When Spirit Moves You

Interesting morning-
One never knows what Spirit/God/Creator/Allah/Jehovah...whatever name you prefer to use, will bring you.

The musing I'm about to share may sound strangely odd, but nonetheless very surreal to me.

I've been seeing the word 'forgive" in various forms recently, and being one who fancies them self of philosophical sayings, I appreciate the wisdom in such phrases.

Taking a moment of solitude this morning, enjoying the gentle calm of the early morn, I find myself pondering on the word forgive and what it means to me on this day, for I'm well aware of what the word means and feel I've done it on various levels throughout my life, but today in particular I feel I'm being called to look at this word again.

As I sit quietly, suddenly I'm presented with a question,,,,,"have you truly forgiven Adam (my ex)?" My first immediate reaction is to say, "yes". However, on a deeper level I'm asked once again, "have you truly forgiven Adam"? The second time I pause before answering, and earnestly walk down memory lane and see where I have 'forgiven' him justifiably. What I mean by justifiably is, in my own way I felt I had forgiven him because I don't talk ill of him, I don't wish him dead, I don't wish harm to come to him, etc. I've also gone so far to say, "it's not my place to judge his wrong choices". However, is that true forgiveness?

As I mulled over these thoughts my ego wanted to justifiably say 'yes', but in truth I don't think I had done so egolessly (new word--like it? lol) This is not to say that I hadn't forgiven him on some level, but today it seemed I needed to forgive him on another level. I realized my forgiveness was based solely on what I thought I was suppose to do in order to move forward in my life. This is not to say I haven't moved forward or evolved, but today was bringing something deeper.

All this is processing through my head when all of a sudden I hear this gentle Spirit ask me, "have you walked a minute in his shoes to understand his reasons for doing what he did? or have you judged his reasons based on what you thought he should have done?" At this pivotal moment I realized I had never once imagined what he must have been going through to make the choices he made. Yes, I knew some of the terrible choices he made that placed himself and potentially Amira and I in some pretty bad situations, but never once had I actually metaphorically put myself in his place. At that very moment I felt what it was to forgive......to do so without prejudice, judgment, or justifications, but to just forgive.

So, where does it go from here? Who knows, who cares.....what I do know is today he and I have been set free....no longer bound to one another due to unforgiveness. 

Feel the fear and face it anyway

(Disclaimer - as with most of my post they are written from a raw standpoint with little or no editing)

Imagine strolling along life thinking everything in your world is real and known to you. Then imagine a world where you have this unknowing knowledge that your life isn’t completely as real as you’ve imagined it to be.



There were various times throughout my entire life when I had this sense that something was amiss. Imagine as a kid feeling like you were adopted or at best unwanted by your mom. I can remember specifically asking my mom at different ages in my life if I was adopted to which she would admittedly say, “why would you ask that? Of course you’re not adopted”. Although I heard these words there was always something deeper inside me that didn’t entirely believe this. Maybe it was because my mom and I throughout my life had a tumultuous relationship. Some would describe it as a ‘normal’ mother/daughter relationship and maybe that’s true. I loved my mom dearly and wanted nothing more than to please her and make her proud.

I believe we were great friends and could talk about many things, but I would not describe our relationship as one with overly motherly love and physical affection. Really, it wasn’t until nearly the end of my mom’s life that I learned from her own words that she loved me and was so proud of me. She admired my strength and didn’t know how I managed to get through what I’d gotten through. Waiting what seemed like a lifetime to hear such words was bittersweet. In one since I had already formed an opinion of myself based on what I had been told, and to hear those words didn’t seem real to me at the time. On the other hand, I chastised myself for having such ‘negative’ thoughts because after all wasn’t this what I wanted---my mom’s love and approval? I did. I so desperately needed it, and yet my self-sabotaging self, that part of myself that wouldn’t allow me to receive this information, would say, “but why couldn’t she tell me long ago when I needed it?” But the facts remain, I needed it even the moment she told me and yet somehow my wounded self in some ways felt like it was a little too late. Was it? I don’t think so. How many people have wanted to receive such love and confirmation from someone who meant the world to them, only to have them leave this planet and never hear them when they were living. I was blessed.


Why the walk down memory lane? I’m being faced with something that I never thought I’d have to face and a part of me feels a bit miffed that I have to deal with something that was someone else’s decision from soooooo long ago.


Upon returning from a great vacation/dad’s birthday celebration/family reunion with a broken leg, I receive a letter from my aunt (mom’s sister) with an additional letter attached to it. Upon reading my aunt’s letter, I was a bit confused because she was referring to someone I didn’t know.


My dad and I were sitting at my kitchen table when I read the enclosed letter my aunt had sent. The second letter was a letter from my half sister. Yep, you read that correctly, my half sister.

When my mom was 18 or 19 years old, she was engaged, and became pregnant. When she advised her betrothed, he did like so many men, he fled the scene. Without going into so many details, she decided she wanted to give this child a chance at life, so she found an educated family who desired to adopt her child. I’m sure this had to be one of or if not the hardest decision she ever made in her life.

It was agreed upon by all the parties involved to never discuss this situation. However, I can’t help but believe on some levels my mom either questioned her decision or at least mourned the situation as there were certain times during the year where she’d become really melancholy, and when we’d ask her what was wrong she'd tell us, ‘nothing’.

Yesterday was the day. Yesterday was the day Clint and I would walk through a door that would possibly change our world forever. Yesterday was the day Clint and I would make a decision that would ultimately change the lives of our children as well. Our dad was fully behind our decision to face this long family secret. All three of us (Dad, Clint and I) agreed that our half sister, Teri, should know the truth as we knew it, for we all could not imagine what it would be like to be in her shoes looking for her family for almost 30 years. According to the letter I read, she had established a relationship with our Grandma some years back, but was only given snippets of information about us out of respect for my mom.

