Coffee with the Dead
There is no place quite like the cemetery when it comes to being undisturbed by people passing by, by the sirens that seem to never end in the background, even by the police car that travels through to observe activity within its gates. In October, the volume of trees cannot be sufficiently assessed until you drive through and realize how many of them there are, in this one particular cemetery on the border of Fairfield and Bridgeport. Mountain Grove Cemetery is one of my favorites to visit because it is enormous, with so many different symbols and statues, but most of all, the trees are beyond amazing.
One week ago today
Like the ghosts of memories gone past, the feeling of visiting this place at this time of year never changes. I believe that it is because the death of the summer season waves at you in red and orange firey sheets and there is mourning for those days of sweltering nothing, dog days of hanging out and making plans for an unforeseen future. I can feel this though, the veil opening up wide getting ready for that day in October that people for whatever reason want to be afraid of, that last day of the 31st that bleeds right into November 1st/2nd, also known as The Day of the Dead, Dia de Muertos and All Saints Day, combined. The feelings of being afraid of death are of course understandable, to those who love being alive. I can imagine that they are fearful, too, even if dying seems like a way out...
But I do love the endings of things, the relief of the surety of a cycle beginning and ending, sometimes at a viciously high speed, and sometimes dreadfully, unforgivingly long. There is one realistic promise here, though, that things do end and that breath of a moment to start over again will always present itself. That brief space where a person can begin a new momentum, a new string of thoughts that could lead either way, into a darker darkness or a light at the end of a tunnel. This happens often times in the space of 5 seconds, really, in the space of time that it takes to take one full breath in and out. Accidents, assaults, broken bones, sliced open skin, hearts torn open or mended closed. Faith in the darkness or safety in a place where no one resides but you.
Herbs, Stones, Willpower
Walking into Whole Foods for one item can be a daunting exercise in self control, especially when you forget to put that credit card back into the freezer after promising to do so a couple of weeks ago. Blinders on, helping my second born son figure out what the paperwork he needs for his new job is, I go to the aisle where they sell the organic mascara for my extremely sensitive eyes, because, Scorpio = vanity and I just can't go without this one particular item. This task of getting him ready for work with an account, with the right uniform, with the right shoes, and all that, was supposed to be done yesterday.
In my amazingly horrified mind whirling with guilt about this, shame about that, anger on top of a bunch of other things, and pity on the things that have come to be a hard cold reality, I am asking, over and over and over for some kind of chemical free solution. I have thought about medications, but I know myself better. I have to be really suffering to take anything and I don't like being addicted to chemicals. Asking over and over, what can I do to better deal with the inevitable stress of everyday... I get to the check out line with my one tube of organic mascara, and I see this bright yellow box. I recognize this brand, "Bach's Rescue Remedy" but this is different. This is Rescue Energy. I read the box:
Stimulant free Rescue Energy improves the body's ability to handle stress and strengthen it's natural energy reserves. Restoring emotional vitality, Rescue Energy is non narcotic, and non habit forming. This part here though, is what made me take that credit card out again:
HELPS YOU COPE CALMLY AND PATIENTLY WITH IRRITATING PROBLEMS OR PEOPLE
HELPS RESTORE EMOTIONAL VITALITY WHEN YOU ARE TIRED AFTER MAKING AN EFFORT
Ok. SOLD. I'll keep on trying. Because not trying is not an option, no matter how pissed off I am or how depressed things can be, that dis-ease...that illness in that state of mind doesn't get me running to the anti-depressants or the valium, Xanax or vodka. It makes me sad, yes, and I get real low, I tie a weight around my ankles and drop down into the velvety black sea. But when that breath stops itself down there, and literally I sleep in a drowned sea of barriers that have fallen in around me, I want to wake up again, not necessarily in a bath of glimmery light. Because that would hurt my ever so sensitive eyes...
Back to the Front
Yes. Where was I? Oh yeah. Being redirected, even though I should know by now that anything that delays me is setting me up for the next thing that I need to rebalance myself. If he hadn't blown me off yesterday, if he and my mother hadn't gotten their agendas all screwed up, I wouldn't have been where I was, wouldn't have found what I found, and wouldn't have this realization that She had Her hand in it all along...as She always does.