CHOOSE

There is a conversation about cancer that I cannot avoid. The scars on my arm, the markers of my lifeguarding years, melanoma their way into my memory bank, as remember my diagnoisis in 96. I still slather sunscreen on and wear long sleeve shirts.

I am like an electrical dryer of emotions, tumbling the different colors of all feelings, what I choose to take out first and fold back into my life is completely up for grabs right now.

My girlfriend is watching her boyfriend die from pancreatic cancer. A vibrant creative loving man who is only 55, trying to stay here, traveling to Mexico for new treatments, flanked by healers and anyone who wants to help. He is fighting for his life, a life not long enough; time wasted in regrets, disapointments are setting in, each day is now precious. His daily thoughts now push through the terror of surrendering his body.

Another friend is leaving her husband. The man after years of producing projects, and telling important stories that touch the world in special ways has chosen a bong and Bordeaux. Abhorrent behavior of childhood wounds, like a cancer has infected their marriage. The self fulfilling prophecy of never being good enough, morphing into mediocrity, numbing his pain, the arrested development of a teenager. He has chosen this, instead of facing his truth and choosing to acknowledge the grip of his concretized ego.

Cancer/illness/loss is an opportunity. When you have it, it makes you fight for your life, when you see it in others it gives you the opportunity to live differently, it is a great equalizer to self pity.

Its how we deal with it that will create our lives,.... or not.

Emotional problems are illnesses too. The crime of what adults do to children is the harsh brutality of the world, even when parents are well meaning, children still suffer. They suffer the unresolved problems of the parents.

When you are a child you CANT choose, but as an adult you have the power TO choose.

These are crucial times of choice. How are we going to live in these extraordinary times?

What are we willing to accept? If I accept behavior that is harmful and dangerous I enable.

I can love but I also have the right to protect myself from other peoples choices.

There is no wrong choice; there are just consequences to our actions.

Choice is a tool in how to create you life.

I am having a hard time being neutral. I tumble with the heat of passion for life and the importance of being here, and I must let go of the notion that not all of us want to stay, and fight. If you don’t say yes to the pain, and choose to numb it, you don’t get the other side of the pain, the joys, the fulfillment, the ecstasy.

I will honor those who are exiting this life, as well as celebrate those who choose to stay and fight.

I choose to stay and see the beauty, live the pain, listen to the messages Spirit sends my way and find the love.

Love Is In The Air

This mother’s day I found myself honoring the day in a very different way. I was alone for the first time in many years to be with the feelings of not being a mother to a child, a cat yes, however not having a human family to celebrate anyone’s mother,I decided to spend the day, the best way I could, ....I worked.

I opened up opportunities for sons and daughters to communicate with their deceased moms.

I never know what will show up in sessions but I could feel that talk and chatter was in the air.

It is in interesting process when I wake knowing that there are loved ones already talking to me about their children.

My cat sitting in the sun let me know what kind of day it would be as he lifted up his head to sniff the air. So happy for a dog to walk by, or a bird to land in the tree, he smelled what he loved. I knew it would be a brilliant day.

I bounced put of bed knowing that my first client was in for a treat. Her mom full of pride and love wanted to chat, but she had to wait the three hours as I started my morning, my electric tooth brush needed charging, the plants a good watering and when I got to my office, more time consuming busyness, vacuuming, opening mail and brewing a cup of coffee kept the dead at bay.

I feel a “push’ that comes before the session, s faint voice saying "I’m ready, where are they??” or I will be shown images by a deceased loved of some urgency in re-directing the daughters driving so she wont be late, helping get a good parking space. Sometimes they will show me how bad a driver their child is, what they were listening to in the car, or who they were talking (illegally) on the cell phone before they get to my office.

Then there are the moments I have cravings that I don’t normally have, cravings that get stronger as the deceased get closer. Ideas of baked beans, cream filled bon bons, even gin can waft through my head before a deceased shows up. Things I would never think of eating are often delights that were consumed and now missed by those on the other side.

In death and in life, love between mothers and children is never really lost.

Finding it and capturing it for brief moments is always in the air.