I mean, really, what am I thinking? The closer it gets to Sunday's LA Marathon, the more the voice inside my head repeats this mantra, and I question my sanity, or lack thereof, with more frequency than usual.
As with many opportunities, goals and visions we have for our lives, we, I hope, question our ability to achieve them. For myself, I am very leery of people whom do not doubt themselves or their place in the world around them because out of doubt, hopefully, comes some form of education leading to a higher level of self-awareness; however, then there is the person who lives in a world of self-doubt never seeking the education or awareness possessing the potential to alter or change their situation; thus, stunting their emotional, psychological and spiritual growth.
The key for me, at least, is to put seeming roadblocks in my path and then maneuver around them while at the same time holding myself accountable and grateful for them. I just happened to have seen a short segment of Ellen DeGeneres talking about her first experience hosting the Oscars' something she had always dreamed of doing. She commented on how just before the show she was getting nervous and began to doubt herself but then she realized that this was something she willed to occur in her life so not wanting to be in a position of doubting her own decisions for having chosen to follow this particular path, she started to envision the days following the telecast creating in her mind reviews saying how cool and calm she was as host and how she moved through the show with ease; thereby creating an intention...an intention to be a cool and calm Oscar host.
While listening to her, I thought of how I, I guess you could say, I make sure I have a back-up plan when a major event in my life is approaching. And what I mean by that is I see to it I have something fun or interesting planned beyond the major event so the major event does not become a MAJOR EVENT in that it knocks me out of balance. The winter holiday season, for example, was once able to throw me totally outta whack, because I would put so much effort into it that come January 2, life came to a screeching halt and it was if I had slammed on the brakes just before reaching the cliff and there I was dangling over the edge until I could pull myself together. Now, having learned to plan something to look forward to in January, it really pulls back on that all or nothing huge deal I once held the holiday season up to be.
I have also come to realize that LA Marathon Sunday is just one Sunday out of a whole bunch of other Sundays so it is in my best interest to live in and enjoy the moment with friends both present and not who will be cheering me on and wishing me the best. I'm not a fast runner, but I do my best to hang in there, have a good time and finish the dang thing.
And, ultimately, I love the pre-marathon jitters, because if I didn't have them, it would mean I was not attached to the moment and as with anything in life, if we can move past that which has brought us anxiety and fear, we have the opportunity to set and example in our own lives as well as the lives of others and on top of that, it's incredibley empowering and fun!
"Courage is not the lack of fear but the ability to face it."---- Lt. John B. Putnam Jr. (1921-1944)
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
"I just missed Britney by a hair"
This past Friday, in my effort to return, in person, a rolling briefcase I'd purchased online for Joe, a friend and client, I made my way to Lazars Luggage on Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks. Playing it safe, I left Long Beach at 10 a.m. figuring I'd capitalize on the whole traveling on the 405 between 10 and 2 is your best option philosophy. Although I'm still here to talk about it, what would normally be a 45 minute or so drive, turned into an hour and a half.
So, here I am an hour and half and really needing to pee later, stumbling and stuttering my way up Ventura Boulevard looking for Lazars Luggage. I don't know; I guess I went about a mile and a half when I spotted it, so as soon as I found a parking space, several doors down, I pulled over and parked my car, paid my visit to Lazar's Luggage and then headed on over to the Monte Carlo market in Burbank where I purchased supplies for the making of two pizzas. I love living in California; however, pizza like I was raised on in suburban Chicago is hard to find.
Enter the Monte Carlo. It's a little Italian market that, prior to a remodel, was like walking into a little deli in the heart of Manhattan or Chicago; even now, with its updated interior, I can't refuse to stop by when I'm anywhere near Burbank. Why is it so incredible? Because they make their own marinara (with or without meat) and sausage, and they have dough and shredded cheese ready and waiting. No sooner do I get the ingredients home, I'm browning the sausage and spreading the dough and then before you know it, I have pizza reminiscent of my suburan Chicago upbrining the likes of Chuck's or John's in Addison or the Pizza Palace in Elmhurst. Can you say comfort food? Mhmm, I knew you could.
