11 YEARS OLD ON THE 11TH

Hi, my lovely boy. 

So here we are. Another birthday. You'd be 11 today on 3/11. Amberlee's mom told me that in their family when the age and date match like that, they consider it a Golden Birthday. Attaching a photo to this post that came from Christian's mom. It was a golden sunset, and she said she wondered when she saw it at how much it felt like a boy's sunset, like it belonged to you. Nora' mum and family made sure trees were planted for you again this year. Cheyenne's mom is doing a Kindness Project for you today. And so many have left kind notes and sweet thoughts for you. The ZAMR family imagined you running on the beach, yelling back at all of us, "Come on you, slowpokes!"  

You are so present still. 

Odd. Yesterday was this sharply sunny, blue sky day. Like the day you were born. I stood outside in the sun yesterday afternoon and watching the wind sail the clouds across the skySea. You were still so present. 

And yet today. Today is one of those claustrophobic Spring days, hemmed in by a foggy gray, ceaselessly falling rain, a chill that streams through the very walls. And you feel so far away. 

How I long for the floodgates of my life to open. I feel the cusp of it. I wonder what role you play in all of it. I know my love for you flows through it all. My determination to never stop voicing the LIFE and LOSS experience in the same breath always. And yet we continue to struggle here. There has just never been a moment where it tumbles forward off the cusp yet. 

Had two interesting interactions about that recently. One, someone asked me if I wasn't yet tired enough of the feast and famine cycle to break it yet. That the cycle is my own illusion. While there is something there, all I walked away with was guilt and shame because I'm not good enough or skilled enough or healed enough to break the cycle. The spiral of self blame. Not very helpful. 

The second was an idea presented that if I was truly doing my "right work" in this world, then my audience would be reached with least effort, they would get most value, and the offerings would be sought after. Again, I get it. But I walk away questioning my "right work," guilting and shaming myself for not being better, healed, able to "let go of loss" and embrace abundance. Self blame spiral. Not helpful. 

Then I had an amazing discussion with Jaime Ridler. We talked about permission and abundance and loss and love and being authentic AND professional, being true to yourself AND doing right work in the world. And there it was. 

A permissive and sacred space for whatever I was feeling as we approached your 11th birth and death day. 

An allowance for the fact that my motherhood got channeled into the activism work I do. 

The affirmation that my whole life became a peaceful protest whereby we demand permissive and sacred space for every individual. 

There is immense value there. The ideas are effortlessly conveyed when the person is my audience. I am breaking the cycle of guilt and shame foisted upon bereaved families. There just is no clear way in this commercial society to put that on the $.99 cent shelf or in the high-end spa sector. Your presence continues to show me that this experiment here is about LIVING A LIFE, not about making a living. 

Whatever the consequences. 

I cannot thank you enough for that. 

I can't believe you are still giving me gifts on your birthdays instead of the other way around. 

My small mortal body is still at odds with its mortality. Linear time is this facade of structure that mocks control and safety, but really is frightening because every moment passing is lost. Everything about linear time is grief and loss. 

Truly breaking the cycle is letting go of the small mortal body, and embracing the ever present BEing - just like you are still here. 

Breaking the cycle is letting go the fake sense of control/locus of linear time, and instead embracing the ALL time, the quantum fall off the cusp into conscious knowledge of how past present future all IS. 

It is a mind fuck to be sure. 

And yet here we are. Present, talking to Past, about Future. IS. 

You are simply bonded to everything I do, love. Just as your physical cells remain in my mortal body, so too are you woven with the Light Body. 

11 years. 
Yesterday. 
11 years from now. 

IS. 

And the crisp wind streams through the walls of the office. 

I miss you. 
You never left. 
I want to be more present with you. 

And the rain is ceaseless. 

xo. 
love, 
mum

OMG, I MISS YOU.

