Aligned

Every now and then there is a moment in my life when I have the experience that is like a lock clicking open. Those are the moments I love the most, because they are the ones when I am aligned with myself and something greater than myself. It can happen all on its own (I never know when) although it is more likely to occur with intention. Either way, I can’t help but want more and more moments like them.

When I focus on and imagine being aligned with the Divine, I don’t know exactly what that means. All I know is there something far greater than me. I can sense and experience this in nature, in people, in everything. When I really stop and look, smell, listen and feel—I find myself in the moment. Then there is expansion and connection and I know I am in the presence of the Divine.

When I was growing up I had a strong ties with something greater than myself. Maybe it was all the time I spent climbing trees, watching clouds or growing gardens of flowers and vegetables. I could not say exactly what it was I experienced that gave me this message but I knew it was Truth. I used to wash small rocks in water and watch them sparkle in the sun’s rays. Those were times I was certain there was something greater.

My Protestant upbringing taught me an abstract way of thinking about someone greater. It brought up questions that never got resolved although I asked a number of people who professed to believe the point of view. Now I understand that, like the many facets on a crystal, there have been a number of people throughout time who have been totally aligned with the Divine. Organized religion is a way to describe one example.

When I was in my twenties and thirties, at the beginning stages of my awareness of a “spiritual path”, there was a lot of talk and a plethora of teachings about the Divine from many different perspectives. I remember yearning for those particular peaceful moments and yet, the sense of connection and alignment remained somewhat theoretical for me.

Now, there are many people who have turned the priorities in their lives around to nurture their spiritual life. The energy and state of mind that only a few could reach before is now extremely accessible to all those who seek it. In fact, with the extensive disruption in the world today, it feels incredibly important that as many people as possible work to be with and live from a place of conscious alignment. Whatever approach we take to reach that connection does not matter. Getting on the path and living with awareness and gratitude is what is compelling and important.

More than anything, I have always wanted to live my life connected to the Divine. I am very excited to feel that now it is within the realm possibility of attaining. I yearn to have each moment be alive with the expansiveness of something greater than myself. There is no more running away for me. I am now running toward the Divine with my hands, heart and mind wide open. I want the connection. I want those moments to come one after another. I want to experience the lock clicking.

Thanksgiving 2011

This year my Thanksgiving was an emotionally complicated Blessing. I spent it with my family: my brother, his wife and their son, my sister, her son/wife and 2 girls, and my son/wife and my granddaughter. We all went into the day knowing it would be challenging.

You see, in March, my niece Sybil (my brother's daughter) died from complications of childbirth. Her son, Jack, was spending Thanksgiving with his father's family in Florida.

In anticipation of the day and the obvious void Sybil's absence would create, we each tried to come up with a way to honor her. There were lengthy conversations that occurred between various family members. Candles, flowers, writing memories in a book to later give to Jack and speeches were all suggested but none of the ideas felt quite right.

Then my sister started scanning family photos from many generations that could run as a slide show before dinner on Thanksgiving. We all got very excited about her idea because it was about our family and shared experiences. Pictures of Sybil and other family members who had passed on were seen and talked about in the context of an event or something we had shared. It took us into the past while keeping us fully present with our feelings in the moment. Showing the photos was just right!

My sister said a few words before dinner--talking about our love for each other and about our terrible and tragic loss of Sybil. Even though she spoke briefly--there was not a dry eye. And, somehow, that too was just right.

Since Sybil's death in March, each of us has had our own individual grieving process which have been as different as our relationships with her were. After the initial shock of her death, we have had to make our way through the many emotions the grief has presented over and over again.

Thanksgiving was the first time our family shared our grieving collectively. Several things were different. For one thing, everyone was very present. There was great acceptance of each other's grief and lots of space for each person to be where they were. The day was full of compassion and deep love for each other.

The 3 babies who were there accentuated the fact that Jack was not. Trying to set up a Scype call with Jack and his father proved unsuccessful. I watched this add layers of different feelings for various people. I was mostly aware of my own sadness for my brother, his wife and their son and my anger at Jack's father for not realizing how important making contact was and for not making it a priority to happen.

