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Bereaved Comforts

I once had a dear friend who died many years ago. Her family lavished flowers everywhere you looked. Her husband went into debt for her coffin, made of fine wood and brass handles. Perhaps for him, this was his subconscious way to substitute for how he would have lavished his love upon her if she had continued to live. That is the only reason I could come up with at the time. I guess I don't really understand this part of our American death rituals very much.

Do we put the deceased in a strong, sealed coffin because of the idea of the creatures that might eventually desecrate the body? What is it about the coffin? Is it a way to preserve the body, a way to feel like the person is still intact, safe, in a location we know we can go to and be with them, even though underground? What in the world is the purpose?

I keep wondering about the flowers, the ones I, in the past, vehemently stated I wanted no one to give me after my death. How foolish of me to think they would be for me! How oblivious to not realize Linda's flowers were not for her. I've realized the flowers are for the living.

We want to clean up death. We want to find ways to make it prettier, more acceptable, and flowers can do that. The natural beauty of flowers have a powerful effect on the psyche. Why not place flowers around the coffin, on the coffin, for the viewing? Why not have them at the grave site? Without them, the dismal effect of the whole situation would be more painful. We, the bereaved need comfort too. Flowers can bring upliftment of the spirit and that's a great comfort in our time of mourning.

I think now I understand a little bit more about this whole process that I once thought was barbaric.

Lover's Dream

This gentle tune is called Lover's Dream.

It was written and recorded by Mark Salona.

Copyright 2008.

I hope you enjoy the music!!

http://www.youtube.com/user/nutsocket

Saying Good-Bye

If we are traditional, there are fixed ideas we have about death where I live, except perhaps with cremation. We have the body made up so that the deceased looks healthy and happy, as much as possible. We have a viewing where friends and family come and share time with the deceased to say goodbye. We give eulogies, share stories of his or her life, how our lives were affected by this person.

Recently, I've realized that all the ritual we have regarding death of our loved ones is very much to honor them. It also helps us with our grief since it gives us comfort in our bereavement. The idea in our society that death is negative derives from the fact that we will miss that person who died, that there is an empty space in our heart that needs to be filled with something else to replace the fact that he or she will not return.

If one is not present when the death occurs, there is a sense of not having had the opportunity to say goodbye, therefore the ritual of viewing the body. Dressing our loved one in favorite clothing, and physical features made to look healthy and happy can provide a sense of completion. We may tell ourselves, the loved one is no longer inhabiting the body, but still, we want to revere the receptacle which housed the soul we will miss so much.

In our grief, thinking rationally may not be a high priority, and spending money on a satin lined coffin, for example, has everything to do with how much we wish to provide comfort.

Though we might understand that the body, nor the being that once inhabited it, will physically benefit from lying on a cushioned bed surrounded with lovely pleated fabric, we have the need for ourselves to symbolically swaddle the one we loved as we may have in life.

Have you ever offered a friend your coat when they were cold? Shared a blanket? Done something, anything, to help the loved one be more comfortable? Seems to me this is our one last attempt to do the same thing when we say goodbye.

Soul Watcher

In that moment of disconnecting from the body, the clarity returned. We could be with each other, equally sharing the Knowing. Memorizing it to carry forward.

We designed the fulfillment of the our goal through many lifetimes to gain enlightenment, not just for ourselves but also others whether they remembered or not. And soon it would be time for us to join again, permanently, if we could just get you to come through this next time in connection with your remembering.

Then all to soon it was time for you to sleep.

So quickly the knowing gets murky. But, of course that is the way it is. We take our chances when the will is stronger than the seeker within. The will blocks direct communication. It has to make the choice to open to the seeker. I could only let you sleep and return to my Light studies until you were ready.

I remember when first we met this time around. You in the mist, curled like a little seedling, dreaming of this world, then letting it lift you until it fell away. Yes, even then a part of you was ready to leave. You began floating along in the warmth of the darkness.

I wanted to tell you then, how things would be, but I knew you would have to find out for yourself.

It was my job to protect you and guide you. And you were in no state to be approached with the Knowledge. I wished I could tell you. But you had to re-discover it for yourself.

