A Robin's Egg

Recently, on my runs down River Forest Road, I have been visited by a full moon bellied robin. She comes to me and bathes herself twirling in water, refreshing herself, completely immersed in the joy of her motherhood. She smiles at me and beckons me to stop and watch her. She whispers to me that she might like to rest upon my lap awhile while she unfolds the story of her life. I sit and listen with my heart open wide. I thank her for the joy she brings me and I move on with my day as a ever-so-slightly changed person.

This morning I was greeted with a robin's egg at my door step. At first it made me horribly sad to think that this egg had fallen from it's mother's warm embrace only to reach its demise harshly at my feet. I asked my guides about it's meaning, they replied, "don't put all your eggs in one basket." As I further searched for it's symbolic meaning I learned that the robin is symbolic of the sun, new beginnings, joy, hope and clarity. The robin lays eggs several times a year, laying about 3-5 eggs each time but not all eggs will develop into baby robins. When the mother sees that there is an empty egg she tosses it out of her nest so that the rest can thrive. The beautiful blue and brown speckled discarded egg reminds me to take inventory of what is working in my life and what is not. A reminder that hope for a new beginning and clarity is there for me when I've discarded old thought patterns that hinder my soul growth. I can toss out the empty eggs that no longer have promise of life and keep only what is thriving in my basket.  The robin lets go of a dream that no longer serves her and allows other dreams to take form, flourish and fly. 

I dream of being that mother robin, although that blue egg was beautiful there was no life and therefore no reason to hold on to the past that serves me not. 

Somtimes I'm a Fiver-Year-Old Little Girl

My ego is like a five-year-old little girl. At times, certainly recently, it has been throwing tantrums, some serious ones at that. My higher self is the mother of that five-year-old, who tries to calm my little girl ego into understanding that everything will be fine if only I would stop doubting and let go of trying to control every detail of my life.

  

The mother beckons me to stop and listen for a little while and not get so caught up in my fear of lack, a fear that the life I dream of will pass me by. The mother consoles me by reminding me that everything has its divine reason and timing and will surely lead me closer to fulfilling my life’s purpose.

But fear is powerful and the little girl sometimes gets carried away. The more the mother tries to soothe her, the louder she screams and the harder she kicks. So the mother decides that a time-out is appropriate for the little girl, a vibration tune up if you will. The mother tries to bring her daughter back into divine alignment and in order to do that, the little girl must be sent “up” to her room to reflect on and contemplate what she knows to be true.

The mother suggests that it’s time to go “upstairs” and the little girl spirals out of control screaming even louder and latching on to the door way intensely. The mother isn’t able to pull her “up”. The harder the mother pulls the more her daughter rebels. Realizing this will not work, the mother decides to sit and wait out the storm.

Sitting next to her daughter the mother simply begins to rub her daughter’s back in soothing small circles. The little girl on the floor is in a heap, sobbing. She doesn’t want to go upstairs again, for the millionth time. She doesn’t want to let go of her belief that God has forgotten her or that God won’t remember the dreams she has for herself. The little girl feels like a victim, abandoned by God. “No body cares about me. If they did they would give me what I want…RIGHT NOW.” The mother whispers in her ear, “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” But the little girl can’t hear anything over her self-loathing. She weeps for herself.

Whimpering the little girl sniffles and wipes her nose on her mother’s sleeve and then something magical happens; as if the little girl is sitting on top of a very tall and slippery slide, she pushes herself off. In a free fall she releases into the feeling of acceptance of exactly where she is on her journey. As she descends from the top, her spirit rises inside of her and she begins to see clearly. All the kicking and screaming seems silly now, she feels embarrassed and humbled. Her tear-drenched face is swollen and she recognizes that her mother never left her side.

The mother is a witness for her daughter’s purging and realizes that what her daughter needed was not to be yanked up but to be let down. She needed to sit with her daughter, exactly where she was and listen, allowing her fears to be voiced and released. She needed to go down the slide with her daughter not up the stairs.

The little girl is exhausted from fighting herself and curls up in her mother’s lap. Her mother softly sings her a lullaby and a sweet prayer to God for grace and finally, finally, peace of mind.

A Singing Cleaning Woman by Hafiz

A Leaf says,

"Sweethearts-don't pick me

For I am busy doing 

God's Work.

I'm lowering my veins and roots 

Like ropes with buckets tied to them

Into the earth's deep lake. 

I am drawing water that I offer

like a rose to the sky. 

I am a singing cleaning woman

Dusting all the shelves in the air.

With my elegant green rags.

I have a heart.

I can know happiness

like you." 

I AM affirmation Video

The Sun Never Says

Even after all this time

The sun never says to the earth,

"You Owe Me."

Look what happens with a 

Love like that,

It lights the whole sky.

-Hafiz

"Better Than" by The John Butler Trio - Makes Me Happy

Let it Shine

When you think you’ve lost everything, it’s there you find it all. I lost my job, my home, my friends and I thought I’d lost God. But the truth of the matter is, is that I was just beginning to understand what and who God is. We are all beings of light for which this whole world desires to be. We are the shining love of Christ’s hands, the open space of Buddha’s heart. We’ve been sent to help those who can’t see the forest for the trees, to comfort, to illuminate and show the way home.

How we react to life’s challenges can be a shining example for others. It informs those who are on the sidelines of our lives, where we are in the midst of our story.

-Our response to the challenge IS the teacher.-

Being conscious of our reactions will mirror our hold on the material world; our tight grasp on that which is of no importance and must be released to be free of fear.

