I had my 2nd reiki treatment last night.
The session was interesting & I can't wait to share it.
But first I had to get a few other thoughts out.
The first thing is that I wanted to share that I wrote a little card to *E's* mom.
And it was well received.
I'll leave it at that for now.
Last night before and after my treatment I met up with my stepmom for some girly talk.
And after we were finished - quite honestly we probably could have chatted all night long - I stopped in to see my dad and brothers. It wasn't a long visit. But it was enough. In a good way.
I was sharing with my dad the details of my reiki treatment and something came to him and he walked away.
He came back with a box.
And inside the box was a violin.
An old violin.
In pieces.
He began telling me how this violin was my grandfather's (his father). And he loved this violin. He thought it was "something".
My dad took it to a musician in a local city to find out about it and to inquire about getting it put back together.
Sadly (or not so sadly), the violin is "nothing" in terms of monetary value and it would cost more to put it back to rights than to buy a nice, quality new one.
As my dad was telling me about it, I began salivating.
And felt bad despite myself.
I felt like a wolf, hungry for the kill.
I felt horrible for being so overtaken with thoughts like Give it to me!! Drop it, sucker. Hand me the box and no one gets hurt!!!
I somehow managed to get ahold of myself.
See, for as long as I remember I've wanted to learn how to play the Violin. And to see this in front me of me was almost too much to handle....the thought of playing Violin - his violin - clouded any ounce of good judgement I had.
I never have understand why I wanted to play. Because my passion has always been the Saxophone (and percussion, although I've never played percussion instruments).
Something has always drawn me to the Violin.
I had no idea until last night that my grandfather used to play.
My dad finished his story about the poor, dime-store violin.
And then he said
I'm going to have a little ceremony and I'm going to burn it.
I gasped.
My eyes in wide horror.
WHY????????
He said I'm going to burn it and take it down to Dad. Maybe if we all get together on the weekend of Thanksgiving we'll burn it then since we all will be together.
My grandfather apparently had much love for this 1920s Montgomery Ward Violin - that he bought 2nd hand and thought was "something".
And my dad is doing the right thing by his Dad.
It should be with him where he rests.
I left their house a little less selfish.
Happy that it will be returned to its rightful owner
and that since I've never met my grandfather and always longed for some physical connection, content in the fact that maybe I got this desire to play from him.
Showing posts with label personal growth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal growth. Show all posts
11/9/07
9/13/07
Full Circle
I haven't seen Three Dog Night Dad in quite awhile.
There really is no great excuse.
Attempts have been made.
And for one reason or another, it just doesn't come to fruition.
Out of desperation, I phoned old Pop at about 4 p.m. Tuesday evening and said
Hey, Dad. It's Jess. Feel like stopping by for a bit on your way home from work?
He gobbled up the invitation.
We sat on the couch and chatted while the kids showed him every meaningless tidbit under the sun.
Meaningless as in Here, Pop-Pop! Look at this tissue!!! Here, Pop-Pop, look at this Cheerio on the floor that has been here since Connor's 6 month of life!!!
They were so excited to see him, they had to ply him with every object and object description they possibly could.
So there we are.
Father and daughter sitting on the couch.
Having a good old,long overdue talk.
All of a sudden, my dad stops listening.
His eyes avert to the right of me.
Something else has grabbed his attention.
At first I'm a tad bit alarmed thinking maybe that ginormous spider of ours has made it's way into the house.
Or worse yet, a mouse has been spotted (I'm freakishly afraid of the nasty buggers).
I look in the direction that has him so engrossed.
And it is this picture that has made it's way to the computer screen during the screen saver montage:
There really is no great excuse.
Attempts have been made.
And for one reason or another, it just doesn't come to fruition.
Out of desperation, I phoned old Pop at about 4 p.m. Tuesday evening and said
Hey, Dad. It's Jess. Feel like stopping by for a bit on your way home from work?
He gobbled up the invitation.
We sat on the couch and chatted while the kids showed him every meaningless tidbit under the sun.
Meaningless as in Here, Pop-Pop! Look at this tissue!!! Here, Pop-Pop, look at this Cheerio on the floor that has been here since Connor's 6 month of life!!!
They were so excited to see him, they had to ply him with every object and object description they possibly could.
So there we are.
Father and daughter sitting on the couch.
Having a good old,long overdue talk.
All of a sudden, my dad stops listening.
His eyes avert to the right of me.
Something else has grabbed his attention.
