“WHERE ARE WE?”

The sun wakes me gently with an expansive beam cascading playfully over my bed. When I open my eyes I can tell from the intensity of the light it is going to be another hot summer day. I listen as buzzing insects upstage the birds’ harmonious medleys. Does every place in the world have some kind of morning conversation with nature? I only know the Kansas version, with its familiar sounds that mean “home”. I like waking up in the summer without an alarm clock or an intrusive knock at the door. Awakening to the sweet cacophony of morning sounds delights me and starts my day out “right”.

In my mind I slowly begin to piece together my activities for the day—like an intricate needlepoint design emerging one tiny stich at a time. It will be a “regular” summer day. Grandma is expecting me at her house first thing this morning to work in her yard before it gets too hot. Then there is the delima of how I am going to convince my mother to let me go to the swimming pool to meet up with my girlfriends in the afternoon. I am in high school after all, and need some autonomy and control over my own life! It is too far-fetched, though, to think Mom will give in easily without a fight.

I puzzle about why my friends only talk about boys these days. I listen, baffled by why they care about them so much. Boys our age are awkward and know very little about how to express themselves, especially around girls. My little “party of five” as we are known have been close friends since kindergarten. Going through school year after year together has solidified our connection. We know each other backward and forward. Even this new development of “boy-crazy talk”, while confusing to me, brings up strong feelings of loyalty and “being there” for my friends no matter what.

I love my girlfriends. I appreciate our companionship and how real we can be together. We laugh a lot when we’re together. How can they possibly want more than that? Why do they even think boys could ever top what we share? I like being loved without question. My family has so many strings attached to their loving. It is a relief to be able to be myself, knowing my friends accept me no matter what I do. I might be a little afraid that boys could take my friends away.

I hesitate before putting my feet on the floor. I know once I am up, I will be pulled into the world and it won’t feel as comfortable as now. I am also certain if I don’t get up soon I will surely get Mom’s “lazy lecture”. I don’t feel like spoiling my morning with a rant.

My sister left last weekend for her freshman college orientation. It is odd being the only kid in the house. I didn’t experience much of a shift when my brother left home seven years ago. Our age and different interests guaranteed our lives rarely crossed paths. My sister, however, is both my nemesis and ally. We bicker about everything, all the while knowing we have each other’s back. I am surprised by how much I am missing her. I am beginning to realize what it means to be the single focus of Mom’s attention. My sister’s relationship with our mom has always felt easy compared to mine. My first memories are of my sister running interference between Mom and I. She has only been gone one week and I can already feel tension building.  What am I going to do?

I meander into the kitchen. Just as I reach into the refrigerator for milk Mom comes around the corner. My shoulders stiffen and I realize I am holding my breath. “Good morning, Honey! How did you sleep?” I am shocked to be greeted kindly, like a real person. I know something is up because our typical interaction is usually fraught with judgment, restriction and control.

Then she tells me, “I have planned a picnic with the family this evening. Can you be back from the pool by 5? We’ll be leaving at 5:30 to pick up your dad and meet everyone at Aunt Grace’s at 6.” I can’t believe what I am hearing and quickly agree. Wow! I have just been given permission to go to the pool without asking or having a fight!

After spending the afternoon at the pool I come home a little early. When I walk into the house at 4:30 I can see Mom has been busy preparing for the picnic. The old wicker picnic basket is sitting next to the door, full of fried chicken, potato salad and deviled eggs. The blue and white cooler, packed with ice and drinks, sits next to it. There is even a washtub covered with an old rag rug that I know contains a metal canister of homemade ice cream. I cannot overlook how peculiar this situation is. My aunts always share the cooking by bringing a dish to pass. Grandma always fries the chicken. This time Mom has spent the entire day doing everything herself. Something weird is definitely going on.

We pick Dad up from work and drive out to Aunt Grace and Uncle Jimmy’s farm. My two aunts and uncles, several of my younger cousins, and Grandma and Grandpa are all waiting on us, as usual. The adults decide we will take 3 cars. I ride with my aunts and the cousin closest to my age. I am so used to not knowing what is going on, it doesn’t occur to me to ask where we are going. I sit up and looked around when we stop. We are stopped at a pasture. Dad is getting out of Grandpa’s car. He slips the wire loop over the hand-hewed pole. Then he pulls the wire gate into the pasture until it is open enough for our cars to pass through. He carefully shuts it when all the cars are in the pasture.

This is when I begin to seriously pay attention. Mom is driving in the lead with Grandma sitting in the passenger seat and my youngest cousin bouncing around in the back. She is driving like a bat out of hell—the same terrifying way she drives when we’re on the Kansas Turnpike. Looking out in front of the car I see there is no road! We are driving across a wide expansive prairie and are traveling too fast for me! Where are we? I’ve been to my relatives’ farms many times but have never been here. Are we on someone else’s land? How does Mom even know about this place? Why did she bring us here? Is everyone wondering the same thing?

