Multi-tasking

What is it with multi-tasking these days?  Has the world become so fast paced that people can't slow down and do one thing at a time?  I think it might have to do with TV.  I remember reading a study about how when TV came out shows were shot with just one camera and the action stayed on one subject throughout.  Watch an episode of Mr. Rogers then watch any show on TV now.  Any show.  A 30 minute sitcom will have a main storyline and 3 or 4 sub-stories going on.  The scene bounces from place to place and subject to subject every 30 seconds or so.  This is what we raise our children on, yet we expect them to sit in a classroom and listen to a teacher for 7 or 8 hours a day.  No jumping from subject to subject, no multi-tasking.  It is no wonder so many kids have to be drugged to get through the day.  So what needs to change?  The world or the way we teach kids?  Another subject I don't have the answer for really.  The best I can suggest to a parent is to limit TV and teach kids from a very young age to participate in single activity events...board games, books, gardening, bike-riding...it is a lot more work than letting the TV babysit while you cook dinner, but it is probably worth it.  I can't fix the school system, but wouldn't it be nice if there was enough money and initiative out there adjust the way we teach the kids to the way the kids learn?  Perhaps if we saved the money we spend on standardized testing there would be more money for teachers salaries and creative teaching techniques.

Most people can't multi-task worth a damn.  Most people thing they can.  TV teaches us that we can, so we do.  The most obvious example is talking on the phone/texting while driving, but there are million other examples.  How many times have you been stuck behind someone in an aisle at the grocery store who is oblivious to everything around them, blocking aisles and dodging out in front of people?  Do the math, the more ways you split your attention the worse you will do at each of the things you are doing.  You brain will prioritize for you and it could be disasterous, yet we can't just do the one thing, not just simply drive.  Most of the people I know use drive time as phone time, killing two birds with one stone, perhaps literally.  I was following a truck the other day that was weaving all over the road and speeding up and slowing down.  It was 4 in the afternoon.  Not that there can't be drunk drivers at 4 in the afternoon, but I didn't think so.  After following awhile I decided to make a break for it and get around him as fast as I could.  I watched him in my rearview mirror once I got around.  He was reading something, talking on the phone, and drinking a cup of something.  It was ridiculous.  I get very nervous when someone who is driving me texts or reads emails on their phone while driving.  Usually they think they are doing just fine, but they aren't watching the road from my perspective.  My first defense is to offer to do it for them.  My next defense is not to ride with that person again if I can help it. I can't say I never talk on the phone when I'm driving, but if you call me and I'm driving, you can bet the call will be short, sweet and to the point.

I was sitting in a meeting today.  Everyone in the meeting had their smart phones.  If they weren't the one talking, it is likely that they were focused on their phone, probably hearing half of what was said.  This is the norm at meetings where I work and probably everywhere.  If I were the boss, I would ban phones from meetings.  My boss is the worst offender.  In fact there is almost a perception that if you have time to be at the meeting and NOT checking your phone, emailing and whatnot, then you must not be very busy or important.  Yet I KNOW for a FACT that many if not most of the time these people are not doing work while they are sitting there.  How do I know?  I spent the meeting playing a Scrabble game with the guy sitting across the table from me.  Hey, you have to do what you have to do to keep your job, right?  I can't blame this directly on TV, but I'm sure there is a tie-in somewhere.

Next blog....the depression explosion, the drug companies and television...why they all tie together to make us one big unhappy society.

Walk the Walk

I had a very unusual encounter the other night.  We were staying at a hotel in Tampa the night before the Steeler game (Go Steelers).  Brandon and Bill were going to sleep, but I needed to make a phone call, so I decided to go out to the car to make the call.  We had returned to the room about 20 minutes earlier and it was pretty late, maybe 11pm.  When we pulled up to the hotel, there were several police cars parked out front, but we parked in the back and went to the room, so I didn't give it another thought. 

As I walked to the car to make my phone call, I heard someone talking in a loud voice and naturally turned to look.  There were two young men, one Black, one Hispanic, talking very animatedly near the hotel (across the parking lot from where I was).  When I turned to look at them, they spotted me and called out to me to come to them.  Probably 100 thoughts went through my mind at that instant.  I raised my children to abhor racism and bigotry.  I also raised them not to put themselves in unnecessary danger.  A woman, alone, 11pm, dark area behind a hotel, two young men obviously wound up about something.  But something told me this was perhaps a chance to make a difference to someone, so I moved towards them.  I'm not completely without caution, so I walked halfway to where they were and stopped in the middle of the parking lot in the brightest spot under the lights.  That was good enough for them.  Probably that I stopped and responded at all would have been good enough.  They joined me in the middle.