Everything in this world is momentary and all material falls away. I have been reminded of this once again through the recent death of my grandfather. He worked hard and attained much. Took brave steps toward a future that brought me to the place in which I stand. He carved out a corner to live and filled his home with items that made him comfortable. But all of those belongings and ideas of how the world should be are now reduced to the two most important possessions that will never fade, his love for his family and his faith in God.

As I watched my grandfather being laid to rest, I had a paradoxical experience in that I felt peace all around him as I shuddered with grief and fear. There was a moment of complete surrender to my emotions when I first laid eyes on his lifeless body. I cannot explain the pain I felt with my loss of him in my physical life. I was scared to see him, hysterical at best. But even in the throws of sorrow and panic I had the clarity of his tranquil spirit. He’d taken me in his arms and in his embrace I knew for sure there is a God. He was free from his body, his illness could no longer restrain him and his ego could no longer separate him from his Creator. I stood there with the strength of my family, looking on to my grandfather repeating the words, “I love you, I love you, I love you, Thank you, Thank you.” With that I said goodbye to his human form.

It’s said that the empty space, the silence, between the notes is what makes the music, with out the silence we hear only a single note, aaaaaaaaaaa. It’s the opening within the clay vase that makes it so. With out the exposed cavern it is only a clay mass. We are that vase and love resides in the open room of our hearts. Our body is a temporary dwelling for our soul; we’re spiritual beings having a human experience. Looking into each other’s eyes, long and deep, we’ll see the warm illumination of a soul; there a radiant light is left on to help guide each other home. God beckons us to let our light shine. I asked, “How may I serve?” and the Divine answered with LOVE, pure, naked, “LOVE”.

Broken Open

I begin this chronicle on the heels of my maternal grandfather’s death. He passed away last night around 9:45, peacefully surrounded by his family and friends. I was not there when he passed because I live a five-hour car drive north from the rest of my extended family. I tell you this because it’s what prompts me to begin to write what I’ve wanted to write for a very long time. I’ve mulled over many ideas for blogs never committing to one. I would come up with an imaginative title and theme only to feel disconnected, off course.

Last night I received a phone call from my cousin, Christina, telling me that my grandfather was in the process of dying, “It’s happening”. I was not shocked; I’d been preparing myself for months, as he’d been bedridden for almost a year. But more importantly I wasn’t shocked because for a week now my nightly and morning dreams had been preparing me for this particular event. The morning of the day he died I dreamt that I held my grandmother’s tear filled face in my hands and I told her it was time for grandpa to go. I took hold of her hand and led her into the bedroom to say our tear-drenched goodbyes.

When I awoke I had a tightness in my stomach that I couldn’t explain and a nagging need to call grandma. The day got away from me, one thing led to another and it was 9pm before I had the chance to sit down with the kids in bed. I was about to pick up the phone, when it rang with Christina sobbing on the other end. We cried together, lamenting our desire to be together for grandpa and agreed that she would call me as things progressed. The phone rang again at 9:50pm with the news of his passing. I felt an immediate release in my stomach and a feeling of peace surrounding my grandfather. The tears were like streamers running down my cheeks.

I am one of eight grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren, each of us holds very different memories of him but we all agree that being a practical jokester and troublemaker was his specialty. For me he is a symbol of courage and determination, of bravery and stubbornness.

I am a first generation American. In 1968 my grandfather decided to bring his family to America from Terceira, Azores (one of nine islands that belong to Portugal). At that time there was no future on the island, no running water, no electricity, no room to grow. So in the middle of the night, with out warning to the extended family, my grandfather slipped his family onto a plane bound for America. It blows my mind when I think about the culture shock they must have endured; my mom was seventeen at the time. They persevered, worked hard and built a life in a sleepy Northern California coastal town. My grandfather worked as a mill worker at several mills. He worked the night shift at one and the morning shift at another all with the desire to give his family a better life, a chance to have the American dream.

He inspires me to have courage in the face of fear, to be brave and risk looking like a fool or worse feeling like a failure. I am here today because of his audacity to dream, because he took the leap and risked everything on hope.

In his dying months he was cared for around the clock by my grandmother (who endured cancer during this time and is now in remission), my mother, aunt and uncle. There was not a need that was not met by the coming together of our family.

As he progressively deteriorated he would forget where he was and who was taking care of him. He had some lucid moments but they were quickly replaced by him speaking to family members who’d already passed, ordering his mother for a glass of water. On the phone today my grandmother tearfully said that up to the end of his journey he called for me. “Julie! Julie? Julie.” This was not in character for him since he called all the women in our family Maria. This may sound insignificant to some since he was so out of touch with reality but I savor that he called for me by name. A name I never felt connected to and always wondered why my parents would've picked that name of all names. My siblings are Dino, Franscico and Alina, those are strong Portuguese names and then there is Julie, different, outcast, Americanized.

Me, Julie?! Really? I can’t imagine why since he loved all of us equally. I have a sneaking suspicion that as he began to spend more of his time in a dream state connecting to God and his own higher spirit, he must have seen me there. He must have seen that I’d be able to see through the politics of his faith and be able to communicate with him after his physical death. I feel his presence now guiding me. I have denied my connection to the other side since I was a little girl and I’ve denied it out of fear and a desire to conform. In his death I am inspired to become more myself and share it. I promise to dwell in the realm of possibilities. I am broken open and the tightness in my stomach bleeds out the truth of who I am…me, Julie.

My grandfather is at peace and I feel even more connected to him in his passing than I ever have. O amarei para sempre vovô. O verei nos meus sonhos. Boa noite.