Deepness - spirituality the way I see it

I cut myself shaving this morning.  Okay, why do we say "cut".  "Cut" would imply a straight slice into an apple or a piece of chicken - so let me re-phrase:  I scraped a relatively large part of the epidermis off of my ankle this morning.  This "safety" razor that my husband got me for Christmas is anything but safe - but there's no plastic involved ... unless you count the band aids that get used EACH and EVERY time I shave my legs. 

Anyhow, the piece of skin that I scraped off of my ankle was interesting to me.  I looked at it and realized that it was, seconds before, a part of "me".  And now it no longer was.  Now it was just a dead piece of collagen, blood, hair and whatever else makes up skin.  It wasn't me.  And you can say that about any part of the body.  Of course certain parts of the body cannot be removed without death occurring, and I'd like to keep as much of my physical person as I can while I'm alive.  But this body is not me.  Which leads me to something I ponder about a lot - and write about here occasionally.

For my entire life I've had a hard time with the concept of death - not so much other people's, but my own!  It's been a hard thing for me to face.  I love my parents and really love the fact that they raised us in a household that was not tied to a church.  My parents were agnostic and/or atheist, but they weren't anti-religion.  They just didn't take us to church.  We were encouraged to explore our own spirituality and I remember going to church with my grandmother as well as other churches with other people.  (We were also encouraged to be open-minded about other things like UFOs and Ghosts).  They never said we couldn't go to church, and were very open to anything spiritual that we were interested in.  But out of that, there was no structure through which to understand death.  Someone very close to me told me that when you die, you're "worm food".  So that's where I came from.  And it made me very scared to ever die.

I believe that my fear of death came from a dichotomy between what I intuitively felt and what I "believed".  I felt that I had an undying soul and that I would continue on in some form forever.  But I "believed" that once I died I would disappear.  It made more "sense" to think that you are born, you die, and you're gone.  But it didn't sit right with me.

The truth is ... once you die, you are gone - at least your body is.  And it's gone after several years or decades or centuries depending on the soil makeup and moisture content and whether you're buried or cremated.  One way or another, in time your physical body will go back to the earth.  "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust", etc.

But the soul, I believe, continues on.  I'd say infinitely, but I do believe that we can only experience time when we are in the physical plane.  There is no time in the spirit plane.   Which is impossible for us to understand, but it is something I've come to accept.  Without the concept of time, you cannot have the concept of infinity.  Therefore, from the human, physical perspective, we exist forever and also in a moment. 

Deep enough for a Tuesday evening?  I think so. 

'Night.

Waste of Time ... and Ghosts

A few weeks ago, my Mother-In-Law, when asked if she blogged or did Facebook, basically said that blogging and Facebook were a waste of time, with a turn to me and a "sorry, dear".

Maybe I've been carrying that around with me lately.  Maybe that's why I haven't been blogging very much this month.  Or maybe I've been busy with garden or choir concert (which was a BLAST - and critics were kind!) or teaching a jewellery course (where I embarrassed myself and one of the students beyond belief - and not in a good way).  Or maybe I've just been exhausted (which I HAVE been the past few days and it worries me).  How DO women drag themselves to work every day when they are as tired as I have been.  We live a crazy lifestyle - well, our culture does, anyhow.  Not so much me.  And then last time I blogged, I had two Facebook friends tell me that I had spelling errors (even my English-teaching sister didn't comment on my mistakes (thanks, Sis), and she's the one who should!).  Nothing like even mild criticism to make me hesitant - consciously or not.  (Can't wait to get comments back on that article I submitted - it may just make me catatonic).

Whatever the reason, I haven't been blogging.  Sorry about that if you've missed it (which just sounds conceited, doesn't it - I'm assuming someone out there is missing my words of "wisdom").  I just haven't had the urge to say much.  Blogging tends to be a form of therapy for me.  I get to voice things, sort it out on "paper" (or should I say "in writing").  I just haven't needed or wanted to lately.

So what can I write about here, today, that might be interesting?  Well, I haven't written much about ghosts in this blog, have I?  I recently got a couple of DVDs out of the library.  National Geographic did at least 4 episodes of something called "Is It Real? Supernatural".  One episode each on Crop Circles, Ghosts, Stigmata and UFOs.  They are not what I would consider unbiased.  They definitely lean in the skeptical direction.  Which, in our science-oriented society, I would sort-of expect.  And I'm fine with the skeptical bent on the subjects of Stigmata (I am not Christian, and certainly not Catholic, and am extremely skeptical of the Stigmata phenomenon) and Alien Abduction.  But when it comes to ghosts, I get a little defensive. 

