`Aha Update #21 Courage and Compassion

“You do not need to know precisely what is happening, or exactly where it is all going. What you need is to recognize the possibilities and challenges offered by the present moment, and to embrace them with courage, faith, and hope.” ~ Thomas Merton (from "The Value of Our Values" )

'Ike aku, 'ike mai, kokua au kokua mai; pela iho la ka nohona 'ohana.
Recognize and be recongized, help and be helped; such is family life.'Olelo No'eau

Yesterday was one of those days when courage, faith and hope were missing in action. The smallest disappointment sent me over the edge and onto futon for hours of restorative sleep. Mine was a fitful sleep more a dive into murky water than calming reassurance. My belly churned from processing more than I could chew. Impatience forced me forward even though I had no spoons left. "So many broken dreams," I moaned.

On the way to the doorway of sleep old teachers, comforting lessons waited just on the other side. I remembered a poem I found the other day. The poem was not one of mine. I included it at the end of a column written in the Hawaii Island Journal to mark the one year anniversary of my trip to Hiroshima. Many friends, Pete and I folded a thousand cranes that year. I had the paper birds boxed and addressed for mailing to the Sadako Sasaki Peace Memorial Celebration. A friend and flight attendant who flew between Honolulu and Japan surprised me with two tickets to Hiroshima. We would hand deliver those 1,000 folded cranes.

The atomic bomb destroyed a nation killing more than a 100,000 people in Hiroshima and 80,000 in nearby Nagasaki. A young Japanese school girl named Sadako was among those who died 10 years after the nuclear bombing of 1945. It was her story and her legacy that motivated the folding of those origami cranes.

The trip (my first and last to Japan) was a miracle -- full of surprises as is so often true of miracles. I had severely injured the ligaments in my lower back days before the scheduled trip and was in a lot of pain. Until the very last minute I was not sure I could make that flight. Others came to my aid, encouraging me, helping to make it possible: one of my yoga students loaned me a magnetic pad to ease the discomfort; once on board the flight the crew (friends of my companion) upgraded us to First-Class so I was able to fly on my back for the eleven hour journey. The people of Hiroshima were wonderful. I spoke no Japanese, but they spoke compassion and when they saw the pain in my face they offered me healing ointments and extra delicious soba (buckwheat noodles) in a succulent broth.

"Broken Dreams"

By Lauretta P. Burns

As children bring their broken toys
With tears for us to mend.
I brought my broken dreams to God
Because He was my Friend.

But then instead of leaving Him
In peace to work alone,
I hung around and tried to help
With ways that were my own.

At last I snatched them back and cried,
"How could You be so slow"-
"My child," He said,
"What could I do? You never did let go."

That experience took courage on my part and it also took letting go long enough to allow the miracle to find its way to me. All these years later I see the history of choices and opportunity mirrored in the challenges Pete and I face now. The remnant  pain of that old back injury returns when life gets difficult. I recoil as I think of the smell of the strong smelling ointment I rubbed into my back. Yet the kindness of strangers and the unforgettable energy my friend and I shared with thousands of other human beings committed to no more A-Bomb is a commitment I live undiluted.

Our broken dream of moving back to Hawaii? We manifested that dream when I was 60 and recently diagnosed with Environmental Illness/Multiple Chemical Sensitivities. Once again that same friend helped with tickets to and from Seattle to Honolulu. But old ways of engaging with life quickly revealed an ill-fitting daily reality. I needed oxygen to fly, and living in rental houses proved impossible. We slept in our car in parking lots, driveways and a front yard. Forcing a dream into old skin proved to be an activity of desperation.

It is not such an unconnected illness being sensitive to the environment that has been tampered with nuclear bombs. The chemistry of atomic weaponry does not disappear nor do the effects of those extremely intense compounds safely break-down. The same chemicals and extreme attitude regarding power mark us all. Our attitudes would need to change as much as our knowledge of Environment Illness. Change is slow, and compassion for ourselves and for others so easy to dismiss. Is our current dream to travel to Elsewhere a lesser destination than home to Hawaii?

Perhaps the ghosts of past dreams broken yet waiting are offering new miracles. When I woke from yesterday's fitful afternoon sleep I had just let go long enough to see another point of view. I sensed the miracle and called my son.

"Podcasts," I said after we greeted each other with me sobbing through sorrow still freshly transforming. "Let's record those Hawaii Island Journal columns into podcasts. What do you think?" I asked.

"Yeah," Christopher said.  We've been talking about collaboration on podcasts and now we had a specific body of work to play with. It will take upgrading my skills as writer and blogger to do this and at the same time it will plant a new seed of resourcefulness for both of us. It will keep evidence of courage and compassion alive to serve again.

Writing these `Aha Updates and researching how to create a Crowdfunding campaign (which has changed in focus but will launch in early September) are giving me the practice I need to hone and reinvent my skills to survive and thrive. Being poor in America is tricky business. Being poor with Environmental illness? That takes a miracle and bits of practical magic.

While I spoke with my son in the vardo Pete was adjusting to his recent changes: retirement from a long term job, preparing to sell Bernadette the 66 Dodge truck that has served so many.  We process change differently my husband and I. Together the journey is always interesting, and neither one of us is as full without the other.

A page from the zine I am illustrating and writing to record The Way to Elsewhere.

Bernadette the '66 Dodge truck now for sale.

In the heavens Saturn will begin moving forward tomorrow, Friday, August 25, 2017 after a long and grinding retrograde that began April 6, 2017. Saturn is an 'outer planet' and therefore a slow moving but collectively felt influence. When Saturn turns direct I will make connection with a friend of a friend who lives in a pristine Northern California location five miles inland from the California coast. She is family to a long-time friend. We are on the way to Elsewhere, that destination not named on maps. With the help of others the fuel for miracles can be a manifestation of 'having your back' or 'being the cushion' to a difficult stretch. Wish us luck with this connection.

Infused with the memories of compassion and connection with strangers on the way to Hiroshima, I am reminded that it takes courage to change. I remember also that the injury to my back in August, 2002 resulted when my newly developing skill as a yoga teacher was led by ego rather than union. Yoga means "union." I had abused my power and broke myself. I continue to learn about power and am humbled by my lessons again and again.

In memory of a young Japanese schoolgirl named Sadako I fold these words like origami and put them here. Special thanks to Peggy for the miraculous experience to and from Hiroshima from Honolulu.

Peace.
Mokihana and Pete