My experience of Thanksgiving this year has moved me forward in my grieving process in ways I can feel but have no words for. I am deeply grateful for my family and feel huge love for them. I miss my niece and still have moments when I forget or don't believe she is not here. It will take a long time to come to terms with and accept her passing. I am just so proud of my family for having the courage to face reality together gently with total unconditional love.

Awakening to Oneness

As of today the Mayan calendar is finished. Now what are we going to do? Can our world, that is this week bulging to a population of 7 billion people, survive without it? For as long as I can remember, I have heard about the calendar and how it abruptly ends. It has been equated by some people’s belief that the world was coming to an end. Obviously the correlation did not exist.

But what if something is shifting in our brains or DNA that we are unaware of? What if we wake up tomorrow morning with much more consciousness and don’t even know it. What would that experience be? Would I still make a pot of coffee and read the morning paper? Or would I find myself caught in the present, meditating in front of my bonsai tree?

I want to be more conscious. The fleeting experiences of it that I have had have spaciously augmented my “present” moments. My “present” is changed in those moments because more of me shows up, keenly aware, focused, relaxed. I am changed. That is precisely what my experience has been like of being present in the moment. Change. Expansion. Peace.

I am angry with myself for all the moments I have missed by being distracted by some figment of drama that has taken up my daily life. As I look back on it I have had all the tools to live in the moment from the time I was very little. Certainly, all the psychological and spiritual work I have done since has headed me up the path of consciousness over and over again.

Still, when each moment comes it is still a crap shoot whether or not I will show up. I wonder if the Mayans got distracted from all their mathematics and astronomy and just stopped making their calendar? That would make sense in the model I am building for myself. And yet, I’m comparing my personal experience with an entire civilization of very intellectually advanced people.

I wonder if this is the way the collective works? It is difficult for me to grasp that what I do or do not do could affect the entirety of civilization, and yet in the deepest part of my being I know this is the truth. Each one of us has the ability to tip the consciousness scale from the personal to the collective. But what if I forget or my neighbor gets too busy or the folks in Kansas don’t know anything about a spiritual journey. I guess then we have a hundred monkeys that stay unconscious. At this point in my life that seems like a foolish waste, knowing and believing what I do about how the Universe works.

I believe we are all part of the same Oneness. Each of us is a facet of the whole of creation. I believe we are becoming more aware of the fact we are all One. I feel the connection to everything growing in this time we are living. Many people are afraid of our world falling apart, but isn’t that necessary so that it can be put together with a completely different kind of awareness.

The old ways thinking and being--of dominance, duality, and cause and effect--is breaking down. Now, instead of separation, we see people coming together globally in large groups with a common mind. That is the new consciousness emerging. We can no longer operate without a spiritual sense of all being One. It is no longer possible to feel superior when the technology of the world brings us face to face with starvation, poverty and death everywhere in the world, including where we are.

Many people are afraid. Change is scary. When I was little there was still the false belief that things would remain the same. But, today everything is different. It is an exciting time to be alive. It feels like we are on the brink of an amazing awakening. In a spiritual sense, haven’t we all chosen to be here at this time? That would indicate to me we have everything we need to make the shift.

Is this what the Mayans faced at their turning point in history? Did they not have the spiritual tools, the perseverance, the fortitude and internal strength to deal with change? Did they get caught up in the old way of thinking and let themselves be obliterated by war and death? Did they all die out from a cataclysmic event? Or did they just sit up one day and decide they didn’t want to get conscious and keeping such an elaborate calendar was not worth the effort?

Being the Mom of an Adult Child

It is nearly impossible, when you're young, to imagine having an adult child. Funny how we can get caught up in the everyday happenings and then suddenly the years have gone by--and then "now" is a lot later than we thought. Now, I would have to say, without a doubt, having the relationship I do with my son is the richest experience in my life.

