tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2365920818253098912024-03-27T20:21:42.240-07:00Motivated By SpiritA motivational blog to remind ourselves of our grandeur and Divinity.Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.comBlogger346125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-25298813620836497732024-02-01T05:02:00.000-08:002024-02-01T05:02:23.647-08:00Respite<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDJ2W7KLZfyVnSdfpu8KwBsuyymG44ybpuTlmj7wQp1MkAeqVAPQ7gJQ52pkeP0E_fhs65rJATUPiNXiMN4yMc63L0E9hzGnDz5bAu618j2ZK1EJXXSorBB49iY7AX51-e8f0r3NLmLUgPFptl16OZmyCLf2km3rYie5FVlZiE1VR6Vp8Gn6meQj6e9l92/s4160/20231220_163417.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDJ2W7KLZfyVnSdfpu8KwBsuyymG44ybpuTlmj7wQp1MkAeqVAPQ7gJQ52pkeP0E_fhs65rJATUPiNXiMN4yMc63L0E9hzGnDz5bAu618j2ZK1EJXXSorBB49iY7AX51-e8f0r3NLmLUgPFptl16OZmyCLf2km3rYie5FVlZiE1VR6Vp8Gn6meQj6e9l92/s320/20231220_163417.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />Respite a most wonderful word used to conjure magical places, peaceful settings and moments carrying memories to last a lifetime. I recently had a respite. I have been in hospice for about eight weeks now and while in their care, I've felt cared for and nurtured at the very least. Every staff member that interacted with me was an innate caregiver and i felt it. Thus, when I felt myself getting a little weak i could not figure out why. I said nothing to those around me. Then my nurse came for her weekly visit. She took one look at me, and you have declined, not you, you have to be around for Baseball's opening Day in the spring. Pulling up my pants which was beginning to slip, I replied without too much conviction," I'll be here in front of the television." She did not reply so i thought she'd let the matter go. She did her regular checkup, blood sugar, blood pressure, and temperature. Then she scribbled on her tablet, and all the other things she does on her visit, said goodbye and left.<p></p><div>Later that evening, I thought about her words on my declining and the possible reason for the sudden decline. It dawned on me quite alarmingly that I had not been eating for the past few days. The reason was the disruption to our daily lives caused by the renovation being done to the floors on the downstairs level preventing easy access to the areas where food is kept and prepared. This made food almost constantly inaccessible. There is no one responsible but from day to day we went on with our daily lives coming and going not truly noticing the minute changes leading to my decline. with this discovery I sent a text to my grand nurse, mostly garbled because I used the microphone to write the text. Nevertheless, she deciphered the message and called the social worker assigned to my case. That triggered a process of which i was completely ignorant but worked to my benefit. This process my social described to me as a respite and involved the words "Nursing Home. My niece with whom I live literally freaked out. I at the time I simply accepted the resolution both of my hospice caregivers' thought was best for me in that moment.</div><div><br /></div><div>The next day the medical taxi pulled into our driveway, and I was on my way to the nursing home. The driver pulled into a sheltered driveway, unloaded me. Unloaded me onto a wheelchair, wheeled me down a long hallway, stopped in front of my new room door. The driver took out my suitcase and put it in the room in front of the bed closer to door. On the bed behind the front bed sat a woman who grabbed the remote control as soon as I sat on the bed. Events were moving so fast I barely noticed her action and thought nothing of it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I took off my shoes and laid down on the bed. My new roommate and I exchanged names and small talk. shortly thereafter, I fell asleep and slept until I was awakened by loud conversation. I was disoriented and did not know where I was, I opened and looked at an unfamiliar wall with a television perched at the very top of it. I remembered that I was taken to the nursing home, so there was someone there with me. Turning to face the other bed I asked the Roommate if she could turn down the volume. Her answer was a growl and the volume remained where it was." I can't just lay