The Power of Memory

Last week I got to go to Disney World with my family.  It was literally a dream-come-true visit because we got to stay at the Grand Floridian, something I have been dreaming of since they announced they were building it.  I could write, a probably will, a ton about what we did and how much fun it was, but today I am going to focus on the power of memory and its effect on me every time I find myself at Disney.

Many years ago, when I was about 9, and Disney was a much younger park, I was surprised by my grandmother with a trip to Disney World with her.  I couldn't believe my good fortune.  As excited as I was to be going on a plane (my first), staying in a hotel (another first), and of course seeing Disney World, what really had me happy was the chance to spend four whole days alone with the person I loved best in the world.  The idea that for that entire vacation I would would be with my grandmother and that the shifting sands of my life would be solid was more than I could hope for.

It was an amazing trip.  This was before deregulation of the airlines and you dressed up for a flight and got fancy food during your flight (my first experience with honeydew melon).  Nobody frisked you or irradiated you prior to flying, and it all seemed so glamorous.  We visited Disney World when there were only two hotels and both were on the monorail, there was only the Magic Kingdom, and there were still e-ticket rides (and e-ticket had nothing to do with e-mail, electronics, or technology).  We stayed at the Polynesian long before Lilo and Stitch checked in and indulged in a luau with Polynesian dancers and entertainers.  I woke up early, swam in the pool in the afternoons, wandered the park in bliss, and was dazzled by the Main Street Electric Light Parade.  One night, we watched fireworks from the monorail as we returned to our hotel for the night.  It was bliss, the entire time.  What a glorious time we had, enjoying each others company and making each other laugh.

I knew then it was important to me, that I would remember it the rest of my life, and that it was an incredibly large gift from my adored grandmother to me.  What I had no way of knowing is that it would be so important to me that every time I go to Disney World I am left weeping tears of joy as I remember and relive that gift from so long ago.  Yes, even today, 35 years since I went with my grandmother I dissolve into happy tears when I arrive and do it regularly until I check out.  I cry when I see the Polynesian, the monorail, the Castle.  I cry when I ride the Haunted Mansion (my favorite), the Pirates of the Caribbean (grandma's favorite), the People Mover, or the Carousel of Progress.  Now that they have reinstated the classic Main Street Electric Light Parade, I watched that through a blurry haze of tears too.

Make no mistake, these are tears of pure and unadulterated joy and gratitude.  For me, the "happiest place on Earth," is just a little more happy, a little more full.  The power of my memories of how happy I was on that trip amplify the happiness I feel whenever I am there.  There are moments when I am sure I feel my grandmother's arm on mine, her hand on my shoulder, her smile on my face. 

I don't think she had any idea of the magnitude of her gift that summer.  To her, I am sure, it was a chance to see a place she really wanted to see and to share it with a beloved granddaughter.  She knew it meant a great deal to me, but neither of us could foresee how the gift would just continue on and one through the years.

This last trip proved no less powerful.  Here I was, staying at the most beautiful resort Disney has to offer, a dream come true and I was most enchanted by the view out our window.  If you haven't guessed, our window perfectly framed the Great Ceremonial House of the Polynesian, along with a view of the sandy beach I watched the water parade from with my grandmother.  Every night, I could hear the call and music of the luau drift across the lagoon.  It was as if the staff of the Grand Floridian knew just how to make my dream-come-true trip just a little dreamier.  In case you are wondering, I cried.  Soft, happy tears full of memory and love.

Thanks grandma and thanks to Disney....

Light and Dark on April 5th.

Today was really good and really rough. Nine years ago today my first son died at 2 days old. He was born with brittle bone disease, we had no idea of it until he was born and I didn't get to even hold him until after he died. The worst thing a mother can go through, ever. As hard as it was, as hard as it still is, time has healed us and while it can still hollow us out and make us cry, we seem him as a great gift.

We have a beautiful, happy, healthy 7 1/2 year old son. The day he was born, everyone in the delivery room cried there eyes out, including our doctor. He is the light of my days, and the peace in my nights. I tell him all the time that I am simply the luckiest mommy, because I was born to be his mommy and it is true.

Today, we told him that we had Liam, that he has an older brother, and that he died. Now we start the journey with our son as he explores what that means to him and how he incorporates that into his life. We never meant it to be a secret, but the time was never right to talk about it until now. I think it was a good choice, he is already asking good questions and seems thoughtful but not devastated.

So tonight, we will pick some branches from the redbud tree we planted in Liam's memory on the first anniversary of his death and put them in the center of the table as we eat dinner.

Thinking

I feel a blog post coming on, stay tuned. I am ruminating over it.....

Still Cleaning

Well, the week has worn on and I am still cleaning. Now I have progressed to the point where the floors of the house are ready for cleaning. Unfortunately for me, I am not a fan of mopping, it just seems to push dirt around on my nice wood floors. That means that at least twice a year I am left with two big buckets of boiling hot water (one for washing, with Pine Sol and one for rinsing), a couple of towels (for sitting the buckets on and drying the floor to prevent streaking), rubber gloves, and a long couple days of crawling around. Yep, that's right, I crawl on my hands and knees and wash the floor with sponges and towels. Exhausting, but really effective. By the time I am done I am sore from head to toe, but the floors of my house are clean enough to eat off of.

