Spirit is a word that means courage and character. Heart is a word that means spirit and empathy; kindness if you wish. I’ve wondered all my life, but more so in such tumultuous times, as to the true connection of the Spirit of the Heart. Spirit has many monikers that are attached to the human psyche. Heart is what beats to the rhythm of life. When either stop humankind are affected for all of time.
So I decided to combine these two words and name us SPIRITHEARTS…
Humankind, whether aware of it or not, are storytellers. In fact, our life story is not about our life, it is our life. Storytelling is a forever occurrence in the lifespan of humankind and even more so when those in our story depart this life. We oftentimes celebrate their story in the form of a eulogy or other traditions around the world.
By way of storytelling, a eulogy is a time that recalls the essence of a loved one. Each eulogy paints—sometimes in muted colors and other times bold— reflective memories held in a moment in a place in a time. Laughter and tears and smells and tastes that drift in the memory of those gathered to mourn. Eulogies allow us to speak on behalf of a voice silenced by mortality; soundless goodbyes for the SPIRITHEART of remembrance.
Over the last few years I’ve been on a hell-of-a-ride that, by a whisker, I live to tell their tale. The reason I begin my blog this way is to inform that not even the word grateful depicts how I feel to be alive: in the truest sense of that word—living. In the before I was appreciative; now I know life to be in the hands of each moment. Sure, I still plan and anticipate and hope because, well because I’m here. Yet, the feelings behind the words hell-of-a-rideare still brittle. When they strengthen I’ll tell their story.
Today follow me into the Aging Mirror… At my age I tend not to look into any mirror, let alone one with the word aging in it. But in spite of this confession, stick with me because I have a feeling we will both learn something. First I must set the stage for my mirror: Father Time and Circumstances. The Supporting Actors: experience, knowledge, right place/wrong time, troubles, second chances and intentions.
My childhood: Italian Father/English Mother and the associated forty-two first cousins may make clear my mad desire to record/write/blog whatever I observed or experienced. My first writings are in a red plastic diary with a small silver key and today books and blogs and life stories. When young I took no notice of time fleeting. But these days I ask Mother Earth to slow the milliseconds without upsetting gravity.
As to looking into the aging mirror these days; well that is a Horse of a Different Color. As Dorothy discovered in the Wizard of Oz she’d had the choice to return to Kansa all along; just a click of her Ruby Red Slippers. The analogy here for me is that when I look into the aging mirror these days I too have an option. I can choose to look away from what time has created or I can look with admiration at the woman I’ve fought to become. It isn’t what I see in the mirror—it is instead what is reflected back.
Whether or not William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon wrote or did not write the works attributed to him—as some claim—does not in my mind cast a shadow of a doubt that “The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark or HAMLET for short, dates between 1599 & 1602 and is a masterpiece of betrayal—a blog for another day.
Today is about the phrase from Hamlet “…to be or not to be” that we the people persist saying to this day. Yet how or when the words “is the question” were added to the phrase I cannot say. Perhaps the answer is in the play itself or in our need to find answers for questions that are unanswerable.
As in Shakespeare’s Hamlet, life and death is still in the balance of how we humankind are to be or not to be. Our energy is intensifying and we look to Mother Earth who looks back and asks us: to be or not to be? Generations of those who built a solid steadiness we counted on weep at our breakdown. Malevolent and Noble continually cross swords to assure a win and the people cry out: to be or not to be. Children, being children, sense the MIGHT of the swords and reach for a sanctuary. The Statue of Liberty—a gift to America from the people of France—stands in bewilderment at her role to be or not to be.
The older word Musingmeans thought or reflection or deliberation and broadcasts to the world…TO BE OR NOT TO BE IS THE QUESTION!
TRUTH – the word means fact, reality, honesty and loyalty… Words that live inside me as part of who I was, where I came from, who I loved, why I loved and who I am. Those who came before me set the stage I was to step out on in what is known as LIFE.
But these days I wonder whom to trust with my understanding of Humankind on Mother Earth. The Power Brokers: Governments, Media, Movies, Social Media, Prejudice, Education, Killing Fields etc. all vie for My Voice.
So, I don’t know if I’m right about this for you, but for me, like when the swollen rivers rise, I head for higher ground; a place where I remember the sound of My Own Voice.