Okay, well, I've gotten a bit off track. Anyway, so it's Saturday or Sunday when I catch-wind of the news that Ms. Britney Spears has gone and chopped off all her hair as well as added a tattoo from a tattoo parlor in where? None other than Sherman Oaks. So I says to myself, self, I do believe you parked in front of a tattoo parlor on Ventura Boulevard when you went to Lazar's on Friday; sure enough, it was the very same one. Had I been just a few hours later maybe Britney and I could have got matching tattoos or, at the very least, sat down and had a conversation, over a drink or two, and discussed the pros and cons of wearing under garments, but we definitely would have had plenty to talk about given our now similar hairstyles.
Having now lived in Southern California for over 19 years, I've had my share of chance, celebrity meetings --some good; some bad. What I've come to learn for myself is that worshipping or adoring someone whom you do not know is really kinda weird and not only that, but I think it's a way for us to hide from ourselves to some extent. As a kid, in Illinois, for me at least, part of the"Hollywood" allure was the glamour, but it also contributed to my not necessarily connecting with my own reality and what I now know as giving up my own power to someone else and that's not to say that admiring or looking up to someone else is a negative thing, I just think we have to learn how to look up to ourselves first and then we can truly connect with others in a more genuine, honest and pure way.
Nowadays, celebrities are not all that glamorous to me; I see them as real people with real problems and, in some cases, as we see in the news, can live through very unhappy and difficult times just like us. Will I watch the Academy Awards on Sunday, yeah, probably, but I do so now from a completely different frame of mind in that I don't feel bad about who I am in comparison.
Over time, what I have attempted to do with my life is to truly honor it. And by that, I mean, getting to know msyelf flaws, attributes and all and then on top of that, the bonus feature attached to my, little, life film is that I know the people in my life are truly loved and cared for by me, because I truly love and care for myself and that's not something I could have said in my thirties or prior.
Sometimes, this whole maturity, life is a journey thing, can get a bit, well, irritating. Yes, when one door closes, another opens but this does not necessarily happen simultaneously. Lord knows, there's been times I've had to 'bout jiggled the knob off the door trying to get the damn thing to open; while other times, I've whipped on in and slammed the door behind me so fast I could've hurt myself but that's life and life is filled with choices, and my choices have lead me to where I am today and from this vantage point, I honor and respect them.
Just recently, I came across a quote from Marianne Williamson. Now, I'm not a religious person so I change a few words around for my own benefit, but I connnected with it and just thought I'd pass it along; it goes like this:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
For now, nuf said.
So, here I am an hour and half and really needing to pee later, stumbling and stuttering my way up Ventura Boulevard looking for Lazars Luggage. I don't know; I guess I went about a mile and a half when I spotted it, so as soon as I found a parking space, several doors down, I pulled over and parked my car, paid my visit to Lazar's Luggage and then headed on over to the Monte Carlo market in Burbank where I purchased supplies for the making of two pizzas. I love living in California; however, pizza like I was raised on in suburban Chicago is hard to find.
Enter the Monte Carlo. It's a little Italian market that, prior to a remodel, was like walking into a little deli in the heart of Manhattan or Chicago; even now, with its updated interior, I can't refuse to stop by when I'm anywhere near Burbank. Why is it so incredible? Because they make their own marinara (with or without meat) and sausage, and they have dough and shredded cheese ready and waiting. No sooner do I get the ingredients home, I'm browning the sausage and spreading the dough and then before you know it, I have pizza reminiscent of my suburan Chicago upbrining the likes of Chuck's or John's in Addison or the Pizza Palace in Elmhurst. Can you say comfort food? Mhmm, I knew you could.
Okay, well, I've gotten a bit off track. Anyway, so it's Saturday or Sunday when I catch-wind of the news that Ms. Britney Spears has gone and chopped off all her hair as well as added a tattoo from a tattoo parlor in where? None other than Sherman Oaks. So I says to myself, self, I do believe you parked in front of a tattoo parlor on Ventura Boulevard when you went to Lazar's on Friday; sure enough, it was the very same one. Had I been just a few hours later maybe Britney and I could have got matching tattoos or, at the very least, sat down and had a conversation, over a drink or two, and discussed the pros and cons of wearing under garments, but we definitely would have had plenty to talk about given our now similar hairstyles.