So, here I am, end of day one of floor cleaning and I am halfway done. As I went this time I tried to be really mindful of all the things that have gone on in my home since I was last able to do this. There has been my thyroid operation, physical recovery, mental slogging, mom's broken hip, so much drama and upheaval. As I cleaned I visualized sweeping all of that stuff up with the dust and dirt. It felt good to wipe it up with the steaming hot sponge, scented with Pine Sol, and squeeze it into the bucket. Better still to watch the dirt and bad memories splash into the yard.

I swear my bare feet are tingling when I walk in areas I am done cleaning!

Now, let me spend a moment on what Pine Sol means to me. Pine Sol is what my grandmother used to clean the floors in her house. I can remember running into her house after school and smells the resin-y sweet smell hanging in the air. It usually signaled that her brother, my beloved Uncle Roman was visiting and they had gone grocery shopping that day as well. That meant that behind the overwhelming smell of Pine Sol there would be the background of oven fried chicken, what was always served when Uncle Roman and Aunt Emily came to visit. Pine Sol represents safety, love, security, warmth, family, home, and hearth to me. Having my house reek of it feels like my grandmother is surrounding me with her love still.

As I continue my task I am trying to picture the happiness of those days with my grandmother. I am asking that happiness like that live in my home today. I hope that someday, my child will clean his floors (hopefully these floors) and have wonderful and comforting memories like mine.

Don't get me wrong, I will be glad when the floor cleaning is done and I can relax a little. Don't know what has possessed me for the last several weeks, but it feel really good to reclaim my home and rediscover the light inside it. May it always have the lingering scent of Pine Sol......

Cleaning Cobwebs

For the last several weeks, I have had this crazy cleaning energy. It has been a great change after 18 months of the miasma surrounding my thyroid "episode" and aftermath. The house never looked awful, but a ton of pent up bad mojo has accumulated in the corners and needed cleaning. I have been addressing this and I honestly can say that I feel the house getting lighter and brighter by the day.

There is a new energy in my life, and I am riding it for all it is. I am enjoying seeing a deeper purpose in those things that bring me joy and fulfillment. I am loving seeing my home as my cathedral, altars strewn about with abandon.

As the Winter continues on its splintering journey toward Spring I am reclaiming all the corners of my home. It is nice to see the progress, to feel the shift in energy, to ride the uplifting wave of it.

I am using my mental broom to clean the cobwebs from the corners left too long in the eddies of life. Can't wait until Spring, when the windows will be thrown open and the last staleness will be swept away.

Out there

Did you ever notice how some people can really put it "out there?" You know, the ones who proclaim their religious bent, personal values, or rules for living from the mountain top so to speak? Sometimes I can truly admire these folks, especially when the proclamation is from a position of tolerance for alternate views. Kind of like "hey, this is how I feel, what moves me and I want to share, even though it may not be your thing."

Recently, I have had something of a reawakening of a personal spirituality that I thought long gone. Many years ago, I was very intrigued and drawn to Wiccan practices, but as I grew older, I felt I grew away from them. In the depression and strife of the last 18 months, my interior dialogue about beliefs and soul was silent. Then, quite suddenly, in the course of a month it was revealed to me that I had been walking a path I thought long abandoned.

Since Thanksgiving of 2011, I have been exposed to the ideals of kitchen/hedge witchery. Here, I find that so many of the things I had been doing which gave me joy and inner peace are actually things others are practicing. Who knew that I had been spell casting, circle casting, and practicing? Who knew that my feet never left the path, my mind just got distracted from it. I suppose the Universe knew, the Goddess knew.

So, here I am. All hepped up with nobody to talk to. I am singularly alone in this journey. There are those I can reach out to online, by phone, by e-mail, however, my daily walk is a solitary one. Thus, my envy of those who can post it on Facebook, wear it on their sleeve, put it on a bumper sticker.

Maybe I just need more time to explore this new/old stuff. Guess it as good a place to begin as any.

Fresh Process

I am trying very hard this year to rewire my brain and adjust my thinking. Been too long listening to the crazy voice in my head that rants and raves and breaks me down. I felt like I was doing a pretty good job and then today I said the wrong thing (unintentional and taken the wrong way) at the wrong time. I apologized and I am pretty sure we left things in a decent place, but I felt like damage had been done that was hard to undo. Of course that nasty voice in my head took advantage and I rehashed it in my head the rest of the day.

Tonight, for the first time, I sat and filled a page with all the things I want to let go of, all the things I wanted to affirm, and all the things I wanted to change. Sometimes it was sentences, sometimes scrawled words in random order. When I was done, I placed my hands on the page and thought of all I had written, the emotion on the page, and the pain in my heart. Then, I took the page, ripped it deliberately into very small pieces and threw it in the fireplace. Curiously, the last recognizable word to burn away was FEAR.

It was amazingly uplifting to do this. I felt empowered and more in control of this stuff than I have in a very long time. I think I'll be doing this more often. Let FEAR be banished to the fire. I don't need it any more.