My aunts are trying their best to follow the family code of conduct of not talking about what is actually going on. Even with all their years of experience at staying silent, this situation eventually gets to be too much even for them. I hear Aunt Grace say a little too loudly to her sister, “Where in the hell is she taking us?”

I grab the edge of the bench seat; increasingly alarmed at the speed we are traveling. Several times Mom stops, gets out of her car and turns around in circle slowly. I barely recognize her as she gazes out far away. Then she gets back into her car and tears off again. One of these stops Grandpa and my aunts catch up with her. They hastily roll down their windows to talk. There is a heated exchange but I can’t understand exactly what Mom is saying.

I am feeling really frightened now. Mom’s behavior is all wrong. I have never seen her act in such an erratic way. She is always dependable, resolved to do what she is supposed to do. She never does what she wants and “caves in”

to whoever is around, especially her family.

We have made our way up the hill and are high up on a flat mesa that stretches several miles ahead and behind us. I have no idea where we are. There are no recognizable landmarks to provide a clue. Our car slows down and Grandpa’s comes up alongside ours. I can hear loud but muted quarreling coming from inside his car where the men are riding. Their voices are raised and they sound really angry.

After three more stops my mother parks her car and walks toward the West. The sun is low and is hiding behind some clouds. The high-pitched drone of the cicadas and the colors in the sky capture my attention. I watch Dad and my uncles carry food and chairs over to a spot behind the only tree. They are attempting to light a fire for us to sit around but are having trouble because of strong gusts of wind. When it blows, tall brown grasses bend almost to the ground. They keep trying to light the fire long after they know it is of no use. I suspect they are just anxious and trying to do anything to make the evening take a turn for the better.

My grandfather sits silently like a stone, alone in his car with the windows up. I can tell by his profile he is FURIOUS. My cousin and I are restless to get out of the car but my aunts tell us with a look to stay put. They lean in toward one another and whisper in low voices so muffled it is impossible for me to understand the words. I can tell from their animated gestures and facial expressions they are upset.

I look out over the countryside below, letting my eyes follow my body as it involuntarily turns and circles the horizon. It is so beautiful it takes my breath away. Farms with fields a thousand shades of greens and golds are planted in rich black dirt. They spoon the hills and dot the landscape like a patchwork quilt. I am caught up looking deeply into this amazing panorama when a sudden movement to my right catches my eye.  When I turn in that direction I see my mother. She is near the edge of the mesa facing the setting sun. Her aura is highlighted in a thin pink glow. The colors in the sky are wild. Intense purples, pinks and oranges blaze across the azure sky.

Her arms are outstretched to the heavens. The image of golden light pouring through her into the earth comes to me. I quietly open my car door and slip out into the cool air. I edge forward, riveted by her hypnotic choreography. Sitting on the hard ground nearby I am mesmerized as her story unfolds.

She is beautiful. Her blond hair falls onto her shoulders and I have to do a double take because I can’t tell if she looks young or old. She has braided some of the dry grasses and they sit on her head like a crown. As I watch, her arms sway back and forth as she slowly makes her way around a large circle. I can hear her softly chanting a song I do not recognize. I don’t think she is even aware I am here. I hear Aunt Janelle snap to her sister, “Has she lost her mind? She seems too happy!”

From the first moment I lay eyes on her I am suspended in a timelessness that feels like it contains the past as well as the future.  Excitement electrifies me as I watch. Her dizzying movements inspire me and render me speechless as she paints a picture of her life right in front of me.

Released from the internal torture and lofty expectations that imprisoned her all her life, my mother is free at last. As she stretches her arms to the sky I see strong elegant wings lofting upward. She rises, letting go of the earthbound weight that has always taken away her life’s meaning. She is peering down now, observing her life from her own new vista, and glorifying the miraculous catharsis with immersive joy. I am awestruck in the face of her emboldened power. As she moves through her ritual, she gracefully occupies her life like the dream she has never lived.

I am brimming with Mom’s “celebration” and feel extraordinarily happy and satisfied. The dichotomy between the Mom I’ve always known and the one she is today is mindboggling. I am so taken by the whole experience I actually can’t remember the sequence of events that gets me and my family from the pasture to Aunt Grace’s house. I vaguely remember scurrying to leave when the fire doesn’t start, the wind won’t stop blowing and darkness begins to close in. At my Aunt’s house we have our first “inside picnic”. Everyone is agitated and out of sorts but no one talks about what just happened.

