Comforting Arm

comforting arm

I started to learn about true love when I walked “El Camino de Santiago” in 2011. I didn’t understand then what the universe was showing me…though I felt it…and now it is a little clearer…thanks to what it means to be a mother, but at the same time a woman who is trying to be true to herself. I still have to soooo much to learn about love.

Lately, I have been reading a book by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, called Life Lessons. Maybe some of you can tell based on some of my latest posts. 🙂 Today I’d like to share a story she wrote that deeply affected me.

“Being there is everything in love, in life and in dying. Many years ago, I noticed an interesting phenomenon in a hospital. Many of the dying patients began to feel wonderful; not so much physically , but mentally. This wasn’t because of me, but because of the cleaning woman. Every time she walked into the room of one of my dying patients, something would happen. I would have given a million dollars to learn that woman’s secret.

One day I saw her in the hallway and said to her rather curtly, “What are you doing with my dying patients?”

“I’m only cleaning the rooms,” she replied defensively.

Determined to know how she was making people feel good, I followed her around. But I couldn’t figure out what special thing she was doing. After a few weeks of snooping around like this, she grabbed me and dragged me into a room behind the nurses’ station. She told me how, some time ago, one of her six children had become very ill one winter. In the middle of the night she took her three-year-old son to the emergency room, where she sat with him on her lap, desperately waiting hours for the physician to come But no one came, and she watched her little boy die of pneumonia, in her arms. She shared all this pain and agony without hate, without resentment, without anger, without negativity.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “What has this to do with my dying patients?”

“Death is not a stranger to me anymore,” she replied. “He is like an old acquaintance. Sometimes when I walk into the rooms of your dying patients, they look so scared. I can’t help but walk over to them and touch them. I tell them I’ve seen death, and when it happens, they will be okay. And I just stay there with them. I may want to run, but I don’t. I try to be there for the other person. That is love.”

Unschooled in the ways of psychology and medicine, this woman knew one of the greatest secrets in life: love is being there, and caring.

Sometimes, due to circumstances beyond our control, we can’t be there physically. But that doesn’t mean we’re not connected in love.”

-Elisabeth Kubler-Ross-

*photo by David Peat,

http://birdsong217.tumblr.com/post/31627838428

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gAtWleBjM2k

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Between Us

Written and performed by: Peter Bradley Adams

Lyrics:

Hey stranger or may I call you my own
I know I don’t know you, but there’s somewhere I’ve seen you before
Whatever your name is, whatever you do
There’s nothing between us I’m willing to lose

Just call me if ever our paths may collide
I want you to call me under these darkened sky’s
Whoever you love, whoever you kiss
The wandering between us I’m willing to miss

Now I’m drifting out over deep oceans
And the tide won’t take me back in
And these desperate nights I’ll call you again and again

There’s comfort, comfort in things we believe
Other than danger, wanting the things I can’t see

Wherever you live now, wherever you walk
There’s distance between us I’m willing to cross
Now I’m drifting out over deep oceans
And the tide won’t take me back in
And these desperate nights I’ll call you again and again

Now I’m drifting out over deep oceans
And the tide won’t take me back in
And these desperate nights I’ll call you again and again

Hey stranger or may I call you my own
I know I don’t know you, but there’s somewhere I’ve seen you before.

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Image

 

Anonymously, I stand in the light of my soul

Unknown to myself, unknown to you

For that matter anonymous to the world

But that isn’t what’s bothering me.

It is the forgetfulness in your eyes,

The forgetfulness of generosity

Generosity that gets lost in what

Could be labelled as familiarity

A paradox, true, it’s true

Since I spoke of anonymity,

Label me as a raving lunatic

For that I shall not deny

Charge me with crimes of egotism

And I won’t bat an eye

Because now on this journey

It doesn’t matter if I count or not

I am lost in the unknown,

I can’t complain

That it has been a blessing

A balm, a comfort to rest

In the light of my soul.

Being comfortable has never really

Been an option.

In this anonymous existence

I do not know how to function

…how to exist without identity

Identity, which was so important earlier

Now, as light dances around the shadows,

Even around the darkness

I am not scared, I don’t even mind

Yet to move I must

The light is never still.

I thought that is what my heart

Was longing for…the stillness

This journey goes through light years

And you will never notice that

I’ve been gone because I travel

To the exact second of that exact moment.

So you see a moment isn’t just a moment,

But the beginning and the end, Alpha and Omega.

To be anonymous is not a crime

Nor is it a blessing,

But a marriage with the emptiness.

Emptiness that can threaten, but

Let you be….

Anonymously; I dance in the light

Of my soul, yet dancing in yours

By letting you be, I’ll be myself…I’ll

Be anonymous.

© Salem Islas-Madlo 2008

* Artist Steven Daluz

http://stevendaluz.com/Artist.asp?ArtistID=1814&Akey=8MKJWHEB

Coming Home

“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.” ~Edith Sitwell~ photo taken from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/tweeling17/5927002631/ based on the … Continue reading