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| April 17, 2013. Logan International Airport. Boston, Massachusetts. |
On April 19, 2013, I was in Boston, Massachusetts. I was attempting to fly from my childhood home to my present home. I don't need to tell you the story. It's been covered.
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| The tower at Logan, in Boston. I'm sure they didn't know what they may be facing. |
The moment. The experience. The slice of time. Oh yes.
Boston is strong.
Then...the connection.
I was in Boston reuniting with my family for one of the most life-altering, crushing blows that anyone faces in a lifetime. I arrived in Boston, April 17, to lay my first greatest blessing on this planet to rest. I was in Boston to remember and celebrate the life of my dear, enchanting, radiant and loving mother.
I speak a bit about my mother on Facebook. There is far too much for me to say about her here. Suffice it to say, her life is one of the richest and most selfless this world will ever be graced to witness.
My mother will always be one of the most amazing people I will ever know. She had an endless supply of indispensable wisdom and an unmatched, tender gift for delivery of firm guidance
. Yet, she had a curious way that encouraged freedom, creativity, and ingenuity with a grace that most people will never be able to duplicate, let alone master.
During adolescence, I remember a discussion that we had frequently. Whether I was referencing my friends' actions, or her opinions, she would say fearlessly, "Be different".
The strength, confidence, and faith in that statement still astounds me. I could have been
anything. I could have
done anything. You've been there. You know what I'm saying. She challenged the world of adolescent possibilities completely -- with no fear or reluctance whatsoever. That's faith. That's love. The absence of fear. As is said often, "the opposite of love is not hate. It's fear."
So...the adolescent mantras of independence and different became a joke to me at that point. My mother's gentle teaching flattened the cliques and "cools" that were my world at the time. Those independent souls advertising and proclaiming rebellious actions became silly. They were all the same and worse yet, they "didn't even get it!"
I was seeking...different. It was time to grow...and that was her lifelong message to me. That was always her message. "Do better" than those kids. "Do better than ME", she would say.
I knew I never would, but I sure loved and respected
anyone saying that...and here she was. My Mom!
My life has proven to be a winding road. A quest like that isn't pretty, but Mom never said it would be.
The journey has not been without mistakes, corrections, guidance and downright "face plants" (an expression of which cyclists are well-familiar). The tests have proven numerous and endless as they are for all of us. I am grateful to have stumbled through this journey, with all of it's bumps, bruises and scars.
As part of the challenges thrown my way, I faced one of the greatest questions that each of us faces throughout our lifetimes. The very serious, relentless interrogations came about 25 years ago. The "Trials" I call them now. The ceaseless, painful inquisitions about my faith. Sure, I had my childhood lessons of respect, rituals, and diligence. I had no preparation for this.
I went to school. Science was a favorite subject. I had a million questions myself. I wasn't prepared for this test. I hadn't studied. In reality, I was not only ill-equipped, I was flat out lame!
From my own experience, questioning my mother and her convictions, I knew anyone questioning me so seriously (and in fact, ferociously at times) was searching for their own answers in defiance and desperation. After all, these inquiries were not coming from a child or teenager.
This was a perfect instance for which the third degree and badgering could have been the most miserable experience of my life. At the time, it was. But, now, I couldn't be more grateful for the answers I was forced to find and prove for
myself. The "evidence" and "proof" I had to prepare under intense duress. Little did I know it, at the time I needed to survive through this torturous line of questioning for my journey. I was enduring what I would need and use the rest of my life. That cross-examination, in fact, was a gift to me. The "opportunity" that is so often referenced in the "take-aways" from losses or painful circumstances.
My Mom used to say that everything in life comes down to math. Problem-solving. Awesome.
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In March 2013, I noticed this one word. One name. My Mom's beautiful name -- etched in a railing encircling the end of my favorite pier near my home now. Then, the fog horn blew.
As people we find comfort and security embracing the constants for ourselves. Ironic, when we embrace the variables, the unknown...that's when everything begins and that's where we will find the most peace and comfort.
That's where everything becomes one.
"It's all about the math."
