It spoke with a deep bass voice. As the world turned, it descended into a violent tremolo. People fell from grace as it continued its painful crescendo. An occasional pizzicato lightened our load. It approached its whole note with a furious bow. There wasn’t a happy medium in sight. Simply piano to sfz. A triple forte was a mere suggestion. The fine brought the cello to its ultimate C. People exhaled and shoulders finally relaxed. The pain was finally released.
I read through my old journals last night and saw how my life formed itself to the present moment. One page stuck out in my mind, and I decided to make it public via my blog:
Sunday, July 13, 2014@6:45pm
Sometimes, the emotional pain is so deep, the only thing that you can do is cry. The tears help to relieve the pain that is invisible to the naked eye but quite recognizable to the heart.
While you may envision yourself healing, the daily journey will face obstacles. You have to face it by engaging yourself in activities that help you to connect with yourself.
One day, I will be whole again. Until then, the only thing that I have is hope. This song expresses my vision of a happy day when my smile radiates through my entire being.
I do not remember what actually happened to the song but this entry shows my mind set shortly after my father left this life. It was apparent to me that a process was taking place, and time would have to pass before I felt like myself again. As of 5/30/16, smiles cross my face all the time. A cup of coffee is currently the cause.
It was early Friday afternoon when I realized that there was an event that I should attend. It involved all of the things that I loved: women, art, poetry, and healing. My attire consisted of goddess material and out the door I went, daring to be social. Upon entry, it was not clear what was to be expected. People surrounded tables that had live painted bodies of art simply sitting and talking. Albums of the life of each piece of artwork lay in front of them on the table. My feet carried me to a table with questions. As I began to read it, one question leaped off the paper into me: If you were to forget the last ten years of your life, what memory would you miss and why? As my face turned to wondrous expression, the friendly MC caught me. She asked me if I would be willing to share my response to the question on stage. I smiled and responded yes.
The memory that I shared left me quite happy and flushed. Coincidentally, it did involve an artist and a lovely art gallery filled with his work. It is a memory that remains vivid to this day. It was quite exhilarating to share such a story with a gallery filled with complete strangers, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. The entertainment began soon after I took my seat.
The spoken word artists were quite familiar to me. The second one in particular, Nubian, struck a chord with me from many years ago. She made a statement on stage in the middle of her performance that completely boggled my mind. It stayed with me for all of these years. Naturally, when she passed by me after the show, I made it my business to stop her and tell her how beautiful she was. She was pleasantly surprised and engaged me in polite conversation. She managed to catch my attention as I was sitting on the floor speaking to one of the works of art.
She was painted as the Queen of Hearts. Her story of survival was harsh and passionate all at the same time. She had unimaginable experiences and eventually came to realize that her sexual orientation was not focused on men. The pictures in her album had carefully been selected to depict the healing journey that is her life. The opportunity to connect with her on such a level was uplifting for me. There is something about listening to another human being as they lay their soul bare before you. The question that I asked her was, if she had the chance to know me, would she hear me or feel me. She said that she would feel me because I would probably mention something that would resonate with her. It was a powerful connection of two people sharing with one another.
Once I found my way home, I removed the rose quartz necklace and settled into a chair. My womb was happy. My spirit soared. My heart felt light, and I knew…..that I had been captivated by the seduction of the evening. Everything in me knew what I wanted to do with my life.
The secretary named Crystal needed to speak to me. While we were talking, she told me about the cd that I gifted the secretaries for their special day.
“I wanted to thank you for the beautiful CD we received for secretary’s day. I would like to share something that happened last night. My niece was visiting and she shared with me that she has been suffering from insomnia since her mother’s passing in March. I took her outside and sat her in my car and played the CD for her, after a few minutes she fell asleep. It was the first time that she was able to sleep for any length of time. I gave her the CD and she called me this morning to tell me she had achieved a full night sleep with the CD playing. I just wanted to say thank you..”. Such feedback is worth more than any check that is given to me.
When I realized that the primary class was making percussion instruments, I decided to supply them with a class set. While en route to the general area, it was difficult to locate the room. I wondered into another classroom to ask where I could find my destination. Upon entering the land of the smurfs, all activity ceased. A lone voice could be heard exclaiming, “THE MUSIC TEACHER IS HERE!”. All of a sudden, all of the smurfs began chanting the word music. Blushing soon took over my face as the harp presentation crossed my mind; this class was the audience and apparently, they remembered it well.
Later that day, a teacher asked as to what transpired in the room. While explaining the warm moment, she informed me that the primary grades were so starved for cultural exposure because of the demands of the heavy academic schedule. I asked her if there was time to schedule another musical interaction with the children, and she responded with a jubilant yes. Perhaps my violist has some time to show them the wonderful world of the string family.
Prior to teaching my new private student, she informed me that her birthday party was coming up and that my presence was required. What have I done to receive such honors from the smallest people on earth. All of these things happened on the same day. How marvelous.