It wasn't easy for me being a Mom. As a single parent for most of his life, I found myself overwhelmed with all the different hats I was required to wear to raise a child alone. Working and providing stability, doing all the domestic chores, keeping up with schoolwork and activities and creating a nurturing, loving home was all challenging for me. I did my best but always wished that I had more time and energy to just "be" with him.

Living right across the street from me now is a couple with a 4 year old daughter. The mother stays home with her. It is amazing to me to see them sitting outside under a tent making pretend cakes and cookies, playing a board game in the grass, or spinning around on the sidewalk with arms outstretched. I am in awe watching them at the pace of their very mellow, loving lives.

I wonder how this little girl will be when she becomes an adult? Having two parents who are actually attentive to you must be quite extraordinary. The closest experience I have to this is the time I spent with my Great Aunt when I was a child. Even though I wasn't the only one there, it was calm, nurturing and fun. I remember it seemed timeless as we would put puzzles together, play cards, or wash little rocks in the sunshine to see them sparkle. It was quiet and inclusive, unlike being at home which felt tense and out of control.

Somehow, I am sure my mothering sprang from many variables and was a combination of different experiences throughout my life. As I look back today, I only have a fuzzy perspective on how fast the time flew by and how we got to now. My son is thirty-two and lives in another state so we have to depend on phones, email, scype and carefully planned visits to stay in touch.

What I appreciate most about our communication is it's honesty and caring. I see in him a person who is sensitive, creative, cares about other people and his work or whatever he is doing, and has the ability to be totally present and in the moment. He is truly a wonderful man. (You might feel I'm biased but I'm trying to be objective in my subjectivity!) He has a very full life, having become a father this year. His values around parenting are interesting to see and are clearly reflected in the quality of involvement he has with his daughter and wife, which is so sweet to see and be around.

I like him. Not only because he is my son, but because of who he is as a person. We talked on the phone over the weekend. He was positive and supportive about my life and the projects I'm involved in. I was able to ask him for some reflection and he took the time to give me input as well as relating it to his own experiences and journey. The honesty was astounding.

Being the parent of an adult child is delightful to me. I am so grateful that I am a Mom and a Granny. The relationship I have with my son is healthy, giving, and nurturing. It is all of the things I had hoped for when he was growing up. I feel very blessed to have this story to tell.

COMING HOME

While I had a smattering of magical moments growing up, mostly playing at my great aunt Leonie’s and with my best friend, I wouldn’t look back and consider myself a happy child. I grew up in a small town of 800 people in North-East Kansas. I wandered freely there because I knew everyone and the environment of the community offered safety not found today.

I remember hearing several sayings that puzzled me: “Home is where the heart is” and (of course, like Dorothy being from Kansas) “There’s no place like home”. In the isolation I felt and without having the reference of a larger world, these sayings didn’t mean much to me. More importantly, even though I have some fond memories from that time, what I remember most wanting was to leave.

As children do, I took my home for granted. I lived in the same house for 18 years. My mother used to tell us the story of seeing the house being built when she was 3 years old. She thought it was a church. As endearing as her story was, it was not my experience. My home was filled with too much underlying stress and that was particularly challenging for me, as I was an extremely sensitive child. I was also the scapegoat in the family so I felt in some way that I was causing the disharmony.

Ours was a fairly highly functioning low functioning family. We looked great to the public but behind the closed doors of our home it was dysfunctional with all the rules that go along with it. I could tell from going to my friends’ houses which were calm and supportive that something wasn’t right at home but, of course, the first rule I learned was to keep silent.

I had fantasies about how my life was going to be when I left home. I made up stories about it and acted them out with my friend. It was comforting to imagine having a healthy scenario for home. The more I tried to create a more harmonious place in my mind, the more difficult it became to settle for what was then my reality. By the time I was a teenager I found myself feeling agitated, irritable and angry most of the time.

I left home with lofty hopes of finally being able to live the life I wanted. It was not so easy as I had imagined. College gave me structure and an artificial form to live in but I still spent most of the time in the same turmoil I had felt growing up. I just couldn’t seem to get my feet under me.