I do believe in ghosts.  I've had unexplainable experiences that lead me to believe that ghosts exist.  And I know people who can see them.  And I believe they are not crazy or strange.  I believe that there are some people with better senses of smell, some who can taste better than others, some who can see better, and some who are sensitive to energetic vibrations that most of us are numb to.  So why wouldn't there be ghosts? 

But this series took some 30-year-old guy who said he was a sensitive and put him in a house for a night to see what he could "sense", and although he got one fact right about the history of the house, he was way off about everything else and didn't record anything that they considered physical proof of a ghost.  Okay - to skeptics, this is "proof" that there aren't ghosts??   I could go into a lot more, but how about get a reputable sensitive in there who has more experience and credibility.  And sending people into any building for one night will most times not provide any evidence for any activity.  Do a proper investigation and send people to more than one place for multiple nights. 

Anyhow ... not to go into all the details, but what I found funny was my ease at being so skeptical about those things I was already skeptical about, and my defensiveness about those phenomena I believe could be true.  I can't really discount the experience of someone who thinks they have been abducted by an alien ... because I haven't experienced it.  And someone else who has never had a strange ghostly experience may well have the right to be skeptical about my experiences. 

So the lesson here - well, maybe there isn't one.  Or maybe it's just to be a little more open to those things I'm skeptical about.  Or simply to understand that we all perceive this world differently, and we all need to have understanding and empathy for those who have different experiences from us.

Cats and birds

Nothing like a death to set the tone of my day.

Earlier this morning I was sitting at the computer, contemplating exercise when a commotion outside led me to the window.  Our "birder" of a cat had a bluejay in her jaws.  So I do what I do when I catch her in the act of her incredibly natural behaviour - I booted it outside to see if I could save the bird. 

Sure enough, it was still very much alive, so I chased off the cat, put the bird in a safe place and herded said attacker into the house.  Then I found a cardboard box, put a towel in it and placed the bird in the box to give it shelter and time to see if it was okay.  It looked pretty good - still able to move and such - but it wasn't too energetic.  I checked it a couple of times and it looked like it was going to be okay.

On the third check, though, it was dead.  Quite likely died of shock.  I tried my best, but it just didn't do the trick.  It was early in the morning - had the vet's office been open, I would have at least called them.  But maybe I didn't make it warm enough.  Maybe fear got the best of it.  Don't know.  But it was dead.

At the moment I found it dead, it was just matter of fact.  Get a bag, put it in the trash.  Over.

But then as time progressed, I started to grieve.  It's a bird.  Just a bird.  But they come back to our neighbourhood every year to breed.  It's probably the same jay I've been seeing for three years now.  It likely has eggs or babies in a nest nearby.  Will they survive?  Will it's mate be able to feed them?

TRIGGER

And now I'm depressed.  Probably time to take one of my little pills to try and get over this.  I can't pull myself out and if I don't do something NOW, it will just get worse.

Nothing more frustrating than having such a simple event take you down.  And it's just a little event.  Nothing life changing (well, for the bird it was, but not for me).

I appreciate anyone who says that it's just nature taking it's course, it's in a cats nature to do this.  It's just life.  Because I understand that.  And if it was a different day, I would just proceed as normal, knowing that this is the case.  But today is different.  Maybe my chemistry is off.  Maybe lack of sleep for a few nights is getting to me again (I don't like waking before 6 every day!).  Maybe my compassion for living things gets the best of me. 

No matter what the situation, unfortunately for me and all the other people out there like me, there's not rationalizing my way into feeling better.  And today it's not a matter of feeling bad for a few minutes and then continuing on as usual.  Another day it would be.  But not today. 

So I learn to take care of me when this happens.  Notice the symptoms early and treat them.  Pills are necessary sometimes - especially if I don't want days and days of feeling like this. 

Onwards.

Noise Anxiety

As I get older, I learn more and more.

I always used to think I was just intolerant and needed to accept certain things in life, because most other people were not annoyed by thing things that bothered me.  As a matter of fact, most people didn't even notice them. 