They were very young.  They claimed to be 21, but they looked like babies to me.  They were upset because their friend was getting arrested in front of the hotel.  Apparently they had been having a birthday party in one of the rooms, probably warming up to go out to the clubs.  They said everyone was 21.  They said there were no drugs involved.  They said they weren't being very loud, but that they were right next to the desk.  They said they were warned once, then the police came.  This is their story.  I'm not disputing it.  They seemed more sober than not.  I saw no signs of drug use.  I know how voices carry in a hotel. 

I said what is he being arrested for?   They didn't know.  I asked if he mouthed off to the 'cop' when he got there.  They said yes, he did.  They tried to justify it.  I said no.  I said that 'cop' is doing his job and at that moment he has all the power, there is no point in provoking him, you will lose.  The young black man said, I think it is a race thing.  I said you may be right.  Or you may be wrong.  Perhaps it is just a noise thing and a bunch of young people crowded into a hotel room making the management nervous.  I'm not saying, because I wasn't there.  There are things that are race things and things that are not and you should be choosy about when you call it that or people won't take you seriously.

It got a little strange here because apparently the Hispanic gentleman didn't believe it was a race thing, because he didn't believe he looked Hispanic...um, ok?  He says to me...what are you?  Both the Black young man and I replied that obviously I am White.  Then he says, what are we?  I said, he is Black and you are Hispanic.  Then he wanted to me explain to him how I knew he was Hispanic (Puerto Rican as it turned out) because his skin was much paler than mine.  I told him it was his facial features.  I honestly think he had never thought about this before...that other people see him and classify him, perhaps even stereotype him, by his features.

So here we are in a hotel parking lot, a tall skinny Black man, a skinny (shiny white) Puerto Rican man, and a middle aged (brown) White woman....I knew I was safe.  I never felt a moment of fear.  I knew I was just talking to a couple of young men trying to make sense out of their world.  I also knew I didn't have long to make an impression, the Black man was checking his phone and looking for the rest of their group.  But the Hispanic man seemed to want something from me.  I could feel it and I could see it.  I think he wanted me to tell him that the world was fair and just and everything would be just fine.  I can't lie like that. 

What I told them was to be careful.  To watch themselves and stay clear of trouble.  Why?  He asked.  I said because you are young (and here I paused, took a breath for effect...and was interrupted by the Black man who said 'and not white'), and I said, yes.  And not white.  I said I couldn't give a hot damn what color you are, but not everyone is like me.  I said you need to stay straight and clean and get to the top, because change comes from the top, not the bottom.  I said there are more people like me in the world than not these days and you can't let the minority, the haters, control you.  But even the people like me can't change the world for you, you have to do it yourselves.  The world has come a long way, but it has a long way to go. So be strong and be real, get to the top and change the world.

I'm sure there was more said.  I'm sure I haven't quoted it all out word for word.  The encounter lasted maybe 10 or 15 minutes.  It was time for them to go.  With a 'you know what?  You're alright Mama.' They took off to find their friends.  It was obvious to me that the young Black man was already bitter, whether through his own experiences or the values of those who raised him, I'll never know.  Such a terrible shame at his young age, he was smart, he was well spoken, he could have the American dream if he doesn't let his own bitterness trip him up.  The Hispanic man though, he still has hope.  Had I turned from them when they called out to me...got in my car or walked the other way...would that have put a tiny chip on that young man's shoulder?  A tiny chip to be built upon through a thousand more small slights?  Did my stopping to talk to them put a bit of Spackle in the foundations of the young Black man's hope? 

Maybe neither.  Maybe the encounter was only for my benefit.  To remind me that you have to live the way you want the world to be before the world can ever become that way.

Can you go home again?



Home

 Something that has always bothered me was that my kids had no 'hometown'.  Being a military family, we moved every few years.  When Michaela had to write about her hometown for school one time, she chose to write about my hometown, but privately lamented her lack of one.

I am from a small town.  So is her father.  So is my husband.  All of our parents have lived in the same place for as long as we can remember.  We have someplace to go home to.  It may change a little bit from year to year, but not so much and not so fast that we can't keep up with it during annual visits.  Fast enough that we can reminisce about the "I remember whens".   Until this week I thought this was important, but now I have a slightly different perspective. 

This week we are home at my husband's family's house for a very sad reason.  His mother passed away.   It wasn't unexpected and in all the ways you can imagine, it was better for her.  But now her home sits empty.  For now Bill owns it, but it may stay empty, it may get sold, it may get passed down to his brother.  I don't know.  I know we won't live here.  And even with his aunts and siblings still living in the area, will we visit again?  I don't know.  Neither does he and that is very sad.  To have a home to go home to, and have it taken away, is sad.  Is it sadder than not having one to start with?  I don't know.