According to this letter, Teri even knew mom had died a couple of years ago. Although, at this point Clint and I didn’t know how she knew that, we agreed I would initiate contact with her after receiving the letter from our aunt. I can only imagine what she must have felt upon first initial contact, as we were a little nervous and curious as well.


The exchange of emails and information seemed to flow easily between Teri, Clint and I, and then one fateful email came from Teri suggesting she fly to Sacramento to meet us. My first line of defense is to ALWAYS retreat because I wasn’t sure I was ready. Ready for what I’m not sure; I have no doubt all my insecurities and fears were taking over. I even addressed my fears, which I felt so proud for actually verbalizing my fears rather than just ignoring them and feeling like crap inside. Teri shared she was also very scared but excited at the possibility.


Yesterday, Teri was scheduled to fly into Sacramento and informed us where she’d be staying. She invited both Clint and I along with our families, should we choose, to meet her for dinner.


Clint and I agreed we’d go together along with our families. I asked my dad if he wanted to go, and he said that he didn’t……then paused for a second and looked me in the eyes and said, “do you need me to go with you?” I so love this man and his innate sensitivity. I told him I didn’t need him to go, but that I didn’t want him to feel excluded.


Yesterday seemed like a long day filled with too many overflowing emotions and past memories running through the forefront on my mind like the fountain in my backyard……continually running.


Was I afraid to meet Teri? No. Was I afraid we wouldn’t get along? No. Then, what was I afraid of? I was afraid she’d be disappointed in me. I had found out from my own prior research, she was a successful businesswoman, lived in an affluent part of Scottsdale in an enormous size home. Doing what so many of us humans do, I compared it to my own life.


Sitting in my backyard yesterday, where I find so much solitude and peace, I began journaling my thoughts to process the feelings that were causing pain and fear, and as I did, the tears just seemed to flow. At one point, I found Amira next to me hugging me asking me if everything was ok. I immediately collected myself, as parents always feel they have to put on a brave front for their children……silly really, and looked into her angelic face. I told her I was ok, but that I was just processing some feelings. She said, “is it because of meeting your sister?” I told her it was, and then we spent the next thirty minutes or so exchanging our thoughts and feelings about many things. We talked about her nervousness of having to give oral book reports at school and what that feels like for her. I shared that sometimes I don’t feel very good about myself because my mom use to tell me I was fat and ugly, to which she said, “That’s not very nice”. I told her she was right. I then went on to explain to her that the reason I tell her, maybe more than she’d like to hear, how much I love her, how proud I am of her, and how much I think she is beautiful and amazing is because I didn’t hear these words much, and certainly not all of them, when I was growing up. At the end of our conversation, she hugged me and told me, “don’t worry I’ll be there with you today”, which spilled more tears but in a good way.


We both spent extra time primping and pampering ourselves to get ready for our meeting with Teri as the email had came she was in town.


We drove to our designated location and met Clint, Claudia and Anthony. On the way, as I had been most of the day, I prayed for God’s presence to be with all of us on this journey, as well as mom's presence. So began the final steps of life, as we knew it. We reached the door, and all insisted Clint go first. He knocked and backed up towards us. The door opened, and a beautiful tall blonde with a welcoming smile greeted us…………it was like looking in a mirror with the exception of her slender stature. We each took turns walking forward and embracing her. None of us cried, as we each shared later we thought we would. For the next 5 hours we spent sharing stories and laughing. It seemed to flow effortlessly. She kept staring at me and saying, “oh my God, it’s like looking in a mirror seeing you”. She joked that over her lifetime people would ask her, “do you have a sister, to which she would say I sure do and she looks just like me, I just don’t know where she is”. She told us she had a 10-year relationship with our grandma. She described grandma’s house in exact detail. She said the very first time grandma showed her Clint and I’s picture she couldn’t take her eyes off them. She couldn’t believe she was looking at someone that looked like her. She described exchanging phone calls, letters, holiday cards and such with grandma over all these years. Clint and I were shocked because our grandma never had that type of relationship with us. Grandma had that type of relationship with my aunt and her family, but not us.


The evening ended, as we had to get our kids home and ready for school the next day. We all hugged and agreed to meet again today. She hugged me one last time and whispered in my ear, “You make me feel like I can breath”.

I received an email from her this morning saying, “Thank you for yesterday. I love you already.”

Processing Random Raw Thoughts

Why do I remain so closed off? Or why do I remain so strong as to not ask for assistance? For some, asking for assistance does not seem to be such a struggle, so why do I?

Fear of being weak?

Fear of bothering someone with my troubles?

These two also keep me from being approachable.  Meaning: giving the impression to others that I don’t need anyone.

Fear is one’s pride or ego, not their heart or true essence.  One’s heart or true essence doesn’t reflect such thoughts, feelings or images to the world.

How does one open up?  How does one also attract someone with a willingness to have his or her heart open too? (Again, random raw thoughts--the answers are seemingly obvious.)

I could probably be a Mensa Member, yet I lack the fortitude to allow myself to be vulnerable enough to open up to attract a partner.  Letting go of any kind of fear has to be the most challenging thing on earth.

I understand the reason, logic and even psychology behind it and even counsel my clients on it, and yet it remains my biggest obstacle in life.

Fear limits all reason and logic.  Even knowing isn’t enough to do anything…..one’s choice to take action is what is required…….feeling the fear and doing it anyway.

There are so many of us that I hear say (self included), “I never want to hurt anyone” or “it would kill me if I hurt someone”, yet in the process we never realize or acknowledge we are sometimes sacrificing ourselves in the process which is ultimately hurting us.  Somehow in our justified reasoning we say, “I’d rather hurt myself than someone else” or “I’d rather take their pain for them so they don’t have to go through that”. Why? Why do we choose to do that?  It’s as if somehow we are being self-less.  Are we?  Is this really being self-less or are we just being self-sabotaging along the way for the sake of others?

In the end, isn’t it their pain they have to deal with or not? 

