Journal Entry 2/7/2014

I work part-time in a building that is home to many non-profit agencies. I usually get in by 7:30AM. During this “polar vortex” winter I have been so grateful to open the doors to this 5-story building and enter the warm and spacious foyer. Always, as I unbutton the first button on my coat I begin to think that were I homeless I would try and find as many buildings as possible that opened early and didn’t have guards or keys to prevent unwanted visitors. I think how knowing that would allow me to sneak away from the cold for a few minutes…perhaps for enough time to get warm and maybe even go to the bathroom and wash up a little, including combing my hair and brushing my teeth. I think how, in my building, there is a corner hidden from immediate view, where I could curl up for a moment or two and rest, pretty sure that I would not be seen for awhile because of the early morning hour and the pressures of work/family/life we all seem to walk with.

I wonder who would be the first “legitimate” person to see me? Would it be one of the maintenance people going out to salt the sidewalk…or someone who had to come into work but then go right back out again to attend a meeting or conference. Maybe it would be someone in the women’s room while I was brushing my hair or teeth. Who would it be that would find it necessary to report me…how would they speak to me…harshly or with respect…would I be threatened with removal and told to never come back again…who would assume that it was I who left the “messy splash” on the counter top in the bathroom or failed to flush the toilet after use, even though those things had happened countless times before by the “legitimate” people who worked here.

As the scenarios race through my mind, I feel sad and frustrated that anyone should have to be cold and then, from within me I feel rage start swirling around within me…working towards eruption as it occurs to me that the reason this building is warm is because they probably keep the heat on overnight so that the pipes won’t freeze! “WHAT” I scream…so the fucking pipes won’t freeze! How many damn buildings keep their heat on 24/7 so that their damn pipes won’t freeze? A big empty building is toasty warm because keeping pipes from freezing is far more important than keeping people from freezing. This is shameful... I mean dammit…until we systemically end homelessness let’s demand that every foyer of every building be open to all people. Just maybe we could not only save the pipes from freezing but maybe…just maybe…we might actually start to save a few people from freezing...freezing to death. 

October 28, 2012

It has been a while since I posted. I have moved to a wonderful space that has allowed me to see many shooting stars, boats and a little drawbridge over the Neponset River.  Yesterday, while taking a break from work, I observed the following:

The mother and her adult son were walking, side by side, on East Berkley Street in Boston.  Laughing, they sent out a wonderful energy that made them feel closer in physical space than they actually were as he explained the architecture of familiar Boston structures and landmarks.  He was animated...his hands pointing in different directions to all the different structures.  She was excited and focused on his every word.    As they began to walk over the Mass Pike I noticed a man lagging behind them.  He seemed awkward, quiet and distant.  He carried a camera and on occasion would snap a picture of one of the buildings.  His face had no expression, and his energy felt troubling so I was surprised when the mother and son stopped, turned and looked back, encouraging the man who was lagging behind to catch up with them.  As the three came together I felt the wonderful energy between the mother and son change…become less. Watching them speak with each other I realized they were together…they were family...and that "lagging behind man" was the adult man’s father. After a quick moment of conversation, mother and son started walking again..."lagging behind man" (the father) checked out his camera. By the time he started walking again he was, once again, lagging behind.   I so wanted to shout out to the father “STOP lagging behind...STOP snapping pictures … be with your son in this moment on this day and that will be a picture that will line your heart forever”.

Di

PARKING & REGISTERING INFO FOR 10TH ANNIVERSARY CONFERENCE/CELEBRATION

Problems Registering?

Some people have reported difficulty in registering. If you do not receive notification within four hours that you are registered, please notify us by calling either emailing Kathy at kathleenmdwyer@aol.com or by calling Eva Montibello at  617-742-8555

Parking:
The Holiday Inn will validate parking garage tickets for conference attendees that park at the Charles River Plaza Parking Garage, which is close to the Holiday Inn and located at 175 Cambridge St. Please be sure to bring your parking ticket to the registration table at the start of each day so that a committee member can have it validated by the hotel. We will have a system in place during the conference to get your ticket back to you. This is a wonderful deal as the cost of parking, with validation, will only be $5 per day.

PLEASE NOTE:  We are asking any clerics (male or female) who may be planning on attending the conference to, out of respect for survivors, wear street clothes only.

