Current time looking back: Three days.
A period of 72 hours. Period of grace or healing from an outpatient surgical procedure.
In three days I could be a grandmother for the second time as my son's girlfriend of three years (there's that "numero tres" again) gives birth to a little baby boy (grandson number 2) as soon as this coming week.
And three days ago, a tear drop left saline residue on my sleeve.
Flashback: Thursday Oct. 2, 2008
I was turning in my canvas sheets at our local Muncie "Vote For Change-Indiana" office.
COMMERCIAL BREAK: Muncie Indiana USA, a.k.a. Middletown USA, is a place that seems to has 3 kinds of people: 1) Realistic Achievers; 2) Pessimistic Pretenders, and 3) Clueless, yet caring. At least as a result of watching endless MSNBC we sometimes tend to forget that people don't read much and believe everything that the pundits spew on tv in terms of fear peddling to get a vote because no one who has represented an oppressed group of people in a house named after the oppressor: "White." (I guess if I was white I'd have it pretty easy getting along in the world...unless someone called me "white trash." ) But I digress. . . back to the point.
Walking out of headquarters I saw a woman crossing the street in beautiful 4 blocks long downtown Muncie. She came from the direction of the MITS bus station and the county courthouse. We'd parked on the same side of the one-way street (left) and her vehicle was two spots in front of mine.
Then, it happened. Boo-hoo city on a FEMA scale. This young woman just broke down, crossed her arms over her face and laid her head on top of her compact car.
First thing in my mind...."DON'T LET HER DRIVE!" This was too beautiful of an autumn mid-morning to go home only to see on the next day's news that a woman of the description that I'd seen was the victim of a mysterious one-car crash. So I walked up to her and said...."Are you gonna be okay?"
What a dumb question! Obviously all was NOT okay. The tears just kept on coming.
So I did what most women and non-threatening men would have done. . . I gave her a hug.
The hug worked. Took a minute, but it worked.
While the positive energy from the person-to-person-embrace was working its spiritual recipe I noticed my left shoulder sleeve was getting a bit soaked. I never did like being wet while wearing clothing, even a spot of wetness, and in my prime years I'd more than likely be disqualified from being a contestant in a wet tee-shirt contest while my wild college friends would throw caution and bras to the wind. But somehow, this was a spiritual tear.
As I made certain that this young woman (her name, Christa) assured me that she was okay she got on her cell phone.
As a maternal spirit I reminded her soberly, "Make sure you don't start this car until you are completely okay that you can drive it, alright?"
"Alright" she said. Then she proceeded to dial someone who was hopefully a friend on her vivid red cell phone.
As I got into my car, the wet sleeve became even more sensory to me. But not from a standpoint of waiting for my sleeve to dry. I found now that it was me that was unable to drive. I was crying from my soul. And as a result, tears came from my eyes only. My mind reflected.
It reflected as to what was it that tore at this woman's soul, creating the tears. This, I realize, was becoming a very deep homophonic/homographic experience.
(Wordwizard.com) 1 a : HOMOPHONE b : HOMOGRAPH c : one of two or more words spelled and pronounced alike but different in meaning (as the noun quail and the verb quail).
(Hey, did you know "quail" was a verb???) oh well...English, hmmph!)
What happens when one experiences tears in the non-spiritual sense? Well, we might surmise that usually, a sharp object catches a thread of a fabric that is either delicate or in the wrong place at the wrong time; and the sharpness of the edge of whatever the fabric (or skin) catches on creates a split. A rift. Thusly, a "tear." Yet that "tear" can produce a tear from the eye if the thing that was damaged from its original pristine form was of major significance in value, whether materially or psychologically.
Have you experienced a tear in your life lately that lead to the creation of a tear? Did the last 10-14 days, or perhaps the last THREE days of your life did you know anyone who was going thru a particularly tough time because of the economy? (Economy is a funny thing. When it's good, everyone treats each other well. But when the economy is NOT so good, that rips at the soul of everything that a person believes in UNLESS they are spiritually grounded in a faith so deep that nothing and no one can rip the belief from the believer....hence, the dreams of those aforementioned as Realistic Achievers.
But what about the wetness of the tear? Moisture is a symbol of health. Dryness is a symbol of an inability to thrive. We love our moist skin, especially when kissing and making love. When skin is moist, it resists cracking and peeling. And we can't stand it when a steak (if you are a meat-eater) is dry and heaven forbid if we experience a dry throat during a time when we desperately need to speak and be clearly understood.
Moisture, as in tears from the eyes lets us heal our dry spirits. When we undergo times of sorrow we still have to take into account that too much "drowning in our moist sorrows" will cause us to wither in other ways. We become too limp to be able to make sense of things that need executive decisiveness. When people do not like us we can NOT take it personally. To be on the attack is to allow that dryness to enter our souls. We must "refresh."
Things that tear us down, like a family member or friend who refuses to speak to us because they never got the whole story of something they never took time to truly understand; or people close to us who refuse to register to vote out of selfish spite because their vision is so limited for the greater good that they think that decisions don't effect their lives if they pretend issues do not exist; those are the kinds of things that make our spirits cry.
But you know the good thing about crying? . . . we can choose to get over it. We can CHOOSE to be a loner beating our own drum of a different rhythm. We CAN CHOOSE to change even if everyone else thinks we cannot. Sometimes we have to decide to be the only dove of peace when everything else around us wants to tear at us with the talons of a hawk.
I think Prince was right when he contemplated and wrote: "When Doves Cry."
A period of 72 hours. Period of grace or healing from an outpatient surgical procedure.
In three days I could be a grandmother for the second time as my son's girlfriend of three years (there's that "numero tres" again) gives birth to a little baby boy (grandson number 2) as soon as this coming week.