Our society is changing so much that I could make the argument that indeed, it is better that way.  To not be attached to a place that you will inevitably see sold during your lifetime.  It is the rare family these days that passes real estate down through the generations.  It is rare (and envious) for a family to stay in one town or even one state.  We are a transient society.  Perhaps it is better to be attached to the people and not the place.

I know that it is inevitable in my lifetime that my parents home will be sold.  It is also likely that I will not return to that town much once they are gone.  My brother lives nearby and there may be occasional visits (I certainly hope) between us and during those I may stop by the town just to see how it has changed or to visit old friends, but my place in that town will belong to someone else.  My little bedroom overlooking the streets will be occupied by someone else.  I don't like the way that feels.  In my mind, I own that bedroom.  It is my room.  I haven't lived in it for 30 years, but it is still my room and the one across the hall is my brother's room.

I have to wonder if maybe being military children wasn't the better option or at least just as good.  They learned to be attached to people, but not places and things.  They learned about loss of friendship and growing apart but also of staying in touch and maintaining a bond.  They don't feel tied down or obligated to stay near a place because it is home.  They learned that one place is as good as another if you are with people you love and they learned that just because someone does something a bit different doesn't mean they are wrong. 

I have spent many hours wondering if we did the right thing by scattering (I use that term loosely) Michaela's remains in the ocean, depriving myself and others of a 'place' to go be with her.  I have beat myself up over that decision many times, but this trip has made me rethink that as well.  And that is a subject for a later blog.

Reflections

Bill at Sunset on Lake Washington

Lately I have been spending a lot of time kayaking.  I really love it.  On a good day the water is calm and reflective.  We see all sorts of birds and fish, dolphins and manatees.  But even if we don’t see those things, the beauty on that water being reflected back just fills my eyes and my heart.  I can’t get enough of it.  Occasionally I get a nice picture, but usually the camera can’t catch the beauty of 365 degrees of blue sky, white clouds, and green trees being reflected back in 365 degrees of vastness.

A Dolphin Swims with us

The surface of the water is what fascinates me.  How that millimeter of change between water and air both reflects back at us all of the beauty of our world, but also hides a completely different world beneath its shimmering flatness.  We know that other world is there. We believe it in without question because we have seen all of the evidence.  The fish that jump out and go back under, the birds that dive under and come back out carrying a suffering fish in their strong beaks.  The dolphins that cut the surface with their fins and submerge again leaving only a V shaped wake behind them.  Whales that breech in the ocean, jumping high in the air just for the sheer fun of it, but return to their watery home out of necessity.  We can even join in their world for short times using scuba gear and snorkels, but we too must return to our own world soon to survive.

Baby Manatee Face

 This is sort of how I image the line between our world and the worlds of angels, cherubs, elves, fairies, and whatever else might be out there.  The world between the bodies we live in now and whatever form we may take in the next life.  Just a shimmering reflection that hides what we are not allowed to see.   And the evidence is out there that it exists.  Scientists even will tell you that they cannot account for the matter in our universe mathematically by what we can see.  We know by using IR vision and radar that there are ways to see beyond what our eyes tell us.  We have heard stories of aliens, UFOs, miracles and Angels all of our lives, but so many of us choose not to believe.  Why not?  Why can’t those things exist and jump into our world for short times, just as a fish can jump out of the water or a bird can swim?

A Manatee Plays with Kathleen

I am sitting in my kayak with my camera focused on my friend and her perfect reflection in the still water, and just before I can take the picture the water shimmers and clouds up.  I pull down my camera to see what has happened to the reflection and watch as a 1000 pound manatee lifts first her nose to catch that breath of fresh air, and then her body and finally her tail to the surface of the water.  As long and as wide as my friends kayak, but invisible to my eyes just a foot below the surface.  If something that big and that solid can hide from my eyes in just a foot of water, what else might be just beyond my vision????

The Gulf of Mexico

My Dream?

There are two ways to say this and depending on what you believe one is right and the other is wrong.  1.  I had a dream about Michaela the other night.  2.  Michaela came to me in a dream the other night.  You can decide for yourself.  An argument can be made for either, so I'm not going to bother.

I went to bed about midnight after a very busy day that included entertaining with a large number of people and also getting the news that my husband's mother, Dixie, was dying and we needed to come as soon as possible.  We needed to leave the house at 630am, but I just had so many things on my mind I had trouble shutting down to go to sleep. 