here all day; I need something to occupy my mind." Things did not improve throughout the night. </div><div><br /></div><div>The temperature must have fallen as it got colder, which triggered many trips to the bathroom. Between my bathroom trips and the well-nigh pornographic language blearing from the TV I had a very uncomfortable night. Early the next Morning the nurse knocked on the door to give the roommate her medicine. Upon seeing the face of another human being, I simply started to cry. The nurse's voice filled with compassion as she asked me what was wrong. all chocked up and unable to speak, I could only point to the bed holding the roommate. Understanding washed over the nurse's face and two or three of the other workers' as well. Someone hugged my shoulder and my anguish subsided to a small whimper as I allowed myself to become somewhat calmer.</div><div><br /></div><div> All the time, I was chanting, "I want to go home." Among those in the gathering was the facility's social worker and their equipment manager. One of the managers asked me if given a different would I stay. "Yes", through tears. That brought an end to the entire situation by the door. I was moved to another room on a completely different hallway, which I supposed was for my safety and protection.</div><div><br /></div><div>Six days later I was returned home with the physical proof that my respite worked because I started feeling much better, I am grateful</div>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-33121714405800478002023-12-26T10:20:00.000-08:002023-12-26T10:20:08.845-08:00My Mother Had One<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgwjeexwtFn39s_cvWhIWhWwMQRtozsZoN9A2d_h8Assz6rK1ilm2_flTMLo3EFVEu6AQeLn8pIfs-9NUQunOo5DwTZl50nYxzEt-zX8svIa5K_aQhxm1Flc0iFzuh6WD6VsqUBcCT2_Vz_AQy08e1WyPLTZ_erAUrAC0WGxDSB39zNGXkcpJMepjNY42/s1600/Screenshot_20230707_122129_Gallery.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgwjeexwtFn39s_cvWhIWhWwMQRtozsZoN9A2d_h8Assz6rK1ilm2_flTMLo3EFVEu6AQeLn8pIfs-9NUQunOo5DwTZl50nYxzEt-zX8svIa5K_aQhxm1Flc0iFzuh6WD6VsqUBcCT2_Vz_AQy08e1WyPLTZ_erAUrAC0WGxDSB39zNGXkcpJMepjNY42/s1600/Screenshot_20230707_122129_Gallery.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFSrLuqJqa1ZgQfodCa0DCGxsFdMOil74lA-WQAJAKRIpDB6eRHgyGiVedqUJOADCGEzkbV7Z7wQIknFEiWTmrmNGjkLgkew8KBCpocLI999-wQkcdQYAD3dp31ayRxoHfE0iXAa_yEfYJJfjPZkK_-BzblmPs9YXOd0WIEt82rErKjXDi4HQ2T82LVQfh/s4160/20230525_105630.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFSrLuqJqa1ZgQfodCa0DCGxsFdMOil74lA-WQAJAKRIpDB6eRHgyGiVedqUJOADCGEzkbV7Z7wQIknFEiWTmrmNGjkLgkew8KBCpocLI999-wQkcdQYAD3dp31ayRxoHfE0iXAa_yEfYJJfjPZkK_-BzblmPs9YXOd0WIEt82rErKjXDi4HQ2T82LVQfh/s320/20230525_105630.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />As I was sitting on the edge of my bed playing solitaire, listening to the commentary on the politics channel as white noise. I was not paying much attention. Then I sat up with a jerk as I heard the law professor lady say having a still birth is an abortion. What? I have always lived under the presumption that an abortion was an overt deliberate act, not something that happened during a natural physical condition. Yet from the lawyer lady's statement, my mother had one. This happened when I was about eight or nine, I cannot now remember the specific year. Mama had slowly gotten fatter, and everyone was talking about a baby coming.<p></p><p>Mama started gathering items for the baby. I instinctively knew they were not for me, because they were laundered and folded in the top bureau drawer by themselves. Every time Aunt Kathleen came over, she and Mama would sit on the bed and examine the contents of that drawer and admire them before, refolding them and placing them back, after much nudging one another and laughing. They would have long adult conversation and send me out of the room, after some lap time from Aunt Kathleen who loved to cuddle me.