Not a day goes by without this experience popping into my mind. I treasure the profound images and know I have been given a precious gift. Many questions remain unanswered. Perhaps I’ll never know where we were that night. I don’t know why Mom took us there to witness the transformative moment when she reclaimed herself. This memory is forever imprinted upon my heart. It is the only time I ever saw my mother express who she truly is. Every time it comes to me, I am astonished all over again. Seeing Mom celebrating her life gives me strength, power and joy. I can’t stop smiling!

65th Birthday Celebration

I turned 65 last week. One of my friends encouraged me to find some way that felt comfortable to celebrate because the previous year was so challenging and I made it through, with difficulty, intact. At first I felt uncomfortable just thinking about it. Then I asked myself what would make me the happiest. Immediately it came to me: having my sister come to visit would make my heart sing! After that realization I could imagine the whole thing...

I would throw a party. I would get my close friends together at my friend, Carolyn's beautiful house. My long-time friends would be joined by new ones. As I wrote down the guest list I ended up with 12 women including my sister and myself. I intentionally included people who were very new in my life. Several of them were a bit quirky just to add flavor to the mix. In my mind's eye this party would be completely conducive to feeling loved and cherished. 

The party would be a pot luck because so many have dietary needs. People would bring outrageously wonderfully-cooked food with magnificent presentations. Some would eat at the sit-down formal dining table and others in the living room in cushy chairs. There would be a carrot cake with candles for those of us indulging then in sugar. 

I would ask each of them and other friends who live in other parts of the world to tell a story about my life. It seemed important to hear this right now. Similar to a Quaker Meeting Celebration of Life we would come together into a womens' circle and share stories. I would sit with an open heart and receive these stories and experiences from my life with gratitude.

My sister would be there. First I had to have the courage to ask her. She is extremely dedicated to her work and rarely takes time off. She hadn't been to Colorado since 1978! My mind raced on and on with reasons why she would probably say, "no". With much trepidation I called to ask her to come. Her immediate response was to tell me that she would consider it. Then, the waiting began. The next weekend I waited for her call. We talked for 30 minutes without her bringing it up. Then she said, "What exactly is your fantasy for your birthday?". I began to tell her in detail and when I had finished she said she would love to come and be a part of the celebration. I was over the moon!!!!! 

After that everything fell easily into place just as I had imagined it. Only one of my friends was unable to attend. Carolyn's house was perfect and she was a charming hostess. Everyone brought amazing food that most seemed to enjoy. There was a delicious carrot cake with 7 candles on it--one for each decade and one to wish upon. We ate on china and used sterling silver utensils. It was a magnificent and delightful evening.

As we formed the circle my son, Shannon, called on Facetime and we went around the circle taking turns talking with him as he saw friends he had known from childhood and met new ones. He had written a lovely letter that one of my friends read after his call. I was incredibly touched by this. Then the stories began. Some were intense, some fun, others sad--but all were reflective of different aspects of myself and various times in my life. Starting with my sister--who reminds me she will always be older than me--all through the rest of my 65 years, the stories wove my life together. 

One special moment occurred when a fox came up on the deck and looked in the sliding glass door at us. She just stood there watching us as we sat gawking at her. It was a moment I will always remember.

The party was just as I had imagined. It stirred my unconscious deeply and gave me pause. I am still processing the stories. I am staying open to the love I felt so strongly in the circle of my friends. I was awe struck by the beauty of my friends and who they are to me. I feel enormous gratitude for the support system I have gathered around me. It was a party and a celebration worthy of my 65th birthday. It was, in fact, glorious! Oh, did I mention the flowers and the balloons?

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Reflections On My Sister

My first memories include my sister. She was 16 months old when I was born. In my memories she is “there” for me in a stabilizing--offering--security kind of way. I am depending on her so I don’t have to feel as though I am alone. I am depending on her to talk for me. I know she gets along with everyone and makes people feel at ease through her conversations and I need her to do that for me. I need her to protect me. I don’t feel like the adults are in control and I need her.

I was an incredibly shy little girl and not a happy child. My mother was erratic and angry a lot of the time. Often, she was angry with me. This scapegoating could take the form of silence or ridicule depending upon the moment and situation. Quite frequently, her rage spilled out against our father—especially at night after we were in bed. It was not unusual for my brother, sister and me to be huddled under a table during these tyrannous outbursts.

I shared a room with my sister. I know this annoyed her. It was “her” room. I don’t know how I knew this or why it wasn’t “our” room. But, it was hers. Every night I peed in the bed and then I cried. I would cry and cry until our father would come in and get me. Then I would go to sleep in my parent’s bed and my sister was left to sleep in the peed-in bed. This was very aggravating to her! I knew this at a very deep level. But, I didn’t stop peeing. Eventually we got twin beds. I don’t think this made my sister any less dismayed but perhaps once the quiet was restored and I was not there she might have felt relief.