And three days ago, a tear drop left saline residue on my sleeve.
Flashback: Thursday Oct. 2, 2008
I was turning in my canvas sheets at our local Muncie "Vote For Change-Indiana" office.
COMMERCIAL BREAK: Muncie Indiana USA, a.k.a. Middletown USA, is a place that seems to has 3 kinds of people: 1) Realistic Achievers; 2) Pessimistic Pretenders, and 3) Clueless, yet caring. At least as a result of watching endless MSNBC we sometimes tend to forget that people don't read much and believe everything that the pundits spew on tv in terms of fear peddling to get a vote because no one who has represented an oppressed group of people in a house named after the oppressor: "White." (I guess if I was white I'd have it pretty easy getting along in the world...unless someone called me "white trash." ) But I digress. . . back to the point.
Walking out of headquarters I saw a woman crossing the street in beautiful 4 blocks long downtown Muncie. She came from the direction of the MITS bus station and the county courthouse. We'd parked on the same side of the one-way street (left) and her vehicle was two spots in front of mine.
Then, it happened. Boo-hoo city on a FEMA scale. This young woman just broke down, crossed her arms over her face and laid her head on top of her compact car.
First thing in my mind...."DON'T LET HER DRIVE!" This was too beautiful of an autumn mid-morning to go home only to see on the next day's news that a woman of the description that I'd seen was the victim of a mysterious one-car crash. So I walked up to her and said...."Are you gonna be okay?"
What a dumb question! Obviously all was NOT okay. The tears just kept on coming.
So I did what most women and non-threatening men would have done. . . I gave her a hug.
The hug worked. Took a minute, but it worked.
While the positive energy from the person-to-person-embrace was working its spiritual recipe I noticed my left shoulder sleeve was getting a bit soaked. I never did like being wet while wearing clothing, even a spot of wetness, and in my prime years I'd more than likely be disqualified from being a contestant in a wet tee-shirt contest while my wild college friends would throw caution and bras to the wind. But somehow, this was a spiritual tear.
As I made certain that this young woman (her name, Christa) assured me that she was okay she got on her cell phone.
As a maternal spirit I reminded her soberly, "Make sure you don't start this car until you are completely okay that you can drive it, alright?"
"Alright" she said. Then she proceeded to dial someone who was hopefully a friend on her vivid red cell phone.
As I got into my car, the wet sleeve became even more sensory to me. But not from a standpoint of waiting for my sleeve to dry. I found now that it was me that was unable to drive. I was crying from my soul. And as a result, tears came from my eyes only. My mind reflected.
It reflected as to what was it that tore at this woman's soul, creating the tears. This, I realize, was becoming a very deep homophonic/homographic experience.
(Wordwizard.com) 1 a : HOMOPHONE b : HOMOGRAPH c : one of two or more words spelled and pronounced alike but different in meaning (as the noun quail and the verb quail).
(Hey, did you know "quail" was a verb???) oh well...English, hmmph!)
What happens when one experiences tears in the non-spiritual sense? Well, we might surmise that usually, a sharp object catches a thread of a fabric that is either delicate or in the wrong place at the wrong time; and the sharpness of the edge of whatever the fabric (or skin) catches on creates a split. A rift. Thusly, a "tear." Yet that "tear" can produce a tear from the eye if the thing that was damaged from its original pristine form was of major significance in value, whether materially or psychologically.
Have you experienced a tear in your life lately that lead to the creation of a tear? Did the last 10-14 days, or perhaps the last THREE days of your life did you know anyone who was going thru a particularly tough time because of the economy? (Economy is a funny thing. When it's good, everyone treats each other well. But when the economy is NOT so good, that rips at the soul of everything that a person believes in UNLESS they are spiritually grounded in a faith so deep that nothing and no one can rip the belief from the believer....hence, the dreams of those aforementioned as Realistic Achievers.
But what about the wetness of the tear? Moisture is a symbol of health. Dryness is a symbol of an inability to thrive. We love our moist skin, especially when kissing and making love. When skin is moist, it resists cracking and peeling. And we can't stand it when a steak (if you are a meat-eater) is dry and heaven forbid if we experience a dry throat during a time when we desperately need to speak and be clearly understood.
Moisture, as in tears from the eyes lets us heal our dry spirits. When we undergo times of sorrow we still have to take into account that too much "drowning in our moist sorrows" will cause us to wither in other ways. We become too limp to be able to make sense of things that need executive decisiveness. When people do not like us we can NOT take it personally. To be on the attack is to allow that dryness to enter our souls. We must "refresh."
Things that tear us down, like a family member or friend who refuses to speak to us because they never got the whole story of something they never took time to truly understand; or people close to us who refuse to register to vote out of selfish spite because their vision is so limited for the greater good that they think that decisions don't effect their lives if they pretend issues do not exist; those are the kinds of things that make our spirits cry.
But you know the good thing about crying? . . . we can choose to get over it. We can CHOOSE to be a loner beating our own drum of a different rhythm. We CAN CHOOSE to change even if everyone else thinks we cannot. Sometimes we have to decide to be the only dove of peace when everything else around us wants to tear at us with the talons of a hawk.
I think Prince was right when he contemplated and wrote: "When Doves Cry."
It is up to each one of us individually, to be ready for the healing. For the healing is not a quick fix. The healing takes place so that we may teach others, thru careful listening, and not demanding, how to heal.
Let's look ahead as a community of people in a spirit of change for the better. Let's stop believing those who would terrorize us from wanting something better for ourselves, our families, our nation.
America: Stop looking back allowing yourself to be torn in fear. We are the home of the brave and should be brave to move forward into a brand new future--- TOGETHER.
Change cannot wait. Click the names.