Kota, it seems I hardly ever write anymore. But with the holidaze in full gear just now, I woke up today and realized I miss you so very much. Seeing the lanky, swift growing 11 year olds makes me realize, I have no idea who you would be. It feels very lonely to realize that. 

At the same time, I'm having the most odd experiences recently. Beauty seems to steal me. A colorful painting, a stunning landscape in crisp air, holiday lights, the harsh streams of winter sun. I get lost seeing them. Your father is talking and turns and I'm 1,000 steps behind, having fallen into some pool of beauty or another. 

I often wish to live in that pool. I don't like coming back out of it to start walking again. It feels like you are there. 

I miss you much. 
Sending you love for the holidaze. 
xo 
Mom

10 YEARS OLD...

Wow. Hi Sweetie. I can't believe it's been a decade now. I miss you so much. Have kept trying to log on here and write to you since your birthday two months ago, but the account was lost. Then found. Then log on changed. Then I lost my computer and all work from the past 20 years. And whew... Just landing here now to say, wow. I can't believe you are 10 years old already. 

Nanna-Memoo got a Mothers Day present for me that she felt sure you'd have picked out for me. I think it is exactly what my 10 year old boy would have chosen if you were here. I love it. I wear it everyday. Thank you. Your Nanna-Memoo is the best grandma, isn't she?  

Your Daddy and I are doing okay. We miss you tons. We still have up and down days. But mostly we've decided that this decade needs to be even more conscious. We treasure every moment because we know how few there really are in this human experience of life. We keenly feel the rapid passing of linear time. I hope we keep doing things you would be proud of, but really, the bigger point is that I hope we are BEings you'd love. We treasure what you taught us: to be consciously together, to be good to one another, to BE BE BE! 

Are you okay where you are? I hope so. My heart feels Unkie and Papaji must be with you in some way, so it has to be okay. But I miss you everyday. 

Please know that we both love you. We value all the compassion you instilled in us. Please look over all the new little ones who are crossing over to where you are, Ezra, Levi, Amber Lee, Lucia, and all the others...thank you. 

xoxoxo 
Mom

THINKIN' ABOUT YOU...

Hey Sweets. Been thinking about you a lot these past few days. As the years pass an odd thing seems to be happening. Things seem to get easier and more difficult at the same time. 

Been trying to grab onto tiny pieces of happy lately. A little Christmas duck that lights up when you float him in water. LED star lights for the livingroom. A few hours alone at the Cafe with a gingerbread latte and a good comic book. 

Often wonder if you would read comic books by now? Would you think my taste in comix was old fashioned or weird? What would be your favorite series? 

Nan was here earlier tonight. She mentioned that when her son was growing up, she kept him suitably armed with lots of caps. First his favorite was Superman, of course. But then the cape turned Goth or Renaissance, you know? I wondered. Would you have been a cape kid, too? 

There have been a fair share of down days and sleepless night lately, too. General restless, "What the heck am I doing with my life?" stuff. I wondered if you would have kept me too busy to be sleepless? Or would my insomniac wrestles have spilled over into my parenting? 

It's all questions, isn't it? Pointless ones at that. But it's the way I think about you sometimes. Whisps of wondering. Seems that's all that's left now. 

Though I admit to looking at the clipping of your hair the other night. And then spending days dreaming up a good comic book plot about a bereaved mother who take her dead son's hair clipping to have his DNA made into a clone. And the cloned son is born with superpowers. You know, a good old fashioned Saga, comix style. 

Anyway... 
just love you, my dear. And missing you yet again for this holiday season. 

xoxoxo 
Love, Mom

Weddings...

The Wedding and Reflections
by Kara L.C. Jones

Photo left: Copyright 2008 by Hawk Jones/Kotagraph, The Wedding Dress

We headed out a few weeks ago for a mini-marathon trip. One of our stops was back East for my goddaughter's wedding. Hawk did the photography for everything: engagement, rehearsal, ceremony, family, reception. It was amazing to be a part of their big event in this way. To play the role of conscious witness capturing images while the days whizzed by so very quickly.