Most every one has an idea that includes the sense of the protector, the messenger, the guardian angel. So many times you saw masculinity as divine. It was natural that was what you expect me to fulfill.

I was just your soul watcher as you had been mine. I took the form you needed... we needed... to join as one in the end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: Digital art by Elizabeth Munroz

What Choice?

I wish
I could have told you
certain things.
Too many factors
blocked
our connection.


There are no regrets.
Simply...
it is how
it unfolded.

We are challenged
from all directions.
Each having
it's own cause
and effect;
it becomes
a matter of choice
which way we'll go,
where we are lead,
who we follow...
or not.

We take our path
with intention
fiercely burning
or not.

We stand aside
we watch
observing molecules
dewdrops on tulips
letting life happen
or not

I wish
I could have told you
what you needed to know
that you would survive
and become
someone else

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Digital art by Elizabeth Munroz

Amy Obenski: Words on a Page

Voice poetry, I call it. Only better. Amy's got a new video out. I'm enjoying the nuances.

End of the World?

"Just When the caterpillar thought her world had ended she turned into a butterfly."
~ Proverb

Vase Gazing

It was like having a well-trained dog whining at the door with a leash in his mouth insisting you take him out for relief. I felt so unsettled. I must do something! Anything... to finish unpacking from my move. So, I grabbed the box sitting nearby. It was full of fine glass vases in different colors.

Collecting beautiful glass vases just so that I can set them in a windowsill sans flowers has been a hobby of mine for many years. My mother collected them passed some on to me to start my own collection. I like to gaze at the colors when light shines through them. I find vase gazing soothing to my soul.

I didn't realize it at the time, but this collection created a significant bond between my ex-roommate and I. When I first moved into Helen’s home, I asked if I could line up my vases in her huge living room window. She didn’t mind, but was surprised that I had such a collection. She had never heard of such a thing, and thought it a little odd that I only liked to look at the bright colors and not put flowers in my vases.

As time passed, I added more to the collection until the sill was crammed tightly with them. Shortly before I was to move to my new apartment, we had a yard sale and I culled many from my collection to sell. 

I sat up the night before, pricing them, as I packed away the keepers, leaving the window bereft. It made quite an impact on both of us the next morning as we noticed how drab that corner of the room had become without the emanating rainbow of color. During the yard sale Helen gathered up my culled vases and insisted on buying them from me, then put them up in her window. "Where they belong." She said.

Saints and Sinners

The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future

-- Oscar Wilde, "A Woman of No Importance"

Geneen Roth, Women Food and God

Oh, how I wish I could attend this event. Geneen Roth is going to be in Watsonville soon. I have a previous engagement from which I cannot excuse myself somewhere else. I met Geneen years ago and she inspired me so much.

I can't wait to get my hands on a copy of her new book. I'd like to understand my most unusual relationship to food. Due to medical problems I can barely eat enough to sustain proper nutrition, but it sure doesn't look that way. My body hangs on to every ounce I ever had. I would like to look at this as normal and maybe even spiritual as it looks like her book elucidates:

Women Food and God: An Unexpected Path to Almost Everything

"The way you eat is inseparable from your core beliefs about being alive. No matter how sophisticated or wise or enlightened you believe you are, how you eat tells all. The world is on your plate. When you begin to understand what prompts you to use food as a way to numb or distract yourself, the process takes you deeper into realms of spirit and to the bright center of your own life. Rather than getting rid of or instantly changing your conflicted relationship with food, Women Food and God is about welcoming what is already here, and contacting the part of yourself that is already whole—divinity itself."

Read more from her site

Wanna Buy a Computer, Mister?

Geek Granny

sits in bed

with two laptops

installing anti-virus

and updating 30 files

from Windows

It's like staying

up all night

with colicky babies.

