Several years ago I was told there will be occasions when you hear or read something that stirs a conviction in you, and you will have no choice except to respond.

That being said, I have another definition for doing that- convoluted.  Today, I read a post so vile to my senses, I found myself convicted and on the verge of conniption.

I decided, it’s time to say something. It’s the whole ” put up or shut up” idiom.  It’s quite illuminating because I will interject my opinion when it comes to family… I guess because I am safe with them.  When I find myself shielded from repercussion, I state my conjecture upon you. I believe it is along the wave length that we often treat our friends better than our family.

I know I can be guilty of this- what constitutes a specific response in my soul is whenever I see or read something cruel.  It’s interesting to me, my youngest daughter pointed out to me the difference between mean and cruel. It was a moment of clarity and I found myself so clearly in the moment with her awareness of truth, I had to pause and contemplate my own version of that truth.  I have clearly been mean-spirited at times in my life, many times, if I am honest.  I convince myself it’s witty.  It is too, unless you happen to be on the receiving end of my wits-dom.  The more that I look within my contours and concealing nature, there lies the conundrum. I become stirred to react when I see or read in this case components of me in others, I can take whatever I feel in the present and offset it into a concise read into character.  That is where I see my own humanity and that of my fellows.  I have moments of linger and I wonder if my connection with self has overlapped my connect with you.  What I do know in this concentric Universe is this.. I am not here to confiscate your opinion, I am here to consciously contribute. Conviction closed and conniption free..

Sub~Hero actually, in the sense I have come to realize that I have always looked for someone else to guide my steps, my thoughts, my decisions, my well-being, I have left it up to another. These cherished souls of substance. I can tell you where it began and just where it shall end. I jump ahead. Let’s mosey on back to my beginning. I would have to say my first Hero was the carrier of Kiki, the extraordinary vessel, my mother, Catherine. A true Iron Butterfly. She just might be why I collect them. Her strength and grace had always captured my attention. I know all my siblings have different stories and experiences they could share. All eloquent and stirring, that is a remarkable accomplishment on its own.  Mine is this, she grew up on a reservation in Anadarko Oklahoma. With many siblings, she was terminally ill all of her life although you would never have known it. Instead of accepting her diagnoses she went on to become a member of the Native American Women’s Hall of Fame.  Then my Father, the war hero, next my brother, would capture that role in my eye. Funny outgoing, handsome, smart. Then my sister Anna, the gentlewoman, to Kimberly, the great communicator. There were many after, their names changed from hero to mentor. Then, KC, my reason to be. Then, The Knight in shining armor. To the newest transformation. An exploration of pure spirit and unbelievable perception, The Prince. Finally my fondest pint-sized pistol. Kit. I would love to tell you I have always held to a reliance on the creator. It just isn’t so. I believe the creator speaks to me through the words of others and many times through the simple quiet moments between breaths. Be still and know I am God. That always brings me comfort. My discovery is this. Until recently, when one of my heroes had to fly the coop. In my mind, I was without a safety net. Faith to me comes in many forms, usually with a heartbeat. I chuckle as I write this, because it’s honest and it’s real. It is me!  Brave with back up. Independent with dependence. It’s those undeniable moments when you see yourself and it’s not in despair or disgust, an unfolding of truth is simply a triumph of spirit. I was taken back in time, to a memory. Wednesday morning in Riverside. Over Twenty years ago. I was driving to a gathering of the Sage. Before me was a detour in the road. I found myself lost in my own little town and I was struggling to find my way out of this maze I had created.  I begged for clarity, in another turn and I was there, even still so very far from my destination. I ran inside, visibly shaken.  I described my feelings of fear. It was met with such comfort and compassion. I felt loved. I had a similar experience recently, I had ventured out and found myself in unfamiliar surroundings. I was frightened, my discovery so subtle, yet so huge. Everyday I find myself becoming more Courageous, with that comes freedom.  I can look beyond and place a title on you, so I don’t have to accept responsibility for me.  What I know, is this, you can’t play today’s game on yesterdays hits. It’s not who wins, it’s who enters the Colosseum of life. As I take in the vast experience, the gift of self, it registers. I have become my own Infinity~hero. The gentle roar you hear is the lioness returning to her Zen.