I don’t think the majority of us intentionally plan to hurt someone, but somehow we do because we don’t take ownership of our own hurts and pains.  We don’t learn to process them, and therefore end up projecting them onto others, thus creating a vicious cycle.

This is not about brow beating one’s self for not acknowledging the obvious; this is a gentle reminder of what one needs to be consciously be aware of in order to change the cycle----should one desire something different.

Processing of frustration

I find myself as of late feeling a bit frustrated. For some reason, logic doesn't always seem to be the first line of response when processing emotions.

About 3 weeks ago my clinic unexpectedly closed. We were given no notice, as from what I could gather the owners of the clinic were attempting until the last minute negotations with our building landlord which turned fruitless in the end. The landlord of our building is in Bankruptcy proceedings and his assets and properties are now under the control of a Federal Bankruptcy Trustee. The lease of our building came up for lease renewal and the Federal Bankruptcy Trustee denied our renewal. Very frustrating! The owners of our clinic offered to pay our lease rent for 3 or 4 months in advance in order for us to stay operational until our clinic could relocate to another location as the owners had already put the wheels in motion for aquiring another space, but again we were denied. This left quite a number of us instantly out of work, which of course is not a surprise or new news to anyone.........accept for those of us immediately affected by the situation.

In the meantime, the owners of our clinic also have a sister clinic further north.......it's a slower and smaller clinic. They offered us to work out of their sister clinic until they were able to get the other clinic relocated and operable. Due to the distance this sister clinic is from my home, I am only reasonably able to work 2 days a week there, which of course affects my income greatly.

I have been searching for alternative work as well as considering alternative methods of starting my own practice incorporating my skills. At the end of the day, what this frustration comes down too is a lack of financial resources. I have knowledge, skills and even a degree which is quite an accomplishment, but it seems without funds one is very limited.

Perhaps it is naivee to say that this current situation was brought about as an opportunity to catch my attention to do something different. From a spiritual standpoint, it has always been my experience and perhaps belief that when a door suddenly closes in your life, it's a sign that a new one is preparing to open and to be looking for that opening. It's within that timeframe (between the closing of one door and opening of another) I find myself. It's that timeframe of uncertainty that I allow myself to get frustrated. I want to know the answer. I want to know where the next door is going to open. I want to know when the next door is going to open. I don't know that I necessarily want to know how it will open as I leave the how part up to the Creator. Funny little side note about human behavior as much as many of us proclaim, profess and even believe in a Creator of the Universe....something higher than ourselves.....often referred to as Allah/God/Jehovah/Bhagwaan we seem to struggle most with the idea of completely surrendering to the unknown. Which, again, would express best how and why I am feeling the way I am right this moment. Thankfully moments don't last forever, but at times they feel that way.

I realize its the sitting through the in between times one must still them self to listen, see and hear answers, but at this very moment I'm not doing very well at any of those things.

Christmas 2009

What can one say about Christmas 2009-----aside for being grateful it's now over. Cynical, huh? In all honesty, the day was nice but was definitely different. Unlike last year, being the first year without my mom, which seemed rather surreal and numbing to say the least, it seemed emptier. We (dad, brother, and I) muttered through the holidays as if they were just another day----days we wanted to pass as quickly as possible for we didn't want to be reminded that she wasn't with us. Certainly with the passing of time the onslaught of uncontrollable tears has subsided slightly but the loss still remains the same.

On Christmas Eve the entire family went to a church service then over to my dad's for a lovely dinner. He's quite the gourmet. :-) The evening and time spent together was very nice.

Christmas day my dad came over to our house to watch Amira open her presents, have breakfast, as well as taking a nice long walk around the neighborhood. Then later we went to my brother's for dinner.

So, what made this holiday season seem any different?

Normally, the first person awake on Christmas day would call out "Christmas gift" which would then cause everyone else to wake up and gather around the tree. The caller of “Christmas gift” was also entitled to open the first gift. Even over the years when my brother and I had our own homes it would be a race to see who called whom first on the phone and shout "Christmas gift". Also, Christmas was always spent at my parents’ house. My mom loved the holiday so much that her excitement became infectious to all of us. She'd decorate her house with such care and enthusiasm. She’d also bake endless mounds of cookies and fudge to hand out to everyone she knew as well as have available for anyone that happened to stop by.

My dad and I are somewhat perceived as the bah-hum-bugs in the family because we don't get all into the hype of Christmas. However, this does not mean we do not have an appreciation for such excitement. Me and his idea of Christmas is getting together as a family, having a nice day and spending time together without all the commercialism. But, if left to our way of thinking it would feel rather lacking in festivity. Thank goodness my brother and his wife continue the celebratory fashion.

Anyway, unlike last year---feeling numb and surreal----this year felt different. It was as if a light bulb went off in my head and the realization of "nothing will ever feel the same as before" forged through my head.

It was certainly fun to see Amira's jubilation and feel her energetic gusto towards seeing everything and opening everything, but it just didn't feel the same.

I realize I'm still in the throws of processing these emotions. I realize I have the power to make the celebration happen anyway I wish, but for the moment I'm just mourning the loss of what "always had been". I miss my mom so much, and don't talk about it much because I don't wish to put that on Amira, and since she's with me nearly 24 hours a day, 7 days a week I don't get an opportunity to express these feelings much. I would be fooling myself as well if I thought the loss didn't haunt her at times as well, for as we were going to bed Christmas night she said to me in a saddened low tone, "when can we see Grandma---I miss her". I asked her if that's where she wanted to go in her dreams was to see Grandma, she said that she'd like for both us too. Thank goodness the lights were out because I didn't want her to see my tears.

Thanks for allowing me to process in writing what I can’t at times verbalize.

This and That

Wow, I had not realized how long it had been since last posting. More importantly I wonder what on earth I could have been doing to distract me. Hmmmmmmmmmmmm~

Anyway, one of my cousins came out last week to spend time with us and we had a wonderful time. One day we spent in San Francisco and the remainder of the time was pretty much just spent together enjoying one another's company. He was a great support to all of us and very understanding of our moment-to-moment breakdowns we'd occasional experience.