I have only dreamed about Michaela a very few times that I remember since she died a little over a year ago.  Each time has been memorable in its own way.  This is the only time she has stayed with me all night long.  It seems like I started dreaming as soon as I went to sleep and I only remember bits and pieces.  Notable were that it was happening in Tallahassee, or I thought it was Tallahassee, but it wasn't visually any place I had ever been nor likely any place in Tallahassee.  There were a lot of bricks and old style buildings like the FSU campus and someone I saw early in the dream told me that it was Tallahassee because that was a place that Michaela was very happy so that is where she would choose to spend a lot of time.  So I started frantically looking for her, running up and down hallways and searching for her as fast as I could.  Only when I started to tire and slow down did I realize that if I moved slowly and carefully I could see beings all around me in varying stages of transparency and furthermore if I stopped them and touched them, they would become fully solid and able to talk to me.  I saw a lot of people I knew, most who had passed on and each of whom pointed me towards where I would find Michaela, but some of whom had not passed on which confused me. 

Finally I found someone (I am deliberately not naming names by the way), who told me that she was down to the right at the end of the 'dead end hallway'.  So off I went down this massive, ornate, brick hallway with huge beautiful chandeliers and giant archway windows.  Truly stunning.  At the end, I finally found Mich propped up in an archway, dressed casually in jeans, hair down and gleaming, smiling calmly at me.  I said, 'why the dead end hallway?'  She lifted her eyebrows in that way she had and said 'really, mom?  really?  its a joke! there  are no dead end hallways here.'  The next thing she said to me was 'Dixie isn't here yet.' Very casually, very matter of factly.  Implying she knew she was coming and was waiting for her, but she simply wasn't there yet.  

The rest of the conversation was what you would expect from a kid showing their mother around a college campus, except Michaela wasn't showing me around a college campus, but explaining to me how the universe works and where she is in relationship to where we are and how very close it really is.  She explained to me how I could see some people who were alive there, that certain people who were spiritually open could reside temporarily in both places, but that most of the time we only could reside in one at a time.  She showed me everything there was to see.  I remember that she was both calm and excited, happy and content, and very very self assured.

Unfortunately I don't remember how, exactly, the universe works.  I woke up about 330 in the morning and was very happy, but also upset knowing that I would forget most of the dream, as people do.  I went to the bathroom and got a drink of water while repeating as much of my dream as possible in my mind to try to remember it and also thinking of ways to capture it.  Should I write it down?  Too tired.  Type it?  Too tired.  Wished I had a tape recorder so I could just tell it.  But settled for trying to commit it to memory until I fell back to sleep.

And then it started over.  The exact same dream. Step by step.  Second by second.  I had the first recurring dream of my entire life at least twice in one night.  Maybe 3 times as I remember waking once more, but when I woke up at 530, I was in the middle of that dream again. 

The good news is, she was right.  Dixie isn't there yet.  She will be soon and I know Michaela will be waiting to show her around.

Sails in the Wind

I knew tonight was going to be a rough night when on the way home from work I saw some kite surfers and started crying.  My first thought was 'oh my God, I am forgetting her, I can't hear her voice anymore, she isn't talking in my head all of the time' and I was devastated.  I want to live, but I don't want to forget.  I want to enjoy life, but I want to honor her memory.  I want her to be proud of me.  These are the some of the struggles of a mother who has lost a child. 

Why kite surfers?  When she was 15 or 16, she wanted to earn some money so I agreed to put an ad at work for her for babysitting.  Instead of a babysitting job, a couple of young airmen who had met her (bowling league) asked if she would be willing to help them with their self-taught kite surfing attempts for the same price.  Apparently when you are attempting to learn to kite-surf, it helps if someone launches the kite thing into the air for you...I don't know.  Anyway, I knew these young men, and I knew that they had no evil intentions (although one of them insisted that as soon as she turned 21 I was supposed to re-introduce them), so I agreed to let her do it.  She went out two or three times to help them.  One time one of them hurt himself and I remember her telling me, he insisted he was ok, but he was bleeding from the head really bad, so I made them stop and told him to go to the hospital.  I think that may have been the last time they tried.  He had several stitches in his head. 

Whenever I get down, I watch the video of her sky diving.  It usually helps even though it makes me cry.  If I am in worse shape I watch video after video, because nothing will help me after that.  The sky diving video helps me because it represents everything about her, her fearlessness along with her insecurities, her zest for life, her goals, her dimples, her life-living attitude, the beauty of the earth behind her, her praise to God while she was falling (it may be a cliche but Oh My God in that video means exactly that, you can see it in her face), her disorientation at the end reminding me of myself, the faces of her friends...there is nothing in that video that is anything but amazing. 