2012 Year of the Survivor:

Celebrating the 10th Anniversary of Confronting the
 Catholic child sexual abuse scandal

Conference Dates:

January 6, 7, 8, 2012 (Friday - Sunday)

Location:

Holiday Inn, Beacon Hill

Cost:

Early Registration $20 (now through Dec 15, 2011)

Registration $25 (12/16/2011-01/02/2012)

Late Registration $30 (after 01/03/2012 and walk-ins)

To Register (or make a donation):
http://speakingoutsafely.ticketleap.com/t/RC/

River Blessing
Kathleen M. Dwyer....September 8, 2010

Mother earth cradles the river

as it runs along beside me…

clean and sparkling rocks

help create

her ever changing symphony

Green, brown and yellow earth

hold my steps

as the river splashes blessings on me…

I am ready to follow her forward

 into the unknown!

My Name is Peter April 2010

I was sitting in my car at the T waiting for my daughter Karin.  A young white man, perhaps in his late twenties, was walking back and forth slowly…he saw that I was smoking.  As our eyes met he asked if I had a cigarette I could spare.  “Of course.” I said and gave him a couple.  He thanked me and we began talking about the weather and how his cell phone had died and how he was now waiting for his girlfriend to come and pick him up.

I explained I was waiting for my daughter and that he could use my cell if he wanted but he said I don’t know any numbers…”they are all programmed into my cell phone”.  We both laughed and I said isn’t it terrible…I used to know all my friends phone numbers and now…he smiled knowingly.

He had such a gentle spirit and as we talked it was amazing how we went from the weather to more personal information. He mentioned how his dad had been in the merchant marines and I said how both interesting and hard that must have been for him…interesting because of the places his father would have traveled…hard because it must have meant he was away a lot.  He seemed surprised that I knew both ends of it…and then, with an ever so slight shrug, mentioned that his childhood home was quite dysfunctional.  I smiled and said yes…mine too.  But then I told him that it does give us an opportunity…we can stay stuck in the cycle of dysfunction or…we can try and make things different for ourselves as adults and certainly, for our kids. I told him that I was proud because I experienced my children and I as having created a really positive family unit.  Certainly, there were difficulties…but still, I went onto say, that at 40 and 35, my son, daughter and I remain very close and supportive of one another. They like him and me have issues…but we keep working on what was to better be present for what is… to help create positive changes for what’s to come. 

He smiled and went onto share that sometimes he feels as if he is 10 years older than he actually is and yet, it is only now that he is beginning to understand that his actions do affect others. “Wow” I said…some people never get that…good for you!  He did feel like a very old soul to me…with a core of gentleness, kindness mixed in with wisdom. I told him that and that he reminded me of my children and that it is not always easy to walk this earth in such a way.

At this point his girlfriend came and they cuddled into each other in a very sweet and affectionate way.  I told her that he was very special and she giggled and agreed.  I also felt her energy to be very kind, gentle and fun and told her that as well.  We said good-bye and as they walked away I looked up to see my daughter walking towards me. The young man and his girlfriend were about twenty feet away when he turned around and walked back towards my car with his hand open and extended.  When he reached my window he took my hand, which had drifted out of my car to receive his, and said, “My name is Peter…thank you”.  As we physically connected, it felt so good inside of me…the moments we shared were so meaningful to me and his gesture seemed to say that they were to him as well. I wished him all the best that there is and he said he wished me the same and quickly added the same wishes for my son and daughter.

As Karin got into the car she asked who he was.  I told her about my precious and unexpected moments of conversation…she looked at me and we both smiled, and then, feeling a little more whole, I fastened my seat belt and we headed home. 

Thoughts from a survivor of clergy ritual, sexual and spiritual abuse

LENT 2010

Even after decades of traveling back to my past… of naming out loud my reality…of feeling the pain, betrayal and countless other feelings…I still can get hit with the legacy that is familiar to most of us who have been sexually abused by people we should have been able to trust.  The more work I have done the more healing I have received and yet…the legacy of being sexually abused, at times immobilizing, never really leaves but rather seems to lay dormant, waiting for some trigger to appear.  Like the original perpetrators, the “legacy” often attacks my body, mind and spirit unexpectedly, leaving me feeling embarrassed, ashamed and alone.