Two patterns emerged that repeated themselves over and over throughout my life. One was to develop a relationship that would help ground me and make my life “feel” more stable. The other was to look for places to live and spend excessive amounts of energy fixing them up so that they would feel like my image of “home”.

One day in my early twenties I had a startling revelation: I realized that I had to take responsibility for myself. This might seem like an obvious thing, but it had not been in my consciousness. I wasn’t sure what it meant? All I knew was that it scared me to think about it.

In the beginning my therapist gently took me back through the dark feelings from my childhood. With guidance I began to develop and understand the skills of having feelings. It began to emerge that a major difference between being an adult and being a child when it comes to feelings is perspective. It is much easier to see what is going on with the objectivity of an adult.

As I worked on myself, the satisfaction of reclaiming my life gave me such confidence I knew I could never turn back. From that moment, I have been on my inner journey. I know that what goes on in my outer world is reflected in my inner feelings. So, if I want to change what is happening on the outside, I must work from the inside out.

It took me years working within this framework before I came to the conclusion that my inner self was trying very hard to discover what “home” meant. Childhood had given me images that were superimposing over my present and I was experiencing the distortions from the past. After working with the symbol of “home” through many different creative modalities, it began to become clear that the home I was yearning for was inside. The more work I did on myself the brighter and calmer my life became. I recognized that the people and places I had tried to find as an adult for my stability were simply impulses from my healthy inner self, yearning for safety, empowerment and support.

Now I finally understand the meaning of those sayings I heard as a child. Home is where the heart is. Tethered securely to my Self, I feel strong, secure and confident in my inner home. It is a relief to know that “home” is inside. Not looking outside for home means that I can avoid a lot of pain, disappointment and heartache. It really is true: there is no place like home!

Asking For Help

In the Mid-West, where I grew up, you are taught from a young age never to ask for help. This applies to everything! Being self-sufficient is the way of life.

Growing up with first generation Swiss immigrant Grandparents added another, stricter dimension to my upbringing on the subject. It was absolutely imperative not only not to ask for anything, but if you did you were punished with silence. Silence meant shame and could last for several days.

I always wondered what it meant to them to have needs? Perhaps it was considered a sign of weakness? Maybe a sense of inadequacy that ensued from actually having needs was obscured and this might have provided a way to cope?

There was a strong tie between needs and pride. I think now that the pride aspect was probably a cover-up. The pride though, to a child, seemed to elevate the adults around me to superhuman proportions. It gave them immense power. They were not human. This fact set up a challenging world to understand and live in.

If they weren't human, what was I? Sometimes when I was little I had actual normal needs and they were more often than not ignored. This seemed to do a number of things: made me undervalue my own needs (which I still struggle with), and brought on a feeling of anger and despair.

The only person who paid attention to my needs was a Great Aunt who lived nearby. She not only acknowledged needs, she encouraged them and nurtured them as a "normal" part of life. She provided "the Other" experience for me. Although she couldn't change the situation I was in at home, she gave me another template that I have adopted more and more as I have matured.

Now I have created a network of friends who are my "chosen family". They accept my humanness and give me lots of room to make mistakes, have needs and celebrate my courage and victories in life. We take each other, "as we are".

This allows for a wonderful give and take in all aspects of our relationships. The resoprocity does not need to be direct. If I need something they can give to me freely and without question and I can return the gesture to someone else or to them at another time and situation. The exchange seems to me to be the way life is supposed to be.

Paying forward is more than a concept to me in my life now. When I invest energy into someone, it comes back a thousand fold. When someone invests in me, I am motivated to give to whoever needs my help and it helps me believe more in myself.

I believe this is the way the Universe works. There is a growing gratitude in me every time I can acknowledge my needs and ask for help or help someone else in need. I appreciate so much the belief other people have in me and are willing to support me and allow me to give to and support them.

I have deep sadness for my 'little girl self" who had to grow up in such a distorted, stifling and diminishing way. I take good care of her now, acknowledging and supporting her needs, nurturing her and looking her in the eye and saying "I love you!" And I mean it...

