Mercy... mercy... me....

In the weeks and months to follow What felt to be, the collapse of my internal and external worlds simultaneously, I reached a stage of mercy. Still uncomfortable with such self love I walk through the hours of each day with conflicting thoughts on accepting what is.  In fact making peace with it.

While in the midst of mourning, I am also watching my goat mourn, the loss of her lifetime partner.  She has no ambition to leave her little goat house, or forage for food or even be with the other animals. She just sleeps. I watch as day after day rolls by and her lackluster existence deteriorates to physical atrophy. There is an empathy I feel because I know the will to breathe is even diminished in the wake of such loss.
Finally concerned for her well being (and mine) I decided to tame her a bit. She was always Willy's goat, not mine. I never asked her to accept me or any of my ways. Now it seems I may be the only game in town. I slipped a collar on her and began giving leading lessons to a ten year old goat!
Soon I saw she would venture out in the pasture with the horses after our sessions. I felt that somehow it sparked a broader outlook. Perhaps there is life after death? She would return just a few minutes later, lay down and sleep again. But... this was progress.
Then a day came when I found myself with no job that day. Also, with it came the first heavy rain of the season. All I wanted to do was sleep. I began berating myself for "laziness!" "You must get something done, make use of this down time." Then I realized my goat was kinder to herself than I was to myself. She had a mercy to her mourning which I was lacking. It took some deep self talk but I finally yielded the day to rest. What a concept....? mercy in the face of mourning. Could this be one of the blessings left in the wake of tragedy?

Death of a dream, An Awakening.....

Within this human existence, is a percieved reality which is created through experience. My life experience is combined with my perception of other people's experiences. Seeing life through an emotional filter created from our entire past, creates illusions. Much like dreaming does when we sleep.
 As I  realize I am dreaming my world each day. I begin to observe the characters in it. I see reactions to situations as choices. And most of all, I am aware that all life and everything in it is tangible. With this in mind I know my role can be entirely creative.

Life moves like the changing scene of an ever flowing river. My vantage point, the shore. Then from another shoreline, other people dreaming their realities and interpreting their truth to be as real as mine.
 The same river rushes past them, in ways unseen by me, though I too am a tangible character in their dream. Where then? lies the reality of truth? perhaps in the death of the dream itself. The awakening. Non perception, non judgement. To acknowledge emotions as doorways rather than boxes. Signposts on pathways pointing to perhaps...? The only end is perceptual.

It was a beautiful Sunday morning, late in July. I had been trying to reach my Sister Kathie by phone. Her Birthday was the next day and I had hoped to take her to dinner. Kathie had been battling for many years, alcoholism and life in general. It was a common experience for me that she would not answer my calls. This was just one of the many catalyst for me to learn about perceptual reality.
Watching  my loved one personally destroy her health and any hope of happiness with alcohol has to be one of the greatest lessons in acceptance I have ever known.

I phoned my Brother who lived just a mile from Kathie, and asked if he would go and check on her? After weeks of calling her the answering machine was full, and would not accept any more messages. He said he would. I had no idea what I was asking of him in this moment. We both believed he would find her hold up in her home.

Within an hour I received a call that would shatter all concepts I may have had of what truth was for me, and for Kathie. I believed I knew her. I felt she spoke to me of her pain. On this fateful day  I came to find out I knew nothing.

My Brother called and said, "Mary you must come here now. She is dead, she put a knife in her heart "  I can never express in words the experience I felt witnessing the complete implosion of my truth.

A Time to grieve, a time to heal, let it be.

I am beginning a journey of deep and painful release. As with so many  journeys of the soul the road is a bit uncharted and unfamiliar. I have never blogged, read a blog, considered blogging, nor do I know anything about it. Though I do know one thing. I am in a time of transformation. And my current process is calling me to reach out and in at the same time. As I was studying this morning, of mourning, I saw a spiral. One that was moving two directions, out and in. I wondered what it would look like to travel a path in this way. Next thing ya know I am blogging. So this is my first of many posts. I call, like yelling in an empty canyon, full of hidden life. "Hello"..... "is there anyone here?" This morning of mourning the answer is yes I Am.