Last year—as if in a class of one—I learned a lot about these two words: empathy and energy. Each of us, within our lifetime will experience a family member or friend or acquaintance or stranger who shares their voice: “Oh, it was so unexpected.” “I was so scared.” “I thought he/she would die.” “Yes, the loss is hard.” Do you remember how these moments FELT for you?
I earned an A in class when it came to listening to the variety of voices whose goal was to save me so others would not need to share: “It was so sudden!” I invite each of you to truly listen to the voices of others. It is in these moments that we are in the state of empathy: a word that means compassion. And, whether or not you remember who it was that shared their voice with you it is the energy of the moment that will remain for all time!
If the physicists out there panic as to how it is a writer identifies with words like energy and all time; I say “Sorry!” But what I minimally do know is that energy is always conserved meaning it cannot be created or destroyed. Or maybe this portrays it: energy just gets transferred.
Know that the next time a voice shares with you a sanctified moment in their life the state of empathy is now energy that just transferred to the everlastingly!
If thought is energy and we know that energy is always conserved—meaning it cannot be created or destroyed—then why do we spend so much time and energy in our thoughts?
My thoughts these days run a gamut of when will I absolutely be beyond last year living with an infection intent on killing me and its afterthoughts now in other parts of my body. I’d never thought about an end-game to illness because I’d never faced IT before. So one of my thoughts is: I’m alive isn’t that enough? My answer: hell no! I want the ME I used to be and that just isn’t going to happen—ever!
That thought brings on the poor me melody and I want so much to yell aloud: “Get out! Just get the hell out of my body and LEAVE me alone. Each of us knows that this type of self-pity takes a lot of energy so thank goodness energy cannot be destroyed or I’d be in real trouble.
I had one life and I now have another that draws me to my purpose of this life. It changes, you know, our direction in life, for any number of reasons. The thoughts of my body demand that I work hard to heal and to rest when tired. Yet that which is energy gives me bursts of power to talk with others about the value of our stories and my novel “The Respite” and my book that asks the question “Postcards from God/How Do Angels Fly” and an essay on energy and a new effort entitled: “The Energy that is Compassion.”
Oh, I just had another thought! Energy is a word that means power, force, vigor and my favorite: get-up-and-go! And I shall!
HAND is a word that means give or offer or tender or dispense. This knowing caused me to wonder: “What if each time we shake a hand or hold a hand or kiss a hand or pat a hand or reach for a helping hand our LIFE would be—for the moment—unbroken?”
For those of you who know me suspect another question isn’t far behind. Here it is: “Might it be possible that the words we speak—as simple as HAND—are intended to carry out a purpose equally as vital to humankind as breathing?”
A long time ago I was told, compassionately, that sometimes heartbreak will live within us for a lifetime. I accept this premise, yet when heartbreak becomes legacy, well that’s a horse of a different color.
Our first heartbreak is as we leave the caretaking of a mother’s womb and progresses from there: but the form it takes differs for each of us. Therefore, if heartbreak is truly a given why should we care about IT?
We should care because when heartbreak rules our persona—and doesn’t just stand as a lesson learned—we become THE HEARBREAK and that legacy keeps us from living a perhaps life. Perhaps had this or that heartbreak not made me—go ahead, list your justifications here.
Heartbreak is both adversary and ally and we ought to choose how or if it presides over life.
Freedom is a cherished place we each embrace in the everyday that is life. Yet, we also caress freedom as it slips away in the unawareness that is also the everyday of life. Freedom is not an apparition: it is a right given us by graveyard markers the world over.
Fear, on the other hand, is the anxiety created by change that paints our front doors with a color not of our choosing. It’s recognizable by chaos and mistrust and a free-for-all. History doles out this observable truth enacted by humankind.
Freedom is choice. Free will. Liberty. Self-determination.
Providence is a word that means outside influence, destiny, divine intervention, fate… You get the idea. I NEED such definitions to offset the perplexed America I hear on the news and view on social media. I ask myself: “Are we truly in the days of anarchy?” If so, I’m looking for answers as to why.
But there is always that noted double-edged sword in play in the game of life; ours and that of our country. We can stay undercover or we can uncover or do both to find our truth. For it is there that our destinies dwell.