Saving Grace

I've had the wobblies lately. That's why I haven't made many appearances on my little web. It was bound to happen, because until just over a couple of months ago I was on a real high. It was a fabulous year. But life and nature are all about cycles. All things pass, both good times and bad. There is an ebb and flow, and I've been experiencing a bit of an ebb lately.
I've had a bunch of little "accidents," have lost or misplaced things almost daily, and suffered a number of disappointments that just piled one on top of the other, with barely time enough to recover from one before I was assaulted by another. The long nights and dreary, grey days of winter haven't helped, either.
But I'm better now, because I have a plan - a plan for pulling myself out of the doldrums. It's a totally practical and practicable course of action, even though my little dose of depression has left me fatigued and uninspired. The string of rejections I've been through lately is certainly one of the more salient reasons for my recent funk. My self-esteem has taken a real beating. But my wise, compassionate friend and spiritual counsellor, Barbara, pointed out to me that I've got to start giving to others what I'd like to get for myself, things like acknowledgment and appreciation. Suddenly, when Barbara spoke those words - words and ideas that I write about all the time in this little web of mine, and chant to myself like a mantra - the light of reason came back on.
I frequently and consciously practise appreciation of others. I make a point of routinely complimenting friends or colleagues, especially if they seem to need some cheering-up. People like to be noticed for something they've done well. It's human nature. So now that I find myself feeling rejected and ignored, it's clear I've got to start paying a little more attention to the people around me.
The problem with even the mildest melancholia is that it can render a person very self-absorbed, which is why I'd lost sight of one of my more beneficial habits. But my eyes have been opened again and I'll resume taking just a tiny moment every now and then to notice something good or attractive in the world and people around me, and verbally acknowledge it. The ball's in my court and it's up to me to get it rolling. (Sorry for the mixed metaphor.) My sagacious friend Barbara had to remind me of what I'm always going on about - karma - the old what-goes-around-comes-around thing. So I'm going to make an honest effort to redress the recent imbalance in my life, which is why I'm making a vow right here and now for my legion of followers to witness - Every time I suffer another disappointment or rejection, I shall pull myself together at least long enough to express appreciation for someone else.
Concurrent with my recent spate of the wobblies has been my fixation on grace. I've been googling and reading about grace a lot these days, and my research has brought up numerous articles and books on breathing and the breath. What's the connection, you may ask? 
It's your spirit, your soul.
Breath and breathing are at the core of almost every belief system on the planet. It is the basis of meditation, where one can find grace, if just for a moment. The literal meaning for feeling inspired is being filled with breath. (Spiritus is the Latin word for breath). And wouldn't you know it, breathing happens to be one of my absolute most favourite pastimes! So I'm breathing deeper and longer than ever lately, and making room for grace to enter into my life. (It's no coincidence that Barbara is also a big fan of deep breathing.) Conscious breathing helps speed up the healing process, both physically and psychologically. Maybe that's why this most recent bout of ennui hasn't been as long or intense as usual.
Breathing has helped sustain my flickering faith. My faith has been truly tested recently, but I'm strong enough now to go out into the world and practise what I preach. I'm going to breathe deeply and make someone smile every day. I truly believe that if I continue to make this a constant, daily practise, sooner or later I will be rewarded for my efforts. That is my faith, and yes it's been shaken, but not destroyed. So I guess I must be stronger.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention noticing some sort of sign in the wake of my recent garden-variety depression. So here it is... A few days ago, after cutting up and disposing of my two tarot decks (I told you my faith was really shaken), and thumbing through an old journal before it made its way into the same place as the tarot cards, I noticed an abandoned Chinese fortune I'd found on a sidewalk somewhere. At the time, I remember thinking it was quite a boring message, but in keeping with my everything-happens-for-a-reason philosophy, I decided to keep it and taped it into my journal. Finding it again just a couple of days ago meant a lot more to me than it did the first time. The message read: Being kind to others will bring rewards. Is that a sign or what? Anyway, now I know the reason I kept that silly piece of paper. It came back to me just exactly when I needed my faith restored.
I'm on the rise now, like a phoenix rising out of her own ashes, reborn and renewed. Another cycle of life has begun. I'm ready for it, and grateful, too.
To my loyal followers, thank you. You rock, each and every one of you, whoever and wherever you may be. Just thought you should know.
- G.P.

Unfinished Business

I'm living out the rest of my life for two people, me and my mother. Ma died almost 13 years ago, but I can't help thinking that her spiritual journey while on this earth wasn't quite finished when she passed. I'm not talking about her journey in the next life, if there is one; I'm talking about me, her daughter. I'm part of her journey. I'm a little bit of what she left behind, and I'm going to do my best to leave this world having played my role in my mother's story as best I can.
When my mother died I wasn't exactly the sort of daughter my mother could brag about. I was broke, unemployed, and depressed. I know it was very painful for my mother to reply to questions from well-meaning people who asked about me and how I was doing. It's not that she was embarrassed or ashamed of me. Not at all. She was worried about me, and hated to see me hurting. She was my mother and wanted the best for me. But by the time she died, six months after being diagnosed with cancer, she was too sick to fret about me and my future. But that's how I was when my mother passed.
I'm a lot better now. If Ma were alive today she wouldn't worry about me as much. (I'm feeling so good these days partly due to a small inheritance left to my sister and me after Dad died over a year ago. I still have to earn a living, but lately things have been a lot easier for me, thanks to my parents' estate.) So yes, I might still be struggling financially if Ma were still alive, but I'm pretty sure I'd be dealing with difficult circumstances a whole lot better. I've changed because I've deliberately worked at it. I took responsibility for my life and took steps to change what needed changing. Now I'm in better physical, emotional, and spiritual shape than ever.
When Ma gave birth to me she started something. She started me. She begat a new life. No mother wants to leave her children until they know they're happy and well and able to take care of themselves. That wasn't the case with me. Fortunately, my sister was doing well. When Ma passed my sister had a beautiful young girl who is now a beautiful young woman, preparing to study medicine. So at least some of what Ma left behind was clearly good and right, and I'm sure she knew that. Not so much with me.
My sister and my niece are continuing part of Ma's journey, and they're doing a really fine job of it, too. However, I don't have any children. My part of Ma's legacy ends with me. That's not sad; it just is what it is. It was my choice and I have no regrets. But I'm still, and shall be for the rest of my life, an important chapter in the story of Ma's life, and I'll be damned if I don't give it a happy ending. I missed my chance to fulfill that role when she died, but I'm not making that mistake again.
Sometimes I feel my mother moving through me. I don't know how else to describe it. Maybe it's just memories of her surfacing when my emotions are most keenly felt. The deeper my feelings, about almost anything, the more likely I am to think of Ma. When I've accomplished something that makes me proud, I always talk to my mother about it. "Are you happy now, Ma? Are you proud of me?" My questions are typical of a child seeking approval from her mother, but that's not what motivates me. I just want to finish my chapter of Ma's life with grace and peace. Sometimes living a good life purely for my own sake isn't enough. Sometimes I need to make something or someone better. I'm not suggesting I'm making my mother better; after all, she's dead. Besides, she might be absolutely perfect wherever and in whatever state she is - if she's anywhere or anything at all. But I know I can make my part in Ma's story better. I am a living legacy, as all children are. So to honour the memory of my mother, and to fulfill my role in her legacy, I am living for both of us.
Blessed be, Ma. I love you still.
- G. P.