Such was the 2010 season of Lent.  At a time when I had finally felt and dared to hope it would be less difficult it was in fact more difficult than usual.   The despair and grief I experienced, along with a scattering of physically painful body memories, seem to have lifted now, leaving me with more clarity about the contributing factors over the last two months.  Of course, there were the usual factors such as the interconnectedness of family and church, timing of the abuse and the media coverage of Lent.  But this year there was also the media coverage proving, again through the churches own documents, that the sexual abuse and cover-up in the catholic church is international and organized and that those who covered-up these crimes and moved known abusers from parish to parish include both this pope and the previous one as well. 

Of course, I was not surprised.  I actually believe that this behavior goes back centuries not decades.  In that sense, it was validating but I learned a long time ago that validation can often be like a double edged sword.     On one hand you finally have proof of what you have believed and proclaimed to be true but with that truth comes the loss of any hope that just maybe…you were wrong…just maybe there were not as many children sexually abused as you feared…that there were not countless children who struggled and are struggling to reach adulthood with some sense of self-esteem… peace… calm… love. 

So yes…while it was hopeful that more truth is being revealed it was also hard and triggering hearing so much affirmed… especially the knowing that countless others have experienced the horror so many of us know and that the deceit and betrayal is so deeply institutionalized that change, if even possible, will be a long, long wait, which ultimately means our children and the children yet to come remain at risk every bit as much as was I.

I am grateful that this Lent is behind me and that the unexpected triggers and heavy weight we felt has left. The paths survivors take are as varied and unique as are we survivors… some never acknowledge they were sexually abused…others work on healing until the day they die.  In between these two things are all the other ways that survivors walk this earth.  Whatever the path of your walk may be… may it bless you with the energy, support and challenge that will help you to keep walking towards creating a safer world for all children.

Hawk is one of my Power Animals and Spirit Guides. I am so grateful for Hawks presence in my life.

City Hawk

Kathleen M. Dwyer 2001

In the middle of the city street

claws wedged tightly into the frozen prey

You actually stayed longer than you should have

risking that precious second

that might have been the difference between

life and death

How many of your friends

have you seen taken out

splattered over the pavement from just such a moment of survival?

Perhaps it is an unexpected gift from my past

that I was not surprised to see you staring at me

as you struggled to try to remove both yourself and your prey

Anything is possible

to the extremes of the outer edges

of both the positive and negative

But this morning,

as I obsessively planned, if not my permanent,

at least my temporary departure

You blocked my path...causing me to stop fully...and mirrored

back to me determination, courage and survival

Thank You!

City Hawk Two

Kathleen M. Dwyer 2/2010

Perched fifty feet up

on the expressway light

you looked worn and tattered

after all these years

wings frayed... belly winter grey...

head fur looking not unlike my own when I first awake

As always, I said good morning and

thanked you for the contact on this day,

sent you loving and healing energy

and wondered about your days in the city...

were you finding enough to eat...

even as I saw your thinness

Driving under and by your perch 

I asked about the other two that

I sometimes saw you soar with

and dance the beautiful sky dance of hawks

as you search for prey..

mate...fun...

An hour later,

city and you long behind me

full, tall and protective trees lined the highway

perched among them country hawk welcomed travelers

Her body full, feathers neatly tucked...

she looked strong, regal and wise

Again I sent out my greeting and gratitude...

love and healing...

but could not deny the contrast of the two...

concern filled me...questions swirled through my head

another lesson...perhaps not so much for my survival

but rather, for both of you.

One of the Top Stories of the Decade

It is clear to me that one of the important and "potential for good" stories of this past decade should be the courage of survivors of sexual abuse by clergy (and those who supported them) who dared to publicly speak about the sexual abuse they experienced by their priest and/or church member.  In so doing, the long time betrayal and cover-up by the hierarchy of the Catholic Church was exposed, corroborated and proven, beyond any doubt, by the churches own documents. Seven years later, cases of sexual abuse and cover-up in the Catholic Church continue to be identified, most recently in Ireland.   It is a hard truth for the masses to take in and yet, until they do, the opportunity given by the silence that has been shattered can not be fully realized.  The church and the majority of people continue to role model denial, rationalization and/or blaming others (especially the survivors who told) for what happened.  The church does this for the obvious…greed and protection of itself.  However, the masses seem incapable, unwilling or terrified of accepting that a survivor’s truth does not negate their truth but neither does their truth negate a survivor’s…that the very same priest that sexually abused a survivor may well have appropriately loved and comforted them. But perhaps most importantly the masses ongoing refusal to accept these church documented truths leaves all the children yet to come, catholic or otherwise, in greater danger of being victimized by people they should be able to trust. 
  

