Angels Are Among Us

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I am not afraid of dying tomorrow.

I seen yesterday, and I love today."  

                                            ~Louise LaRocque

 

When circumstances in my personal life become too pressing I retreat and seek solitude. It's where I find the strength and wisdom needed to handle the difficult experiences of my life. Two places I am drawn to the most is a wooded area or near a body of water. An inner strength of spiritual nature unfolds and my life becomes more ordered by opening my mind with a great sense of peace.

A few weeks ago I left the hospital where my brother laid unresponsive, and feeling distraught about his rapidly failing health, I sought out a somewhat remote beach on the Gulf side of Florida. After climbing the grassy knolls of rain drenched sand, the brilliance of the setting sun was straight ahead. North of where I stood a few college-aged kids were engaged in playing volleyball. To my south, a disturbance was brewing with not a soul in sight...this is the direction I walked until I felt I was lost in the fine line of water and sand or Heaven and earth. I aligned myself with the setting sun relaxing into the harmony and peace of the presence of my Almighty Creator and begin to pray. I prayed that He have mercy on my brother and release him from his pain and suffering. I prayed that he feel God's loving peace in his mind and within his body. My tears went away and I became calm, serene and relaxed.

The distance between where I started my walk along the shore was long and the sun was becoming a warm glow. I was distracted by an oncoming Kingfisher who looked like he had better days. The disheveled bird's feathers were ruffled and missing and yet he walked towards me with pride and certainty. I watched as he slowly circled around me and stopped at a small pool of water being fed by the tide. He didn't seem to care as I sat down and watched him fish a few feet away as I delighted myself in taking pictures of this wonder of nature. That's when I saw the tiny speck of a person walking the shore. In navy shorts and a teal shirt, a young man with dark tasseled hair drew close. I stood and pointed to the rumpled bird who was feeding at the pool and so the fellow moved away giving a wide berth around the bird and positioned himself beside me for a few moments. His eyes were deep velvety brown and his voice as soothing as the lapping waves, "This is the first time I've ever been to this beach,” he said. “It's a first for me too,” I replied. When I returned his glace he smiled with those gentle eyes and with the voice of a concerned parent soothing a sick child he said to me, “Everything's going to be all right.” I was dumb-stricken when he turned and walked out of my sight. After a minute I turned to follow, I wanted to know how he seemed to know I was praying. I don't know where he went, it's like he just disappeared. As far as I could see along the shore I remained the only one there with the impending storm.

Yes, I believe in angels and I believe this young man with heavenly eyes came to me as a messenger to let me know my prayers would be answered. My brother passed away quietly the following morning. And yes, I do believe in angels.

In memory of Jerry 1940-2014

Strides...

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."
~Maya Angelou

“It's no use going back to yesterday, there's no future there...” That sentence made me think. It made me think about the countless tens of thousands of people who can't get beyond their pasts. I know. I mentioned before I'm one insignificant particle in the masses.

I've been making great strides until recently, which is typical for most who suffer from the disease. I started to document what triggers the onset of a new bout of depression. Most of the time I can answer it with one word like; loneliness, jealousy, fear, estrangement, rejection, or grief. Other times, I even documented my depression with the phases of the moon, or if the stars weren't perfectly aligned and even other moments by a word interpreted the wrong way or the lack of love from someone I care about. Doctors prescribe all sorts of magic pills and inspirationalists tell you to look to a higher source. All of the healing hype capitalizes on particular methods prescribed making one or the other the cure. Every situation has a self-help book written by someone who thinks they have the answer, look for yourself on the internet or in bookstores, there's hundreds of them.

I believe God and medication does help, but I have sincerely succumb to the belief it will only happen within a person if they are strong enough, and have the ability to calm the noises in your heart and in your mind. This is what I'm learning as I grow spiritually. To quit fighting life and accept life is not under my control. I don't want my stuff to keep me trapped anymore. I want to throw it all into a particular northern lake and watch the ripples disappear forever.

My therapist friend asked me today if I totally grieved for my losses. I had to think back to several incidents and I replied, “Not completely.” My reasoning was, “because I couldn't do it without someone to lean on.” I felt I had to do it alone because I needed to be strong for another person, and in my worst case, I needed to keep a dark secret that I am only now letting go of.  She then asked why I never asked my family for help, I said it was because we didn't have that kind of family dynamics. Someone might say, “I didn't know.” But in all actuality, did they really want to see what was sealed in the can marked “Worms"? 

Here's another popular quote, “What hurts you today, makes you stronger tomorrow.” In some instances it absolutely applies about life, but not for all. You may think you got over yesterday's hurt, until it sneaks up on you tomorrow...

My mind works like that all the time...it opens, thoughts move around, then closes up again. My growth comes from knowing I am not the meaningless voice of my mind, I am the one who hears it. I know the sun will rise tomorrow morning and it will go down tomorrow night, and an infinite amount of things will go on in this world. I can think about it all I want, but those thoughts will have no effect on anything or anyone, except me. It's not easy applying the methods to obtain a satisfying daily existence, but when my head molds into my down pillow at bedtime and I think of my day with a smile, I know I am breaking down walls one brick at a time. 

Winter and depression's icy hand...

 

 

“And so we came forth, and once again beheld the stars.”

 

In my journey through life, winter is never a good season. It's a suffering that tinges the music of the great composers Liszt, Beethoven, and Chopin, and dances around the darker cantatas of others. I was prepared for the dark hand to hold mine when the clock struck twelve. It tugged and squeezed and it almost won—those who have teetered on the rim, understands this. It goes without saying it's nothing like the ascent to joy from a poet's hand.


Every day I write down my thoughts rather quickly and spontaneously. My paper and pens are my instruments to to write whatever comes to mind—only to be read by my eyes. I speculated in one entry that there was no originality or boldness to speak out frankly about suicide and the impulse towards it. I had apparently underestimated the number of people for whom the subject had been taboo and a matter of secrecy and shame. The overwhelming reaction from others made me feel that I had inadvertently helped many who were eager to come out and proclaim that they too, had experienced some of the same feelings I had described in previous blogs. It was the only time I ever felt it was worthwhile to have invaded my own privacy and to make that privacy public.

When I think of all the doomed and brilliant creative men and women, and the young ones who didn't allow life to happen, I can't help but think of their childhoods, where, to the best of anyone's knowledge, the seeds of depression took strong root. Did any of them have the slightest hint of the psyche's perishability and its fragility? Why did they destroy themselves, while others struggle through the disease of depression? What made me and the tens of thousands who attempted, survive?

No one knows. I don't know. Professionals can only surmise. Some quietly endure the equivalent of physical injuries of never being able to outwardly share their secrets, like the degrading act of rape. For others, warfare, victims of crime, family disappointment, declining careers, failed affairs of the heart and lastly, death. It would be impossible to prove why some people bleed from the inside. It's complex, intermingled factors of abnormal chemistry, behavior and genetics. That is why the greatest fallacy about suicide lies in a single answer. It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul.

The groundhog saw his shadow the other day and six more weeks of winter is predicted. Punxsutawney Phil would be pleased if he could think like you and I, to know I am emerging in a new light with some creative juices flowing. I have been dealt a good poker hand and I feel I'm winning in this game called life. I am writing. I am smiling. I am living in the present with the help of a few patient and wonderful people. It's a tough job staying afloat when someone shouts from the safety of the shore, “Keep treading water!” But if encouragement is tenacious and the support equally committed and passionate—the drowning victim can always be rescued.

Peace and Love.