Having now lived in Southern California for over 19 years, I've had my share of chance, celebrity meetings --some good; some bad. What I've come to learn for myself is that worshipping or adoring someone whom you do not know is really kinda weird and not only that, but I think it's a way for us to hide from ourselves to some extent. As a kid, in Illinois, for me at least, part of the"Hollywood" allure was the glamour, but it also contributed to my not necessarily connecting with my own reality and what I now know as giving up my own power to someone else and that's not to say that admiring or looking up to someone else is a negative thing, I just think we have to learn how to look up to ourselves first and then we can truly connect with others in a more genuine, honest and pure way.
Nowadays, celebrities are not all that glamorous to me; I see them as real people with real problems and, in some cases, as we see in the news, can live through very unhappy and difficult times just like us. Will I watch the Academy Awards on Sunday, yeah, probably, but I do so now from a completely different frame of mind in that I don't feel bad about who I am in comparison.
Over time, what I have attempted to do with my life is to truly honor it. And by that, I mean, getting to know msyelf flaws, attributes and all and then on top of that, the bonus feature attached to my, little, life film is that I know the people in my life are truly loved and cared for by me, because I truly love and care for myself and that's not something I could have said in my thirties or prior.
Sometimes, this whole maturity, life is a journey thing, can get a bit, well, irritating. Yes, when one door closes, another opens but this does not necessarily happen simultaneously. Lord knows, there's been times I've had to 'bout jiggled the knob off the door trying to get the damn thing to open; while other times, I've whipped on in and slammed the door behind me so fast I could've hurt myself but that's life and life is filled with choices, and my choices have lead me to where I am today and from this vantage point, I honor and respect them.
Just recently, I came across a quote from Marianne Williamson. Now, I'm not a religious person so I change a few words around for my own benefit, but I connnected with it and just thought I'd pass it along; it goes like this:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
For now, nuf said.
To Jeff
Jeff,
It brings me great joy knowing I have been able to create a bridge between you and your grandmother. She was truly an extraordinary woman and individual and if there is anything more I can do or share that helps you to get to know her better, then by all means, let me know because, together, we have the opportunity to do as she'd hoped and that is to take her love along with us wherever we go. By my having shared what I know about her and what she meant and means to me, I was able to connect with you and now you have the opportunity to share what you know with your siblings, friends, future significant other, etc...; thereby, taking her " love with you forever and by and by people may learn what this kind of love is what life is for".
Knowing what little I know of you based upon your response to me combined with a whole lot I know about your grandma, she would be very proud of you, and the fine, young man you've turned out to be.
Maybe you can answer a question for me. Have you ever had one of your mom's toasted English muffins with mayo, bacon and melted cheese? Yum yum!
Larry
It brings me great joy knowing I have been able to create a bridge between you and your grandmother. She was truly an extraordinary woman and individual and if there is anything more I can do or share that helps you to get to know her better, then by all means, let me know because, together, we have the opportunity to do as she'd hoped and that is to take her love along with us wherever we go. By my having shared what I know about her and what she meant and means to me, I was able to connect with you and now you have the opportunity to share what you know with your siblings, friends, future significant other, etc...; thereby, taking her " love with you forever and by and by people may learn what this kind of love is what life is for".
Knowing what little I know of you based upon your response to me combined with a whole lot I know about your grandma, she would be very proud of you, and the fine, young man you've turned out to be.
Maybe you can answer a question for me. Have you ever had one of your mom's toasted English muffins with mayo, bacon and melted cheese? Yum yum!
Larry
Friday, February 16, 2007
More on Jean
How wonderful to hear from Kathy, Sharon and Stacey Jean's three daughters. Hope I did their mom justice in my small representation of what she meant to me. Over and above what I previously wrote, Jean was quite the independent woman returning to school acquiring her teaching credentials to then become an elementary school teacher. She was a divorced woman living in suburbia long before the likes of Desperate Housewives and as the one and only in the neighborhood, there was plenty of reason for folks to shun her based upon what I know now as their own fears.
Not only was a Jean a single woman raising her daughters on her own; she was also an independent traveler. If I recall correctly, she made at least two and maybe even three trips to Africa long before Oprah and Bono came on the scene. She may have traveled with a tour group but as far as I know, she went alone. She also traveled on a freighter to Norway as well as visited the Easter Islands, and I do believe, I have in my possession a momento from her trip to Istanbul, Turkey and correct me if I'm wrong but when she traveled to Istanbul, it was still a communist country.