While we may never really know the extent of the abuse and cover-up in the Catholic Church, the countless stories this past decade about clergy sexual abuse should help everyone who cares about our children come to understand if sexual abuse can happen in  “holy institutions” it also can happen in all others, including the family.  Only then, when the scope of this heinous crime and urgency in addressing it is accepted and realized, will the potential really exist for creating meaningful changes that results in better protection for all children, catholic or otherwise.  

Thank you...it brought a smile to my face!

For many years now I have been making a weekly trip to Gloucester to meet with my therapist and work towards dealing with my past, being in the present and looking to the future.  The work is hard and painful but, at the same time, it is also freeing and hopeful.  The combination of the Gloucester Coast, beautiful woodlands, quarries and wildlife have been gifts that have made the trip everything from tolerable to incredibly beautiful.  

A couple of years ago, another gift manifested on my trip to and from Gloucester.  It was around this time of the year, driving home after a particularly difficult session, when I first noticed it.  Feeling sad and heavy I suddenly became aware of bright shiny red, gold, green and silver ornament balls hanging on the trees that lined Rte. 128 in Gloucester.  One of the decorated trees was even in the median and it had more ornaments on it than I could count.  I couldn't help but smile at the sight and wondered to myself how did all these decorations get there and then began to imagine what the person or persons would look like going from tree to tree, undoubtedly trying not to get "caught" by the authorities, as they dressed both the naked and still green trees with ornaments.  


As I continued my drive home, I began to notice that I didn't feel quite so heavy....the weight I had been feeling seemed much lighter from what I believe was the power of the smile that spontaneously and seemingly out of my control crept across my face and filled my being with "smile" feelings.  I remember feeling so grateful to whoever had decorated the trees and began thinking about ways I might be able to leave something along another way that just might bring a smile to another. 

Last year I have no recall of seeing the decorated trees...perhaps they were there but I missed them...nonetheless....this past Wednesday on my weekly trip to Gloucester, there they were once again bringing not only a smile to my face but indeed, an out loud chuckle as well as an out loud declaration of "they're back"!   I was so happy and grateful to see them again.  This year they were a little different...it seemed as if two ornaments were strategically placed on naked branches along the side of Rte 128, at a location and height quite easy to see while driving.  The first thing I said when I walked into my therapists' office  was "they're back"!   And on the way home, more smiles danced across my face as there was even a decorated tree in the median.

Now holidays have been a hard time for me over the years... I mean I haven't exactly been of the "bah humbug" nature but they are troubling for me from both a personal history perspective and from a materialistic and collective one as well.  Yet, the time, effort and expense some person of group of persons extended anonymously to place what I consider more "secular" decorations where one would least expect to see them continues to bring a smile to my face.  I don't imagine whoever decorated these trees could ever really know just how much it means to me...in part because I am still awed at how much joy I get out of it.  Part of me really wants to know the story behind it all.... but for now, I will just enjoy what I have seen and let go with thanks and gratitude to whoever is responsible.

We Cannot Move From A Place We Deny We Are...

Here in America, the fourth Thursday in November is set aside to celebrate and give thanks for the Pilgrims coming to this land. As a poor white child I was taught that those who came actually “discovered” this land thereby reducing the Native People to non-people and creating a one-side story that those who live here now are the benefactors of strong, courageous and dedicated explorers looking only for a better way of life.

As I grew from child to adult woman, I had, and continue to have, countless awareness’s about who I am, how I receive the advantages and disadvantages that manifest as privilege or lack of privilege and who benefits and who is hurt from my denial and/or unconsciousness about myself, others and the country and world I live in. It is easy to celebrate the positive…to hold it up for the whole world to see but it is impossible to improve as an individual or as a people unless we are also willing to hold up, accept responsibility and grieve all that is shameful, disrespectful and indeed, horrible. We cannot move from a place we deny we are. We must, both personally and collectively, hold up all our truths and not act as if we are only innocent people who were and are just trying to do whatever. Whether it be the Catholic Church and the majority of it’s people who still cover up its role in the sexual abuse of countless children despite all their documents that prove otherwise, or America denying attempted genocide and betrayal of the Native People or individuals who deny their lack of integrity, biased judgment and abuse of power we need to collectively and individually claim all the truths as part of the whole. It is dangerous and limiting… immoral and irresponsible not to do so.