"Don't Bother Me, I've Just Been Born"

My nephew and his wife had a little girl on May 26th. Her name is Lily. Lily arrived with alert dark eyes, looking like a clone of her mom. She is their second child. Their first little girl, Emma, is two and a half years old. She looks like her daddy. She is imaginative, bright, funny, silly and true to 2 year olds in general, is defiant, self-centered, demanding, manipulative and prone to melt-downs and temper tantrums over nothing in particular.

I stayed with them for a week when Lily was born to help with Emma and generally be an extra set of hands for whatever was needed to make things easier. My sister was there also, so we spotted each other with the things that came up that needed doing. Emma took a lot of energy. Just writing that makes me realize what an understatement it is. Her needs changed as the days went by.

The night before her mom went in for a c-section, Emma spent the evening with both her parents doting on her, snuggling and generally loving her up. She understood that there was a baby in her mommy's tummy but had no concept of what that meant.

The first night after Lily was born was the first time Emma had ever spent without her mother. She was happy to be with her "Granny" and was distracted from the fact that her parents weren't there.

The next morning, though, when Grammy and not Mommy came to get her out of bed, Emma had a major melt-down. She stood at the window far longer than her usual attention span and sobbed. Granny knew that she needed to see her mommy and where she was and meet Lily. She arranged to take Emma to the hospital after her nap that afternoon.

After this visit, her anger began to kick in. She started having many temper tantrums, throwing things refusing food and being clumsy and reckless so that she fell and bumped into things. All of these melt-downs ended in the same place with her calling out, " M O M M Y . . . "

When they brought Lily home, Emma had an even more difficult time because of her mother's nonavailability while being in the same house. We had strict instructions from her mother to leave her and Lily alone unless she came out of her room. This was a very difficult thing to implement with Emma wanting her mother's attention more than ever.

The other difficulty was helping Emma understand how fragile and vulnerable Lily is. Emma would forget and not pay attention and it took major watching when Lily was around to keep her safe.

Another thing Emma had to come to terms with was having her things being brought out for the baby to use. Her car seat, bouncy seat and swing, all which were too small for her at this point, became both fascinations and frustrations. All of these items eventually ended up out of her reach, as she couldn't leave them alone.

It was interesting to watch the change in dynamics with Emma when her parents were around. She got incredibly wound up and ANGRY. Then the acting out would get full-blown. Nothing would please her, nothing would console her and nothing would stop her from acting out. My sister and I watched as her parents, exhausted and unable to really deal with her, would give in to her wishes and cave under her bad behavior.

My sister and I are both exhausted after being there this week. We agreed there is a reason why young people have children. I'm certain with time, things with Emma, Lily and their parents will calm down and become easier. It certainly was eye opening to me to see how challenging it is to bring home a new baby, especially with a 2 year old to deal with!

Inspiration

Inspiration is an experience that can take many forms. Wikipedia refers to artistic inspiration; sudden creativity in artistic production, spiritual inspiration; realization of something greater than ourselves, and creative inspiration; sudden creativity when a new invention is created.

Music, films, literature, businesses, cars, perfumes and travel journals are just a few forms that have been taken with the concept of inspiration. People have not only been inspired but have named songs, films, stories and poetry, business plans, cars, perfumes and travel places "inspiring".

What does it take to be inspired? Some people call inspiration the "muse". The muse takes us to a place of awe, wonder, curiosity in ourselves where we want to do something.

Inspiration is an energy that is high and wants to move somewhere. That is why artists speak of sudden outpouring of works, when this energy is present. That is why the creative impulse results in some form. That is why birth, death and life altering situations that arise in our lives bring us to new spiritual understandings and beliefs.

Loss, change and difficult things that happen in our lives have the potential to inspire us. This process can take lots of work and time but the end result can be a transformation to inspiration and a change in our perception.

People, places and things can inspire us. This experience can be sudden or take a long time to identify and appreciate. We have to be open to the experience of being inspired or else we might just get taken by complete surprise.

