A Tea of Balance and Clarity

As I drove home from Hospice training the other day, all I could think about was the reviving cup of Tea I was going to make as soon as I walked in the door.

There are refreshments served during the morning and afternoon in the conference room where the training occurs. And I could have Tea anytime I wanted.

But there is something about coming home from a long day trying to assimilate all the information we are given, making Tea and sitting down in a favourite chair.


Each time, I swear the World and its troubles recede a little. Tea allows me to meditate, allows me to calm the whirlwind which is creating havoc in my mind.

Tea is the preferred beverage for Monks throughout the World.  In my book of Tea, there is an anecdotal saying:

"The monks of the Chinese Ch'an sect of Buddhists believed that the first cup of Tea helped to keep a calm and clear mind while they sat in meditation. The second cup helped them feel as if the spirit was cleansed by the gentle Rain. After the third cup, one can understand the nature of things."  ...from the book Tea Bliss

I definitely needed to sit and reflect on the nature of things, after a full day in the classroom.  I am no longer able to take in as much as I once did... fibro fog and age, you know. And sometimes, I can feel quite addled trying to keep up with the enormous amount of information involved with the dying.

There is a volume of topics...and some of them bring up swirling feelings inside about my own beliefs and my own reactions to some of those topics. For instance, one day we were required to write down six favourite things and place them face down on the table. And then our instructor, without any knowledge of what was on them, came along and took three of those favourite things. The exercise was to teach us how loss affects us...unique for each individual.


In my case, she happened to take the three favourites which were the dearest in my life. And I reacted with such extreme anger to these losses. Wow.  I cannot begin to describe how inappropriately I reacted.


There was the clue I required that there was a great deal I had not looked at within myself. It was evidence...enough for me to know I had better find the root of that over-the-top flush of anger which had consumed me, during the exercise.


There were more than three cups of Tea drunk during quite a few deep meditations over the next few days to understand where the obscure pool of anger had its source. And of course, that wrath had its beginning when my daughter Katrina died.


It was not pleasant re-visiting the circumstances leading to her death.  I had written scores about it...enough for a book...in order to understand, just as I did when my mother died.  It is how I make sense of crazy-making events.


So.  I thought by writing about it I understood, as much as anyone can, and had let go  But you know what? As I peruse the emotional pages of my writing, I notice anger was rarely mentioned.


And I realized I had blocked that steamy rage into a muffled cocoon deep within my soul. As painful and fraught with anxiety as it is, it is time to let the stinking mass out...and away.  Because even though anger can be beneficial, in this case it was a mouldering mess which hindered me in so many ways.


Not the least of which is anger that can consume me over inconsequential things in inappropriate actions.  If there was ever misplaced anger, this was it.

I have learned over the years that meditation will clear my mind and allow me to go inward, towards my centre, where stillness and serenity reign and the sounds of the World are no more. There the answer would come, floating along in that translucent space...


And it did. I had forgotten...I had misplaced a memory crucial to that anger so recently found.


The anger had its roots in the tribunal I had to face when it became obvious that my daughter, if she was to live, would need transplants...primarily her liver, at that time. The member of the tribunal were made up of doctors and nurses, clergy and social workers. Their job was to determine if Katrina was a good prospect for a transplant.


They asked me to make decisions as to how my daughter would react...would she do all the things required to keep that transplanted organ healthy? What kind of person was she?  What did I think of her? The questions went on and on...


My daughter lay dying...I was already beyond thinking clearly. The only thing I could feel was incredible anger that they would ask a mother...me...about some fairly horrible scenarios they dredged up and ask me to make a decision about her character. If I gave the wrong answer...she might not get that transplant.

I remember being consumed with deep, abiding anger towards these people who were only doing their job. I had little, if any, control over the terrible outcome.


I have never felt so helpless. Just as helpless as I was when someone came along and took my three favourite things.

As I drink my tea, and as I breathe deeply, I write this with peaceful sorrow. Of course, Katrina had progressed too far and all her organs finally shut down, averting the whole transplant issue.


And as events so quickly progressed from the room where the tribunal sat in what I perceived as judgment, I just as quickly tried to forget it. In so doing, I easily buried the anger with which I had been consumed. I was afraid of that anger.  If I let it out, would I still be standing after the holocaust of emotions were let fly?


So.  Today I will brew a special cup of Tea.  I will use a pinch of each of Black, Green and Red Teas, along with a pinch of Chamomile, Mint, Dill and Willow Teas.  I will take the mixture to Grandfather Rock, who has sat waiting for this very event, waiting for me to recognize his benefit in my search for balance, clarity and finally, joy.


I will say a prayer as I sit with him, I will take a drink of the concoction, the mixture of which has special meanings for me, and I will offer the rest to him.


And then, I will finally accept that I am not all-powerful and that I can't always determine the outcome of events. And I will realize it was okay to feel anger at the time, it was okay to mourn deeply.  It is not okay to carry it for all time.