The weather is fabulous, I had a wonderful outdoor workout and experienced the divine. I also wore a smaller pair of workout pants and they were very comfortable. Does that matter, not really in the scheme of things. What matters is how strong I am each day. I guess, one can say, well, you brought it up? I certainly did.  I feel so happy, I’m aware a lot has to do with acceptance.  I often share about forgiveness.  I, easily put myself in the mindset of:  If only you. The you!  Is always me.  Sometimes, I dress myself up so it appears to be you. It always comes back to me. The difference recently is this.. I have forgiven myself of the resentment of my humanity. My flawed etchings of ideals. Where I should be, where I’m going, where I feared to be. I have let it go. Huge leap. I jumped. I landed, I felt the foundation, both firm and soft. A gleeful embrace of depth, comparable only to the sea.  It is the eternal workout of Spirit. Once bogged down in an Abyss of thoughts of wrongdoing, a bottomless pit of chaos.  As I exercise my right, to a mind full of freedom. The beauty of bliss is this, it presents itself in the most subtle form of opportunity. A dove playing in the plant outside my front door, making a mess of the soil and then instead of fleeing in full flight it hopped down each rung of the stairway, with an exuberance of depth and determination. I was in complete awe. I, followed suit descending to infinite sheer joy. Consciously knowing, as always it took exactly what was required to get to this place of perfected prosperity.  Ablyssful reality. 

It all begins in that moment in time when our internal monitor reads empty. Someone says something and we believe their observation of us. Without realizing it is only their observation of themselves being carried out on the operating table of our esteem. Easy to recognize now, not so easy to see over the span of a lifetime of disposable beliefs. What I take on is a symbolic limp of descriptions of denial. It is in ordinary situations we find ourselves. I tend to look deeper than the alluring glance. I gaze, stare and wane from the weary look. The irony of my mystique is nothing at all. I transcend transparency. My Saran wrap of facial expressions and feelings simply correspond with each other like identical twins. Now, let’s get to the hope of it all, it is simply an old idea being played out in the recesses of playgrounds past. Afterall, this really is where we pick up our old beliefs of ourselves, from our peers. although we often blame it on our parents. For me the remedy is simply looking within. Nothing out there is going to fix what is an inside procedure. As I attempt to glide through what I first visualize as a crowd of angry villagers waiting to place judgement over my meek mind, I become aware of what it truly is, the conception of my thoughts barreling me through the falls of  water ready to just wash me clean of another level of dis-ease. The truth of that is quite simple, my symptoms are just an examination of self. My identity is clear and the nature of my illness, is not an illness at all. It is an alignment of spirit, connecting with soul. The nature of which is quite apparent, don’t believe everything you hear. Because what I hear, is where I am at. Gratefully in this moment it is, Diagnostic Divinity. 

The persistent battle of what I am and what I want to be.  Suddenly within a moment of awareness, it comes and sits on your chest like an elephant in the room.  I was having a tête-à-tête with one of the loves of my life, my teenage grandson, Daniel. Through his magic, I am capable of further developing mine. I also become increasingly conscious of the now. Our exchange started quite innocently and in the midst of purity here it comes wielding a relentless truth. My truth. The subject, girls. It has always been clear to me, that having a son would be my undoing, when I say that, I mean his. I have always considered myself a girls, girl.  A defender of estrogen. In the sweet moment of our exchange, that false reality unfolded, which really was my mouth overcome with a backlash of verbal vomit of my subordinate sex. My target anything in a skirt. Oh, how, I  felt the quicksand bubbling up from the earth, with each word, my ego smashing reality.  From my sinking feet, with a glub, glub here and a glub, glub, there.”  You don’t need a girlfriend, listen to me”.  As that last word was formed and spoken, I heard it. I spun around like a top and viewed the other half of my triangle of connection, Kit. Had she heard me? Fore, I had. My coming to terms with who I am in the moment has been an obvious eye opener. It has given me the opportunity to see how I truly put the brakes on my own growth, how I relate the make up of man versus woman and honestly, Kelly versus Kelly. Every word spoken is just an extension of how I see myself. Exclusively, how I see my contribution to the relationship with me and others.  I have a lot to learn, at the heart of it all, it comes back to am I enough? That tenacious question I ask myself, the total disregard of esteem. It came to me as I exerted my will of alleged wisdom. Gratefully as I spoke I could see only me and I could honestly answer, I am quite ignorant in my answers. Forgive me. My natural response to correct my shortcomings is my greatest contribution and once again, I am out of park,  far from drive and idling well in neutral.