My mother has been doing better with the mourning process. She has remained as social as ever and attends to daily matters. She did not speak about my father as much as she did in latter months. Physical ailments began to plague her and trips to the physical therapist began. Since I have my own history with physical issues, I asked about massages. She was not receiving any. I thought about how a massage therapist worked on me shortly after Daddy passed away. She volunteered to work on me as a way to help me with the tremendous loss. It was such a kind compassionate gesture. We became friends after that. Naturally, I thought it would be great if she could work on my mother; it was a surprise.
We met at my mother’s house all the way down South. Upon introducing my mother to my friend, it was explained that she was a massage therapist. Mommy’s face quickly crumpled into a questioning expression, “Who is getting a massage?”. She was not expecting the massage or the live harp music that I was providing during her session. I had done this same thing for her many years ago with the assistance of my father. I told him what I wanted to do. He said okay, not to worry about anything. Mommy was dressed for the massage therapist when she arrived and to this day, I do not know what Daddy said to her.
As the session got under way, the repertoire included many of the songs that Daddy enjoyed. It was natural for me to perform Mommy’s favorite Adagio Cantabile. Upon hearing it, she asked me to play it again. We soon heard a lot of sniffling. The music continued as the massage worked its magic. Fortunately, we had convinced her to have a session for 1.5 hours. She needed every minute of it. Upon completion, my friend, and I sat on my mom’s bed and chatted for a while. Mommy was fast asleep which was good because that was another issue since her loss. She was out for a good fifteen minutes before she rustled a bit. We told her to stay put and take her time.
It was amazing to witness such a healing take place. My friend felt so honored to have been a part of my family during this significant time. She was a good fit based on her compassionate heart. Mommy was able to do a lot of releasing on that table. I can only imagine the pain that she still experiences with such a tremendous loss. Mommy talked about my father for the remainder of the day which is something that she had stopped doing as much. It is my intent to help her get more massages on a regular basis.
Because we enjoyed the process so much, my friend and I are thinking about creating a package that offers this service to the general public. We felt as if we wanted to receive such a wonderful gift ourselves. The music was heartfelt and the massage allowed so much to be let go. What a gift.
Prior to performing Reiki on others, I would say that my understanding of energy was basic. It was just enough to help me get through the day. There is bad energy, and there is good energy. However, there is a completely different comprehension now that I have been exposed to this energy by channeling it myself to others. The feedback always amazes me. This was hurting but now it is not. I did not know where you were but felt a very strong energy.
I have used Reiki on my food, and even performed Reiki on a bedroom and discovered a presence. While working on this one particular wall, a different sensation was being sent back to my hands. This was new. The energy normally flows through me without being returned. The room requires sage to keep all of its occupants happy and calm. However, imagine me being able to determine this with my new found activity. I was intrigued.
After reporting this experience to my Reiki instructor, we agreed that this work is a natural extension for a medium. It adds another healing element to what we already do.
As I sat there in the quiet solace of the funeral home, it dawned on me that it was my first time at a funeral since performing at my father’s funeral. Would I be okay? How would I react being in this setting?
Before long, my hands began to play and the sounds filled the entire place. The funeral director came and smiled at me. He closed the doors so as not to allow anyone in before the appropriate time; however, a head or two would peep in. It was not long before the doors were open and people filed in sporadically.
The tears began to fall, and the muffled sounds of crying were heard. This is to be expected at a funeral which is why boxes of tissues are readily available. I found myself in the dynamics of my music, and performed many of the same songs that I performed for my father. As the crying continued, more people trickled in and embraced each other. Some people approached the casket for a final look while others heavily sank into the pews. The thought of my mother falling asleep to my music crossed my mind as I began the next selection. This was a healing process in plain view.
My hour came to a close, and my eyes fell on the Soprano. She was set to sing a capella. After discovering that the Ave Maria was included on the program, we performed it together. When we were finished, we smiled at each other and agreed that we had to do a concert together. The last time that I saw her was at my father’s funeral where she made the crowd swoon with her rendition of the Lord’s Prayer. Here we were again for yet another congregation of mourners with our classical repertoire in hand.
After leaving the funeral home, the problem of lunch arose. There was enough time for me to grab a smoothie and pack the music for the wedding that was awaiting me in a few hours. It was said that my day sounded emotionally draining. Perhaps, but in truth, I feel very prepared for such situations. It is at this point in my life when I realize how much healing is a part of my job.
It was a dark and stormy Wednesday afternoon. My car was packed and ready for the performance. The nice warm black sweater with pearls fit me quite nicely. As I drove down the highway, I mentally reviewed the playlist in my head. I contacted my on site person to let her know that I was en route. It had been many years since I performed at Baptist Hospital, and I was happy to return to such a lovely place. I used to walk there and feed ducks.
After I unloaded, the hospital labyrinth swallowed me whole. It was quite a sight to see so many doctors and support personnel. It was nice to get a glimpse of so many different types of careers in their actual environment. Once inside the auditorium, I was greeted with smiles and good cheer. Once the instrument was tuned, I began to perform. It was then that the adventure began.
