The magic and sparkle around us

On the last day of our vacation, I skied partway down the mountain alongside my snowboarding husband and son when we stopped for a moment to take a break. The weather felt relatively warm under cloudy, grey skies, though the trees alongside the trail were covered in ice.

Close-up of ice:

Ice on the trees - Mt. Snow

Trees along the trail:

Trailside trees at Mt. Snow

Suddenly, before our eyes, this entire row of trees sparkled as though filled with multi-color glitter, changing the entire view. We stood in awe of the transformed scene. Then, just as quickly as they appeared, the colors returned to grey. However, our perspective on those trees had shifted and we knew they held magic.

Later that evening, during our drive home, one of our sons noticed that if you looked out one side of the car, you could clearly see the stars, but not from the other side. On that side, the city lights, though not nearly as powerful as a star, were close enough to block out the starlight. We thought it ironic that the stars themselves were significantly more powerful than our earthly electric lights, but the electric lights drowned them out simply because they were closer.

Though we would have enjoyed seeing the stars, we didn’t need to see them to know that they were there.

I feel that way about the magical beings around us and the magic we each carry inside. Like the stars, that magic is stronger than I can comprehend, even though it can be hard to notice when daily life gets too loud. Like when I ski, I often move too quickly or focus elsewhere and miss seeing the sparkle. Still, I know that the magic and sparkle are there. And when I slow or stop the action and pay attention, I am giddy to actually see it.

I appreciate the magical beings around me, and I honor the magic you share with me. Thank you.

I dedicate this post to my dear, dear friend Shira. I feel honored have shared this path with you. Thank you for inviting me to stop the action and noise in my life, and experience the power of your love as you transition into the next life. Thank you for blessing my life with your light and magic. Good travels, my friend. Your love and magic remain with us. 

God is in the Details

Thank you for your cheerful support of my good news about the tumors shrinking. It helped to extend the good feelings, especially when the usual chemo side effects set in and my lowered white count enabled my cold to flare up again. Ugh.

Between my cold, the shortening daylight hours in the northeastern U.S. and the dreary weather we have been having, life felt grey and I felt tired. Though I consciously know that every day is precious and not to be wished away, I just wanted to sleep through winter.

It was more habit than passion that pulled me to Tong Ren on Sunday night. Once I am there, I typically receive energy when it is my turn and spend the rest of the hour sending energy to everyone else.

This time, I took a seat close to the back, closed my eyes, and promptly fell asleep. Tom Tam and his wonderfully generous crew of tappers stood in front, facing our rows of seats and asked, person by person and row by row, what their ailment was. I jerked awake often enough to revel in the good reports from others but kept falling asleep again. When he reached my row, I managed to stay awake until he and his crew of tappers were ready to work on me. I requested help in shrinking the tumors, and added that I would like to also be rid of my cold and my fatigue.

After they finished tapping for me, I closed my eyes again. This time, instead of sleeping, I thought about how everything felt blah. My morning routine came to mind: it can feel the same each day, but if I focus on the actual details, it really does vary in some small way and set that day apart from any other.

Maybe I could focus on some little details right now. Maybe those would help to set this moment apart and remind me that life does vary in some small exciting way. Maybe it would help me to know that there is a larger story to all this, that this is not all there is.

I opened my eyes and looked at the 8-10 volunteers standing in the front of the room, each tapping away on their doll. My eyes moved toward Janice, who has a special place in my heart. I focused on her outfit – she always wears something fun. But another object kept glittering at me, catching the light so that the reflection was almost blinding. Shifting my focus to see what was shining, I saw that Lynne, doing her healing tapping, wore a chunky gold necklace, a larger piece of jewelry than I’ve ever seen her wear. Well, that is interesting. But not exciting.

I strangely couldn’t pull my gaze from it so continued to examine it from afar. It had large gold links, and, wait, something was hanging from it, made from a different material and style than the chain, sort of artistic. A cross?

Lynne's necklace

A cross. A blinding light in the grey. A detail that set this moment apart. The larger story that helps to carry me. Okay, even in my blah mood, this felt a bit exciting.

The session ended shortly afterwards, and leaving the room, I passed by a book titled, The Body Electric, instantly inserting the song from the movie Fame into my head. In the finale, the high school kids together perform what they have worked so hard to learn. They show their growth in singing, dancing and musical instruments as well as their personal growth.

The way all their artistic parts come together to create one amazing performance reminds me of how we all exist together. We each bring aspects of ourselves we’ve worked on, sometimes for a long time, and can now do well – maybe not perfectly, but pretty darn well – and we joyously bring them all together with everyone’s else’s hard work and magic and possibly mistakes and in that joining, create something larger and more complex than our own piece.

I’m just so happy to have one small part in all this, to be together with all your dancing and singing and joy and continued growth.

But wait –there is more! When I was Googling I Sing the Body Electric, I came across this poem of the same name, by Walt Whitman. The whole poem was confusing to me, but I really liked this part:

I have perceiv’d that to be with those I like is enough,
To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough,
to pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her nech for a moment – what is this, then?
I do not ask any more delight – I swim in it as a sea.

There is something in staying close to men and women, and looking on them, and in the contact and odor of them, that pleases the soul well;
All things please the soul – but these please the soul well.

I hope your soul feels pleased today, and pleased well.

With gratitude and love,
Marie

Unheard music

The words in the picture say:

Don’t you hear it? she asked & I shook my head no & then she started to dance & suddenly there was music everywhere & it went on for a very long time & when I finally found words all I could say was thank you.

For the past few weeks, I have been nursing this cold and been without a voice. I went for nights on end without sleep and my brain was cloudy. Adding chemo to that, twice, weighed me down, and my vibrational energy became heavy and sad. It felt a bit like swimming in mud and I couldn’t seem to get moving in any direction. During the last chemo, I just sat and cried.

For weeks, all I could see and feel was grey and death and sadness, and it kept getting worse. I couldn’t see the light, I couldn’t hear the music, and I couldn’t feel the beauty.

But then, you were there. You sent emails, brief comments, breezy texts and good food. You sent invitations and you even showed up in person. So even if I still was mired in the muck, you provided small glimpses of good vibrations. I couldn’t feel it right away, but you kept at it until I could see the joy and light you bring, and until I could let some of that in. I began to feel your presence as you went about your life, and that helped me to shift in ways that are small but significant.

Thank you for doing your dance and for keeping it going until I could hear the music.

Thank you.