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Mindfulness was a big part of this exploration and journey. Awareness. Being in the moment. Not judging or defining. Not labeling or needing to categorize or make sense of anything. In fact, solving without solving. A solution in and of itself.
I began practicing mindfulness. I began meditation. I began studying a variety of practices, teachings, and disciplines.
Since then, I have a new appreciation for many of life's experiences that flow like waves into our lives. Painful and joyous.
There are no coincidences...Coincidence is a mathematical term. Two angles that coincide are said to be two angles that fit together perfectly. That is in no way accidental. In science, "there is no implication that the alignment of events is surprising, noteworthy or non-causal." We lost something in the translation. Again. It all comes down to math...
Once a few years ago, I had an opportunity to test all that I had studied for the past decade. I was extremely ill and experiencing excruciating physical pain. If excruciating physical pain does not demand mindfulness, nothing else will. A lesson, I now know, I had to experience or I wouldn't reach the point that I needed to reach.
I wouldn't master the lesson in time for my next step.
I am not the brightest student!
I began a compassion meditation. Without provocation, or direct invitation, a phrase echoed in my mind as I withdrew from the moments of serenity. I was ill and to be "restored" as we know it. However, there were words that assured me there is no separation, no divide. The only separation is..."as we know it". "As we choose to see it." The following words played over and over following this meditation and through the tests, surgery and recovery.
"On earth as it is in heaven."
I never really...I mean really...thought about what that means. The meditation brought it into focus. It was monumental in my mind. I couldn't deny or avoid the words themselves if I tried.
"On earth as it is in heaven".
As I explored, "being different", questioning, remaining open, receptive, and problem-solving, these words would have been the least I expected to hear. I was in a wide-open state. Receptive to everything possible. Desiring answers. In fact, expecting to be surprised and blowing away all that I had ever been taught and "knew". Maybe, even smugly allowing an "I told you so" to creep into my mind.
What did I hear?
Now, I understand why those particular words were necessary for
me. I was treading in a territory of infinite wisdom and knowledge. I needed a language translation. I needed help!
I needed those specific words in a language I could recognize in order to be taught "something" for which there are no words.
"A peace that passes understanding".
For someone else, they will come in a language that speaks to them. Same message. Different language. Simple.
On April 19, 2013, I was experiencing a personal transformation. A day of reckoning of my own. A day that my life, my journey, had been preparing me for all along. On the surface, it was horrific. My life had been blown up. All that I had ever known from the moment I was born was in chaos. I don't have the words to explain my visible, tangible self at that moment. I'm still there to some extent now. The loss of a dear loved one will do that.
Mindful of my loss. Mindful of the magnitude of my personal sorrow and heartache. And...aware. Mindful that Boston...and the world...and our human connections, our strength and resilience are not really planted to the earth beneath our feet. Mindful that there is no separation. The limits rest here if
we choose to limit ourselves.
In my journey, my inner world and outer were mirrors for instants that day...and everyone was seamlessly connected. One humanity. One experience for me to see and feel. The pain and strength and resilience...beyond anything physically limiting...and the choice. Those who rose beyond the constraints. Those who rose above the pain. Those who rose beyond the limits...and of course, those
who served.
I am reminded of a quote by Dr. Viktor Frankl, “What is to give light must endure burning.”
I've returned to another of the earth's beautiful spots. My home is where the fog horn blows and the sea laps the pilings of a sturdy pier. Like all of us, parts of me remain true. Sturdy. Strong. But, there is a different kind of strength. Something beyond strength "as we know it".
There is Boston Strong.
Parts of me, like Boston, will never be the same. I know, in time, we will all be better for it. In fact, stronger for it. This I know. This is the journey.
Mindfulness gave me some of the answers that I needed as I fell to my knees and crawled along this most recent path. I felt the weight of the world with this lesson, but I know the weight is proportional to the lesson. So...I will be grateful. One day. Some day.
We press on...My Mom would saying "smiling"!
I had to come from the places I have been to reach, see, and understand where I am today.
There are no coincidences...when worlds collide. And when they do...you can do the math.
I love you, Mom.