Ultimately, she was amazing and taught me a great deal about life and how there were other opportunities and experiences out there waiting for me. I don't remember if it was during a phone call or a visit with her on one of my trips to Illinois or now that I think about it, maybe it was when I was caring for her that she told me she knew I had to leave Illinois believing I never would have survived had I stayed. Along the way, it has been very comforting to me knowing someone understood why I had to move-0n. And what I know today is that we were both very much correct.
Not only was a Jean a single woman raising her daughters on her own; she was also an independent traveler. If I recall correctly, she made at least two and maybe even three trips to Africa long before Oprah and Bono came on the scene. She may have traveled with a tour group but as far as I know, she went alone. She also traveled on a freighter to Norway as well as visited the Easter Islands, and I do believe, I have in my possession a momento from her trip to Istanbul, Turkey and correct me if I'm wrong but when she traveled to Istanbul, it was still a communist country.
Ultimately, she was amazing and taught me a great deal about life and how there were other opportunities and experiences out there waiting for me. I don't remember if it was during a phone call or a visit with her on one of my trips to Illinois or now that I think about it, maybe it was when I was caring for her that she told me she knew I had to leave Illinois believing I never would have survived had I stayed. Along the way, it has been very comforting to me knowing someone understood why I had to move-0n. And what I know today is that we were both very much correct.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Welcome!
Welcome to my blog! What I hope happens here is those whom visit will learn something new about who they are by way of what I have to write and, with luck, will be uplifted, entertained and inspired. It has always been my goal to write a book so methinks the thoughts, notions and stories of my life experiences I share in this blog will lead to that end. From what I can foretell, as in life, some stories will be funny, some stories will be sad and some will be, well, silly but all, I can assure you, will be genuine and from the heart. In the event, time restraints due to other priorities get in the way of my posting a longer piece, I will post a favorite quote or saying that has somehow touched me or captured my attention with belief that it may touch or capture yours as well. So, with that said, let's get started!
I'm guessing you're a bit curious about the handwritten notebook, paper pages to your right. These pages were written over 12 years ago by a dear friend and over and above any other material possession, are what I cherish most in this world; they are, in large part, responsible for the journey I am on today. A journey that started just a few short weeks prior to their having been written so it is, therefore, the most obvious and logical place for me to begin, and I feel very fortunate to have such a place and time in my life I can point to as pivotal and life-changing.
To the best of my transcription, the pages read as follows:
October 22, 94
Dear Larry,
This "last trip" was the finest thing anyone has ever done for me. I know I ramble - have a hard time making sense at all, but I love you so deeply, trust you so much and owe you (????) that; that I can only hope you get the feeling of love through what otherwise must seem nonsense.
My dearest again thank you. You have brought joy total joy to a period which by all accounts should be hell on earth. Not so with you. Take my love with you forever and by and by people may learn what this kind of love is what life is for.
Thank you forever,
Jean
Mrs. Wakeman (Jean) died October 31st, 1994 on my 36th birthday. Unable to remain with her the entire time, I left Illinois returning home to California the week before after having spent three weeks caring for her. It was her eldest daughter, Kathy, who called to give me the news with great apology as to her mother's timing, but I assured her I saw this as a powerful message of connection from her mother that even today, brings tears to my eyes as I sit here at my laptop.
It must have been the third or fourth week of September when Jean called me from her hospital bed in Chicago to let me know she had inoperable, terminal cancer with doctors, to the best of their ability, estimating there were three weeks or so left to her life. At conversation's end, she was upbeat and humorously amazed that I was the first person with whom she shared the news whom did not need to be consoled. I remember her saying something like, shit, Larry, I'm the one who's dying for christ's sake!
To the best of my recollection, within a few days of that phone call, she was back at home under hospice care. Given my propensity for impromptu travel, I secured a low, round-trip airfare to Chicago that weekend intent on seeing her before she died.
Not being the religious sort, she was just a wee bit put-off by the hospice caregivers who, with zealous abandon, were attempting to "save" her prompting her to comment on how she wished I could either stay or come back and take care of her. During my flight home on Sunday evening, I thought about what she said and decided this was something, without question, I needed to do so as soon as I could work it out in my schedule, I returned to Chicago and, as I recall, did so by week's end.
I should probably back-up a bit and tell you I grew up living next door to Mrs. Wakeman (Jean). She and Mr. Wakeman divorced when I was a child. When old enough, I mowed her lawn every Saturday; afterward, the two of us would sit around her kitchen table engaged in great conversation for twice as much time as it took me to mow the lawn. She even once commented to me that the speed with which I mowed her lawn and the price she was paying me to do so made her feel as though she was being raped in her own home!
