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.
Showing posts with label son. Show all posts
Showing posts with label son. Show all posts
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Sentimentality
One of the things about my father that both fascinated and annoyed me growing up was that he was sentimental. He wasn't mushy--it felt different than that. He wasn't gushy, maudlin, sappy, soft or schmaltzy. It was more that he had a deep emotional affect to the things that happened around him. His response wasn't extravagant--he just seemed to have an extremely large heart.
Now mind you, this never involved me directly. Because he was a typical distant 1950's father I was never the object of any sentimental emotions from him, or for that matter many emotions at all. This was more evident with people in our small farming community when they were ill or had died, the loss of things, when something changed or anything to do with animals.
I remember when I was quite small going out to our farm to find a mother calf in labor with a breech calf. After working what seemed like a number of hours the calf was born dead. My father had large tears dropping on his cheeks all the way home, although he did not say a word.
This tenderness seemed quite foreign and a sharp contrast to our relationship which was angry, rough and empty of emotions. I distantly observed his reaction to others and couldn't help but notice what I would call "sentimental reactions" to things.
Partially because of our remote relationship, I seemed to take a more "middle of the road" with my own responses to others and things in my life. This was more comfortable for my personality and also provided me with the illusion that I was different from my father. I think this helped ease the pain that I wasn't even conscious of feeling.
This afternoon I opened my Facebook and there was a picture of my son's cat. My son and his family are moving to London next week and decided after many discouraging calls to multiple airlines to find the cat a good home and leave him in the States.
I have to admit, my reaction to their giving away the cat was much larger than I would have expected. It surprised me how sleepy and almost depressed I became. I had a deep feeling of loss and a lot of sadness.
I began to wonder if the cat was a catalyst for getting me more closely in touch with the kids moving so far away. My reaction to the cat was just to big.
So, I have to admit--I am feeling sentimental. My mind is picturing all my lovely visits with my little Granddaughter over the last 16 months. I am going back into the past remembering just how wonderful it felt to be with all of them. My mind and emotions are also racing forward, tripping on the unknowns of the future. Will I get to see them? Will my grandchildren get to know me and me them? How will I ever make this situation work?
When I finally bring myself back to the present--there it is again: I am feeling sentimental. No matter how hard I am trying to be different from my father--this response is the same as his. And it somehow seems okay with me. My heart is enormous and heavy and feels as though it will burst. And, yes, tears are running down my cheeks...
Now mind you, this never involved me directly. Because he was a typical distant 1950's father I was never the object of any sentimental emotions from him, or for that matter many emotions at all. This was more evident with people in our small farming community when they were ill or had died, the loss of things, when something changed or anything to do with animals.
I remember when I was quite small going out to our farm to find a mother calf in labor with a breech calf. After working what seemed like a number of hours the calf was born dead. My father had large tears dropping on his cheeks all the way home, although he did not say a word.
This tenderness seemed quite foreign and a sharp contrast to our relationship which was angry, rough and empty of emotions. I distantly observed his reaction to others and couldn't help but notice what I would call "sentimental reactions" to things.
Partially because of our remote relationship, I seemed to take a more "middle of the road" with my own responses to others and things in my life. This was more comfortable for my personality and also provided me with the illusion that I was different from my father. I think this helped ease the pain that I wasn't even conscious of feeling.
This afternoon I opened my Facebook and there was a picture of my son's cat. My son and his family are moving to London next week and decided after many discouraging calls to multiple airlines to find the cat a good home and leave him in the States.
I have to admit, my reaction to their giving away the cat was much larger than I would have expected. It surprised me how sleepy and almost depressed I became. I had a deep feeling of loss and a lot of sadness.
I began to wonder if the cat was a catalyst for getting me more closely in touch with the kids moving so far away. My reaction to the cat was just to big.
So, I have to admit--I am feeling sentimental. My mind is picturing all my lovely visits with my little Granddaughter over the last 16 months. I am going back into the past remembering just how wonderful it felt to be with all of them. My mind and emotions are also racing forward, tripping on the unknowns of the future. Will I get to see them? Will my grandchildren get to know me and me them? How will I ever make this situation work?
When I finally bring myself back to the present--there it is again: I am feeling sentimental. No matter how hard I am trying to be different from my father--this response is the same as his. And it somehow seems okay with me. My heart is enormous and heavy and feels as though it will burst. And, yes, tears are running down my cheeks...
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Mysteries Of The Moon
It was night of February 20, 2008. I was out watching the total eclipse of the full moon. The sky was enormous. There were no clouds. When the moon came up, it was a breathtaking milky-gold ball that lit up the horizon. As it rose and became white, the eclipse shadow began taking over. I kept watching it as the shadow grew and even tried to take some pictures of it. The pictures did it no justice. It is one of those things I will just have to remember.
I have been enchanted and awed by the moon as long as I can remember. Watching her cycles wax and wane has taught me more about life than just about anything else. She has been the most consistent and dependable thing in my life. I know she is out there when it is cloudy, her path misses my view, or when she is covered by the shadow of an eclipse.
When my son was small and one of us would go away, I used to tell him that we were never far away from each other because we could both see the moon. That made it much easier to be apart. It would have been unbearable if the moon had not been there for both of us. Even though my son is now an adult and on another continent, I still use my reference point to be certain of our connection.
Once an amazing thing happened. While watching the moon one night I had what I would call a sacred experience. I was on a mountain in Colorado camping out under the stars when a full moon rose in the sky. The light was so bright I could see as if it was daytime. I was laying in my sleeping bag watching the sky in wonder when, suddenly, I had the experience of not being separate. It was as if I was a part of the mountain, the sky, the moon—I was everything. From that moment, my spiritual life has filled and changed my perception of life.