</p><p>I was not particular pleased with a baby coming soon, because up until then, I was the baby. Being the baby was extremely advantageous. I was privileged to sit on whatever lap was available. Small treats were always given to the baby. The baby was never sent to get a neighbor to come visit or bring something for Mama. Houshold chores were never done by the baby. If there was only one mango, that too went to the baby. Something in our everyday routine changed, and I did not quite understand why. This significant change consisted of a new person entering our normal routine. Every once in a while, a lady would come over and Mama would put me outside while they huddle in the room. I did not know who the lady was, but Mama told my brother her name and where she lived. This was related to me by my brother in a boastful manner letting me know he was informed on matters, I was not.</p><p>Time passed, Mama got fatter and fatter. She seemed to slow down in her activities and would lay down as soon as she came home from work every day. However, her lap was still available to me, but not as often as it was when started getting fat. As my lap time grew less frequent, I connived to get a snuggle as often I could. One day Mama did not go to work. Then she stayed home from work for a few days after that. She would make tea for my brother and me and lay down after that, it was holiday from school, so we played while Mama slept. We stayed in the yard when Mama stopped going to work, So, when she needed anything, she would call my brother to fetch it for her, which he was always eager to do as she stayed in the room all day every day. One day she called my brother to come in right away. He bounded in and came out immediately and ran out the gate and down the road. I hovered at the door without going in because she did not call me. Within a few minutes my brother burst back through the gate on a run and hovered beside me at the door. Shortly thereafter the lady who was used to visit every once in a while, to talk with Mama, came rushing through the gate and went into the room making sure she closed the door behind her.</p><p>Huddling by the door, I heard Mama groaning. I also heard her pacing back and forth and snapping her fingers, between groans. At one point she looked out the door and told me to go get Aunt Kathleen. I burst through the gate and ran fast down the street to Aunt Kathleen's house. I blurted out, "Mama want you to Come." Without saying a word, she put down the dish cloth she was using to dry dishes and walked out the kitchen and headed for her gate and up the street to our house. I followed her but stayed a little behind because I could not walk as fast as she was walking.</p><p>When we got to the house, Aunt Kathleen bounded up the steps and into the room, I tried to follow her into the room, but she gently stopped me and closed the door. A little while later, Aunt Kathleen came out and told my brother and I to go around to the front of the house and stay there. My brother who always know what was happening, was silent. He did not poke me to boast about knowing what was happening; he just sat there and behaved himself. I wanted to know what was happening in the room and fidgeted as there was no way to find out, and my brother was not talking if he knew.</p><p>Aunt Kathleen finally came around and get us. She reached out her hand to me and I gladly fell into her arms as my brother came up to her free side and she rubbed his head even while hugging me. The baby was gone she told us and there were tears in her eye. Come she said and we went to her house where we stayed for a few days.</p><p> After she fed us and her three children, Aunt Kathleen sat on the chair by the door and pulled me on her lap. She gestured to my brother to come and lean on her side; she rubbed his head when he did. When she was satisfied, we were comforted, she said in a very soft voice We buried the baby in the back garden. That's when I understood that the baby was dead. As soon as that fact became clear to me; I knew for a fact that I had killed the baby, At, first, I did not want the baby to come I must have killed her. That was why the baby died. I killed her. It took me a very long time to let go of the guilt I carried for not wanting the baby.</p><p>When I heard the Lawer lady on TV say that a still birth was an abortion I understood that my mother had an unwitting abortion way back when my sister was still born. I was a little girl myself. The dawn of that information on my consciousness, gave me a plank on which to stand and forgive myself for my baby sister being a still birth.</p><p><b><i>Photo of a photo of my mother with a photo of a younger me in the corner.