Disposophobia

Definition of Disposophobia:

"Compulsive hoarding (or pathological hoarding or disposophobia) is the excessive acquisition of possessions  (and failure to use or discard them), even if the items are worthless, hazardous, or unsanitary. Compulsive hoarding impairs mobility and interferes with basic activities..."

~~~~~~

Note: 

Digital Art by Elizabeth Munroz

Not Dying

I will not die an unlived life.

I will not live in fear

of falling or catching fire.

I choose to inhabit my days,

to allow my life to open me,

to make me less afraid,

more accessible,

to loosen my heart

until it becomes a wing,

a torch, a promise.

I choose to risk  my significance,

to live so that which came to me as seed

goes to the next as blossom,

and that which came to me as blossom,

goes on as fruit.

-----Dawna Markova

Music to My Ears.

I was surprised to find part of my manuscript on the doorstep today. I had asked a friend for a read and critique. I'm so encouraged to learn that my writing had passed inspection of this retired educator whose opinion I hold in high esteem.

I called to discuss with her the few sections she marked with comments. Interestingly, these were parts I had stumbled over, and had decided to let sit until the right words would come later. After all, this was a first draft of just a section of my new book to be. Perfect phrasing is not born from first thoughts and pen scratches or pecks at the keyboard no matter how inspired the author, I believe.

I was flattered to learn that while she was reading, she became absorbed enough she forgot she was supposed to read critically and instead was enjoying the read for what it was.

I look up to and admire this woman's expertise and it was a tremendous boost to my confidence and an inspiration to keep writing! Today was a warm fuzzy smile day.

Carousel

Spinning carousel returns the same old horse again
Ramble on and on,
the thoughts that fill my head
Sometimes I wake up
there's nothing there but emptiness
so I search myself for what there was to do

Flashing backward still
I think about my youthful dreams
Honest childhood, running dry of years
Sometimes I look back
it doesn't seem that it was me
So who was I then, who am I today?

Can you hear me now?

My thoughts are moving fast
can't seem to catch them in the draft
Floating upward like a kite that's left my grip
Flying higher toward the sky, so blue
I crane my neck
And try to follow as it drifts off into space...
  
lyrics © by Amy Obenski

Carousel was part of an episode on "Grey's Anatomy" in season four.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: published by permission from Amy Obenski

Twenty Miles from a Match

Can you imagine living a hundred years ago? Can you imagine taking your six kids to live in the desert, build your own house and live off the land?
 
That's exactly what author, Sarah Olds, experienced. Aside from being a quick read, her biography, Twenty Miles from a Match, which reads like a story, really appealed to me because of the subject. Homesteading in Nevada was something my great uncle and his wife had done at the turn of the last century.

I always wondered what life was like for them. It's a biographical book but reads like a story. It's not filled with dry facts and dates, but a wonderful memoir, well written.

Sarah, didn't mention my family members by name, but there is no doubt in my mind that they knew each other, as the author mentions businesses and locations where my family were present within that small population. My Great Uncle ran the railroad station and my great Auntie was a telegrapher. So, I was fascinated to have this back yard glimpse to that era.

It's amazing to realize how medical care was handled back then, often with home grown remedies. I couldn't have imagined advanced medical care being available including surgery for a tumor. But, there it was. Her son was sent by train to San Francisco for surgery, and sent back to the homestead in the middle of nowhere so mother could treat his infected wound.

How did she succeed without the proper treatment methods we know today, without proper equipment, disinfectant antibiotics? You'll have to read the book.

Past - Present - Future

.

.

It is said that if you want to know what you were doing in the past, look at your body now.

If you want to know what will happen in the future, look at what your mind is doing now.

~Dalai Lama

~~~~~~~~~~

Digital art created by Elizabeth Munroz

Forgetting to Remember

I forget where I put my glasses
I forget why I took them off.
I forget I have them on top of my head.
I forget they are right over my eyes!

I forget where I put my keys
when I'm holding them in my hand,
or stuck in the front door all night long
I lock myself out of my house or car.

To protect myself from forgetting,
I bought five sets of keys
Now there are only two.
I forget what happened to the rest.

I forget where I put important papers:
checkbooks, medical bills, tax receipts.
I forget how to balance my checkbook,
how to do math.
I used to work as a bookkeeper for a big corporation.
How is that?

I put books in the car to return to the library,
forget they are there...
for months
and pay fines I cannot afford.

I forget appointments with the doctor,
my friends, my lover.
So tired of explaining myself when I forget.
I tell little lies instead.
Traffic was bad, an emergency came up,
sorry I couldn't call to let you know.

I forget to look at my hand
For the reminders I have written on my skin.