My father is doing remarkably well and trying to keep his life structured and busy with things to do, but he's not denying himself those moments when tears come.

I believe I am finally allowing myself to feel the affects of my mom not being here. I finally felt it was safe to do so since my family seems to be doing well. Last Wednesday I was hoping to have a moment to myself to allow my tears to flow without Amira around, but unfortunately this was not the case. My father had been watching her throughout the day while I was at work and called me and asked me to get her when I finished work, as he had to do something. I had been hoping during the moment I got off work and the time I got to his house I could have had a moment to myself to let go, but it did not work this way. I went to get Amira and took her with me to the only place I could think to go and let down. I went to the cemetery. All the way there I just prayed for God to help me get through this moment and to help me with Amira as I didn't know what to do or say, I just knew I needed to be there. When we got to the cemetery Amira and I got out of the car and sat on a little curb close to where my mom rests. I never told Amira where she was or anything like that as I didn't want to disturb her thoughts. As we sat on the curb in silence I tilted my head down and just let the tears begin to fall freely. When the stream of tears began to slow I heard Amira ask me "where are we?” Then I heard the words come from my mouth but had no idea where they came from, "we are at a peaceful place that allows you to think and feel peaceful". She looked around at the beautiful garden scenery with all the trees, flowers, and grass and agreed it was nice.

During this moment of being here and speaking out I felt something very unnerving. I felt to a degree the veil of my existence had been lifted if just for a moment. For at the very moment the tears were uncontrollably releasing I heard myself say to my mom, "wow mom, now you see me for who I really am..........I can no longer hide myself from you. For although all these years I've put a mask of bravery and strength on in front of your physical form, I am no longer able to do that in front of your spiritual form". Although feeling somewhat ashamed of this sudden knowledge, there was also a sense of freedom associated with it. I no longer felt I had to hide who I really was to her. Hopefully she's the one person that will now understand me completely. The one that will realize I'm not always strong and the one that will know I don't always want to be alone dealing with my feelings. Of course I know God is the ultimate one that knows all of these things, however, there is something oddly comforting in knowing this about someone you've loved who has moved on......probably because we've actually seen them before, thouched them, smelt them.......all the senses that tells us they are real. Whatever "real" is......ok, ok enough philosophy.

We were only there in all actuality a very short time, so once loaded back into the car and driving off to my dad's, Amira announces she found a couple of really nice little rocks at the "peaceful place" and decided to take them to Grandpa's to show him.

Towards the end of the week, I discovered my brother who had been clean and sober for the last three years started using drugs again. This was so disheartening. I wanted to believe so badly that it was not true as he had done such a great turn around with his life, and his family was healing so beautifully, but the facts could not be ignored.

The feelings of resentment towards him arouse once again, along with the feelings of sorrow towards his family all re-awakened, and the feelings of protection towards my father once again in high alert. The feelings that still run through my veins over this is very disturbing and I know I must gain control over them, but I feel most distraught over the fact that we must now confront this head on rather than wait. I suppose there's a part of me that's angry over the fact that I just started to feel the numbness of my mom's loss melting away, thus allowing me to deal with them and now they have to once again be stuffed aside because of my brother. The only thing to do at this point is take it to prayer, which seems to always reveal the right way to deal with any situation, and have a meeting with my brother and his wife next week.

That poor family has been through so much that I truly hate to see them go backwards. I think going backwards is a comfortable way of dealing with a difficult situation because it's what's familiar and they know if works as a masks since they don't know what else to do. However, I hope they are open to suggestions of other solutions that will help them through these difficult times without negative side affects. As truly I would hate to see my brother lose his family, home or career as a result of going back to an old habit that nearly costs him all those things not long ago.

Latest Read

It's been awhile since I've posted any of the books I've been reading. Why? Merely because I've been too swamped to do much consistently.

Anyway, I'm about 3/4 of the way through this book "A New Earth" and have enjoyed every bit of it. It's certainly one of those books you don't read through in one night, as there's a great deal of content in it that requires one to really think.

To sum up this book in a real small nutshell it's regarding our egos, and how for the most part we live unconsciously aware of what and how our egos are causing us to respond to our daily lives. For until we bring our thoughts to a conscious level our egos remain in control. However, when brought to full conscious awareness of our thoughts, actions and reactions to any and all situations our responses a dramatically different.

Here's one little example of what was written in this book that I found interesting.

CARRYING THE PAST
The inability or rather unwillingness of the human mind to let go of the past is beautifully illustrated in the story of two Zen monks, Tanzan and Ekido, who were walking along a country road that had become extremely muddy after heaving rains. Near a village, they came upon a young woman who was trying to cross the road, but the mud was so deep it would have ruined the silk kimono she was wearing. Tanzan at once picked her up and carried her to the other side.

The monks walked on in silence. Five hours later, as they were approaching the lodging temple, Ekido couldn't restrain himself any longer. "Why did you carry that girl across the road?" he asked. "We monks are not supposed to do things like that."

"I put the girl down hours ago," said Tanzan. "Are you still carrying her?"

Now imagine what life would be like for someone who lived like Ekido all the time, unable or unwilling to let go internally of situations, accumulating more and more "stuff" inside, and you get a sense of what life is like for the majority of people on our planet. What a heavy burden of past they carry around with them in their minds.

Again, this is merely an except for the book; however, it seemed rather applicable with regards to the recently much debated post by our dear fellow blogger, Khalid.

