Monday, July 25, 2011

Batman and the miraculous child

I was all set.  My first few days off in six weeks.  Bags packed.  CD cued in my car stereo for three uninterrupted hours of rehearsal as I drove to Merritt to perform with my friend Karen and some of the Trooper band members. Nervous?  You bet.  Excited?  You know it.  I just had to have those three hours of “me-time” to get my lyrics under my belt so I could relax and enjoy being a part of the show.  Then the phonecall – could I bring Karen’s four-year-old son with me as last minute changes necessitated his being with her instead of his father and she had already left for Merritt a few days earlier. At first I felt this dread… I hadn’t spent three hours with a four-year-old in years.  I was going to miss out on my coveted practice time.  And I still ache for the days spent with my own adorable, little Duncan.  I wanted to say no but deep down inside a wiser voice reassured me that this was a gift.  And who was I to refuse it, no matter how it was wrapped?

So off we went.  The two of us.  In no time at all, we had assumed our roles.  He was definitely Batman and I was his sidekick, Robin. I slipped effortlessly into his game, and reveled in the joy that I could have a fun-filled three hours with a little guy who knew nothing of my reservations and fear and could have unfettered fun and laughter with someone he hardly knew.  It was lovely.  I was given a chance to be totally present for him and heal some of those pieces where I hadn’t been totally present with Duncan or Sean at that same age.  What a gift it was indeed.  Thank you, little Dylan.  I will never forget that trip. (He also helped me remember the times that I had been very present with my boys, and that was incredibly validating for me as I am absolutely my worst critic when it comes to how good a mother I was/am…).

As it happened, Karen and I changed our minds about some of the lyrics that I would be singing so I needed to refresh my memory of a verse with the words “Took my harpoon out of my dirty red bandana”. As many of you know, I always carry a red bandana with me as my Duncan talisman when I am performing.  But it wasn’t dirty.  I have always kept that bandana safe and sound because I never want to wash it.  Karen happened to get some dirt on her legs just before we went on stage and we were looking everywhere for a cloth to wipe off the grime.  I grabbed that bandana, and some bottled water – you can guess the rest – Duncan was there in spirit to help us just before show time.  (And I still will never wash that bandana.)  Thank you Karen for that moment.  It was so deeply meaningful to me.

And then I met Ijaaz.  Again, my wiser voice urged me to pay attention to this little eight-year-old East Indian boy.  He came into my store the other day with a couple of his family members (uncle and sister perhaps) and walked up to the counter.  He had the most beautiful, deep-brown eyes, and I immediately wanted to learn more about him.  He and his uncle both drew a card from my little bowl of “Be the Change” cards.  I asked him what his was and he said “teaching”.  He thought he had drawn the wrong card as it was his uncle who was a teacher.  I asked him his name.  “Ijaaz”, he said.  I asked him if it had a special meaning and he said “miraculous”.  His uncle told me that he was a little being who really wanted to be on this earth and suffered many trials and tribulations on his journey getting here. I turned to Ijaaz and told him that I thought he had actually picked the perfect card for him.  We exchanged knowing smiles and then he left.  Although he lives in Calgary, I know I will see him again.  That was a few days ago.  I still feel the warmth of that encounter.  He is already teaching.

What I am finding these days are opportunities to open up to where I have unconsciously kept myself “apart from”.  (I know, you are not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition, but tonight it is something, up with which I shall put…).

This is good fodder as I leave for my yearly retreat where I can meditate, enter into silence for a few days, eat and sleep well, and recharge my batteries for my next adventures in life.

(I’ll call you when I get back Marty as you and I have much more to explore! It was great seeing you today.  Thank you for the white roses and the baby’s breath.  You know how much that means to me.)

With love and gratitude,


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