From moment to moment I forget what day it is.
I look at my calendar first thing in the morning,
last thing at night, throughout the day
to put into my brain what day it is, what I have scheduled.
But, later I forget.

I don't realize until hours after the time passed me by,
Suddenly, something on the radio or TV reminds me
it’s Tuesday, not Friday. It’s 5 p.m. not three.
I run to look at my calendar,
the missed appointment is now going to cost me $50.
Another day I look at my calendar,
see my appointment is for 2 o'clock p.m.
Promptly forgetting, and instead show up at 11 a.m.
This really happened.
At least, I was ahead of time,

I forget where I put the phone just after using it,
only to discover that it is right beside me,
and I wonder how it got there.
I thought I looked there a moment ago.
It wasn't there. I’d swear.
Or was it?

I forget phone numbers.
Why can't I remember them?
I have to look them up in my little black book,
wherever that is!
I tell myself to always put it back in my purse.
Not there.
I look inside my purse over and over again,
not recognizing what is in front of me.

I thought I knew where I was going
from one room to the other.
I forget why, and return to where I was
in order to remember,
and start again, forgetting again.

I forget that I drew money out of my checking account,
a lot of money.
Then, I am shocked for bounced checks fines.

I forget I am cleaning a closet,
and go to do the dishes.
I forget  I am doing the dishes
and go to the desk to write myself a note.
I forget I am looking for a pen
and start cleaning out the drawer.
Then remember the  mess sitting by the closet
and begin there again.
Then, the pan that is sitting on the stove smokes
Setting off the smoke alarm.
When did I turn on the stove?

Elizabeth Munroz - February 07, 2001

~~~~~~~~

Note: That was then. This is now. I realize it was not as bad as I believed.

Home

Place is often something you don’t see because you’re so familiar with it…

But in fact it is the information your reader most wants to know.

~~~ Dorothy Allison



Note: Photo by David J. Deane

Insomnia

three in morning

still awake

nothing new under the moon



~~~~~~~~~~~~
Note: digital art by myself, Elizabeth Munroz

Rationalizing Book Disposal

In the last year or so, I have been slowly parting with books only to buy more, from Amazon, Paperbackswap or half.com . That last one is a problem because you trade one book for another... I have book shelves in every room in the house and a little one for magazines in the bathroom. Everyone reads there. Right?

I've taken at least a hundred to sell to a local bookstore. But, in order to really let go, I am having to talk myself into it. Aside from attempting to reach a more minimalist lifestyle, I realized they took up a lot of space and that adds to my sensation that my home is too cluttered.

Because of my asthma and allergies it is a good idea to not have dust catchers on the book shelves. Some older books have mold and that's really bad for allergies. I find more and more, that I read on the internet. There are some very good authors sharing their work this way for free or a small fee. If you have a title of an older book you're interested in, go to google books and see if they have it online to read. If you visit publishing houses sometimes they have a free book to download. Oftentimes they have sample chapters to get you interested in buying new books. My daughter did this with her Kindle and ended up buying the author's whole series.

I donate my books to the local Senior Center, the hospital borrowing library, 2 nursing homes and my local freecycle group. Older textbooks go to recycle bin. Magazines in good condition, I leave at doctor's offices. Though pretty soon there will be no more magazines as I am not renewing them.

I don't make use of libraries because I'm terrible about returning books on time. I have never been able to break that habit and have spent too much paying fines. Not worth it for me.

Another rationale I give myself for clearing my bookshelves? I live in earthquake country. I have this queasy image of dying beneath an avalanche of books.

And still I struggle with the part of me that is kicking and screaming, holding on for dear life to every page as I self righteously pry them from her clutches.


~~~~~~
Note:
First picture is one I took of my son with comic book character in Barnes and Noble, San Francisco
Second picture of books piled upon body is from: http://jalainer.blogspot.com

Becoming...

 You should think

not only that you become a mother

when your child is born,

but also that you become a child.

              ~~~Dogen

Note: Photo is of my sister and her daughter

Can you prove who you are without a shadow of a doubt

Can you prove who you are without a shadow of a doubt? Are you a citizen of the country you live in? Are you a citizen of another country? Do you have dual citizenship? Do you have adequate documentation?

