struggling to keep myself from saying all the things that shrieked in my mind. Of course it mattered, I wanted to say.
Non-attachment and Serenity
“He knows,” Karl continued. “And I want him to know I know. But I also want him to know I give him permission.”
How could I argue with that? Karl’s attitude was intensely serene and – there are those words again – generous; magnanimous.
It was not unlike how I’d felt in Ann Arbor the year before, when I watched him give away to a homeless person the food we’d wrapped for him to take on the long bus ride back to California.
His non-attachment and serenity were profound. And I have to admit, I struggled to find them in my own heart. I wanted to feel ok about it; it was his art, after all. His talent and imagination. His vision.
In the End…
I was sad to notice that very same friend failed to come to Karl’s Gathering, held only two weeks after his death. Their meeting had occurred only ten months earlier. Surely it gave him pause?
And I was sad to realize my client didn’t even recognize his name. It was as if they’d never been friends.
I miss Karl. I miss his spirit. And most of all, I don’t want him to disappear.
Which reminds me of the entire point behind my 1111 Devotion.
Bet those are two words you never thought you’d see together. Me either.
But in contemplating what I would write about tonight, I thought I would share a photo I took from our porch this evening, minutes after Karl and I got home from a walk.
Suspension in a Cocoon of Serenity
The sun had set on this Groundhog Day 2019, and the colors of the sky were simply too spectacular not to honor them by sharing them with you. What you see is completely unfiltered. And would you believe me if I told you the entire scene was more catch-your-breath exquisite than I can express?
Yeah, you’d probably believe me. I bet it happens to most of us a lot more often than we realize. I hope so, at least.
Nature just is that way. It fills us up and transforms us from within. All we need to do is open our eyes, ears, and every other sensory receptor and allow. It fills us up through our being.
The sky tonight brought me to the verge of tears. For a few moments, when I stood on our porch and I gazed into this magnificent palette, I felt suspended in a cocoon of serenity. The air was crisp and fresh, but not so cold as to rake my sinuses. Two deer ran an obstacle course of trees and bushes at the base of this photo as I took it, their somewhat tentative and graceless dance rustling leaves and breaking sticks as well as the silence.
More Moments of Love
In those sacred moments, I stopped worrying about my mundane concerns. With no one to talk to and no humans or their activity in sight, it was as if I were less a human and more a simple observer – and member – of the web.
Can you look at that photo and not feel it viscerally in your heart?
We need more serenity in our lives. We need more magnificent, rich hues coloring our perceptions. We need more opportunities to forget about our mundane worries and concerns.
At the risk of sounding hokey, we need more love permeating our cells and blanketing our landscapes with colors and beauty and simple appreciation for life, bringing us to the brink of tears.
(T-1028)
“Minutes Before Groundhog Sunset” – Photo by L.Weikel
