In Honor of Mimi

The bench inscription shall read:
Marianne S. d'Elia, 
who walked this path through six decades,                                                      ever with a spring in her step 
and a smile for every passerby.

Sitting on the bench that will soon bear her name.

 

In her final year of walking around Wilde Lake, 2010.

_________________

"The quieter you become, the more you can hear."

~ Ram Dass

Honoring the void

Mutual effort and teamwork yields success!

My high-spirited mother had a passion for living.  In her mid-life years and beyond, after her mastectomy, she took great pride in hitting the gym several times a week, working diligently with a personal trainer to regain range of motion and improve her upper body strength.  I recall with great fondness how she'd roll up her sleeves to show off her defined arms. 

There was much about her to love and admire.  I miss her dearly and daily.  Last night I attended my first Legacies Support Group offered by Providence Hospice.  The focus is mother loss.  There are ten of us in the group, mostly women in our fifties and sixties.  Four women are there with a sister, including two who are in their late twenties.  

Do no assume anything, including what we may or may not share in common.  Trust me when I say that our stories are vastly different.  Believe this: some of us are angry.  Most of us are experiencing fuzzy thinking and intense emotions that come in sudden waves.  Some of us are drifting through our days with no sense of direction.  All of us are seeking to fill a void.  

I know my mother would be in full support of me choosing to join such a group.  She was my number one cheerleader in nearly every endeavor I embraced over the course of my life.  She admired my self-direction and my willingness to partner with others.  She wrote intimate heartfelt letters of support that I treasure dearly.  Have I said I miss her?

Each day affords new opportunities for each of us.  Right now, for me, it's enough to simply honor that I'm grieving.  

A song for the world

Give good gifts one to another, 
Peace, joy and comfort gladly bestow; 
Harbor no ill 'gainst sister or brother, 
Smooth life's journey, as you onward go.

Broad as the sunshine, free as the showers,
So shed an influence, blessing to prove;
Give for the noblest of efforts your pow'rs;
Blest and be blest, is the law of love.

~ Shaker hymn

Lean, leap, live!

Friend Kris Berg shows fine form in her bungee jumping debut,
Cape Town, South Africa.

When I dare to be powerful, to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.  

~ Audre Lorde

Inspirations

 Beautiful tree art found along the west shore of Maui, 2005. 

I am intentional in my seeking of peaceful places.  Beach and woodland walks, the yoga studio, my home; all offer me the gifts of peace and quiet.  Equally valued is inspiration, though I am less intentional in seeking it.   The important thing seems simply to be open to it; to recognize when I see, hear, or feel inspired on some level.  

After my swim today, I was pulling on my boots when a woman came into view.  She walked gingerly with the aid of a cane and appeared to have full use of her right side.  Her left arm was bent at the elbow and holding a bag; her left leg offered her sufficient stability to walk, though it was clear the left side was weak and less abled that her right.  

Deliberate and with great care, she approached.  I wanted to say something.  I wanted to speak from my heart.  It was important to first get her attention.  "Hi," I said.  She looked up, stopped, steadied herself, and returned my greeting.  Our eyes met.  I spoke with a level tone absent of drama.  "I draw inspiration from you."  

She looked at my eyes, then at my body, then back at my eyes.  Scanning me.  Reading me.  "You look like you have inspiration enough," she replied, as if she found me sufficiently whole.  I continued to meet her gaze.  "We all need inspiration, and you are offering it to me."  Before she moved on, I saw her shoulders drop and relax a little.  And she said thank you.  

The important thing was that we connected.  We both allowed it.  There was mutual giving and receiving.  

This is what makes my life rich.  

Beyond hello

It's been 34 years since we had a conversation, so perhaps it should come as no surprise that our recent attempts have been both awkward and intimate.  I have questions.  Some are about the nuances of his life.  Others are focused on what we had, what we relinquished, and what, if anything, we've learned in the process of looking back.  

There is a path I walk.  It is the place I put one foot in front of the other and repeat the process over and over.  It is where I reside; I call it my life.  It is where I stand still and where I reserve the right to look back at where I've been or ahead to where I'm going.  There are choices involved.  

One never truly knows how a single act can shift the course of another.  Though I strive to be mindful of that, I am reminded how very fragile that thread of intention can be.  My friend Jan once wrote, "Courage, intelligence and love can help any situation and are never out of place."  

Once again, I see that truth made manifest.