What does inspiration feel like? I believe it can be different for each person but there are attributes that are common elements for everyone. Inspiration can bring an "ah ha" moment. It can be a sudden sense of vastness and awe. It is a euphoric sensation. It is motivating. It feels great!

I wait on inspiration, sometimes for years. I don't know when it will happen, what will trigger it, what i will do with it or how it will manifest. All I know for certain is that I have been and will be inspired again. I can hardly wait...

Losing A Loved One

My niece, Sybil, died six days after delivering a baby boy (Jack Chandler McFall). She had had a normal pregnancy, but on March 17th she woke up ill. The hospital diagnosed her with preeclampsia and by early afternoon her blood pressure had spiked too high and she suffered a stroke. They performed an emergency cesarean and delivered Jack. Sybil went into a coma and never came out.

Life is fragile and fleeting. You never expect a young healthy person to die. Pregnancy is still life-threatening, in spite of modern medical advancements. Sybil's death has thrown my family into shock and turmoil. Each is dealing with grief in their own way. My brother, losing his only daughter, is philosophizing in his grief and feels totally helpless. His son has initiated a project of videotaping family and friends memories to present to Jack when he is old enough. My sister feels beyond exhaustion in her grief. My son and nephew, having young children by c sections recently, cry easily over Jack being raised without a mother. My feelings seem buried deep inside. We are all heart broken and raw.

Sybil's death has illuminated and forced us to examine our beliefs. We have come face to face with questions about the meaning of life and death. They are both unexplained mysteries of the soul and have no clear answers.

Sybil was a lovely young woman. Her quick with and dry humor amazed us and never failed to bring a quick smile. I have fond memories of Sybil since she was born. She was an incredibly creative and gifted artist who produced many imaginative projects. She was endlessly loving and was not afraid to express it in many ways.

One early memory of her that stands out in my mind happened when my mother died in 1977. Sybil was 3. We had just left the cemetery in a limousine on a snowy blistery February day. Sybil turned around and said, "We can't leave Grandma here--she'll get cold." I hope her spirit is with my mother now.

My most recent memory of Sybil was when my entire family got together at Thanksgiving. Three of the four cousins were expecting babies in the Spring. After dinner we had a shower for the three babies. It was a fun and connecting time for all of us and one that I will always treasure. Sybil was so excited to be becoming a mom and having a little boy. None of us can imagine what it will be like for Jack to grow up without a Mother. Fortunately he has a marvelous Dad who has our complete support in raising him.

Sybil's place in our small family will be greatly missed. We all loved her dearly and pray for her journey into the light.

Becoming a Grandmother

When I had my son, I never thought about his having children. I don't know why? Maybe because he was a baby, then a little boy, a teenager,and then a twenty year old finding himself. When he turned thirty he got married. That's when I began to think that he might want to have children of his own.

I remember exactly where I was ( in the dining room) when he called to tell me they were pregnant. Initially I felt numb and afraid. When I think about it now, I don't know why that was my first reaction. The excitement followed quickly but I was thinking about it in terms of being excited for them rather than for myself.

My attention to my son and his wife around having a baby was fun for me. I sent them little things every month. Maternity clothes, my favorite book about what to expect when having a baby, pacifiers, and baby clothes to name a few. I could feel how much they were looking forward to becoming parents. That made me happy.

I went to visit them over Christmas for a couple of weeks and got to experience my daughter-in-law being pregnant. That definitely made it more of a reality for me. I enjoyed our conversations about what they might need, what they could expect in the beginning, what kind of help they would need and baby names.

I was pleased when they asked me if I would come after the birth and help them for a few weeks. I was especially pleased because I knew that Kirstyn's mother was coming from England to be there for a month. I was afraid that having both of us there at the same time might be too much, but that is what they wanted. It made me very happy to be included in this way.

They took me to the midwife facility where they had chosen to deliver. We looked at all the birthing rooms and picked out their favorite. Then I was allowed to go to the appointment with the midwife to hear the heartbeat. That was really awesome!