The perspective on the T.V. - if it isn't set right and people are stretched too much either horizontally or vertically - well, it drives me nuts.  It's like a mild version of fingernails on a chalkboard.  Cigarette smoke - I can smell it if the person in the car in front of me is smoking ... even when the window is rolled up.  People saying "axed" instead of "asked", or "seen" instead of "saw" - those things bug me, too.  Intolerant, right?  I don't want to be.  But that's just who I am.

Well, another one of these annoying things for me are noises.  Especially other people's noises.  I HATED living in apartments because I could hear other people walking, or playing music, and it just got me agitated.  And I wondered how other people could stand living in apartments with that aggravation.  Or maybe I had the only noisy neighbours ...

Even now, I will point out a pounding bass line from someones home or car stereo and my husband will say "what music?"  He won't notice it, and will barely be able to hear it when pointed out to him.  It certainly doesn't bother him, but it makes me want to hit someone.  A pounding bass line, when I cannot hear the music, is one of the few things in the world that will instantly make me angry every time. 

Just yesterday, I went to a restaurant with my In-Laws and the music playing over the speakers in the restaurant was not the same as the loud music that was playing in the kitchen - the bass line of which was coming through the wall.  No one else noticed.  I worked very hard to ignore it.

Well, lo and behold if being hypersensitive to sound isn't a symptom of anxiety.  Who'd a thunk it?  Well, I didn't even really think about it until someone I am close to started having something called "meta-anxiety" in relation to neighbour noises in an apartment.  Meta-anxiety is basically having anxiety about having anxiety.  It is an enigma that I'm sure a lot of people can relate to ... and some of you will think is just ridiculous and self-indulgent.  But for those who suffer with it, it is very real and not something that you can turn off.  So this person I know is having anxiety in anticipation of the neighbours coming home and making noise which will cause anxiety.

I found the following quote here:

"Noise anxiety is a condition which is characterized by an extreme sensitivity to noise. Someone with noise anxiety suffers a variety of stress and anxiety related emotions when he or she is exposed to certain types of noises; these emotions can range from a general sense of uneasiness to aggression. Living with noise anxiety can be extremely frustrating, and the condition can be difficult to treat; typically the assistance of a skilled therapist is required.

"A very general term, noise anxiety is sometimes used to describe a variety of different conditions. For some people with anxiety disorders, certain loud noises — or even extended periods of silence — can cause anxiety to build; phonophobia is a fear of loud noises. A condition sometimes called misophonia is an intolerance to certain sounds, usually causing an intense reaction like rage. Hyperacusis, which can have many causes, is an over-sensitivity to noises in a certain auditory range, sometimes causing pain or stress.

"Some people are more at risk for noise anxiety than others. People suffering from depression or anxiety are more likely to develop a general noise anxiety, as are women and introverts. The condition can emerge at any time, often in response to an increase of stress. The noise induced anxiety can, in turn, heighten the sense of stress and unease, thereby making the sufferer even more anxious, depressed, or upset. This can contribute to a generally distressed mental state which can be problematic for the sufferer."

I did start to deal with these noise anxiety issues better when I realized that the boom boom boom of a bass line reminded me of the distant sounds of someone yelling in another part of the house. My animal brain was getting tensed up to deal with a fight every time I heard that baseline.

But even better, now that I know that I'm not alone, that a lot of people with Anxiety issues have this problem as well, it is easier to deal with.  The guy across the alley who plays the drums - well, I seem to be able to ignore it a little better - and it doesn't make me want to storm over to his garage and break his sticks over his head.  And the music the teen aged girl plays in the backyard next door - same thing.  I don't want to throw the stereo in the water barrel.  I know it will end eventually and that they should be able to enjoy their music, too.  If it does start to get annoying, I'll get noise-cancelling headphones and listen to my iPod.

Silent Times

Alright ... so I've been quiet this month.  That's how the blog seems to go.  I go through periods where I have the time and need to write.  And then I go through periods where I just don't.  So I guess this has been one of those.

It's been busy, these past few weeks.  But I can't tell you what I've been busy with.  Just life, I guess.  Although some of my time this week has been taken up reading "The Hunger Games."  Now I know what the fuss is all about.  I'm about half way through the 2nd book, and I'm thoroughly enjoying them.  (And I've had a cold - but it hasn't actually slowed me down much).