It seemed to me, as I grew older and my memory came into sharper focus, we were quite different from one another. I liked to play with my friends, climb trees, play ball with the boys, make mud pies, work in the yard, garden. I enjoyed doing anything active outside. My sister preferred being inside designing and making elaborate doll clothes and watching TV.

The differences between my sister and I seemed to widen as we hit adolescence. By high school the tension between us was obvious and uncomfortable. This didn’t deter my feelings of needing her for security. It is easy now to remember my grief when she went to college and I was left alone and unprotected for the first time in my life. I was outwardly calm and collected but inwardly I was lost and terrified.

It took me many years to work out my dependency issues with my sister. My "mother issues" were complicated enough and challenging to unravel. It hadn't felt as though my actual mother had been present to me and my needs so I sought and received "positive" nurturing from my sister. I had to redefine myself and reorganize my entire way of thinking and identity to relieve the anxiety I felt. Only when I had stabilized and grounded myself inside was it possible to actually begin to let go of the dependency. We both struggled as adults to develop a healthy relationship with each other.

Only in the last 20 years have I really gotten to know my sister for who she truly is. Imagine my shock to discover how alike we are! She is the one person on the planet who really knows me. She knows without my saying a word what I am feeling and what is going on with me. When we are together, we don’t even have to talk to know what is going on with the other or our response to those around us. Our taste is similar and other than her being a “girly-girl” and me maintaining my “tom-boy” persona, we are two peas in a pod.

I haven’t seen my sister in over two years. I am preparing for a visit over the holidays. I am SO excited! Loving someone your entire life and then being able to share quality time as adults can be incredibly sweet. It has taken both of us being willing to "do the work" on our low functioning childhood and the unhealthy parts of our relationship to reach the point we are now. I am grateful to both of us for our tenacity, courage and strength. We have a lot to celebrate!

Spring Re-birth

Paula deChelly, ladies' woman, creative artist, single parent and  musician, was re-born in the Spring of 2013 on Easter Sunday, March 31st.

Paula fancies nature and this re-birth only intensifies her love of going to the mountains, being in nature and soaking up the many high vibrations that are found in the Great outdoors.

She is purported to have brought even more house-plants into her small "nest" of an apartment -- particularly ones with colorful blossoms or color in their leaves. Her coffee table is graced with purple, pink and yellow, and, of course, green, green, green.

Paula has always loved the women in her life. Even though the relationship with her mother (deceased) was complicated and confusing -- Paula attributes the development of many of her passions today to her mother's generosity. Also foundationally significant were her Great Aunts -- Leonie and Marguerite. Her sister, Susanne, has been a beacon of love and life and this, with the re-birth, is bound to shine even brighter.

Paula excels at listening to people, finding treasures in thrift stores, being generous with her time, her family and friends and her resources. Creating and bringing masks into form, playing and writing music, and simply "being" in the moment will all just get better and better.

She loves dogs and has had nine of them in her life. (Mitsy, Marcus Aurelius, Tristum, Happy Dog, Hobbit, Johnie, Arty, Abracadabra and Ladybug). Paula is currently finding ways to nurture and care for Ladybug in her "Golden Years". This is teaching her opening of the heart with deep compassion and love.

Paula loves her son, Shannon, and her granddaughter, Amelia, her daughter-in-law, Kirstyn and soon to be Grandson, Finn. As a single parent she did her best to keep a steady course and now is reaping the rewards. Her re-birth will only enhance these relationships.

Despite the many challenges of many dramatic changes in her life Paula has been an inspiration to many people. Her openness and sincerity has drawn many beautiful friendships that promise to blossom and unfold now even more.

Spirituality has been an ongoing quest for Paula and she has pursued many paths on her journey toward consciousness and wholeness. The re-birth will enhance and magnify the present moment so much -- the vibrational level will get so high -- the future promises to bring many joyful experiences of Spirit.

Taking care of herself has always been secondary to taking care of others. The re-birth will solidify the recent shift of putting herself first. Her many activities: meditating, practicing Tai Chi and NIA to name a few things and quiting smoking (the hardest challenge in her life) are bound to embolden her into a greater life now.

Just what is the re-birth? She doesn't exactly know. It is a renewal. A re-directing. A new perspective. It interjects joy into every aspect of life and aligns you with your highest being and with something greater. It brings you into the moment and allows you to "be". Fully present. Re-newed. Re-born.

Paula asks that to honor her now you support equality for all people: LGBTs, women, the poor, the sick and all people who are depressed and oppressed in any way. As for Paula, she will spread her wings with this re-birth, pray, play, create, give and receive from Spirit and live with joy each moment she is given.