As we met up with various friends and family members, I heard myself talking with cousins I haven't seen for years and years. People who've never met my husband ever. I was telling them we'd been married for 10 years. One of my cousins mentioned she'd been married 23 years. The dj played an anniversary dance asking people who'd been married 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 40+ years to come on the floor and do a slow jig. It was amazing to see how quickly time passes.

To see my eldest goddaughter at the start of her marriage. To see my younger goddaughter in the middle of her college days. And then to see how fast 10 years of marriage have passed in my own life. To realize 10 years have passed since your birth and death, Kota.

It goes so fast. Capturing images, making art, writing. These are all parts of playing witness to my own life. I was honored to play a small part of doing that for my goddaughter. And it made me realize that all my own, Capricorn-like tendencies toward reviewing my trunk of journals or stacks of artwork are all about trying to chart this Journey. Trying to make sense of time that flies too fast. It isn't that I want to live in the past. It is that the present moment goes so fast I sometimes need more time to integrate what has happened.

As I'm facing re-entry back here upon our return from the mini-marathon, I find I need more time. More time for everything. More time to integrate what happened on the trip. More time to be present each day. More time going slow. More time to create and be. More time for music.

I've said it before, but it is worth repeating.

I don't necessarily mean that I need Earth days to expand to 72 hours -- though that would be nice. I do mean that I need more -- more authentic, more present. I want more meaningful work. I want more days full of consciousness. I want more days in the pool. :)

What can I say? Weddings do this to me. I can't stop reflecting...
I can't stop missing you.

Landed in the 'Burgh

We walked through security toward baggage claim and there was an announcement and handwritten sign posted: "Halftime, Steelers 3, Ravens 13". People moaned, out loud, in a group expression. I suddenly knew I was not in Kansas anymore, Toto, but rather home in the 'Burgh, land of the Terrible Towel. We managed to get thru town well before the end of the game, and even got back here to Memoo's in time to see the Steelers win, so all is well. :)

This is wedding week central here. My oldest goddaughter, your cousin Kristin, is getting married, and in honor and tribute to my Mimi, my goddaughter's grandmother, I have to tell you she has baked over 700 cookies in the last few weeks!!! Mimi's yummy delights will not be revealed until wedding day. Rumor has it there will be two kinds of biscotti, pizzelles, lady fingers, peanut butter balls, tea knots, and more. So much for giving up sugar!! Well, for this week anyway.

Last week at conference actually proved to be pretty easy to stay away from sugar and find good options other than wheat. I had only one truly loopy day there. And things here in the 'Burgh could be easy-ish, too, but I'm simply making exceptions. We don't often have the chance for real Italian food and Mimi's cookies! And since I don't know how to make her cookies -- I don't know if any of us in the next generations of the family do! -- it always feels like a yummy chance I don't want to miss. And maybe a gateway to the touchstones of a long ago (possibly over romanticized) :) childhood.

Also thinking a lot about life's transitions and joy and grief and how it all seems to come in one breath. You know, Kota, that Mimi's husband died a few years ago. We all adored Unkie. Mimi says if she could have custom ordered a husband, she'd not have done as well as she did when she got Unkie. He was a good being. A treasure. And though I don't know how often Mimi expresses it, she misses him terribly. At dinner she was a little teary. "We had 53 wonderful years together. He was so good. I didn't deserve a man as good as he was," she says. And then she mentions that while she's glad to hear I dream of him and his cousin dreams of him, she fears her crying keeps his spirit away from her. She's never had a single dream of him. She heard a wives tale that said crying keeps the souls of loved ones from us. Oh, my heart breaks.

