Pierre's Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Last of My Stash

We’ve all faced it at one point or another. As regrettable as it is, it’s also inevitable. Nothing lasts forever. Nothing. And that, my friends, is why I’m taking a moment to document this grievous moment. If it’s going to hurt, we might as well share it. It’s the last of my stash.

I’m writing about this tonight because I know, deep down, all of you can relate. Your temptation may not be a milk chocolate cashew turtle from Pierre’s. But surely you each have your weakness, your predilection that yearns to be sated when you realize life really is freaking short.

My attitude may sound cavalier, but I’m also brought up short.

Delayed Gratification

Yeah, I have only one more cashew turtle left to eat. And I probably won’t eat it tonight. I’ll hoard it a little longer (maybe a day or so at most) because I’m a little weird about delayed gratification.

Yikes; that’s probably way too much information to be sharing. But it’s true. I’ve been known to save the best bite for last only to have a puppy snatch that very last savory morsel clean off my plate when I was distracted for a moment. (The fact s/he was even close enough to my plate to do so is a subject for another time.)

But the fact remains that I’m someone who doesn’t like a good thing to end. So I drag stuff out. And it’s not just food-related, either. When I have a good book to read, I’m often torn between racing through the final chapter or several pages, devouring them with glee, or savoring each paragraph and taking a few days to lay the book to rest.

The danger in this, of course, is that one day I may not get the chance to complete anything ever again. What a shame it would be to leave that turtle uneaten. Or the book’s ending unappreciated. Or the story I always wanted to tell untold.

Grief Clarifies

A dear friend and her family recently suffered a sudden and tragic loss. Holding them in their grief (even if from afar), my thoughts have been with the one whose seat will be empty at the next reunion. They were only half a dozen years younger than I am, and at this stage of the game, that’s not a huge gap. I’ve contemplated their worries and stresses of late. Their dreams. Their goals yet unfulfilled.

Were they eating around their filet mignon, saving the rarest, juiciest, most tender piece for last?

From what I can tell in reading about them and even watching a video of them describing how they translated a lifelong creative passion into a fascinating career, what I keep coming back to is the warmth I saw in their eyes and the crinkles at the corners that spoke of kindness and laughter.

I hope they savored as much of their life as possible. At least, I hope there are very few uneaten turtles in their home, either literally or metaphorically. May we all make a point of appreciating the bounty of our now and indulging in the last of our stash. To life.

(T+58)

A Local Treasure

My favorite place to buy eclectic, eye-catching, and beautiful clothes is a shop called Alchemy, in Frenchtown, New Jersey. I’ve been shopping at this local treasure for quite some time – around 15 years, if I’m not mistaken. The owner, Cleo Sharplin, and her husband, Barry, bring artistry and visionary appreciation for color and unique cuts and fabrics to the Delaware River Valley, where I live.

In early November, I introduced my daughter-in-law to the treasures at Alchemy. I was sure Cleo would be able to find something amazing for her to wear to an event that was on the horizon. Based on my rave reviews, Tiffany was eager to meet Cleo and experience her ‘eye’ and perspective and the way she could ‘put things together.’

We were devastated to discover that Cleo had recently taken a serious fall down some steps in her home and was hospitalized with some dislocations and broken bones – including some vertebrae in her neck. Her recovery was looking scary and extended, and we could see the extreme concern and worry in Barry’s eyes as he described her condition.

Keeping It Together

For his part, in an effort to maintain normalcy, Barry was taking time from his own job to keep the store open, while visiting and staying by Cleo’s bedside when not at the store.

After making our purchases, we assured him that we would keep both of them in our hearts and hope for the best in her recovery.

Since that visit, I have thought of them often. Every time I’d go to New Jersey to put gas in my car, I would drive by Alchemy, wishing I’d gone at a time when the store was open.

Over the past week or so, both Cleo and Barry started popping into my thoughts on a much more frequent basis. I felt a twinge that I didn’t want to admit. And I kept thinking I needed to physically stop in and bring them something, some token to remind them that they really were in my thoughts – that I hadn’t just mouthed the words while at the store to shop.

The urge grew insistent this week. Indeed, yesterday I became a bit aggravated with the way my life became dictated by others’ demands, because I’d really thought I was going to get over to check in with Barry that day.

Finally, today, in spite of the pouring rain and dismal, 37 degree chill in the air, I made a point of getting myself to Frenchtown. With a few small gifts (I figured some delectable chocolate from Pierre’s in New Hope could bring a smile) and a card, I entered the store. I saw Barry in the back of the store, and went directly to him. I re-introduced myself, assuming he wouldn’t necessarily remember me from a few weeks earlier. But I also immediately launched into asking after Cleo’s condition.

Unexpected Diagnosis

His face said it all. I gasped, and whispered, “She didn’t pass away, did she?” No, she hadn’t, admitted Barry. But just last night he’d received word of a devastating – and completely unexpected – diagnosis.

All I could do was hug him. And hug him some more.

The whole time I’ve known Cleo and Barry, they’ve been a unit. Best friends. The love and chemistry has always been palpable.

Barry and Cleo will know more of what to expect in the days to come. I promised I would check in on them next week. In the meantime, Barry is faced with some profound and life-altering decisions regarding many things, not least being the fate of Cleo’s beloved Alchemy.

Facing the Future – How You Can Help

My point in writing this post today is this: If you have the need for an amazing outfit, ranging from something for the most elegant soiree to an evening at home (think New Year’s Eve!), please stop by Alchemy. He needs to move their inventory. I believe there is a 30% storewide discount, as well.

This is a win-win situation: you will find something cool that no one else will be wearing (and everyone will enviously notice and comment upon) and you will be helping out a wonderful pair of lovely human beings who are facing huge and terrifying transformation in every area of their lives.

There are many items there that would also make great gifts.

If you have the means, I urge you: Show a little love to this sweet, creative couple. Let them know we are a village – and connected in perhaps the most miraculous ways.

Alchemy Clothing – 17 Bridge Street – Frenchtown, NJ – 08825

(T-1072)