My time has also, as it is at this time of the year, been taken up with plants.  But not as passionately as in past years.  Perhaps I know what I'm doing and don't stress about the plants now.  Or it's just not a year where I feel as compelled.  I'm not sure which it is, but I'll let you know if I figure it out.  Today I was transplanting seedlings into larger pots.  I've been doing a bit of that here and there and today was more.  These ones were done a couple of weeks ago.  Soon enough they'll be huge plants in the garden - Nature is amazing!

I had planned on cleaning the house today.  My two men are out of town for the weekend and I have some good alone time.  Perfect for cleaning.  So I started in the kitchen.  As I was sweeping the floor, I looked under the cabinets and decided that today would be a good day to do some trim on the tile floor we put in last summer.  This seems to be the way I take on tasks.  No planning, just a mid-task change of mind and then I start working on it.  Well, it needed to be done.  I can clean (and grout) tomorrow:

One tip I'd share about tiling:  seal your grout.  I didn't.  And now our lovely grout is all stained.  I'll have to dig it out and re-do it, and it would have been much easier just to seal it.  My fault.  I was instructed.  Just didn't get around to it (neither did my husband!).  If anyone has tips for cleaning light-coloured grout, I'm all ears!

Titanic Connections

100 years ago today, my Great-Grandmother, Nellie Steele, must have been grieving the fact that she had missed the most exciting trip of her life.  Her fiance, my Great-Grandfather, Jack McCurrach, had travelled to Canada 1 1/2 years earlier and was awaiting her arrival so they could marry.  But her sister was very ill and expecting a baby, and as it turned out she died about a month after the baby was born.  My Great-Grandmother stayed behind to support her sister and then take care of the baby girl until she could be adopted out. 

The original plan was to take the Titanic to Canada.  Families on both sides of the Atlantic remember the story.  The disappointment that she felt in being delayed in her trip and missing the most celebrated sailing of any ship in history must have been devestating. 

And the relief felt when she found out about the sinking of the ship must have knocked the wind out of her.  Talk about feeling somehow blessed - she must have been thanking God. 

She ended up coming to Vancouver 6 months late - but still very much alive.

I never heard the story from her own lips - I knew her when I was little, but she was just the scary old lady in the home - but it still strikes a chord in me because if she had made that trip, odds are that she would not have survived.  She would have doubtless been in 3rd class, and not many of those people made it.  If she had made the trip, if her sister hadn't been ill and died, I wouldn't be here.  At least not in this form.  Neither would my mother, my aunt, my grandmother, my sister, my cousins, etc.  It really makes you consider fate.

I've always felt a keen interst in the Titanic because my Great-Grandmother missed the boat.  I feel a connection to the story - an ownership of it.  I can only imagine that thousands of others - people whose relatives died, or survived, or missed the ship.  But it's a personal gem in my history.

Jack, Gladys (my grandmother) and Nellie

Ready, set .... SPRING!!

It never ceases to amaze me.  The weather and seasons here are nothing like where I grew up.  I grew up in a beautiful area with four fairly even seasons of 3 months each.  There was a gradual, constant change in the seasons, each one creeping in on the next and gently giving way to each other.  Winter gradually changed to Spring over several weeks.  

But this place I live now is not like that.  We'll have a dump of snow one day, and the next it could be 10C, or it can be 16C on Wednesday and threat of snow on Friday (which is what happened this week).  So that shift into spring is chaotic and harsh.  It's like someone is standing at the start line with a pistol and just daring Spring to take off with the "Go".

The grass instantly starts to turn green here.  There no little bit for a week, little bit more for another.  The plants understand that the growing season is short - they all seem to blossom and bloom instantly and at the same time.  Within two weeks we can go from snow-covered ground to green lawns.  The snow isn't even all gone before the grass is turning green.  There is a sense of urgency around here.  In the humans, too.  Any day above 10C and not raining and the people are out doing what they can.  Too many months of the indoor and cold, and we're ready. Plus, we know the limited number of decent days we get, so we use them when we get them - be it mid-March or July.  

Last night, the very first real Spring rain started.  This morning it is grey and drizzly - bringing to mind the years I  spent on the Pacific Coast.  It's cool, but not freezing.  It is moisture that the plants and the ground need.  Might be a good day for a burst of Spring cleaning.  Or perhaps even better to lie under a blanket and read.  Haven't decided which one I'm going to do today.  Might be a combination of both.

No matter where you are in the world, I hope you have a chance to appreciate the changing of the seasons.  It truly is a magical time.  Let it rain!!