Very passionate comments have been filtering through this post which was initially done on April 13, 2008 and 6 days later continue to be going strong. I'm just as guilty because I continue to follow this particular post daily to see what's been commented on next. However, I wonder how much of the past memories or wounds or ways of thinking are going to continue dominating this post? Of course we all have past stories, memories, etc., however, how long do we continue to hold ourselves captive by these thoughts and memories? When do we free ourselves from them and recognize them as such, thoughts and memories? How do we ever more forward in our own existence and acknowledge that the only time we have is right NOW? We cannot change the past---and more importantly why would we want to? It is what it is--the past. Moreover, if remain stuck in the past how is it ever possible to think our future can be any different than our past when we've never released ourselves from the past imprisonment? Furthermore, is there really a future? None of us know that answer, so it would seem silly to tell ourselves things like, "when I obtain "this" then I'll be happy". Our happiness can only be created from this very moment of existence, so why rob ourselves of that splendid gift that God is trying to give us. Is it not true, the moment we feel most connected to God is in the present moment? We cannot go back to yesterday for that moment and we can't hope that tomorrow we'll feel close to God---it's only right NOW.

So, pondering, how long will we continue to debate, discuss, and perhaps offend our fellow humans for the sake of making our points which seems to be based on the past?
Perhaps by mere nurturing nature I feel like collecting everyone up, embracing us in silence and for us to just breath in unison, so we can be right here, right NOW. (I know ---- over the top, right?)

MusicLover Recommendation

The other day MusicLover posted a comment on one of my post regarding a movie recommendation. After doing some research, I was not able to find this movie at my local movie rental place via their website, and was disappointed.

Tonight, however, after work Amira and I went to the movie rental place to pick up a couple of movies to watch over the long Thanksgiving holiday, and low in behold the movie, Away From Her, was starring right at me as soon as I rounded the corner. Of course, I immediately picked it up along with a few others. When we got home we had to watch Amira’s movie first which was Mickey Mouse’s Christmas….LOL It was cute. After finishing her movie, I immediately popped in Away From Her. Oh my goodness, what a perfect movie for the holidays. For the matter, it’s the perfect movie anytime. It will definitely be one of my favorites. I should caution to keep tissue nearby because it’s a very powerful movie.

I cannot and hope I never have to experience what both these people experienced, inshallah. But, how I would love to be able to spend 44 years with a beloved, inshallah. This movie is a great reminder of how we should be ever so grateful for every moment we have on this earth, and every moment we spend with our dear families, friends, and people will meet in the future. Truly life is the most precious gift on this earth, alhamdullilah, and we, as humans should cherish life as if it were a rare and precious gem. Moreover, we should always remember to never take advantage of the wonderful relationships we have with every human that crosses our path, inshallah.

MusicLover, thank you for the recommendation.

Three In One

UPDATE - ADDED PHOTOS AND VIDEOS

Sunday was going to be a fascinating day touching on the three major religions (Christianity, Islam, and Judaism) with an ever, slight assuming dash of Buddhism in a most unusual fashion.

Well yesterday was a fascinating day for us. It started out late morning with my parents picking Amira and I up to take us to a Jewish bazaar. A strange thought crossed my mind “going to a Jewish temple on a Sunday, which is generally considered a Sabbath day for Christians”, but what the heck I had never been and had always wondered about stepping through the temple doors. What better way to experience it than through a bazaar? It wouldn’t entail a service in Hebrew, which would somehow just sound like someone clearing their throat or some other inaudible sound to my untrained ears. So, I was thrilled at exploring this unchartered arena.

The whole premise behind us going to this bazaar was to watch my parents’ neighbor perform an ancient Japanese drum ritual. Funny, huh? Going to a Jewish temple to witness an ancient Japanese drum ritual. Does this mean we some how blended Buddhism with Judaism? Who knows?

My parents’ neighbors, Mark (Japanese) and Jenny (I believe Irish), converted to Judaism 20 years ago, hence one of the reasons we were going to the temple. Mark is also a competitor of this ancient Japanese drumming ritual, which his group was asked to perform at this bazaar. As an aside, they were absolutely fabulous.

There was also a petty zoo and pony ride area in the back of the temple, which consisted of a few ponies, a couple of sheep tied to a fence and a little caged area that had a duck, couple of chickens and a couple of rabbits that formed the “petty zoo”. Of course keeping with Jewish tradition (I know there will be those out there that blast me for this stereotype, but what the hell it’s my blog) charged us $3 for Amira to go around a perimeter the size of an individual parking spot—twice. We could have paid the full price of $5 to have someone using his or her personal camera to take her picture on the pony, but we passed as I had strategically positioned myself to snap her photo without being caught.
Oh I have so many other stereotypical comments running through my head, but feel that out of respect for my fellow human brethrens I will just keep them to myself.

Being that it was Sunday, one cannot help but recall that this great country of ours was founded on the principals of Christianity, so allowed my mind to co-mingle the thoughts of Christianity principles with that of the Jewish principles and smiled knowing that I was free to do so.

Amira and I returned around 2:00 in the afternoon and decided to take a nap. We had plans to be somewhere that evening at 6:30, so wanted to make sure we were both well rested for this upcoming event.

At 6:00 Amira had awakened from her nap and we quickly got ready to go. We were going for the first time ever to break our fast at one of our local mosques, and I was thrilled beyond words. I had never broke fast with anyone beside myself and now Amira, so was so excited I felt like a little kid.

A couple of weeks ago I was at Sharif’s (the local jeweler) and the owner Mamoud, always the gracious gentleman, extended an invitation to Amira and I to attend the mosque on Sunday to break fast with him, his family and the community. He and his family were hosting the evening meal. I told him I had driven by the mosque so many times, actually drove in the parking lot a couple of times, but just couldn’t bring myself to go in as I’m was so extremely shy. Again, in his ever, gentlemanly way, he lowered his voice to a soft tone, his big brown eyes even seemed to melt, and said “please come. Don’t be shy. I will introduce you to my wife. It will be myself, my family, and all the people that work here with me. You know them. You and Amira will not be alone. Please come.” How could anyone refuse such a gracious request?