And so, on this revered American holiday, when most are gathered with their families and are giving thanks to the Pilgrims… I choose to stand with the Native people of this land in a “Day of Mourning”. I choose to honor and give thanks to those who went before… whose spirits still can be heard though their physical bodies were destroyed through attempted genocide…those who trusted in treaties never kept…promises never honored. Those who choose not to deny their reality but rather to speak their truth...which is part of the history of all of our truths…which is part of the whole and in so doing allows a wind of hope to blow over a land and a people who have the power to be better…to be more…

I have been attending the “Day of Mourning” for many years now and when unable to be there physically I am always there in spirit and wherever I may be, my voice speaks of the “Day of Mourning” so that others will know that some of us have not forgotten…some of us still seek accountability…some of us still believe that until all of the story is told, accepted, honored and grieved, we all remain blemished, however differently, with the greed, ignorance and shame of our betrayal and theft of the Native People and their land. And in my standing, I give thanks to those known and unknown people, animals and spirit guides who have loved, supported and challenged me to become as whole as I may be before it is my time to join those others who have already passed on. If you would like more information about “The Day of Mourning” please go to www.uaine.org

It was a rainy day this morning. People asking if we are ever going to have a summer this year with one woman saying “we only have July and August left. I try to gently remind them that summer doesn’t even begin until June 21^st. The weather does bring lots of conversations and becomes the reason for so many different choices. I just had to get away…it was so cold. We installed central air conditioning… it was so hot. The economy may limit some of our choices now but still, the ever changing and unpredictable weather of New England provides many a reason and/or excuse for some of the choices we make and for many of the conversations we have. Like one of my first conversations with a customer this morning.

She was a young white woman. She and her young daughter walked into the store shortly after we opened. I greeted them both with a good morning. The mom was engaged, up-beat and without a doubt, on a mission. Her young daughter, probably no more than eight or nine years old, was a little slower and looked as if perhaps she was just really waking up...the way a lot of kids look early on a weekend morning. The mother asked if we had any rain gear…specifically ponchos. She went onto explain how they were walking against childhood cancer for Tufts New England Medical Center, which I already knew was also known as Boston Floating Hospital for Children. She introduced me to her daughter and said how she had been fighting cancer for the last five years…that the Tufts New England Medical Center was their hospital and that they wanted to give back.

I knew that feeling well. Both my son and daughter had been patients at what I always called Boston Floating. Remembering my own children, I looked at the little girl and just want to hug her. Sometimes people questioned why not Children’s Hospital…it’s the best they would sometimes say to which I would always respond “not for us”. Floating was a blessing to us. The people there did so much for my children, their father and myself…more than just the medical care that was so crucial to their living, growing and becoming the wonderful adult man and woman they are today. They treated us as a family, taught me how to advocate for my children and walked with us through many a “touch and go” moment. My son who is now 39 and my daughter who is now 34 still, in spite of the medical trauma they experienced, remember the hospital with a fondness.

Now I was on a mission…where were those ponchos. We found them and the woman and daughter bought everyone of them…about 16 in all. They wanted to make sure there were extras in case some of the other walkers didn’t have any. I thanked them for the sale and for their walking and wished them break through of the sun. Shortly after they left a black woman walked in. She too was engaged, up-beat and without a doubt, on a mission. “Do you have any raingear” she asked and I turned to her and asked “Are you walking for Floating today?”. She smiled and said “Yes…I just wanted to pick a few up in case there were some walkers that needed them.” I smiled too and told her that a woman and her daughter from the walk had just bought all we had. We laughed. I thanked her for walking and wished her an early breakthrough of the sun. As she left to walk the seven miles in the rain, my wish for the sun, while nice, wasn’t necessary…the three of them were already brightly shining.

The store is a little more tense these days. New management and a new district brings with it new and unfamiliar ways and rules to both the front line staff and the customers who come in each day. Like most everyone else, the economy has had a difficult impact on each of us and has supposedly demanded that hours be cut. The people I work with work hard and the pay is really not enough to survive on...having hours cut makes that even more difficult. We all walk with the knowledge that corporate has the "upper hand" right now...and can get away with more than normal in their treatment of staff.