I was hungry for lunar knowledge. I found the symbolic and spiritual connections fascinating. I read folk stories, fairy tales, poetry, novels, magazines, astrology, psychology and any spiritual books I could get my hands on.
I found out that many ancient cultures worshiped the moon more than the sun. Some called all deities the “moon”. To the Greeks, menos meant both “moon” and “power.” To the Romans, the morality of the Moon-goddess was superior to that of the Sun god. In many cultures, the Moon-goddess and the Creatress were one and the same. The Moon-goddess was thought to create time, with all its cycles of creation, growth, decline, and destruction, which is why ancient calendars were based on phases of the moon.
Because the Moon-goddess was threefold, the Destroyer as well as the Creator, she was the devourer of the dead as well as the giver of life. The Greeks located the home of the blessed dead in the moon. Most important for its association with birth, the moon was supposed to be the receptacle of menstrual blood by which each mother formed the life of her child.
Few religious symbols occurred in so many diverse contexts as symbols of the moon. Despite all the church’s condemnations, rural folk continued to trust the Moon-mother in all their most important activities. To them, the moon governed women’s sexuality, birth, death, and magic. (Walker)
As I gathered information, my own beliefs began to take shape and I was swept away with inspiration. With the new insights, I began to feel my power in a new and exciting way. The moon began to signify the feminine to me. She became a link to my mother, and her mother and her mother. I remembered when I became a mother and felt her presence right beside me, holding me and rocking me back and forth, back and forth.
I was beginning to understand the moon's energies about life and death. When my mother died, I initially felt as if I had lost all connection to everything. It was night when I got the word, and all I could do was go outside with my dog and sit on the ground under a huge tree and weep. Just as I was being submerged in agonizing despair, I looked up and the moon was peeking over a cloud at me. I remembered in that instant my connection to everything, including to my mother, now on the other side. Knowing I was part of everything, even death would ever take her away. My mother died thirty-one years ago this month. It seems like yesterday and forever. Tomorrow is my son’s birthday. It seems like he has been with me always.
As the eclipse completely obscured the moon, I took deep breaths and basked in the gratitude of her presence, her secrets, her power and the mysteries that she has offered me. She has shown me about the cycles of birth, life and death in many it's many forms and ways. She has helped me connect with spirituality. Because of her and what she has come to represent to me, she has enriched my life with a wondrous journey. I celebrate the blessings of the moon as she travels through the sky, holding her secrets for me to discover.
I have been enchanted and awed by the moon as long as I can remember. Watching her cycles wax and wane has taught me more about life than just about anything else. She has been the most consistent and dependable thing in my life. I know she is out there when it is cloudy, her path misses my view, or when she is covered by the shadow of an eclipse.
When my son was small and one of us would go away, I used to tell him that we were never far away from each other because we could both see the moon. That made it much easier to be apart. It would have been unbearable if the moon had not been there for both of us. Even though my son is now an adult and on another continent, I still use my reference point to be certain of our connection.
Once an amazing thing happened. While watching the moon one night I had what I would call a sacred experience. I was on a mountain in Colorado camping out under the stars when a full moon rose in the sky. The light was so bright I could see as if it was daytime. I was laying in my sleeping bag watching the sky in wonder when, suddenly, I had the experience of not being separate. It was as if I was a part of the mountain, the sky, the moon—I was everything. From that moment, my spiritual life has filled and changed my perception of life.
I was hungry for lunar knowledge. I found the symbolic and spiritual connections fascinating. I read folk stories, fairy tales, poetry, novels, magazines, astrology, psychology and any spiritual books I could get my hands on.
I found out that many ancient cultures worshiped the moon more than the sun. Some called all deities the “moon”. To the Greeks, menos meant both “moon” and “power.” To the Romans, the morality of the Moon-goddess was superior to that of the Sun god. In many cultures, the Moon-goddess and the Creatress were one and the same. The Moon-goddess was thought to create time, with all its cycles of creation, growth, decline, and destruction, which is why ancient calendars were based on phases of the moon.
Because the Moon-goddess was threefold, the Destroyer as well as the Creator, she was the devourer of the dead as well as the giver of life. The Greeks located the home of the blessed dead in the moon. Most important for its association with birth, the moon was supposed to be the receptacle of menstrual blood by which each mother formed the life of her child.
Few religious symbols occurred in so many diverse contexts as symbols of the moon. Despite all the church’s condemnations, rural folk continued to trust the Moon-mother in all their most important activities. To them, the moon governed women’s sexuality, birth, death, and magic. (Walker)
As I gathered information, my own beliefs began to take shape and I was swept away with inspiration. With the new insights, I began to feel my power in a new and exciting way. The moon began to signify the feminine to me. She became a link to my mother, and her mother and her mother. I remembered when I became a mother and felt her presence right beside me, holding me and rocking me back and forth, back and forth.
I was beginning to understand the moon's energies about life and death. When my mother died, I initially felt as if I had lost all connection to everything. It was night when I got the word, and all I could do was go outside with my dog and sit on the ground under a huge tree and weep. Just as I was being submerged in agonizing despair, I looked up and the moon was peeking over a cloud at me. I remembered in that instant my connection to everything, including to my mother, now on the other side. Knowing I was part of everything, even death would ever take her away. My mother died thirty-one years ago this month. It seems like yesterday and forever. Tomorrow is my son’s birthday. It seems like he has been with me always.
As the eclipse completely obscured the moon, I took deep breaths and basked in the gratitude of her presence, her secrets, her power and the mysteries that she has offered me. She has shown me about the cycles of birth, life and death in many it's many forms and ways. She has helped me connect with spirituality. Because of her and what she has come to represent to me, she has enriched my life with a wondrous journey. I celebrate the blessings of the moon as she travels through the sky, holding her secrets for me to discover.
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