So here we were, driving into the mosque parking lot with hundreds of people already there. Now mind you, I’m so self-conscious because I’m a blonde haired, blue-eyed American who could never be confused with anything else other than being an American. I am the poster child for the All-American looking girl. And of course I feel like every Muslim here is of some Arab background, although logically I know that is not true. How stereotypical, once again, to presume all Muslims are Arabs. We know that statistically that is not true, but right now it’s me in a sea of beautifully dark haired, big round dark-eyed, wonderfully olived colored skinned individuals (Amira included with them) and me---whitey. :-)

I’m thrilled because Mamoud, who I know as Sharif, fell out of the sky in front of Amira and I just as we enter the doors to greet us. Ok, ok, logically yes I stood out like a sore thumb with my deer in the headlights look and all the other stuff I described above, so I was easy for him to spot, but with that being said I didn’t have to venture too far in the doors, fearful, before he immediately was there to put my nerves at ease.

He settled us at a table with his family/friends and near where he would be. He always checked on us throughout the evening to ensure we were ok. We met the most wonderful people and immediately felt like we were with family, alhamdullilah.

They served us the most incredible lentil soup, which Amira devoured. One thing I can tell you about Amira is that she loves food with such a passion as opposed to an obsession. Food is a pleasurable exploration, but not an addictive drug that she needs to survive. Unlike perhaps many of us, self included, that has learned to have a love/hate relationship with food. I’ve learned so much from Amira in the short 4 years she’s been with me that it’s just unbelievable. Words cannot thoroughly express the gratitude I’ve given God for such a beautiful blessing.

After our soup, then we were to get in line and get our main meal. The adults at our table told me they had pizza for Amira if she wanted, to which I said “no, Amira prefers the other food over pizza”. They were delightfully shocked. Amira waited at our table while I gathered our meal. They had such an array of assorted foods that one couldn’t help but want everything. I settled for the rice, hummus, falafel, pita, salad and chicken. As soon as I returned to the table Amira dove right in and started savory the wonderful morsels. Literally this food just tickled our palettes and melted on our tongues. It was heavenly.

Dinner finished and the Imam, whom I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about, got up and spoke briefly and as expected delivered a very exquisite message. While he was speaking, men were carrying a tray from table to table handing out the most tantalizing dessert I had ever tasted in my life (I have no idea what it was beyond scrumptious). When the Imam finished speaking, I thought it would be time to go, but unbeknownst to me while I was listening to him speak, they (the unseen individuals) were placing yet another round of food on the tables behind us. It was when Amira tapped me on the arm, looking past me at the tables filled with food and signing to me that she was hungry, which I could hardly believe after seeing what she had already eaten, I turned around to find the tables filled with the most colorful display of fruit I had ever seen.

We got in line to fill yet another plate of morsels for her. She decided on watermelon and an orange slice. You could literally see the delight in her eyes as she slowly placed each piece in her mouth and let it roll around in there capturing all of the sweetness fruit has to offer.

Once finished, we graciously thanked our host, Sharif, for such a memorable evening, to which of course he has no idea how memorable of an evening it was for me.

Before falling asleep, I recapped the days events and could only thank God with teared filled eyes for such a wonderful day, for the blessings He bestowed upon us, for the health and wellness of my family and friends, and for the continual love He bestows upon Amira and I on a daily basis.

I just love the little boy - he's so serious.


Mark (Neighbor) behind woman in front.

Sabotaging Prisoner

This post is in response to both Romana’s question to my latest post, Message in the WiFi, as well as my own processing I’ve been going through in the last week, which is the reason for my resent silence.

Romana asked "did u self sabotage urself? and do u "know it now?" My answer would be definitively, "YES".

For me, the sabotaging of myself has been through keeping silent, which I learned from a very young age. Although there was and still is an inner voice that screams for me to open my mouth and say something, I’ve pretty much for the most part remained silent. Why? Because silence is acceptable. Silence portrays the traits of someone that is well controlled. Someone that appears to have it altogether. Silence affords you opportunities to not be noticed. Silence affords you opportunities to not be reprimanded for not conforming. On the flip side, silence causes a great deal of pain. It causes one to suffer miserably without anyone knowing.

When did I learn to be silent? It was when I was 5 years old. My cousin, whom I loved dearly, and I were molested by her father. He threatened to take Kimmy far away and for us to never see each other again if we said anything. Neither Kimmy nor I have talked about this, but rather each suffered separately silently. Eventually Kimmy’s father decided he wanted to leave California and take his family to lands unknown. He loaded them all up in a car and drove until the car broke down and decided that was where they’d live. (He's such a freakin' idiot....Ooops, I digress.) They ended up in some really remote small town called Mead in Colorado far from any family or friends. Was I sad that Kimmy left? A part of me was, and yet another part of me was relieved because selfishly I knew he wouldn’t be doing anything to me again. However, I never once thought until years later what Kimmy must have endured being all alone in Mead, Colorado.

The one thing I knew about Kimmy and I was that we both use to try to speak up, which was only received as badmouthing girls that should learn to be more respectful and to keep their mouths shut. We were to be seen and not heard. This use to infuriate us, but again we never talked about it. It just boiled in us that no one would listen to us.

There was certainly much strain between Kimmy’s mom (my aunt) and my mom, as they were close sisters that had been torn away from one another by this vile man. He certainly conquered what he wanted by parting the family and degrading my aunt enough to believe she was worth nothing. She even attempted to commit suicide later in life due to the strains of this man’s brutality, but after surviving such attempts she’s now became merely a shell of existence. She seems to have resolved herself to accept the suffering in silence and prays for God’s mercy.