And then there is the whole representation of sails, parachutes, kites...there were so many experiences with them in our lives, both good and bad.  We parasailed, we sailboated, we flew kites, talked about skydiving, but mostly I talked to her about relationships in a parable about sails.  Some relationships are anchors holding you where you are and not letting you reach your full potential...others are sails that can soar you across the ocean or through the skies. 

I hope every one of you find a relationship that can soar you through the skies.

Please do not letter up

Still thinking about Chinese medicine.  You will be sorry to hear that my headache came back this afternoon right on schedule with muscle spasms in my neck and upper shoulder.  So much for 'suction cup!' therapy.  I suppose it isn't supposed to help in just one treatment, but flexeril helps me sleep and doesn't leave bruises. 


All this talk about Chinese medicine got me thinking about my last experience with Chinese medicine.  I was actually in Beijing.  It was the year 2001 and right after an American military plane had made an emergency landing in China and had been held 'hostage' for 10 days or so.  Probably not the best time to visit China considering my past profession and the timing of it all, but we went anyway.  Since we didn't know any thing at all about how to get around in China, we signed up for a package deal that included an English speaking tour guide and chartered bus to take us to see the major attractions.  This was the old days back before you could find anything you ever wanted to know on the internet--it was still being used mostly for email, news, and porn back then.

So our group tour promised to take us to the Great Wall, Tiennamen Square, the Forbidden City and some other major attractions.  But oh, the capitalist heart is alive and well in communist China, don't let them fool you!  On the way to these attractions we had numerous stops at places to 'shop', a pearl place, a jade place and of all things, a hospital!  At the hospital they bragged that they were the only hospital in China to do heart transplant surgery.  They did a whole talk about ancient Chinese medicine and then they wanted to talk to each person about their ailments (tired?  achy?  high blood pressure?) and try to sell them Chinese herbal medicine!!!!  As part of the tourist trade!  Wow!  And that whole thing about open heart surgery?  I wouldn't have taken my dog to be treated at this hospital!  I'm sure things have changed a lot since then.  I know things got really cleaned up for the Olympics.  Even then they were working on preparing for the bid for the Olympics. 

We only stayed in Beijing for a long weekend.  Certainly not enough time or area to say I've "been" to China.  We did have some amazingly delicious Peking Duck (Beijing used to be Peking), which I found surprising because I'm not a big fan of duck.  All of the food we ate was delicious, although I admit I passed on some of the more 'exotic' foods.  The great wall was, well, great.   We saw the requisite Chinese Circus.  We found our own way to the 'flea market' (read 'black market') street to do some shopping on our own.  And of course, there was a Hard Rock Cafe....the global economy wasn't even a catch phrase back then, but it was certainly getting a good start in Beijing.

Mostly, though, I just remember laughing a lot at the ridiculousness of the whole trip.  Because my friend Lorenda and I, well, we were the funniest people we knew!  (Miss you Lorenda, hope to see you again someday soon!)

Chinese Medicine

You might remember that a couple of weeks ago, I crashed my bicycle in an epic over the handlebars maneuver.  A few days later my neck and shoulders were getting stiffer and sorer.  I had a headache for 7 days straight.  So enough of all that, I went to the doctor.  As expected he prescribed muscle relaxers and anti-inflammatories.  Ok, I can live with that. 

Then I remembered that I had a coupon for accupuncture.  Why would I have a coupon for accupuncture just sitting around the house if it wasn't for an occasion just like this one?  So, armed with my free $75 first treatment coupon, I headed out to the local accupuncturist.  I have no reason to believe that accupuncture doesn't work.  In fact I have heard from many people that it did miracles for them.  Who are we to believe our (western) medicine is any better or worse than something they have been perfecting for 1000's of years? 

I honestly had no idea what to expect.  When I made my appointment I was asked no questions (sort of a nice relief after  always having to tell some receptionist your most embarrassing medical issues to get an appointment with a doctor).  When I arrived I was greeted promptly by a smiling Chinese lady wearing a blinding white uniform in a sparkling white office.  Everything was clean and organized with the prerequisite medical charts on the wall (albeit in Chinese) and a reception window through which she handed me a clipboard to fill out.  Ok, I know this routine.  So far so good.

Next we went to the exam room where she asked me some questions about where my pain was and what caused it.  Then a man came in and we went through the same questions more or less.  Then up on the exam table/massage table and he does some pinching and prodding to figure out exactly where the pain is.  There is very little said.  His English is better than my Chinese, but I don't know by how much :).   Then he says, "lay down on table face down.  Oh and take off T-shirt."  ?? this is the first departure from a western doctor.  No, take off your shirt and put this on, take off your shirt and get under the blanket, take off your shirt while I step out of the room.  Nope.  He just stands there and waits for me to follow instructions.  Ok, I'm not shy.  I'm going into this with an open mind.  As I get ready, I notice the posters on the wall didn't mess around either...no secret anatomy in accupuncture.

