My take-away is that each life is an occurrence, a happening, a matter—not a static thing. We are all a situation spinning and evolving, moving at our own pace, generating our own process and attracting into our vortices our specific key components and elements.
Though I have learned myself to be a person, I am, in fact, a process. And an iterative one at that. An iterative, creative, process. I am a series of actions or steps occurring towards an end.
Yet, the end for this process is not finite; it is expansive. It is the opening to more and less all at once.
It’s the way a river flows into an ocean and an ocean evaporates into the atmosphere; the way condensation gathers into rain drops and rain drops seep into the soil. So forth, I am a process of yes, and.
Imagine that you and one other person are left on earth, with everything of value and of perceived value having been burned to dust. As you stand around in ashes, naked down to your toenails, what do you have? Nothing. You have nothing besides the relationship between the two of you and your relationships with Creator, and that’s only if you believe in that sort of thing. In that moment, as long as your bodily needs for sustenance are met, your bare naked purpose in life will be to nurture and cultivate one another. Only through that shared existence you will know that your life has meaning. The love of the Universe will flow upon the energetic vibrations between the two of you. And it will substantiate you.
As it is, though, with the Earth standing intact, all 7.6 billion of us are each a free-flowing mixture of beautifully balanced energy crackling with the power to help refresh, maintain, irrigate and nourish humanity. Each of us resembles a body of water because we can flow in and through life to create connections and change. At times the flow seems still and peaceful and at others it thrusts rhythmically and unrelentingly against the jagged edges of the world. Either way, if our life energy is intentional towards nurturing and cultivating life, we then are alive. #BefreeLovepeace
Then there was Fidel and his intent to restore strength to a waning life force. His little “Carmelita” lay still in her intensive care hospital bed for nearly a month barely cheating death after a respiratory illness took her down and rendered her unconscious, almost overnight. Carmen is actually not little, but she is a young and, by all accounts, healthy woman. So one day in October 2009, when she went to the hospital complaining of shortness of breath, being sent home with a prescription was all that made sense for the mother of four, who had as little time to be sick as she did for anything else which pertained to her. However, within 24 hours, she was back under a physician’s care and within 24-48 hours after that, she was unconscious, breathing through tubes and high on the list of priorities of the attending infectious disease doctor. Now understand that with there being so many people who love Carmen, there was an immediate overflow of concern, but as time and schedules would have it, much of the visiting traffic tapered off after a couple of weeks. I would imagine some people became discouraged. I would guess others just had other responsibilities. But every day Fidel, Carmen’s dad continued to show up for her. Every day he left his home and entered the English-speaking world armed with his thick Spanish accent, very broken English and his Santo Biblia… his Holy Bible.
Healing Creatively Starts at Diagnosis:Our bodies speak in symptoms; there is more room for healing when we don't shoot the messenger.
What’s more terrifying than finding out that you have been conscripted to go to war? Finding out that the opponent with whom you are warring is actually your own body. Scary stuff this is. Yet, this is what sitting in the doctor’s office receiving a diagnosis of autoimmune disease can feel like. After all, you likely knew something was wrong, which is probably what led you to get things checked out. You were nervous when you entered the medical arena, and now that you know you’re not necessarily dying, you’re terrified. The Boogie Man that had been hiding in the recesses of your imagination, peeking through the cracks of your google search of possible illnesses, is now exposed. You’re relieved it no longer remains nameless, but with a name like Grave’s Disease, autoimmune hepatitis, dermatomyositis, or diabetes it certainly doesn’t sound like anything you want or can live out a normal life with. Then comes the other bad news: the disease that is threatening to rip your life apart is self-induced. Maybe it’s environmental, maybe it’s genetic but the bottom line is your body, seemingly of its own volition, is producing the dangerous antibodies that are attacking you and sending your systems out of whack. And it must be stopped.