I Can Feel the Silence of My Death

With so much time in the condo by myself, having chosen self-quarantine in reaction to COVID 19, my mind has taken my thinking in many directions. My death is one of them. Not that I feel death is imminent for me but it is a given that I will die!  Part of death, as far as I can tell, is giving up connections to all things: loved ones including family, friends, and pets; possessions, daily activities, and appreciation for being alive and all that brings: walks, flowers, fresh air, sunsets and rises, meals, TV, music, theater, etc. Obvious but often things we take for granted. Silence, again as far as I can tell, could be another way to describe the difference between being alive and being dead. Right now, ensconced in the condo since March without family or friends over to a meal or a visit, I have come to notice the silence that exists for me here by myself, even with the mechanical noises, pet noises, noises of me typing this, or my shuffling around.  One day last week, while sitting here thinking over one paragraph or another of a recent post, I heard the silence of my death. The condo seemed extra quiet and I found myself imagining  what it would be like for my niece and nephew, Mark and Colleen who are the executors for my estate, to let themselves into the condo after I have died. Assume the cats have already moved in with them in Michigan. I could almost feel my absence, the finality of my absence and lack of noise I create here. And I wondered what it would be like for them to experience the silence. Would the condo itself have quieted down in respect for my passing or would the items, collections, shrines, wall to wall collections, etc. still have the energy I feel in them now? Over the years, people have always come into my home (Gregory and my home in those days) and commented on how peaceful, loving, and calm the space felt. The next comments usually say something like: Even with all the "things" around, there is a sense of peace, organization, cleanliness, and spirituality that exists.  Until Mark and Colleen make the personal changes to the condo they choose to make, maybe the energy I have put into my surroundings will outlive me and continue to not only invite but at times shout, "Welcome, come in, enjoy yourself and my vision of life!" Maybe my energy will still be felt here, even after I am visiting that "Great Starbucks in the Sky," only in a different, loving way! * * * Interestingly, based on the article below, I do not believe that I have previously conscientiously added to, protected, cleaned up, or manipulated the energy of my home, but now realize that it is something that has been done automatically, without thinking. I have to give it more mindful attention. That aught to pump up the "noise" quite a bit ... or the "silence" 😀 The fact that my collections are all displayed “shrine-like,” that a shrine for Gregory was instantly created on his death, that I have my front door and balcony door protected by many “Evil-Eyes,” and how important my “Arriving and Leaving Shrine” is to my daily ceremonies; must all add to the quiet, safe, loving, ambiance of the place. The things here are not "cute" or common things to collect but rather what I refer to as findings, discoveries, artifacts, trinkets, little things, pieces of history and/or anthropology, tiny curiosities, oddities, and yes, even miniatures. Also, the love and time I have shared in this place with family and friends over coffee, dinner, or a glass of wine helps add to the ambiance people experience when in the condo. Also, the attention and love I give to all the little parts of all the thousands of items that make up my collections must absorb some of me and be felt by others.  This banner, which was the first to "advertise" Michael's Museum while it lived in the guest room of our home at 2635 Poplar, in Evanston, says it all. * * * This above post was prompted by recent thinking about the condo and by this article from "DailyOm" https://www.dailyom.com Energy Of A Home By Madisyn Taylor

Everything and everybody that enters your home creates an energy and leaves a footprint.  Our homes are filled with energy that we create and allow to flourish. In many cases, our relationship with the pulse of our homes is passive rather than active because we do not pay particular heed to the energy that has been established. It is only when we regard these spaces as unique entities that we begin to understand why it is necessary to take charge of the energy that fills our homes. Stagnant, inharmonious energy can find its way into our dwellings through many avenues. Previous occupants, builders, visitors, and the individuals who maintain a home leave a strong energy imprint behind. Objects and symbols can also have an effect on the energy of a residence. When we are aware of all that can influence the energy of our spaces, we are empowered to create harmonious homes that do more than meet our need for shelter.  Exercising care with regard to who and what we invite into our homes is one of the easiest ways we can ensure that the energy within remains loving and supportive. It is not always possible to keep potentially harmful people and possessions from entering our homes, but we can take precautions. Individuals can be kept from private spaces like bedrooms and meditation areas, while property can be purified through cleansing or smudging. During periods of remodeling or construction, Reiki symbols and other positive imagery can be printed on surfaces that will later be covered by walls or flooring. Though hidden, these will continue to attract good energy and cleanse the existent energy. Blessings can also be drawn in plain sight, where they remind us of how potently our home's energy can affect our own.  A home can appear beautiful, comfortable, and stable while still serving as a dwelling place for negative or otherwise offensive energy. If you care for your home conscientiously and with great care, you will instinctively look beyond the surface qualities of your home when assessing how it feels. Since you actively guard your home against the intrusion of unwelcome energy, you will have the time and vigor necessary to cope with it constructively when should it appear in your midst. The spirit of your spaces will respond to your thoughtful ministrations, nurturing, and supporting you for as long as you choose to reside within her walls.