At the time, I'm sure what drew me to her was the fact that she was so different from my parents even though the three of them were roughly the same age. It was only later on I realized what she really did for me was treat me like an individual with no pre-conceived expectations of who I was supposed to be; not to mention, I liked the fact that she used the "f" word with incredible emphasis, timing and accuracy!
Jeans' dying of cancer and my stepping-in as her caregiver was, obviously, quite the adventure for both of us. She had always said I was someone with whom she could travel, but the opportunity for the two of us to do so had never presented itself until then, at least.
Now that I think about it, I probably arrived back in Chicago on Thursday or Friday and like earlier in the week, she was making use of a hospital bed that had been set up in the expanded family room area off her kitchen.
The next three weeks or so were the most incredible of my life. If someone had told me I would be monitoring someone's morphine intake as well as participating in some very "intimate" personal hygiene caregiving practices, I would have told them they were out of their minds! And if someone had told me I would walk away from this experience feeling enriched, poweruflly alive and overwhelmingly thankful, I would have called them an idiot or, at very best, a pathological liar.
Laugh. What we did was laugh a lot. My upbrining had taught me death was not something to laugh about but, boy, did we break that rule!
Even when there was discussion as to what she should wear to be buried in, I suggested she go with the Lady Godiva look, but she, however, felt her boobs, over the years, had redistributed to a point that she just wouldn't be able to pull that "look" off. I, of course, suggested duct tape as the appropriate fix-all believing it could be circled around under her breasts and then up around her neck and secured behind her head and what with a long blonde wig cascading down her body, no one would be the wiser. In the end, something more sensible won-out, but at least I had given the duct tape idea a shot.
During "quiet times", we had the opportunity to talk deeply about life, but more importantly, about death and, to my surprise, I was able to help her achieve peace as she sat there facing her own. Similar to my thoughts going into this situation with respect to my ability to caregive, if someone had told me I could help someone come to peace with their imminent death and that I would walk away from a dying friend with feelings of joy instead of sadness, again, I would have told them they were absolutely, positively insane! But what I now know; what I have ultimately learned is that death is a part of life and to have the opportunity to be present at or near the end of the life of someone you love, I can only imagine, is just as powerful as being present during the birth of a child.
I am grateful for having traveled this journey with Jean, because it not only planted the seed that lead to my learning how not to fear death it also, simultaneously, taught me how not to fear living, really living, and my own life and whatever it may bring.
When I read the letter she wrote to me the week before she died, I am both humbled and empowered; I think to myself, what else can I do with the life I have been given to touch the lives of others. It appears I have a gift for helping others and if I can help someone during the death process, what can I do to help those who wish to truly live!
It is with this notion, I look forward to writing this blog, creating a career as a life coach as well as create and design t-shirts with uplifting, inspirational as well as some humorous sayings.
Thanks for reading, wish me luck and remember to "Use your mind to follow your heart".
I'm guessing you're a bit curious about the handwritten notebook, paper pages to your right. These pages were written over 12 years ago by a dear friend and over and above any other material possession, are what I cherish most in this world; they are, in large part, responsible for the journey I am on today. A journey that started just a few short weeks prior to their having been written so it is, therefore, the most obvious and logical place for me to begin, and I feel very fortunate to have such a place and time in my life I can point to as pivotal and life-changing.
To the best of my transcription, the pages read as follows:
October 22, 94
Dear Larry,
This "last trip" was the finest thing anyone has ever done for me. I know I ramble - have a hard time making sense at all, but I love you so deeply, trust you so much and owe you (????) that; that I can only hope you get the feeling of love through what otherwise must seem nonsense.
My dearest again thank you. You have brought joy total joy to a period which by all accounts should be hell on earth. Not so with you. Take my love with you forever and by and by people may learn what this kind of love is what life is for.
Thank you forever,
Jean
Mrs. Wakeman (Jean) died October 31st, 1994 on my 36th birthday. Unable to remain with her the entire time, I left Illinois returning home to California the week before after having spent three weeks caring for her. It was her eldest daughter, Kathy, who called to give me the news with great apology as to her mother's timing, but I assured her I saw this as a powerful message of connection from her mother that even today, brings tears to my eyes as I sit here at my laptop.
