Roses in the Snow

I just returned from a trip to my hometown where my mom, three sisters, brother, their partners, and all ten of our kids gathered to mourn and celebrate my Dad.

What a week it was.  From cancelled flights, to sub-zero weather, tons of snow, lots of tears, and many tasks to complete, it was destined to be a stressfest.  Nothing could be further from the truth. From beneath the blanket of sadness, grew something beautiful.  Like a flower, peeking up through the snow.

We all hunkered down at my Mom’s place and went to work.  We had three days to pull together our ideas for two visitations and a service.  We all wanted to be involved, to dive into the process of letting Dad go. We wanted to create a send off that befitted him – elegant, graceful, musical, and light- and warm-hearted.  

Dad was known for many things but what we wanted to highlight was his passion for Korea (where he was born), teaching (his life-long profession), music (he was instrumental in having a Casavant Frères pipe organ installed in the church), flying, (he was a pilot), Found’s Island (our family summer place since 1952), and an unshakeable devotion to his family.

We gathered bits of memorabilia and were able to put together a beautiful visual of all his loves.  Stones and branches from the island (and the old “Found’s Island” sign) were put together in one corner; yearbooks, school uniforms, and certificates signified his teaching years; tiny organ pipes and his favourite music was skillfully woven into the flower arrangements; and hundreds of family photographs were on display all around the room.  Dad’s ashes were placed in a beautiful “chong” – a tiny Korean chest. It was a perfect setting for his long-time friends, relatives, colleagues, and students, to spend time remembering him.  It was a joyous occasion… many commented on how uplifting it was to be there, to talk about Dad, and reminisce with laughter about the many good times we shared with him.

His memorial service was equally fitting.  The choir sang to the accompaniment of the organ, played by our original organist.  We all had a say in what music we wanted to hear and she played it beautifully.  We each wrote a memory about Dad (or Poppa, as he is known by his grandkids) and the stories were read aloud during the service.  Everyone sang “Jesus Loves Me” in Korean.  The meditation was very apropos… urging all who knew him to “go out and do likewise”.  Dad was a very kind and inspiring man. 

It was probably one of the best times I’ve ever spent with my family (excluding the escapades together when we were younger, before we all went our separate ways).  Even though Dad wasn’t there to pitch in physically, he was absolutely there in spirit.  The last night before I left, there were 27 people at the house for dinner.  We gathered in the living room, and before we joined hands to sing Johnny Appleseed (at the top of our lungs as Dad would have done), we placed the chong right in the centre and all sang to him.  We raised the roof in his honour.

I will never forget this past week.  We learned a lot about each other and about Dad – things that we didn’t know before.  (I found out that he never liked long hair, so in his honour and as a gesture of letting go, I cut about 10 inches off my mane yesterday – it was time!) We all learned a lot about having joy and laughter in the midst of sadness.  We immersed ourselves in all that Dad stood for.  It was beautiful.

Dad… Thank you for everything you taught me.  You were an amazing man.  (And I hope you like my haircut!)

Branded by Bruce,

Authentically yours,

Buns xo

P.S.  For your listening pleasure… one of my favourite Emmylou Harris songs. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gs-wOyMjJMw

 

Druthers. I’ve got ’em.

For as long as I can remember, December 21st has been my favourite day of the year.  For me it symbolizes a new beginning. The days start to become longer, and I am filled with that phew-I-made-it feeling.  Even from a Mayan calendar point of view, I am looking forward to it.  Perhaps it will be the end of the world as we know it.  I, for one, believe it’s time.  Time to divest myself of all the things that don’t serve me well in a spiritual, physical, mental, and emotional sense.  Vamoose.  Be gone.

And I’m getting the sense that the universe is conspiring to help me make some hard choices about what to keep and what to let go.  In the past couple of months, I have experienced challenges that threatened to do me in, especially in my financial realm. From parking tickets to an unexpected tax bill to an empty condo (translation – no rental income), things are tight.  And yet for some reason, I am calm as I cast my gaze to include a wider horizon of possibilities.  I’m just starting to see that this is really an opportunity to take stock, and decide what can be discounted, written off, or forgiven. And I’m not just talking about merchandise.

What relationships, possessions, beliefs, grudges, or worries can I release? What really matters?  This is the time to declutter.  And I’m up for it.  I’m ready for a change.

I used to say if I had my druthers¹, I’d do certain things.  I’d sing for my supper.  I’d help others help themselves. I’d help build houses on a Caribbean island. I’d take my master gardener’s course. I’d go and visit my parents back East any time I wanted to. I’d earn an honest living without needing to have bricks and mortar as the veneer of successful entrepreneurship. My focus would be to use my talents well in the service of others.  A close friend of mine sent this to me the other day saying that he thought of me when he read it...

I slept and dreamed that life was joy.

I awoke and saw that life was service.

I acted and behold, service was joy.

Ravindranath Tagore

This is my druthers.

Branded by joy,

Buns xo

As I write this, my dad is in the hospital and there is the possibility that I may not see him again.  The last time I was with him, we had a wonderful visit and I was able to tell him how much I loved him and how he had so eloquently (yet silently) shown his support for me when my son passed away. I have been able to make a clean decision not to go back to see him before Christmas.  If that is to be last time I get to see him, it is a beautiful memory. I love you Dad... 

¹druth·ers: noun plural \ˈdrə-thərz\[Alteration of the phrase 'd rather, from would rather.]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z0GFRcFm-aY

Ode To Ships At Sea And In Safe Harbor

 “Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.” --Basho

I want to dedicate this post to you Buns and to you, The Robert. While my heart sank when I heard you two were parting ways in one form, I hold fast to the thought that your relationship can continue in another. I sense there is yet more to come and while we often see ourselves as the conductors in our live, we are not the only force at work.   Fate….divinity…the co-creative force of the universe…we are not the only ones with influence over outcome.

Who knows if this is good or this is bad?

 That Zen perspective rests in a kind of curiosity that actively invites ALL possibility. Being authentic, standing for one’s values you then let go of judgment of whether something is good or bad and simply stay in the present moment of what is. Without evaluation you can feel it all AND stay open to whatever arises both inside yourself and outside yourself.

There is a Taoist story of an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. "Such bad luck," they said sympathetically. "Who knows if this is good, or this is bad," the farmer replied.
 The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. "How wonderful," the neighbors exclaimed. "Who knows if this is good or this is bad," replied the old man.
The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune. "Who knows if this is good or this is bad," answered the farmer.

The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son's leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out. “Who knows if this is good or this is bad,” said the farmer.

So while I hear at this moment in time, safe harbor and a ship relishing sailing unchartered waters may not be on the same page or rather the same sea,  I also know that two spirits once they connect can never really forget the depth, the loveliness of that authentic connection. I have no doubt that what you both shared is real and continues to be. And even pirates on wild adventures had to rest in harbor at some time or another to replenish and re-stock. And ships in safe harbors stop being ships if they never ever lift their sails.
Who knows if this is good or this is bad?  Who knows?
What I do know is…I LOVE YOU BOTH!

And on that note I bow to you Buns and Robert, palms together in the center of my forehead, opening to the part of me that can see inside and truly honor you. I accept who you are and who I am and that we are all part of the same universe.

Namaste
I honor the place in you in which the entire universe dwells,
I honor the place in you which is of Love, of Integrity, of Wisdom and of Peace.
When you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, we are One.

Authentically Yours,
Marty