Anger such as this produces tense muscles, gritted teeth, embitterment, along with a host of other physical and emotional problems.


I have been told...when the student is ready, the teacher will come.  

I'd guess I was ready for Hospice and its teachings!

And Grandfather Rock...

Can You Believe...?

The weather is gorgeous here today. Perhaps the town is a little battered from Winter's Storms, but there is hope on people's faces. Those faces reflect the light from Sun; weatherworn and aged or newborn, all share in the warmth of the coming Spring.

I was intending to share in the feeling of Spring's goodwill. It warmed outside as the morning wore on; I thought I would take my camera and drive into the hills to see if I could find my new home. And I had the idea of taking a trip into town to visit the interesting little toy shop I had noticed. It will soon be Graydon's first birthday, and he will receive his first parcel from his grandparents in the Cariboo.

But there were other plans afoot. Dark energies intent on destroying faith in me overrode the positive thoughts I was sending. Too tired to be aware, my energies low, I drew the black forces...and received a big wake-up call.

I don't live in a retirement community any longer.

My car had been burgled sometime during the night.

My mind elsewhere, I mildly wondered why the car door was a little ajar, and as I sat down, my mind finally registered that the entire front dashboard was lying in pieces around me. And there were shards of glass everywhere from when the would-be thieves broke all the lights, in order to work in darkness.

I stumbled out of the car, feeling the leaden emotion, a deadening one, I experience when I am hit by shock. During this time, I am completely unaware of any activity around me, and am not aware, either, of what I am about.

I called the owner of the Motel, where we are staying. After a short conversation, wherein he expressed his shock and disbelief, he immediately called the RCMP.

I couldn't reach Graham, as he was out of his office.

And so, I wandered outside, into the Garden. I stared down at the just-awakening plants, wondering vaguely if I would see them bloom. Would I still be here, at the Motel? Trees are showing huge buds. As soon as the Snow cover left, the sleeping plants made up for lost time.

Spring is coming to the Cariboo, just as it does everywhere.

How easily and quickly our locked car was vandalized! Right in front of our room! I was beginning to understand what had happened; however, I wanted to hold on to the deadened, protective state I was in awhile longer.

Graham arrived; the police soon after.

A few months ago, the RCMP had used marked cars, and had been able to stop the rampant car thievery happening here. But the thieves had done their time in prison, they were out this week, and Williams Lake is once more a target.

The thieves trying to take my car were interrupted, but not before, as the policeman stated, they had made a real mess. The dashboard and the steering column were entirely pulled apart...it was obviously a job done by an amateur. Had they known what they were doing, the car would have been gone.

Instead, we wait for an insurance adjuster, at which point the vehicle will be towed to wherever they take poor, disabled cars which are the object of useless thievery.

It was not until a few hours later that my legs began to shake. And my body felt as if it were waking from a long sleep.

I went through a whole gamut of emotions; bewilderment and confusion seemed to be foremost.

Anger, a strangely diluted anger, appeared this morning, over a small thing which had nothing at all to do with my car. But it had me seeing a murderous red, until I became aware.

Violence, even random violence, does much damage to the victim. I am aware of how I react to these senseless acts which switch on Shock...it is as if I detach and watch and wait, knowing what the next stage will be, and hanging on, riding it out. But, years ago, in a time where I did not understand myself so well, an act such as this had the capability of placing me into depression...deep sadness and anxiety.

I have found it feels much better to just wait and see, at my age. I no longer have the energy to tackle things I can do very little about...I no longer have the energy to bang my head against that wall.

So. I will let the authorities do what they do, in their time, which seems just short of a complete stop. And I will concentrate, instead, on what I have learned about this vast place. Williams Lake is a large city, and it sits as the Hub of many small towns and villages. It is a draw for both positive and negative energies.

It is situated in a land carved by Rivers, Lakes, Ravines and Mountains. It is a land of vast distances; people think nothing of travelling miles to shop. There is still a certain lawless feel to the area. Car theft is an easy target, as there are so many places to hide the trashed vehicle. We were told the thieves probably just wanted a ride home.

After which, the car would have been dumped in one of the far off Ravines...

And yet. This place feels so familiar. Still, even with the vandalism, I feel at home. It is a mill town, similar to my hometown in many, many ways. I understand the concerns and worries inherent to an industrial City that relies, in large part, on the Forest Industry.

With the addition of the Pine Beetle, a devastating scourge for huge areas of Forest, and the additional layoffs with reference to the slumping housing market, there is fear here...fear of the future, for those with young families. A familiar scenario.

It seems, while I live in the City, I will be required to take more care, to leave the small town naivety I came with behind.

As one of the RCMP officers said...Do you remember those quiet walks on the Beach? And he gave a small chuckle.