It began to sink into my being that they were indeed having a baby. I still didn't focus of my becoming a Grandmother. I began to make a quilt for the baby. After 60 hours of embroidering and having her name professionally put on it I began to put the quilt together.

Then I began to hear from my friends that had Grandchildren what a wonderful experience it was. They were filled with stories, and I could tell from this that being a Grandparent was a special thing. I began to get excited and feel it in an entirely new way. I was going to be a Grandmother. YES!

Now I have only one more month to wait before the baby is born. I am already gathering small gifts for Shannon and Kirstyn and the baby to bring with me when I go. I have researched the best way to go--flying, taking the train, or driving. I am trying to decide when to go, because I would love to see her when she is first born. I have decided to wait and see how I feel when it gets closer and after I have a chance to have a heart felt conversation with Shannon and Kirstyn about their wishes around that.

I am not only excited about becoming a Grandmother, I am grateful, too. I think my son, who I consider to be a wonderful man, will be a fantastic father. And I know that Kirstyn will be a kind and loving mother. I will be happy when Amelia is born and I know she is healthy. Then my world will be different forever. I will be a Grandmother.

Friends

My friends live in many different places in the world. My appreciation of them is beyond words. Each of them brings out or reminds me of a different aspect of myself. I find this very exhilarating. Let me give you some examples.

Recently I spoke on the phone with one of my friends and we talked about my mask-making. We explored how I chose what I was going to make. This conversation expanded to include spirit guides, totems, psychological inner work, archetypes, mythological beings and instincts and personal growth. I found that after the conversation was over I kept thinking about it and continued to compound the thoughts discussed in our conversation with more and more creativity. It was, to say the least, stimulating.

Another conversation with a different friend focused on their recent move to a new part of the country and the challenges that presented. Since I am familiar with these kinds of moves it was good for me to talk about it. It brought up a lot of things for me. We spoke of the importance of a personal support system. This included reaching out to friends in different places when you make a move to help stabilize and emotionally support the move and lack of friends in the new place. This helps with the tendency to withdraw and isolate that both of us tend to do in these situations.

One of my friends, who knows me really well, wanted to talk with me about her depression. Since this is a topic that I am intimately familiar with I was open and willing to discuss it at length. We began by talking about the symptoms and difficulties and ended the conversation in a much lighter place, seeing depression as a teacher and viewing its challenges to take gentle care of ourselves as a positive reminder in our lives.

One of my friends just makes me laugh. Talking with her is so upbeat that, no matter how blue I feel before we talk, I end up feeling good. I can even laugh at myself without beating myself up--something that is very hard for me to do on my own volition. When she and I talk, I am brought much closer to the joy in my life and I feel expansive and empowered.

Another friend spends a lot of her time and energy caring for her grandchildren. She has dedicated herself completely to taking care of them with the consciousness of equally caring for herself and her own needs. There is no martyrdom or codependency present in her choices. When we talk, I am reminded of how easy it is for me to give myself up for someone else or some thing that has my attention and not take care of myself. She is an excellent reminder of what it looks like to be healthy in relationship to other people and things in life.

One friend and I have lengthy conversations about spirituality. We discuss philosophical notions and psychological ramifications. Our talks take us out of the ordinary and catapult us into magical realms that attract us both. Delving into the mysteries of life creates an expansiveness that is difficult to explain. It is at the same time exhilarating and greatly satisfying.

Then there are those friends who are plain old emotional support. The gift of these friends is in the knowing that we are always there for each other. The level of trust this requires on both sides is both enormous and wonderful. There is no doubt that they will be there at any time and for any reason. I am blessed to have so many of these friends in my life.

I am feeling very grateful writing this piece. How lucky I am to be blessed with such amazing, interesting and insightful friends! How appreciative I am to them that we can be present to each other at our best and at our worst. How glad I am that I have the capacity to be open to loving people. No matter how far I am away from my friends physically, I carry them all close in my heart. When I think of them I find myself smiling.