 

A Moment in Time with a Message for the Future

Reprinted (with minor editing) from April 2009. As I prepare to vacation in Mexico, after an absence of five years because of Gregory's inability to travel as his Dementia worsened, I found this piece:

Step out of the oppressive afternoon sun into the cool shade of a typically Mexican Café just off the Rio Cuale. The Rio is actually two rivers with an island down the middle. The rivers and island run in parallel through the center of the city and empty into Banderas Bay. A this time of year the Cuale contains smoothly polished rocks in abundance and only a little water. The island down the middle is home to the Puerto Vallarta Cultural Center, gifts shops, restaurants, and vendor booths galore. 

The Café we have entered is just clean enough and open to the air as are so many of the restaurants here. The stone fountain, four levels high, ornate, adorned with Mayan figures and symbols does not work. Several dozen tables with multi color striped cloths are arranged along the railing that overlooks one of the branches of the Rio. Each table has four brightly colored, locally made high backed chairs with a soft seat pad tied in place. Orange, turquoise, navy blue, yellow, red, crimson, green. Did I say brightly colored?

Large dusty piñatas gently blowing in the breeze are hanging from the wood beamed ceiling, along with out-of-place crystal chandeliers. Green plants abound growing up from the river bank and filling the Café. Green painted cans suspended from the awnings of the restaurant are filled with vines that lace from one to the next. Other plants hang from the columns and more grow in terra cotta pots leaning one against the other. Fresh flowers adorn each table.

On entering, I motion towards the tables rather than towards the bar and ask if we might sit only to have a drink. The waiter waves us in with, “Bienvenidos!” “Welcome!” He asks what we would like to drink and I ask for “la lista” or menu. He returns and after a short look at la lista, I order a Sangria for me and a fizzy water for Gregory. Greg's arrives in an old fashioned glass soda bottle with a stemmed wine glass full of lime halves and mine in a locally made, oversized, thick walled glass with a layer of lemonade on the bottom and red wine and ice floating on top, which when mixed become my Sangria. The haze of condensation on both of our glasses speaks to the refreshing drinks within.

As we sit at a table by the railing among the plants, not too far away by the entrance to the restaurant, an older man is playing a fairly well but not perfectly tuned piano. After each piece, he looks to the two tables of people currently in the restaurant to acknowledge our applause at his playing. His songs include classical, Spanish type Malegueñas, and tunes from the fifties. With the latter we try to guess the titles and in my mind, nostalgia of a childhood begins to take shape. The old man covers his missed note mistakes as easily as he makes them and every now and then a flourish on the keyboard actually causes you to listen more closely. 

Outside the shaded walls of the restaurant, the sun is brightly warming the passing people with its glare. We watch and comment as people pass over the bridge. Some tourists shopping, some workers returning home, some natives just out for a walk. Then a dog or two. Birds fly from tree to tree and call out. Busses, taxis, cars, motorcycles rumble past on the rough road.

An old old man, in a gruff guttural voice announces, “Tuba, Tuba, Tuba” as he sells coconut milk out of an aged, hand carved gourd which holds at least a gallon of the stuff. He is stationed at one end of the bridge while an old lady selling “Fruta” of various types on sticks works the other end. Perhaps they are a couple. Vendors sit in their stalls, greeting and inviting in the shoppers who are walking by. Children sit under a table watching an old beat up television set with cartoons characters speaking in Spanish. 

As we are sitting there silently, neither Gregory nor I saying a word, both contemplating our surroundings, listening to the piano, quiet together - I realize that I am so very happy. And that Gregory is so very happy and so very content. And that no words are passing or need to pass between us in our contentment. I realize that I am sitting there, taking it all in and wishing that this moment could go on forever. That it would never end.

Tears fill my eyes as I realize that our love will go on forever always and that in the silence of our lives and Gregory's increasing inability with words compliments of Alzheimer’s Disease, words are not necessary between us, just silently being together is enough to express our contentment, our love for each other, our joy at life!