At first I'm a tad bit alarmed thinking maybe that ginormous spider of ours has made it's way into the house.
Or worse yet, a mouse has been spotted (I'm freakishly afraid of the nasty buggers).
I look in the direction that has him so engrossed.
And it is this picture that has made it's way to the computer screen during the screen saver montage:
He sat there staring with the goofiest, most satisfied, longing, happy look on his face.I was speechless.
I didn't know what to say.
But as a mom, as a parent, I can only imagine what he must have been thinking.
9/6/07
On Yesterdays and Tomorrows
When I think about how to make this world a better place, I instantly look to the generation that is waiting-in-the-wings.
The ones that don't even know that the weight has been placed upon them.
I think about what a load that is for these up-comers to bear. Considering their ages haven't even hit double-digits yet.
That it is completely up to them to rid the world of the nasties.
But that is faulty logic.
We, the adults - the generation of the now, might not be able to fix things but it is up to us to set the examples and to lead accordingly.
I got to thinking about how my compassionate heart became that way. How as much of a spit-fire I can be IRL, I am or try to be, kind. I tend to see things that others might not where other people are concerned.
And I got to thinking about how that came about.
I reflected on the adults in my life that fashioned and molded me. The adults who made the most postive lasting impressions.
You all are probably rolling your eyes and sighing, saying to yourselves Yeah, we know. We know. Your dad and that damned reggae music. Sheesh. Shut your pie-hole, would ya?
And while yes, my dad had the major positive influence on me, my compassion, my kindness, my manners came from my grandmother (my dad's mom).
She was the one that taught me to think of others first.
To always be polite.
To welcome anyone - to try and make them feel at home.
If anything, my grandmother was about propriety. And I don't mean that in a snooty way.
She just strongly felt that you should act a certain way to other people. And that way was always kind and polite.
And many others had their hands in the pot as far as the shaping-of-me went.
There were religious leaders, parishioners of our church, teachers, other relatives, etc.
It certainly wasn't any one person.
There were many.
I see how our society really gears toward the individualistic approach to things and I can't help but to think how sad it is.
And I reflect about how we push our kids to be independent, to not need anyone. Or at least need others as little as possible.
And then how shocked we are when they do find their wings and find their way and gain that independence, we scratch our heads and wonder
Why don't they need us? Why don't they come around?
I think about the gaping hole that would be left behind in my spirit or creative mind had I not been influenced by Mrs. Duncan, my 4th & 5th grade art teacher.
The battered little girl (emotionally) who never asked for hugs, but got them on a daily basis from Mrs. Bridge nee Pokoiski.
Or the feeling of belonging to something bigger at Christ Episcopal Church because of Rev. Lindermann, Mrs. Budd, Mr. & Mrs. Warren, Mr. Mitchell, Mrs. Bright, Mrs. Bonner and all of my friends in my sunday school class.
Or the unconditional love from Aunt Marie, Aunt Vicki, my Dad, Eileen (my stepmom), and my younger brothers and my mom.
The list could go on.
I might be in my metamorphosis stage right now. And I am certainly still working on myself to help better the world. I'm still trying to figure out what that means for me, exactly.
And those people above had a hand in it.
When I feel my heart overflow for someone, it is because of the love and caring that these people have showered on me.
And adults everywhere should be so mindful of the little eyes that look up to us and the little hands that need holding.
While they may be the future
We are the now.
The ones that don't even know that the weight has been placed upon them.
I think about what a load that is for these up-comers to bear. Considering their ages haven't even hit double-digits yet.
That it is completely up to them to rid the world of the nasties.
But that is faulty logic.
We, the adults - the generation of the now, might not be able to fix things but it is up to us to set the examples and to lead accordingly.
I got to thinking about how my compassionate heart became that way. How as much of a spit-fire I can be IRL, I am or try to be, kind. I tend to see things that others might not where other people are concerned.
And I got to thinking about how that came about.
I reflected on the adults in my life that fashioned and molded me. The adults who made the most postive lasting impressions.
You all are probably rolling your eyes and sighing, saying to yourselves Yeah, we know. We know. Your dad and that damned reggae music. Sheesh. Shut your pie-hole, would ya?
And while yes, my dad had the major positive influence on me, my compassion, my kindness, my manners came from my grandmother (my dad's mom).
She was the one that taught me to think of others first.
To always be polite.
To welcome anyone - to try and make them feel at home.
If anything, my grandmother was about propriety. And I don't mean that in a snooty way.