A woman approached me with such joy on her face. She said that her mother used to play the harp and when she heard me performing,…..she was unable to complete her sentence. She indicated to me that she had been crying and truly appreciated what I was doing. Music can have such an effect on people. It can provide them with emotional releases. Three hours came and went. The set finished with Adele as I have been updating my music with very current radio hits. Everyone was sad to see me go.
As I drove home, the rain continued to make its presence known. I thought about how touched that woman was by the music. It did something for her. I wonder who else can be moved with a performance….
Monday is the day when my roads are normally opened. They may be blocked, winding, or even messy but they are opened for me to make choices. After a rather pleasant weekend, my workday began with the new process of creating my face. It did not take as long as I had anticipated and soon, I was out the door en route to the job that I wish to change. Because of the paint that was applied to my face, I was a more effective person today. The amount of compliments that I received for my appearance was simply amazing. The positive energy lifted me into other dimensions that I recognized as former haunts. It was a good feeling for me.
The experiences that my body has been through since the car accident last July continue. Another doctor must be added to the list to address my nervous system with x-rays. Apparently, now my neck wishes to go through muscle spasms and remain tight as a rope without any regard for the efforts of my physical therapist. My exercise of choice has been elimanated from my routine for months now with no hope of it returning anytime soon. However, my former pilates torturemaster remained on my mind. I felt as if I needed something healing while my body goes through aging and adjusting to trauma. The medical background of the torturemaster combined with her knowledge of my body make for an excellent canditate to assist me with remaining bikini ready as all of this is thrown at me. However, it was not until my mother mentioned that she could help me that I finally called her. Alas, I wanted my dance strenous and harsh as it may be. Its not what is needed at this time. My first class was this evening, and it felt nice to sweat. The rest of this journey is tba as I am living it day by day.
The rain falls to the earth to replenish her green and nurture the oceans. The thunder rumbles and shakes my home as the candles flicker back and forth. My summer vacation is around the corner and there is much work to be done if I am going to truly meet the challenge of my career transition. My trusted advisors await my next move. It was necessary for me to stop doing everything at once. It was not accomplishing goals and work makes it impossible for me to focus on the new trials and tribulations of working for myself full time. The idea of answering to myself without the boring routine of nothing changing and ineffective leadership is quite attractive to me. It is my intent to bake this delicious cake and then, have a nice slice of it. Perhaps, I shall add a scoop of ice cream…..a glass of champagne would not hurt either.
As an adult, there were many times when my body image was questioned and openly judged. I was dressed for a dance class once. My belly was exposed. My mother later told me over the phone about how big it was. Her comment made me feel bad because of the tone that she chose to use. I was healthy and not overweight, but my belly was big. Based on her comment combined with the tone, I understood my big belly to be a problem. It did not change the way that I dressed for dance class, but I did make certain that she never saw my exposed belly again. When I did begin to lose a lot of weight, that still was not enough. “You have lost a lot of weight, but you still have a long way to go…”. My response was that I was happy that I was losing weight for myself and not for her. Last summer, she purchased a bikini for me to wear. It was beautiful. I immediately tried it on. She started tapping my stomach and said, “Don’t you think that you should lose more weight before you wear this?”. Instead of telling her that I normally grace the beach topless, I instead chose to tell her that if I do not enjoy my body now, when am I going to enjoy it? Furthermore, I was happy with the bikini and the way that it looked. Because I did not appear the way that she thought I should look, I was deemed inappropriate and not fit to wear something skimpy in spite of the fact that I was in the best shape of my life. It took a long time for me to learn to politely avoid the insecurities of others including family members.
Such things have been on my mind since there seems to be an issue with free spirited daughters and mothers that do not understand them. Bouts of tension often lead to volatile situations and constant misunderstandings. There is no middle ground in that the mother thinks that her child should be just like her or at least normal according to the picture that she has in her head. However, what is considered normal? Whom is in charge of setting those rules? You are called plastic for not sharing the same beliefs or loose for being unwed with a child. Perhaps you lifestyle is questioned and scrutinized on a daily basis leading to further turmoil. How does a girl cope with it all?
A strong foundation is key in such a situation. You must understand yourself first and foremost. One would think that the one that gave birth to you would have a better understanding of you but all too often, the level of comprehension is poor. Understand that you must live your life for you on your terms.
You do not have to justify anything to anyone. If it is something that you consider private, then do not feel guilty about keeping it that way. The aspects of your life do not have to be the side dish at the family dinner table. You do not have to be subjected to misguided comments that make you feel bad. You can address the issue directly, or respond with something positive. Take the statement and turn it around into something joyful.
You are something divine and powerful. You are made in the likeness of the creator and nothing can harm you without your permission. Think highly of yourself and always try to be positive. Along this journey that is called life, there will be many trials and tribulations. The way you handle them will be your lasting legacy.