Woman in a Beijing prison torture box.

Face down on the table in my pretty purple bra, face squishing through the little massage table hole.  More poking and prodding til he was absolutely sure he knew exactly where to hurt me the most, then in with the needles.  I had some vision in my mind of multiple needles placed in strange positions like behind my knee or something to correct neck pain, but no, he just put in two needles right at the points of pain.  Then he started sending 1000 volts of electicity through the needles  (one of which was stuck into my scalp right behind my ear) every second or two.  I wanted to explain to him that I didn't need electric shock therapy, I'm not crazy.  But I figured the point was moot. 

He left me there with my electricity pulsing into my head for about 15 minutes then returned and turned them off.  Over that time I had become more or less accustomed to it, so the pain went from being stabbed with a dagger in the head to a little pin prick every second or two.  Then more prodding only this time like a very rough massage, again looking for the most painful possible combination of squeeze and poke.  When I would give in and flinch he would say "hurts?" (yes, um isn't that what I'm here for?), "right here?"  (yep) "ok" .  Next thing I know he sticks a giant suction cup right on the spot and sucks all the air out of it it is sucking at my skin like a newborn on a pacifier.  Owwww!  I'm thinking...hmmm, that's going to leave a mark. 

We go through this several times until I have 3 or 4 suction cups on me.  Each time he applies one he shouts triumphantly "suction cup!  free!"  Um, hurray??  Then alas, he sees something he hasn't seen before...I have a bruise on the opposite arm.  "oh, black and blue...hurt?"  "No, not much," I respond, because I know the punishment for saying yes!  "Let's see"  Squeeze prod poke, until finally I must admit that yes, that hurts, just to make him stop!!!  "Suction cup!  Free!"  Aaahhh...somebody help me!

I lay on the table with (presumably) the evil pain being forcibly sucked from my body for another 10 minutes or so.  When he came back in he had some little pads in his hand.  "Herbal Medicine Patch, today free for you!"  At this point I'm not honestly sure I can survive any more free treatments.  I must have responded skeptically, because he then says "no, no, free, see?"  and proceeds to show me the pricing list that tells what I paid for with my free coupon (accupuncture) and the prices for all of the other services he was providing.  "Ok", I say, "Thank you."  What else could I possible say at that point?  On go the patches.  I should note that my husband wouldn't get within 10 feet from me until I took them off AND showered they smelled so strong. 

I was to leave the patches on for 24 hours.  I took them off the next morning and then I discovered the real reason for the herbal patches.  They were there solely to cover up the perfectly circular bruises caused by the suction cups.  Bruises on the back of my neck that made it look like I was abducted by aliens and had my brain removed through two points in the back of my neck.  Thank goodness for long hair. 

Random Oriental looking statue
that has nothing to do with my story.

Finally, he said, "oh, almost forgot best part, lay back down".  Face back into the little massage table hole.  Sound behind me like a lawnmower starting up.  Oh, for all that is holy, what next?  Turns out to be some kind of giant massaging vibrating thing.  I never actually saw the machine, but I would love to know where to buy one!  This thing was great.  It seemed to pulse and vibrate at multiple speeds all at once and she (I figured out from the shoes that the woman had taken over) ran it over my body like a floor buffer.  I love a good massage given by a person, but, boy howdy this thing was a close second.  Head to toe massage including the bottoms of my feet.  Delicious.  Ok, I forgive him, for all the other things. 

So, did it help?  I honestly don't know.  I think so.  I haven't had a headache since.  I'm still a little stiff in the shoulders and neck, but not painfully so.  I haven't of course stopped with the anti-infammatory meds and muscle relaxers at night though either.  Just to be on the safe side.

Blessed with a full life

Bill on Lake Washington

This evening is the end of a four day weekend.  Back to work tomorrow.  Work is good.  Work provides structure to the days and weeks.  But I honestly think I could go a long, long time before I ever got bored without going to work.  There are so many projects I would like to work on.  So many things that never seem to come to the top of the priority list.  Sure the temptation would be there to lay around reading and eating bon bons.  But I think I would get bored with that pretty quick.  I don't do that with the weekends I have now, why would I do that with more free time? 

I have all of these little projects that all have to do with Michaela.  To the outsider, it must appear that I am a woman possessed.  That I am not getting through this, that I am not coping.  That is just not true.  My life is abundant.  I am blessed with friends and family, home and a comfortable income, interests and health, the list goes on and on.  The fact is, I make time for these projects and to talk about Michaela, because that is the only thing missing from my life.  And I want to make sure that she gets her fair share.  She isn't here now demanding my time, reprimanding me for not paying enough attention, asking me for help.  She never will be again.  So I have a need and a responsibility to make her a place in my life that is tangible. 