I recall my mom taking me to Kimmy’s house when Kimmy was preparing to get married and her brother was preparing to graduate from high school. Mind you Kimmy was only 18 at the time of her marriage, which was a clear sign she couldn’t wait to get out from under the control and sickness of her father. Anyway, my mom who never knew to the best of my knowledge as I had never said anything about Kimmy’s father molesting us, reminded me on the way to Colorado to mind my manners and not cause trouble……to just keep my mouth shut. Out of respect for my mom or maybe pure fear of being punished severely by her I agreed to keep quiet. We were not even at Kimmy’s house for a day, two at the most, and already her father was trying to offer me beer to drink (I was only a year older than Kimmy), and telling me how pretty I was and how nice looking I turned out to be. Literally my skin crawled at the sight of this man that I nearly threw up on him as he spoke these disgusting words to me. My mother was certainly within ear shot as we were all outside preparing for a bbq. I couldn't look at him because I couldn’t take his stares, his sleaziness, his offering me beer anymore, and told him I didn’t want any beer and to just leave me alone. This made him very angry because no one spoke back to him, and certainly not a snot-nosed brat of a teenager was going to disobey him. He told me I had a smart mouth and that I should be punished for my bad behavior. I told him that if he touched me there would be more serious trouble for him and not for me. My mom and aunt became so distraught and upset over this exchange that they agreed my mom should take me away and go stay in a hotel room as I was causing too much trouble. My poor cousins seemed so frightened and scared and literally you could see them close within side themselves, as if to make themselves invisible.

My mom grabbed my arm and dragged me to the car. I could feel how angry and seething she was at this very moment. She drove out of the driveway very fast with absolutely no clarity as to where she was suppose to go as she was not familiar with Colorado let alone this tiny remote town that didn’t even have a grocery store. As she sped down the dirty dusty dirt road she began yelling at me, "ibeebarbie, how could you do this? Why couldn’t you just suck it up and keep your mouth shut? Why did you have to cause a seen?" I was so furious at her for blaming me for this trouble. I yelled back telling her how could she blame me. Why did she think it was right that this asshole offered me beer? She said well you could have just said, "no" and left it at that. I told her, "mom that guy's an idiot and I HATE him." She said, "honey, we all hate him, but I love my sister so put up with him for her sake". I told her I didn’t like the way the guy hugged me or that he said how pretty I was or how he made me feel uncomfortable. She again reminded me that she understood but sometimes we do things like keeping our mouths shut for the sake of others. She reminded me that my aunt was weak and had no one to help her and that my mom was the only connection she had. She hoped that if we could smooth things over with her sister’s husband that they could remain in contact with one another. Otherwise she worried terribly for losing her sister as a result of this situation. Of course I assumed all of this was my fault as I had been repeatedly told that my mouth was my worst feature, that I never learned to control it, and therefore was made to suffer as a result of disobedience. I was told that when we went back to my aunt’s house I needed to apologize for my rudeness and to keep my mouth shut. At this very moment, I hated every single adult in that Colorado family including my mom because no one cared what I was going through. I wanted so badly just to go home where I felt safer than I did at this godforsaken place. She told me that everything would soon be over and we’d go home. We returned to my aunt’s house and I apologized to everyone with an absolute void with inside my soul, as if my soul had left my own physical body as a form of preservation to get through the remaining time.

Between the years of 5 and 16 I had been molested by my cousin’s father, other male friends of my family, and was raped at 16 by my best friend’s brother. All the while I sat silently suffering inside. I, too, understood my aunt’s desire to end her life as she failed three times to commit suicide. I attempted myself to end my life in my very late teens because the pain inside of me was far more painful than any one person could handle. Thankfully another family friend found out and took care of me, and as a result I am still alive today because of that person. Truly God sends messengers and angels to us all the time without our knowledge.

There was never a time that I could remember where the voice within me didn’t want to scream out, didn’t want to ask for help, but I denied that voice because I was told I was bad if I opened my mouth. I never wanted to be perceived as bad by others because I already saw myself as bad on the inside. Moreover, in attempt to be somewhat in control, I used my weight as my controlling factor. Due to the unwanted attention of men, I padded myself through food in order to make myself look less desirable. I would even wear dark clothing in order to appear invisible and unattractive. I would not wear makeup because I didn't want to enhance any of my features, even though my eyes were always a give away (like Amira's), and an attractiveness to others. Sadly and yet laughably so I was always told, "Oh ibeebarbie, you have such a pretty face. If you could just lose a little weight you'd be absolutely gorgeous and sexy." Can you imagine to someone who has been shamefully violate how these words felt? After hearing these words so many times and the violations that happened to me, there was no way in hell I was going to part with my wall of cushion. Because after all if I was getting all this unwanted attention looking like plain jane, what would happen if I actually removed the padding.......God forbid I never wanted to know.

Of course, my parents never knew these things happened to me. Because of my mom’s own self-loathing, she was not a safe person for me to go to in order to disclose the things that had happened to me, and therefore because I didn’t feel safe with her I didn’t think anyone was safe to tell things too. I wanted so badly to tell my father because I always felt safe with him, but I decided not to because I didn’t want him to think badly of me. Although I always imagined how he would react if I told him. He would be a valiant night who rescued me from the pain.

Although I learned to deal with the silent obedience, my insides suffered dearly because the voice to speak up never silenced. There always seemed to be an internal battle that went on between my outspoken voice that wanted to stand up and protect against injustice and the vacant complacent voice that wanted to be invisible. For if I could be invisible then no one would hurt me anymore. However, I realize now that the other side of being invisible for the sake of not being hurt also means that if no one sees you hurting they can’t help you.

Years later when I was in my late 20’s I decided to take the risk and tell my parents of the things that had happened to me. My mother’s response was, "Honey don’t worry. We won’t tell anyone about this." I became enraged and told her, "Mom, don’t you understand I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. I was a child." She didn’t really have a response to this statement. My father on the other hand came over to me and hugged me. He told me that he was so sorry to hear these things had happened to me. He felt terrible, as he had no idea. He wondered if I worried about him doing something that would have caused him to go to jail if I had told him, and I confirmed that yes that’s what I worried about. He reminded me I didn’t need to worry, and that I could talk to him about anything. I could see the pain in his eyes knowing I had been violated, and he wasn’t able to do anything to save me. I realized he was the knight in shining armor I had always secretly dreamt of, and felt safe for the first time in a long time. I didn’t feel ashamed for the first time, and I actually felt heard by him, but my mom on the other hand………not so much. Still to this day, she ignores these things that have happened. I suppose from her own unknown sufferings she couldn’t acknowledge these things happening to me because then she’d have to acknowledge them as real, and that may just be too painful for her.