Still...it is the customers that make it more than just a job for me. Yes, I constantly have my eyes open for a job that will pay more and be less physically demanding for my aging and somewhat wounded body. But I want one that will also bring these "moments of intimacy" I so cherish and learn and grow from. Like today...a young, white woman, came to my register. While she looked somewhat reserved, she also felt quite up-beat. She followed several parent/child customers who had purchased special items for a school field day or just for the end of school in general. All the kids seemed lighter than usual today...summer is coming and with it perhaps expectations of less pressure. They didn't even look as tired this morning as they have on other days. I hope some at least are feeling this...it has been a tough year and, depending on your politics, a wonderful year...but no matter what, the kids get the trickle down effect in ways I think adults can and do easily deny.

Anyhow, when this young woman reached my register she was carrying with her 12 notebooks...the "composition" kind that many of us may be familiar with from our own days in school or journal writing or trying to organize one thing or another. Smiling, I said to her that she was either going to do a lot of writing or she was giving out an assignment to her students to keep a journal over the summer. She smiled and said I was partially correct...the composition notebooks were for her 8th and 9th grade students who she would be going to Rhawanda with this sumer. A "wow" came out of my mouth...a "wow" because I thought how awesome and a "wow" because I am continued to be amazed and awed at the people who come before me each morning...who they are and what they do. She said she wanted to help them prepare a notebook so that they would be ready to start recording their memories of the trip, which will be for three weeks and will start a few weeks after school gets out. She began to get so excited about what awaited them...it would be her first trip to Rhawanda also, although not her first trip chaperoning students to other places in the world. I told her to take lots of pictures and then, have them developed at the store so I could see them. She smiled and said OK and waved good-bye and once again I felt gratitude for being allowed into the life of another...her pending adventure...and the different paths each of us walk. Her trip lingered in my mind a bit as I imagined her and the twelve students getting ready to board the plane...the parents letting them go...the combination of anxiety and excitement playing out individually in each of them...the time difference...the land difference...the cultural difference and the many ways it could, however differently, impact each of them for the rest of their lives. May they each be blessed with openness!

Today is really beautiful...it's about 70 and the sky is a brilliant blue. There is a beautiful breeze blowing air full of a wonderful freshness that I so love.  My windows are open wide...it is like bathing my living space in a way that money and elbow grease, however good, cannot match.  I worked both yesterday and today.  It is such a wonder sharing these moments from so many different people that live, work or visit this urban community store.  Yesterday was Dorchester Day and everyone was wishing everyone a "Happy Dorchester Day" or planning strategies to avoid the traffic and crowds.  Some either didn't know it was happening or forgot and were so grateful for the reminder.  There is a big parade each year on this day and they close down all of Dorchester Avenue.  As I learned one year, if you are not part of the day then you certainly don't want to get caught in it...which is to say you don't want to be on the side of "Dot" Ave. that isn't the side you live on or it will take you hours to get home.  

This morning our Governor stopped in to pick up some odds and ends.  He has been in other times too and seems like a very nice man ... positive energy, which is how I sense people.  I didn't quiz him this morning about the budget or the corruption but instead, we just had some pleasant conversation.  Other folks came in as the morning progressed...we have a large elderly population that lives within walking distance and they visit often.  I imagine the people who come to this store are like a microcosm of our country.  I am impressed with their stamina, determination and attitude in general ... from the very young to the very old they are so responsive to a "good morning" or "I hope your day goes well".  They share so much in these moments at the register...I feel blessed, honored and enriched for the interactions.  Perhaps the best way to share what I mean is to write about an interaction with two customers three weeks ago.

The first was a white man...he had come in before but this morning he just didn't feel right to me...his energy seemed heavy...sad.  I asked how he was doing and, at first he said fine.  As the transaction continued his energy just seemed to get heavier and heavier and I said that I hoped everything was okay.  He looked at me and said that his wife had just died from cancer two days ago...they didn't expect it...she was doing so well.  We talked and even touched each others hands.  When he left he thanked me and I wished him support and healing.  We both had tears in our eyes.

Two customers later a black man walked up to the register.  He had a big smile and enough cleaning supplies to clean a castle.  His energy was excited...happy...expecting and I said "wow, looks like you got some work ahead of you."  He laughed out loud and said "Yea...I am planning on asking my girlfriend to marry me this weekend and I want everything to be perfect".  I melted...it was so sweet...I don't think I every quite pictured a guy cleaning up his place in order to ask his girlfriend to marry him.  We laughed and again, touched hands.  As he left I said that I couldn't imagine her saying anything but yes and wished him much happiness, health and peace.  He thanked me for asking and left saying how he had to get to work!