Knowing. The unforeseen gifts of reality. All in a moment’s notice. Everything changes and in hindsight you see it was all unfolding as it was meant to. I could have looked at it as unraveling, fortunately, I see life differently opposed to misfortune I see opportunity in the midst of quicksand.  I will not change that viewpoint for anyone or anything. That is my legacy I live. I have had endless rich experiences of a pauper mindset. I was on the precipice of change, when suddenly and honestly not so suddenly, a free fall occurred. My parachute at the time , would become an unlikely source, reliance on a belief in myself.  I was so in denial about what I was feeling to be scared.  That was an enormous gift. I returned home from vacation to receive a letter in the mail. Yes. In the mail. I was terminated  from my position at a place I had worked for over twenty-five years.  My first thought was relief.  It had been an ongoing struggle of ruthless attacks on my character. I was tired of defending myself.  It was time, little did I understand the concept of really letting go. I gave myself the opportunity to look deeper within, which in retrospect was a well hidden depression. I hadn’t a notion of what I was feeling, I was a caveat of emotions and I worked  feverishly to keep them upbeat. Months would pass and fortunately for me, I had always saved for a rainy day.  I had put twenty percent of my income into my future, my goal, to retire as a millionaire. My definition of success.  I had also, beyond that, carefully put income into a retirement plan. I was set. So I thought. Still pretending I wasn’t in a crocodile roll. I  started using the nest egg. Nothing major was happening to me that wasn’t occurring all over the country. Still, the denial of no worries.  Easy come, Easy go is such a lie. My career was an easy foot inside the door, working to my alleged achievement was not. Letting go has been a mini-series and a long drawn out saga. Epic in my own mind. All this fortune in the “Mis”.  All would slowly dwindle away in the financial part of my life, There was no longer the availability to tighten the purse strings of my affluent designer bags.  My grace would come in the form of a complete release of who I thought I was and who I actually am,  It would eventually unfold with the illusion of shattered dreams. Sometimes life can be cruel, in the midst of that though, you find you will awaken to a place within yourself and trust that your faith can move you forward. For most of my life I searched for a place to call my own. the reality of that is, nothing and I mean nothing belongs to me, not even me. I am but a servant. Who I serve is whomever the creator puts in front of me. Knowing that in this moment is enough.

At the entryway of Heaven a baby is called, his work is nearly complete on Earth. This gentle soul is Mason his life not only etched out through the body of his earthbound Mother, Lauren. His innovative creator, father, Romy.  He weaved his magic with the beauty of Tayler, the gentleness and grace of his Maternal Grandmother, Kristina. Mason’s story has been told to me through the heart of his Grandfather, Todd. For the spoken word lives on forever in these children of the creator. When Mason was asked who he would choose as his family, he chose these glorious souls, for I believe he knew, they would teach him what he wanted to know most. He wanted to know true love and because of the enormous depth of tenderness bestowed on him, he would be ready to return to his eternal home. First though, Mason the little stone worker would carve a place in the hearts of the family he cherished. His grace and gift to them would be to heal their love and create a thread that will forever connect this family in divinity. While Mason’s days with this family of unwavering love and courage were too few, in our time. In God’s time it was too long to be from his Hallowed Father. Mason has been the breath of life needed to heal old wounds and replace them with connection and communication. It is this writers belief and experience that the journey from the head to the heart is the greatest path of existence. Time and space hold no barrier between the love of Mason and his family. His journey will go forward and live on through every detail and dance of his beloveds. Mason has captivated so many near and far. While I know nothing can take the place of his gentle embrace, I believe a soul so exquisite should remain with the bearers of that splendor. My life will be forever changed by the tone of his Grandfather’s voice when he spoke of his daughter’s courage as she returned her beloved back into the waiting arms of Our Father.  Mason you have carved a place in the hearts of many. Rest now and know while your work is done, ours will continue in the foundation of love you have set in mortar.