You know, no matter how old we get it seems like we are always trying to win the approval or acceptance of our parents. At least I know I have with respect to my mom. I’m not certain why I continue trying, as the result is always the same…..it’s not going to happen. She’s not capable of doing it. However, I suppose there’s a part of myself that feels that if she at least acknowledged me then somehow I’d be validated, and no longer invisible. I realize now and have been realizing that I no longer need her acknowledgement in order to feel whole or to feel visible. For only I can make myself visible, and the way to do that is to use my voice for one and for another I need to allow myself to FEEL again. I’ve lived in such a numbed state for so long that it’s no wonder I don't remember what feeling feels like. I also realize that in order to feel whole and loved I need to do this for myself and for Amira’s sake as well. I don’t want Amira to ever feel she has to suffer in silence or to numb herself in order to ‘survive’ in this life. For I realize these aren’t necessarily life long survival skills as much as they are imprisonment skills. Sure they served a purpose at one time, but I must embrace change and recognize that the old ways don’t always work for the future……..unless, of course, you want to remain forever stuck.

So why do I share all this crazy dysfunction with you? Because I need to be free. I need to remove the chains that bind me and release myself from sabotaging prison. Am I scared as hell to share this part of myself with you? ABSOLUTELY!!!!!!! However, the risk of continuing to destroy myself and potentially Amira is far greater, and for those reasons I alone I must take the risk. For what do I have to lose? Nothing! If need be I can always discontinue blogging (however, I have no intentions of doing so), but at least I know I freed myself and that alone gives me strength.

Can you imagine how crazy this statement is going to sound? I’m a little nervous about opening the door to "feeling". Because for me, "feeling" equates to pain only. However, logically I know that there is more to "feeling" than pain, but the nervousness of uncertainty is still the same.

Loneliness

Loneliness has gripped me. In a year and a half since I snuck out from the shadow darkness, I’ve been attempting to rebuild my life after the devastation of being abandoned with a six-week old baby girl four years ago. For the first two and half years after being abandoned, I merely went into survival mode, which in many ways felt so mechanical. I felt so disconnected from everything. I was also so angry because I wanted to spend every waking moment with my precious baby, but being forced into assuming survival tactics I was robbed; however, God was gracious and provided windows of opportunity when I could just embrace the moments of ‘now’ with her.

At times I hurt so badly I would fall on my knees and beg God through tears to take my pain away. What I didn't know then and am still trying to learn now, is that God is using this pain to bring me somewhere. Where? I’m assuming closer to Him……..perhaps closer to me. To see me the way that He sees me, loveable, kind, compassionate, tender, gentle, desirable and perhaps even strong.

During the last year and a half I’ve been to two weddings. The one was of a lovely bride who just beamed from ear to ear for the love she held so near to her, her soon to be bridegroom. She was literally luminous and nearly floating in her gait. Her glow was so infectious you couldn’t help but wish to be in her shoes.

The other bride was one who was and continues to be enslaved in the need for absolute control. She was the first bride I’ve ever seen in my entire life that wasn’t glowing or appearing to be a princess. There’s just something so magical about brides that even the most uptight person couldn’t help but be affected from their beaming demeanor. In contrast to the first beaming bride and the effects she had on the crowd, this second bride was just as infectious with her bound-up demeanor. Yes, she wore the Stepford wife smile, but there truly was more to a smile than what met the eye. She seemed to be under a false illusion of how life should be which I contributed to Satan’s charmingly charismatic words he regularly attempts to plant into our brains. We determine whether we wish to buy these ill-fated words as truth or not, and so often we do.

Interestingly enough, the first bride’s groom exuded the ever explicit traits of a narcissist, which can only prove to be fatal if a part of for too long. The second bride’s groom exuded the ever explicit traits of a God serving man, who truly seemed to understand what it was to be a man and how to treat a woman. I suppose factually it would stand to reason that opposites attract as well as the obvious reason would be for each to help the other work through their "stuff" to become better human beings. But is it possible for two people to come together joined as united forces to continue their journey as joint partners rather than for the purpose of each working through their ‘stuff’? Is it possible that the two can work together towards making improvements to better themselves and their environment as a joint effort rather than the both being dysfunctional and only needing the other to heal and complete the other?

Although I was thrilled to be a part of both of these women’s wedding and celebratory occasion I still felt the fear of being left behind. I wonder/wondered what was wrong with me; I wonder/wondered what I could do to make myself more desirable; I wonder/wondered if I would be lonely forever. Moreover I wonder/wondered if my daughter would ever know or have a father/daughter relation. Wonder/wondered if she’ll ever know what it’s like to have a father to love her, play with her, teach her, and most importantly guide her through life. Wonder/wondered if she’ll ever know what it’s like to see her mom in a loving relationship with a husband to learn the value of relationship and intimacy. Don’t get me wrong of course my daughter sees other people and their relationships, and she has male role models like her grandfather to teach her and protect her, but still feel terribly pained that she doesn’t have a father in her life.

I realize I do not want to marry a man like the first bride’s groom. I could no longer tolerate such a person in my life…………to leave me fruitless and even more alone than I am now. Nor do I want to be like the second bride who is bound by her lack of faith and intimate connection with God. However, the realization of knowing these things doesn’t eliminate the feeling of loneliness.

I realize this feeling of loneliness steams within side myself and can only be cleansed, purified and refined by continuing to walk through God’s process of healing for myself, but some days are truly harder than others. I know beyond words that I am not alone, for God would never leave nor forsake me, inshallah, but the feeling of loneliness still resonates regardless of how I try to rationalize my intellect.

This just happens to be one of those days.