It must have been the third or fourth week of September when Jean called me from her hospital bed in Chicago to let me know she had inoperable, terminal cancer with doctors, to the best of their ability, estimating there were three weeks or so left to her life. At conversation's end, she was upbeat and humorously amazed that I was the first person with whom she shared the news whom did not need to be consoled. I remember her saying something like, shit, Larry, I'm the one who's dying for christ's sake!
To the best of my recollection, within a few days of that phone call, she was back at home under hospice care. Given my propensity for impromptu travel, I secured a low, round-trip airfare to Chicago that weekend intent on seeing her before she died.
Not being the religious sort, she was just a wee bit put-off by the hospice caregivers who, with zealous abandon, were attempting to "save" her prompting her to comment on how she wished I could either stay or come back and take care of her. During my flight home on Sunday evening, I thought about what she said and decided this was something, without question, I needed to do so as soon as I could work it out in my schedule, I returned to Chicago and, as I recall, did so by week's end.
I should probably back-up a bit and tell you I grew up living next door to Mrs. Wakeman (Jean). She and Mr. Wakeman divorced when I was a child. When old enough, I mowed her lawn every Saturday; afterward, the two of us would sit around her kitchen table engaged in great conversation for twice as much time as it took me to mow the lawn. She even once commented to me that the speed with which I mowed her lawn and the price she was paying me to do so made her feel as though she was being raped in her own home!
At the time, I'm sure what drew me to her was the fact that she was so different from my parents even though the three of them were roughly the same age. It was only later on I realized what she really did for me was treat me like an individual with no pre-conceived expectations of who I was supposed to be; not to mention, I liked the fact that she used the "f" word with incredible emphasis, timing and accuracy!
Jeans' dying of cancer and my stepping-in as her caregiver was, obviously, quite the adventure for both of us. She had always said I was someone with whom she could travel, but the opportunity for the two of us to do so had never presented itself until then, at least.
Now that I think about it, I probably arrived back in Chicago on Thursday or Friday and like earlier in the week, she was making use of a hospital bed that had been set up in the expanded family room area off her kitchen.
The next three weeks or so were the most incredible of my life. If someone had told me I would be monitoring someone's morphine intake as well as participating in some very "intimate" personal hygiene caregiving practices, I would have told them they were out of their minds! And if someone had told me I would walk away from this experience feeling enriched, poweruflly alive and overwhelmingly thankful, I would have called them an idiot or, at very best, a pathological liar.
Laugh. What we did was laugh a lot. My upbrining had taught me death was not something to laugh about but, boy, did we break that rule!
Even when there was discussion as to what she should wear to be buried in, I suggested she go with the Lady Godiva look, but she, however, felt her boobs, over the years, had redistributed to a point that she just wouldn't be able to pull that "look" off. I, of course, suggested duct tape as the appropriate fix-all believing it could be circled around under her breasts and then up around her neck and secured behind her head and what with a long blonde wig cascading down her body, no one would be the wiser. In the end, something more sensible won-out, but at least I had given the duct tape idea a shot.
During "quiet times", we had the opportunity to talk deeply about life, but more importantly, about death and, to my surprise, I was able to help her achieve peace as she sat there facing her own. Similar to my thoughts going into this situation with respect to my ability to caregive, if someone had told me I could help someone come to peace with their imminent death and that I would walk away from a dying friend with feelings of joy instead of sadness, again, I would have told them they were absolutely, positively insane! But what I now know; what I have ultimately learned is that death is a part of life and to have the opportunity to be present at or near the end of the life of someone you love, I can only imagine, is just as powerful as being present during the birth of a child.
I am grateful for having traveled this journey with Jean, because it not only planted the seed that lead to my learning how not to fear death it also, simultaneously, taught me how not to fear living, really living, and my own life and whatever it may bring.
When I read the letter she wrote to me the week before she died, I am both humbled and empowered; I think to myself, what else can I do with the life I have been given to touch the lives of others. It appears I have a gift for helping others and if I can help someone during the death process, what can I do to help those who wish to truly live!
It is with this notion, I look forward to writing this blog, creating a career as a life coach as well as create and design t-shirts with uplifting, inspirational as well as some humorous sayings.
Thanks for reading, wish me luck and remember to "Use your mind to follow your heart".
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