American antiques art and expression we know flowed like milk from a mother's breast via Europe and our Persian roots so naturally. Tom Jefferson picked Greece as his inspiration as it was where this reach of human dignity and blossoming of free expression of pure thought burst into Europe. We do need to look beyond that however in our appreciation of humanitys climb from the mud huts of Africa. In our hearts too much mud remains. And how you understand this affects every fibre of your being and how you make your way through each day.
Did you remember to hug him and them before you ran out the door? Too late now, later. There may never be a later. My last hug with my beloved mother was all too casual as we said see you later. The morning phone call that she had just died in an airplane crash in the Rocky Mountains at Rogers Pass was not possible. That could not be, we didn't really have our last hug. You sink to the floor and hold the phone in your hand with the voice saying hello hello.
And then you pick yourself up, shake your self on, and do what you must as needs be. I was a very hesitant witness into that cold solemn morge and mom was not all right, piled up under that sheet, a leg or arm coming out where God had not placed it. Strong silent me shook like a baby, trembled, sobbed and had to be pulled away by frightened relatives as I tried to pull the sheet up over her so she would rest better. They thought I had gone mad and they were so right.
I could never walk the same again.
Some profound feelings came over me as I pulled forward and I felt in God's arms as my beloved aunt Lorraine, my dear uncle Bill in particular with his strength now gone, and my sweet uncle Ed. As they all pulled me away from my moms first grave on that cold heartless steel table. And so while I reached to mom and sobbed: I was out of control! Not really but in immense pain. And my inner sanity sensed I would do myself permanent damage if I did what they sensed I felt as my last live moment with my mother I was going to now do.
I was preparing to see and feel the horror of hell and pull that sheet back and put my mom back together again. And that sight of how she was and what I would have accomplished sears my mind. I so thank God he gave me family such as Lorraine, Bill and Ed: they kept me sane and alive that day. And I felt serene as we chatted later and sipped our coffees. I knew it was vital I now be with them. That happened. The sky was blue and the nurse lurking around me says the sky was clear also yesterday.
We all agreed how clouds must pucker up at the highest place in the mountain pass before they can lift by the wind and be gone through to the flat prairies of Alberta. The place my mom met God finally. I easily identified her hair, but how in the name of God can you identify a leg alone? I must confess that I have never sobbed so pure and deep in my adult life. And later we all sat and had coffee and looked at those mountains that killed my mom. I knew my burst of anguish had been so pure and necessary or I would have had nightmares all my life.
Thanks to the loving arms of my beloved family I have never once had one bad dream of that horrible sight even though it is clear as the gates of hell in my soul at this moment. Mom and |God taught me that we all walk through the valley of the shadow of death and we need fear no evil for God art with us. Thank God I am able to believe - that as you may know it can see you through some horror.
It was a beautiful day.
When your boss ever then commends your work, and then adds give me more, you find yourself saying how? Be more crazy. You can be more crazy. Like rolling off a celestial log. You can too and you may find when you lift off you see what you did not see. You can relax and join earth and talk about it when all is calmer, and others can share for that moment your pain. And your joy. It is a beautiful world. Our moms all die and we all get on with life. We look at our loved ones and while they may not have had the earth move for them it has for you.
You hold their hands knowing this will too soon pass. And then you walk your walk and you talk your talk and you are in the hands of God and all will end well. And all is well now, even with that thorn in our foot and that cut on the end of our finger that causes us to say ow at everything we do. That yet will pass and we will have survived out Rogers Pass moment.
1. Hold to the moment. It will never be the same again.
2. Pay attention to what she says, hands over.
3. If you are given her life by her book, read it.
4. Words such as I Heard The Owl Call My Name are profound. Read it before she dies so you share.
5. Savor every live moment with all around you.
6. Practice what you preach.
7. Inspire from what she gave, you are a conduit to destiny.
If your family have or have not been devasted by flood or fire or death or tragedy you are well on your God's inspired ways to become greater by your suffering. We can look at the skies and plead oh God why me? And we get no answer that route, unless a lightning strike or more rain and hail. That is not Gods answer: that is just the nature that must flow and we now we affect that flow. We can not in maturity curse God for what we are creating. We do need to grow up quite some more. And no time like now.
A better world is coming if we three decide it will be so. You. Me. And every milk man and maid on this God given perfect till us green earth. They actually cannot see the light in Beijing. Henry David says stop. I am getting in my old age crazy like Henry. Join us? Please. Mom will smile. Mother eath too.
And with all the pollution yet to be cleaned, we will overcome. Todays television shows the air of Beijing is still too badly polluted to meet United Nation and Olympics standards at the lowest demonstartion of humans being air, the air looks thick and mucky and the Man with the Golden BBC voice says so. So you, I and the milkman will keep pulling up our socks and make our small corner better. We can do that. We have already well begun.
And in our celestial dreams we can talk to God. Or Henry David Thoreau. Oh, shush Henry, Walden Pond has people picking up nappies and doing clean up while we speak. Well, I speak, you send hail at Walden in angry snorts. I have thought about the human perfection of Henry David but you must imagine this could have happened. I just bet that at least once Henry David Thoreau was near the pond and had to pee and did. No one is so that closer to God he does have human urges. We all need to add to the cleanup up dear moms neglected grave. Our home. Our mother earth so needs that. We mostly all acknowledge that by now.
A clean Mother earth. We would be crazy to do otherwise. How you and I get from here to there is not in the stars. It is in each of us. Shoulder to the wheel. One small step for man. And you and I. One small step at a time, forward. It could happen yet.
Derek Dashwood enjoys noticing positive ways we progress, the combining of science into the humanities to measure politics, wise use and mis use of power and protective love at