I tried to assure her that was not true. I tried to tell her I've cried much since you died, Kota, and you've come to me in dreams. Tried to assure her that crying is an expression of love. But it is a tale that seems to be ingrained. My meager protests don't sink in past the layers of the old wives. So I tell her that when I dream about Unkie next, I'll tell him to go see her! And heck, at this time of year with the veil so thin, I think I may make some of my Day of the Dead rituals dedicated to asking him to go see her for goodness sake! Kota, if you are there and so is Unkie, could you let him know, too? Can't hurt for him to hear it from multiple voices. It's the only thing I can think to do to try and give Mimi comfort. Well, besides just letting her talk and cry as much as she wants, to give her that without judgement or reserve. She's such a good person. Amazing really. Her life is so interesting. She has always been present and so filled with grace and good.

Heck, I figure, if nothing else, the woman baked 700+ cookies this month even with her bad knee and hurt hip, she deserves the miracle of a dream from Unkie! You hear me, Uncle Henry??! Just visit with her, okay?!

Now for the merry wedding!

Next up is wedding goodness. We have lots of family coming, dinners, visits, rehearsal, wedding, photo taking, etc. Father of the bride was down with the flu today. Been sending Reiki for healthy vibes for Father of the bride to be well and to keep all others healthy, too!

Got to chat with Kris and Nathan tonight about photos. See your dad is doing all the photography for them. Think it will be fun and can't wait to see Hawk's vision for them. They had lots of ideas and made a great checklist for us to see all the kinds of shots they hope to get. Praying for clear, cool weather so we might take advantage of outside, natural light. Maybe hit a park or two for bridal party photos. We'll see.

Anyway, got to see their new home and meet their kitty-cat for the first time tonight. It's so crazy to be seeing her in her grown up life. I remember a beautiful baby girl. I was madly in love with her and had the greatest summers looking after her when I was a teenager. When she was two, she would go around the house opening drawers and taking all the stuff out of them. It was the funniest quirk. I remember teaching her to swim and hanging out in the pool with her for hours on sunny afternoons. Gosh, it seems like yesterday and a million years ago at the same time. And all those memories make me a little wistful for all the memories you and I don't have, Kota.

And I have to wonder, when will I return to the 'Burgh next after this? Will it be for the baptism of her babies?

Meditating on the Now

Must admit it is a very challenging practice to stay in the NOW while I'm here. So many memories and touchstones floating around. Things rise to the surface, and I'm not sure what they are or from whence they came. It is a revolving carousel of then, now, to be. Maybe part of it is that I'm still a bit loopy, too? Not sure my body has caught up with all the travel and time changes.

Tried to stay present and hold the hands of the people I love throughout the day today. Made every effort to be present at every bite of yummy home town goodies. Really felt the comfort of my goddaughter's home as she made us all feel so welcome and loved. And so grateful to Memoo and Jeppy, your grandma and grandpa, for hosting us, opening their home including letting me do laundry, having Mountain Dew on hand for Mr. Hawk, and giving us such a cozy landing spot to sleep and process.

Talents in our family...

It often strikes me that I wonder if you would have had a singing voice like your dad, and musical talent like your brother Peter.

Someone once asked me, "If you could have any talent or ability, what would it be?" Answer:

Anything. I wish I could sing. Just anything. Opera. Jazz. Folk songs. Lullabye. Anything. I wish I could open my mouth and hear something in tune and lovely flow out from my heart, from my mood, from my core.

I wish I could sing a classic like One For My Baby and have it sound swingin'. I wish I could sing a Weepies tune or Joan Osborne tune and sound like a GRRRL singer. Or how about a Cindy Lauper or Luscious Jackson tune. Or just to sing out when grief really hits me.

But nooooooooooooooooo. I'm flat. I'm tuneless. Hopeless. Not to mention scared and unable to just open my breath and let anything flow. It comes out all raspy, uptight, and griping.

Ah, well. I guess as long as your dad is willing to put up with my tuneless screeching in the shower, that's good enough and will have to serve my musical longings. But it still crosses my mind now and again, wondering what your singing voice would have been like, Kota. I miss you.