For a brief moment there were no customers and I thought...that is it...that is why I enjoy this job so much...right here before me...each morning that I am here...the whole cycle of life is presented and I have the honor and privilege not only to witness it but, when allowed, participate in it as well.  The pay, management and corporation may, to be nice, leave things to be desired...but the people...oh the people... in their woundedness...and in their joy... and in their everything in between...keep teaching me each day lessons I didn't even know I needed to learn.     

When I put the rubbish out this morning I noticed this little pansy that had grown and blossomed on the cement stairs.  I thought to myself how incredible...how against all odds...how if I had tried to grow flowers there I doubt that I would have been successful...how sometimes...even when you don't know it...nurturing and love is given and received and ultimately growth happens.  It made me think of my life and many of the lives I have witnessed and how early on in my own healing and recovery process my dear, dear friend Alice gave me a paper weight that just said "Bloom where YOU are planted".  Initially I didn't understand, but with time, love and support started to see some of my blossoms.  Sometimes people would refer to me as a "late bloomer".  As more time passed I realized that I wasn't really a "late bloomer" but that it was hard to bloom in a recognizable sense when you are trying to just survive one day to the next.  As I took in this thought, I wondered if maybe there was no such thing as a "late bloomer" but instead, there were only gardeners that fail to recognize and nurture the growth, blossoms and potential in each plant and tree.   Today, after many years of therapy and recovery and after receiving my 25 year medallion last night, I feel both the beauty and strength of the little pansy above and of the flower below, which was also growing in my yard this morning.  I know that I am both flowers as are each of you. We all have and do have obstacles to navigate and work around.  We all all wounded and in need of healing.   We all are blooming, however differently.  Without a doubt however, my ability to grow, blossom and mature came from accepting where I was planted...changing the ways it had limited me...and embracing that it is all a part of who I am.   Both flowers our equally beautiful to me and, for lack of another word or phrase, mind boggling.  I feel so appreciative for all the gardeners who saw my blossoms and beauty long before I even knew I had any.  May each of us be blessed with the gift to see the blossoms, beauty and strength in others as well.

Today is pretty special to me...it is my 25th anniversary of sobriety.  Twenty five years sober...so much has happened...so many people to be grateful for and to...a day at a time my work continues but I never could have imagined feeling like this and being in this place of acceptance and hope. That's not to say that things don't get rough...they do...but the one thing I do know is that I don't ever have to use alcohol again and that is really incredible.  Thank you to all! 

I guess my first post will be a poem I wrote not too long ago...Hope you like it.

The Ancestors Speak of Aging

Kathleen M. Dwyer      July 18, 2005

Slipping through the veil that separates

today from tomorrow from yesterday

 she seeks understanding about aging from the Ancestors.

They greet her with love and invite her to sit

as they begin to speak gently to her heart.

 

“Do not loose patience with yourself

not when you forget…not when your muscles become weaker…

not when your skin becomes too big for the body it covers

 

Do not loose patience with yourself

not when you become ill…not when recovery slows…

not when you hurt as you move from laying, to sitting to standing.

 

Do not be scared, angry or depressed

as your time lessens and you move closer to the door of your beginning

the door to your real home…the door to real sacredness and connection…

 

This is how it is for all that is life when the cycle begins to near completion

You have worked hard… and experienced much

Your body will carry you to the door

where you will leave it behind as you cross through into a real holy land”

 

She thought a moment and then said

“But I have much left to do before I cross over…

and the journey home is coming soon.

I fear having to leave before I am done”.

 

At this the elders smiled and sighed…

each knew what she was feeling…they too had felt likewise

and so, they spoke to her what had been spoken to them…

“Do not worry…when the time comes to cross over you will have done

what you had come to do

and the ways and beliefs of the world you are leaving

 will melt away and all that is life will celebrate your return

 greeting you with openness and love,

 wrapping you gently in a blanket of protection and peace

until it is time for your new lessons to begin”.

 

With that, the woman smiled and said

“Thank you!  My worries have lifted and my fears have lessened

I will continue to work towards knowledge and wholeness

 and look forward with hope and trust

to the day my body is shed and I enter through the door of my beginning

 to rest from the past and prepare for the future”.