Yes. I do, indeed.

Today, however, a few days after the incident...I bask in the gentle Wind and Sun, feeling perfectly at ease, grounded and safe. I've already seen three Moose...amazingly huge beings...and am watching the different Birds. I see, before my eyes, the Cariboo waking up, and a wondrous sight it is.

I am grateful to be here.

The decision to move was exactly right.

Sold! And Now...?

There is a first time for everything; this is the first time I have sold a home without having another home ready to be moved into.

When the Sold sign went on the For Sale sign, it was with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was happy to see it...that sign meant I would be joining up with Graham very soon.

On the other hand, it meant I was no longer the owner of this particular Home. All along, there have been wee pricks of reality, reminders that I was travelling a Road where I would definitely end up leaving this Home. But in my usual fashion, I ignored them, going on day by day as if nothing had changed, even packing up without really allowing myself to grasp the fact I was, indeed, leaving for another part of the country.

In about three weeks. To a part of the country where I have no home, house, trailer or cabin to move into. You see, if I think about moving too much, invariably my mind's eye wants to know where I am moving to...where will this chair sit or that desk go?...and there are no answers.

In my imagination, there is only a grey mist depicting my future home.

A Sold sign, as Graham says, kind of tells me, in no uncertain terms, that I have gone too far along this particular Road to turn back. I laughed when he said it; how much more obvious could that be...and yet, denial is a strange, weird thing. Awesome in its terrible power.

I have a wondrous ability to do everything that requires doing, regarding the Move, while at the same time, closing out the truly painful part of the whole thing. I have done this throughout my life; it is an epiphany of sorts...to realize I put off facing my true feelings and reality, until they become too large and omnivorous to ignore...but not one that is unfamiliar.

However, Creator has decided it was time to realize, fully and completely, this part of me. There is no Home in the offing, for me to further concentrate upon, to further stuff pain away...

There is only Now.

This day...this hour...this minute. I am reminded of page 449 in the Big Book...everything is exactly the way it is meant to be, right now.

My mind switches to Gratitude.

I have had time to hear my Grandson's first words...he says "Delicious!", amongst others. I have managed to keep steady my relationship with my Granddaughter, who is presently changing and maturing at a rapid rate, so fast it is difficult for me to keep up with her interests. I have realized and accepted the Love between Bree and I will not wane, even through the Turbulent Teens.

It has become wildly apparent to this Mother that her Daughter is a balanced, wise Adult, very well able to handle her own affairs, without me managing and controlling and advising. Quite often, these days, it is the other way around. When I complained about moving to a Motel Room, she said it would give me time to know Williams Lake, to wander around, take pictures and find my way along the misty Road I'm on.

Hmmm. She sounds like someone I am beginning to know a bit better...a little like me.

Heidi will live her life, using some of my teachings, some from Life, and some from other Mentors. No longer is it all in my Hands. The image I have of her as forever around the age of sixteen is no longer relevant.

I placed the selling of this Home in Creator's and Grandfather Tree's hands, with total faith it would sell very quickly. And it did.

I asked for people who would love this old Home as much as I did. On one of my forever Walks with the Dogs, tiredness overcame us, and I sat on a pile of lumber in the front Garden. The future purchasers wandered over to me, and intuitively, immediately, before anyone else even understood... I knew these people were the New Owners.

While they were drawing up the offer for this Home, Eagle flew around Grandfather Tree three times, in concentric Circles, in full view of myself and a carpenter who was working on the new gate. Anxiety about any conditions applied to the offer disappeared.

The New Owners have similar ideas to ours for furthering the improvements on this Home. One of them is a Woodworker, and understands Trees and their needs. The other is a Healer/Teacher/Gardener...and her birthday is the same date as mine. The whole event of selling became, as our Realtor mentioned, a very serendipitous movement...very smooth and easy.

There is great Gratitude for my heightened awareness of spiritual messages, which has increased dramatically during this time. Relying on total intuition is not easy; it requires strong vigilance for the unusual and faith in Opening myself to whatever is at whatever moment.

It requires standing and facing down the fearful Ego...the one that envisions only problems ahead.

And so, as I pack up my office, I feel, mostly, at peace. Fear manages to force its way in, every once in awhile. I have only to remember the Sunrise, on the morning that Graham left for the Cariboo. I had given my new camera to Graham, and only had my older one. The colours in these photos have not been altered in any way, it was the most brilliant, luridly so, almost, Sunrise I had ever encountered.

A Sunrise that heralded a New Beginning, one which had the definite stamp of approval given by the Universe.

So...who am I to worry endlessly about a future home? This whole event has been fated to be; it is orchestrated by a far greater and more knowledgeable Hand than mine.

And how many more signs proclaiming all is as it should be could I reasonably expect? I have had too many to count already.

A Home will appear, just when I least think about or expect it. It is the way of things.

Seemingly.