She just strongly felt that you should act a certain way to other people. And that way was always kind and polite.
And many others had their hands in the pot as far as the shaping-of-me went.
There were religious leaders, parishioners of our church, teachers, other relatives, etc.
It certainly wasn't any one person.
There were many.
I see how our society really gears toward the individualistic approach to things and I can't help but to think how sad it is.
And I reflect about how we push our kids to be independent, to not need anyone. Or at least need others as little as possible.
And then how shocked we are when they do find their wings and find their way and gain that independence, we scratch our heads and wonder
Why don't they need us? Why don't they come around?
I think about the gaping hole that would be left behind in my spirit or creative mind had I not been influenced by Mrs. Duncan, my 4th & 5th grade art teacher.
The battered little girl (emotionally) who never asked for hugs, but got them on a daily basis from Mrs. Bridge nee Pokoiski.
Or the feeling of belonging to something bigger at Christ Episcopal Church because of Rev. Lindermann, Mrs. Budd, Mr. & Mrs. Warren, Mr. Mitchell, Mrs. Bright, Mrs. Bonner and all of my friends in my sunday school class.
Or the unconditional love from Aunt Marie, Aunt Vicki, my Dad, Eileen (my stepmom), and my younger brothers and my mom.
The list could go on.
I might be in my metamorphosis stage right now. And I am certainly still working on myself to help better the world. I'm still trying to figure out what that means for me, exactly.
And those people above had a hand in it.
When I feel my heart overflow for someone, it is because of the love and caring that these people have showered on me.
And adults everywhere should be so mindful of the little eyes that look up to us and the little hands that need holding.
While they may be the future
We are the now.
9/4/07
Dignity In The Diner
Lately I've been thinking a lot about growing old and maintaining dignity.
I've been thinking about how I envision myself still vibrant and active when I hit my elder years.
I don't know if that is what will happen.
But that's what I hope for myself.
I've seen many an elderly person turn into a bitter shell of the young people they once were.
I listen to the lonely in their voice and think I'd probably sound just as scared and bitter when faced with this kind of lonely and/or this kind of pain on a daily basis. Who could stand to live with such physical pain?
Not to mention, feeling worthless and left behind.
I think each gender struggles with that worthless feeling, but in different aspects.
Males feel it after a life spent working and providing and no longer being able to do so.
And females feel it after a life spent working and caretaking and no longer feeling needed and valuable.
And of course growing old with dignity, I'm mindful of how our bodies and our minds can turn on us on a dime and we have no control over that either.
And again, just how scary that must be.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
On Saturday, we rolled out of bed early, threw on some clothes and took the kids to our favorite diner for breakfast.
And can I quickly just tell you how much I adore going out to breakfast on a weekend morning?
I LOVE it. I love sitting down to a cup of coffee made by someone else and being waited on.
The anticipation of the meal.....
Anyway...we all love this diner.
We walk in and there is a crowd by the door waiting to be seated.
Gracie is hanging out in my arms "being shy".
And Connor is dancing around the register counter waiting to pick out his lollipop (don't ask) with Rav.
Gracie and I head off to one side as the door/register/waiting area are very close together and we are trying to leave room for people to walk through.
And as we're standing there I look over to my right (where there is an alcove of sorts with about 6 booths and a narrow walkway to get to those booths) and there is an elderly gentleman with a walker. He is trying to make his way to his table and gets stopped by a fellow female patron who knows him. He apparently has been battling a cold and has stopped to ask him how he's feeling and just generally speak to him.
As they are speaking a waitress and a female buser (is it with 2 s's?) are waiting to get by.
The waitress gets huffy and walks away.
And the buser tries to scoot past and can't.
So she waits.
Another female buser walks up to her and they begin speaking in their native language and are most obviously talking about this gentleman.
The waitress then walks back and sees he is now making his way back to his booth, very slowly, but is making his way nonetheless.
And as she is standing behind him, she is shaking her head and muttering nastily under her breath.
The poor fellow gets the wheel to his walker stuck, which hinders his forward motion, and her agitation grows.
(Mind you, this woman - the waitress - is middle-aged. Probably in her late 50's).
I was so taken aback by such passively cruel behavior.
Never once did she offer to help him.
Never once did she try to move him along by simply talking to him and escorting him to his table.
And he didn't even know the subtle "cruelty" that was being pushed in his direction.
Which is probably for the best.
But I saw it.
And it bothered me.
And I did nothing.
