Moorings often refers to the signposts on our journey, which whether we are aware of it or not, will give direction and momentum to our lives. It is often much later that a light-bulb goes off when a certain reality is called for. Especially when something hits me long after the book is written, this Blog comes in handy. We do not often have the luxury of reflections at the moment of a signpost, nor do many of us have total recall to remember it. Then keeping a journal is handy.
As I mentioned in my book, my dad was a gifted therapist, which was especially apparent when the polio epidemic hit. Even a little baby was affected by this polio, to great distress of the mother. As the mom could not pay for the weekly services required, Dad took the child on pro-Bono, while mom was being instructed in play therapy. The last time I saw little Ria, she was 13 years old and was given a final check up before moving on. That very last test was out on the street in front of our home rather than in the limited setting of the clinic, so we, my mom and I, were part of this great momentum. Dad, still wearing his white coat, was told to take it off. I still see Dad rolling it up and throwing it on the bench in front. Shy little Ria, now a big girl of 13, wearing a big triumphant smile, walked up and down with barely a limp!
Now, we are doing a fast forward: I have moved to Canada and live out in the country and Dad has come over from Holland for a visit. Country life has not been one of Dad’s experiences and was he ever being educated in a hurry! When my husband Bill showed him the property, right by the barn they encountered a huge bear! Dad sure stayed close to home after that!
There was a small lawn close to the house that needed mowing, and Dad volunteered for the job, in spite of never ever having had to mow a lawn, let alone operate a lawnmower. Our home in Holland was surrounded by parks which were maintained by the city.
Dad’s approach to mowing a lawn was to cut grass wherever he saw grass that needed cutting, so he went all over the place without a system, up-crossways-down- right-left, and crossways again, to great hilarity to us watching. Well, laughing at a sensitive Pisces’ best efforts is not a fine idea! Dad was more hurt than anything. It is that hurt look that has haunted me to a degree that I still need to make amends for.
It may well be that upon incarnation the Creator gave this man a choice. The choice is between little Ria and the lawnmower: one goes crooked and gives you needed humility, the other goes straight and will give you pride. Which one do you choose? It is of course for me to discover that balance and meaning of what my dad’s life was all about.
However, what triggered this particular signpost is that we all hold a certain balance of humility and pride. For me that balance is about technology and writing. Technology, most certainly is my humility, especially when it finds me without any effort on my own. Yet when I enter a meditative reflection about it, the gift of my writing appears.
Through the signpost of this memory Dad is showing me, long after his death, to have gratitude for the balance in my life. For him the challenge was mowing a lawn, for me it is technology. Then to discover our true gift behind it.
How do you relate to this balance in your life? How do you experience the gift?
Please leave a note about your experience. You do not need to write a blog, but your experience may be a seed thought for someone else.
Would healing a memory make a difference for you and/or for the loved one? For both?