To make that place I will blog, I will journal, I will make a physical place in our home for her things, I will talk about her every chance I get, I will follow the lives of her friends, I will talk to her about what is going on down here and mostly, I will cry when I feel like crying.  If all of that makes me crazy or obsessed or not coping well, then so be it. 

I will also enjoy the other parts of my life.  I will kayak and bike ride, I will travel and scrapbook,  I will learn new things and do new things and go new places.  I will watch my family grow.  I will love my husband and I will love my family.  I will shop and sing and dance and hike and work and entertain and go to the beach and enjoy sunsets.  All of these things will take time, my days will be full and blessed.  But I will not forget my daughter and I will make time in each and every day that belongs just to her.  And sometimes she will take my breath away and hurt my heart in missing her so badly that I will have to stop in my tracks and give her the time she demands.  That is ok.  Angels need their mothers too, sometimes.

The last few weekends I have been working on my 2010 scrapbook.  Scrapbooking has been one of the harder things for me to resume, but something that is important to me.  There is no 2009 scrapbook .... yet.  There will be.  Some amazing things happened in 2009.  Michaela graduated college, Heather graduated High School, Bill and I went to Hawaii, David visited for 3 amazing weeks...all of those things need to be in an album.  I have an album for every year since the kids were little.  So I'm catching up on 2010 and then I will do 2009.  It won't be easy, I'm sure. 

Just a few weeks before Michaela had her accident, she went through all of the albums.  She asked me if she got them when I died.  I laughed it off.  Told her yes, but I wasn't planning on going any time soon.  She just laughed and said she wanted to make sure she got them and not David.  Sibling rivalry never ends.  But that is the big thing, the big difference, the big loss (or one of them, anyway)....I don't have a daughter of my own any more.  There is no relationship that is the same as the one a mother has with her daughter.  Nothing can ever replace that.  .... but that is another subject.

Life is Grand

Angel Art

Today I have been working in my spare bedroom/office.  The room is (now) filled with angels and artwork.  Some of Michaela's art from different ages, some of her friends art, the beautiful stitchwork made by her lung recipient, other things that people have sent in her memory.  There was so much that it needed its own space. 

My favorite of her art pieces is the one she entitled 'Angels Cry Too' 

Angels Cry too

I always wonder how she knew?  When I was going through her artwork and her journals, doodles, and notes, I was amazed at how many pictures of angels I found.  For years she has been drawing Angels (alongside some of her darker work).  One of her Angel pictures is entitled Battle of the Gods and depicts the war between Angels that is written about in the Bible...a battle between good and evil that got Lucifer kicked out of heaven.  But in her picture it is a battle between beatiful females.   She drew this picture  in 2002.   No wings, but obviously Angels.  Wings were added by artists in about the 4th Century to distinguish them from other holy figures. 

Battle of the Gods

These pictures are just one part of my 'evidence' that on some level, she always knew she wouldn't be here long and that she knew where she came from.  Not consciously.  Deep inside.  She was more aware of the messages from God than most of us.  She could also pick people who needed her and love them unconditionally.  I've really never met anyone like that before.  There are other pieces of 'evidence' that I may share with time.  Writings that seem to indicate a 'knowing'.  Things that she said to me, things that I laughed off, that came absolutely true.  But this entry is about Angels and art, so here is another one.

I'm not sure exactly what this one is depicting.  She drew it when she was younger.  Middle school I think.  It isn't dated anywhere I can see, but the drawing skills aren't as well developed as in some of her other art.  It appears to me that the Angel is pouring water into the stream, not taking water out of it.

This last picture I am going to share today is not an Angel at all by appearance.  But yet another reference to Christianity and its history that seemed to be on her mind and in her art, but not necessarily on her tongue.  Perhaps she really did believe that actions were all that matter.  But she struggled with her faith as much as anybody else does, or even more.  Because she (like Jesus) did not agree with all of the dogma of organized religion, yet she gave of herself in a way that most self-proclaimed Christians could take a huge lesson from.

Persecution of the Christians

I don't know why she drew these things.  Just as I don't know why she was the happiest unhappy person on earth.  But maybe as we blog along we will discover something.

One last (maybe) comment on Angels

So many people responded to my earlier blogs on Facebook comments...I'm not sure people really know how to subscribe to and follow blogs...I know I didn't until recently.  Anyway....

Another friend commented about how some of the angels must be too lazy to leave signs or perhaps they just don't care. 