I worry about elders and those incapable of caring for themselves being subjected to cruelty in facilities - let's face it, it happens - it's happening in my home state right now. Today.
And fret over what is being done to these people or not done.
And I can't do anything about it.
I'm one person who can't save the world.
But here I was in a public place and saw such a disgusting display of intolerance.
And I chose to do nothing.
Because I was waiting in line with my family to get served a $5.00 breakfast.
And I chose to not act.
This got me thinking about all of the times we choose not to act over things we think are "little" or "benign". And how they really add up.
We might not see how one action or inaction effects the other, but they do.
I again do my infamous projecting and wonder if I would want someone to stand up for me or help out if that were me or Rav in that restaurant.
And of course, the answer is yes.
Those of us who can, need to rally for those who can't for themselves.
Little kindnesses.
Little kindnesses.
Growing older and growing period, with dignity.
I'm still working on it.
I've been thinking about how I envision myself still vibrant and active when I hit my elder years.
I don't know if that is what will happen.
But that's what I hope for myself.
I've seen many an elderly person turn into a bitter shell of the young people they once were.
I listen to the lonely in their voice and think I'd probably sound just as scared and bitter when faced with this kind of lonely and/or this kind of pain on a daily basis. Who could stand to live with such physical pain?
Not to mention, feeling worthless and left behind.
I think each gender struggles with that worthless feeling, but in different aspects.
Males feel it after a life spent working and providing and no longer being able to do so.
And females feel it after a life spent working and caretaking and no longer feeling needed and valuable.
And of course growing old with dignity, I'm mindful of how our bodies and our minds can turn on us on a dime and we have no control over that either.
And again, just how scary that must be.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
On Saturday, we rolled out of bed early, threw on some clothes and took the kids to our favorite diner for breakfast.
And can I quickly just tell you how much I adore going out to breakfast on a weekend morning?
I LOVE it. I love sitting down to a cup of coffee made by someone else and being waited on.
The anticipation of the meal.....
Anyway...we all love this diner.
We walk in and there is a crowd by the door waiting to be seated.
Gracie is hanging out in my arms "being shy".
And Connor is dancing around the register counter waiting to pick out his lollipop (don't ask) with Rav.
Gracie and I head off to one side as the door/register/waiting area are very close together and we are trying to leave room for people to walk through.
And as we're standing there I look over to my right (where there is an alcove of sorts with about 6 booths and a narrow walkway to get to those booths) and there is an elderly gentleman with a walker. He is trying to make his way to his table and gets stopped by a fellow female patron who knows him. He apparently has been battling a cold and has stopped to ask him how he's feeling and just generally speak to him.
As they are speaking a waitress and a female buser (is it with 2 s's?) are waiting to get by.
The waitress gets huffy and walks away.
And the buser tries to scoot past and can't.
So she waits.
Another female buser walks up to her and they begin speaking in their native language and are most obviously talking about this gentleman.
The waitress then walks back and sees he is now making his way back to his booth, very slowly, but is making his way nonetheless.
And as she is standing behind him, she is shaking her head and muttering nastily under her breath.
The poor fellow gets the wheel to his walker stuck, which hinders his forward motion, and her agitation grows.
(Mind you, this woman - the waitress - is middle-aged. Probably in her late 50's).
I was so taken aback by such passively cruel behavior.
Never once did she offer to help him.
Never once did she try to move him along by simply talking to him and escorting him to his table.
And he didn't even know the subtle "cruelty" that was being pushed in his direction.
Which is probably for the best.
But I saw it.
And it bothered me.
And I did nothing.
I worry about elders and those incapable of caring for themselves being subjected to cruelty in facilities - let's face it, it happens - it's happening in my home state right now. Today.
And fret over what is being done to these people or not done.
And I can't do anything about it.
I'm one person who can't save the world.
But here I was in a public place and saw such a disgusting display of intolerance.
And I chose to do nothing.
Because I was waiting in line with my family to get served a $5.00 breakfast.
And I chose to not act.
This got me thinking about all of the times we choose not to act over things we think are "little" or "benign". And how they really add up.
We might not see how one action or inaction effects the other, but they do.
I again do my infamous projecting and wonder if I would want someone to stand up for me or help out if that were me or Rav in that restaurant.
And of course, the answer is yes.
Those of us who can, need to rally for those who can't for themselves.
Little kindnesses.
Little kindnesses.
Growing older and growing period, with dignity.
I'm still working on it.
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