I just recently received a letter from a government agency demanding that I provide evidence of my citizenship. Easy thing to do. Right? Just produce an original or certified birth certificate, not a photocopy, they say.

There's a problem with this. I can contact the birth records department for the state I was born in. I can ask for a copy of my birth certificate. But, I will need to provide either a credit card or send a check to pay for my copy. I doubt they will be accepted as my present name is not the one I was given at birth.

I completely changed my full name  by a common law practice of assuming a new name, registering it with social security, driver's license and bank. It was easy to do back then, and quite acceptable. That was nearly 30 years ago. It is my understanding that I would need to go to court to have it changed. Which brings us back to proving who I once was.

Presuming that I cannot receive a certified copy of my birth certificate, I have slim options. I am only allowed to have one affidavit signed by a family member stating that they knew me to be who I claim to be I once was and they knew me when I changed my name to who I am now.

I would be surprised if there many facing the same issue on this level. How many old hippies changed there name the way I did?

I would need another affidavit signed by an unrelated person who can prove their own citizenship stating they knew me before and after. I haven't stayed in touch with childhood friends. That leaves my Ex-Husband. Hmmm... I wonder where he lives now. If I found him would he be willing to sign an affidavit that he knew my name was one thing and then I changed it to another.

What amazes me about this requirement is how it could possibly be acceptable proof of my citizenship, based upon another person's say so. Some dishonest people may have an easy time of doing this. It bothers me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Note: I wrote this several months ago. I did not want to publish it until I received my new birth certificate with my new name, which I now have.

Harvest Festival

They weave in and out.

Those ancient dancers

A joyous trance to perform.

In their fine feathers they strut

One after another taking their places

In reverent fashion

Lining up, moving sinuously

To the timing of the lute.

Each one following the other

Orderly now, each one in step,

Synchronized perfection,

Just as the wheat is blown

A single stem at a time

As the grain weaves itself

like an ocean across the seed heads.

Golden and warm in the sunlight

Bending and giving space to one another

Like the ebb and flow of waves

All falling together.

Not one out of place

All timing in perfect sequence.

As the wind dies away

Each dancer raises her head

Looking about in satisfaction.

The work is complete as the sun

Kisses the grain farewell.

Inspired by the music of John Doan, “Tra Amici” from Departures
Elizabeth Munroz

Yellow for Victory

 What are you doing on Livestrong Day 2010?

The Livestrong Manifesto

We believe in life.
Your life.
We believe in living every minute of it with every ounce of your being.
And that you must not let cancer take control of it.
We believe in energy: channeled and fierce.
We believe in focus: getting smart and living strong.
Unity is strength.
Knowledge is power.
Attitude is everything.
This is LIVESTRONG.

We kick in the moment you’re diagnosed.
We help you accept the tears.
Acknowledge the rage.
We believe in your right to live without pain.
We believe in information. Not pity.
And in straight, open talk about cancer.
With husbands, wives and partners.
With kids, friends and neighbors.
Your healthcare team.
And the people you live with, work with, cry and laugh with.
This is no time to pull punches.
You’re in the fight of your life.

We’re about the hard stuff.
Like finding the nerve to ask for a second opinion.
And a third, or a fourth, if that’s what it takes.
We’re about preventing cancer. Finding it early.
Getting smart about clinical trials.
And if it comes to it, being in control of how your life ends.
It’s your life. You will have it your way.

We’re about the practical stuff.
Planning for surviving.
Banking your sperm.
Preserving your fertility.
Organizing your finances.
Dealing with hospitals, specialists, insurance companies and employers.
It’s knowing your rights.
It’s your life.
Take no prisoners.

We’re about the fight.

~~~The LIVESTRONG Manifesto

Great Power

Sand Grains
free movement
Dunes redistributing sediment

Beaches eroding
ocean waves
washing shorelines
Surf rolling, pounding.
Coastline shrinking
White water curling,
through seaside rocks.

Moss, all green, alive
holding tenaciously
swirled and twirled

Low tide
sucks away the shore.
High tide flooding.

Moon stands upon the ripples,
tip toe light on moving prisms,
raising and lowering tides.

Water
It's just water.
The great power
moving and changing
the geography of the world