I want to clarify my belief about Angels.  I do not thing people's souls are angels and when we die, if we are good, we become angels.  I know a lot of people believe that and I respect everyone's beliefs.  Who the hell am I to know, right?

I believe that Angels and Humans are completely different creatures.  If you are Christian, that is what the Bible tells us.  But almost all religions have some sort of Angel-like beings.  I believe that angels do appear on earth to people, in a variety of forms and for a variety of lengths of time.  I have read stories of angels appearing as people, animals, and our traditional winged representation.  I have been reading up on Angel stories and will probably share more of that type of information at some point if it strikes me as interesting.

I also don't believe that every person who dies has the power to make signs that people can see or communicate with the world at all.  I think souls age and mature and grow strength with time...but this is a very vague, unformed thought.  Too deep for me to explain (if you can't explain something in simple terms, then you really don't understand it very well yourself).

I do believe that Michaela was most probably an actual Angel sent to earth for a purpose.  I believe she was (is) probably a fairly powerful Angel and that is both why she can send so many messages now and why she had such a difficult time fitting in and feeling a sense of belonging here on earth.  I do not know why she was sent, or why I had the blessing of being her mother, or who she was sent to help.  Maybe someday it will become clear.  Maybe I will never know.  It doesn't matter.

I think it sounds very conceited of me to make this claim.  My child was an Angel, but your losses were just humans.  It is ridiculous if you put it that way.  Every mother wants to believe their child was an Angel, something special.  And perhaps many are right, perhaps young death is common to Angels sent for a purpose.  Who knows? 

Picture I took on Father's Day 2010.  Look closely.

I believe this because we were told this.  Or more precisely, Bill was told this.  Over and over, at the hospital.  That is his story to tell, not mine.  But given that there were several of us that got very special, very unique messages from God during that time, and given that neither Bill or I have a close one on one conversation type relationship with God, I have no reason to doubt the truth in the statement.  And if that wasn't enough....well, there are all the signs....before, during, and since her death.

PS...the picture of her holding the stop sign in an earlier post was taken less than 50 feet from where her car accident happened and less than a month before.

exercising and the 'new' me

A friend commented to me earlier that she too is using exercise as a way to recover from something, but that we had completely different goals.  She is trying to forget, while I am trying to remember every single thing I can.  It is a shame we don't live closer together, we could ride bikes together.

In a way she is right.  I have been journaling, printing facebook posts, gathering Michaela's writings, making notes of individual memories that I have as soon as they pop into my mind--everything I can to try to capture my memories before they fade.  I do want to remember every single thing and I love when I discover something new about Michaela.

But my exercise is for balance.  During that time I have the freedom to forget.  To clear my mind and just be me in my body.  It keeps me from becoming consumed by my grief.  It forces my mind to let go for awhile.  And with time it will make both my mind and my body stronger to help me cope with, and even enjoy, life.

Tonight I rode 13 miles (and stayed on my bike!).  I do it with a group because it forces me to keep a pace.  To push myself faster and harder than I would do on my own.  But even though I am with a group, I am alone and I like it that way.  There is a social gathering afterwards and I try to participate in it sometimes, because for some reason at times I still care what people think, but really that ruins it for me.  That is hard.  I really only like to be with my friends.  Those who know me and those I don't have to put on a happy little show for.  Where I can be silent and it is ok.  Meeting new people is not on my agenda right now.  Networking is impossible and, thank goodness, not necessary. 

My friends are a blessing.  They have been my support from day one.  Most of them understand my need for solitude and small quiet groups.  One on one visits are my preference.  But here also I strive for balance.  I just have to prepare a bit more for larger groups and I don't have the patience for dealing with conflict or indecision.  Nor do I want to be the cruise director any more...traditionally that has been my role in the group.  Now I just want to go along and join in or not join in as I choose.  I hope my friends understand this change in me, but sometimes they, quite understandably, expect me to be who I was before. 

That person is gone and a new me will emerge.  I need to meet her and get to know her before I can start introducing her to big groups and new people.

Results

http://www.ehow.com/how_4872951_use-meaning-of-signs-universe.html

Last night I felt compelled to write about signs.  I got a lot of feed back on my first blog article (thank you everyone for reading), but something interesting happened.  My blog became someone else's sign...a sign to remember to watch for signs from the universe.  Isn't it interesting how things tie themselves together if you just calm down and let them?

The person who responded to me privately about the signs also shared the link above with me.  I thought it was interesting, so I am sharing it with you.   Sort of an instruction manual on how to recieve and use signs from the universe.  Not sure it is that simple, but it is an interesting perspective.  Most of us only seen the signs in retrospect, but this person asks for them and then watches for the results....

A sign I wish Michaela had paid attention to.

katylynn