</i></b></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-40310162138580222722023-12-17T14:15:00.000-08:002023-12-17T14:15:44.789-08:00Short Pants<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77xHDOBMXhyphenhyphenZNeiJzsqdeJnFU6c3GT_mJ078gDWekQrVhPW85yRJn66G8IVa32K4V4xjVCQlNPY1pQSPLsxR4t8BoinlTsw7m3nnnb3ATH-Gqvqi16aS62QwckV4-1mKBS9LJmlx5_dV88OwGMG06AvRlA9w3HwYCNw4Br_x5mM3CulZFTkk1P0K4MISn/s4160/20230525_155026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg77xHDOBMXhyphenhyphenZNeiJzsqdeJnFU6c3GT_mJ078gDWekQrVhPW85yRJn66G8IVa32K4V4xjVCQlNPY1pQSPLsxR4t8BoinlTsw7m3nnnb3ATH-Gqvqi16aS62QwckV4-1mKBS9LJmlx5_dV88OwGMG06AvRlA9w3HwYCNw4Br_x5mM3CulZFTkk1P0K4MISn/s320/20230525_155026.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>( The poem honoring my brother also shared the cultural tradition in my community as a child that a boy was not declared a man until he was given long pants by his parents.)<p></p><p><br /><i> My brother was in short pants then<span> </span></i></p><p><span>Although he won't admit it</span></p><p><span>To hear him tell</span></p><p><span>He'd never been a boy always a man.</span></p><p><span>We'd roam the hills to shoot at </span>birds</p><p>With sling shots made from branches</p><p>We'd catch at some</p><p>To roast on sandy gully floors</p><p>Over fire made from twigs.</p><p><i>My brother was in short pants then.</i></p><p>Come mango time we'd pick and eat</p><p>And eat all we could hold</p><p>Mama never said a word </p><p>She'd always let us do it</p><p>He'd save the nuts from cashew trees</p><p>In gallon kerosene tins</p><p>The feast we had on roasting day</p><p>Precluded eating dinner</p><p>How he would scream And hit at me</p><p>For eating and not saving.</p><p><i>My brother was in short pants then.</i></p><p>He'd fetch the wood to build the fire</p><p>The fire for cooking dinner</p><p>He'd make two bundles of the twigs</p><p>One for him a smaller one for me</p><p>We'd balance them upon our heads</p><p>A gift to show</p><p>Our day away</p><p>Had not been only fun</p><p><i>My brother was in short pants then.</i></p><p>They shamed him for his slowness</p><p>In mastering the skills</p><p>The reading and the writing</p><p>The sums left unfulled</p><p><br /></p><p>They never gave a single thought</p><p>To all that he'd accomplish</p><p>Outside from books away from school</p><p>The structures he'd define</p><p>He did the things a man should do</p><p>And buildand build all day</p><p>His hands would carve</p><p>And hammer and nail</p><p>And plaster all kinds of clay</p><p>My brother was in short pants then</p><p>Although he won't admit it</p><p>To hear him tell</p><p>He'd never been a boy always a man.</p><p>I was so proud to be his friend</p><p><br /></p><p>He never seem to mind</p><p>My being along among his crowd</p><p>The only girl around</p><p>Meddling in the games they played</p><p>Messing up the scores</p><p>He was the driver of the bus</p><p>And I the only fare</p><p>The tree limb crashed</p><p>I tore my leg</p><p>But somehow didn't care</p><p>Because my brother was there.</p><p>My brother was in shortpants then</p><p>Although I won't admit it</p><p>To hear me tell</p><p>He'd always been a man.</p><p><b><i>My brother's Photo: it was the only photo of a family member we had during my childhood</i></b></p><p><b><i>Somehow it was damaged.</i></b></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-55621058231955111442023-12-12T06:40:00.000-08:002023-12-12T06:40:14.213-08:00Shrinking The Bubble<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHMqzMokmC_uEi60hv4RnvS9t2fGrmg_hSeD4bK6rdRJn5fNZzWCX5iDUi9v_DAUvx-_MYofc4LmXz5oJYca9Hs1AXhDId5bkV2IEiLsNf9VE_rUjNf1IK36pVIg83Kqf6D5tsjI0dxhXhqajAxuNtH1gyA6iyCpn3rirFjiy97GozK1k49ScRc5xhra4z/s2560/20190217_171737.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHMqzMokmC_uEi60hv4RnvS9t2fGrmg_hSeD4bK6rdRJn5fNZzWCX5iDUi9v_DAUvx-_MYofc4LmXz5oJYca9Hs1AXhDId5bkV2IEiLsNf9VE_rUjNf1IK36pVIg83Kqf6D5tsjI0dxhXhqajAxuNtH1gyA6iyCpn3rirFjiy97GozK1k49ScRc5xhra4z/s320/20190217_171737.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br />Yesterday, my bubble of anticipation shrank a wee bit. My ride arrived on time, then drove me and the niece to the dentist's office without incident. I almost bounded into the office greeting all I saw with my now familiar toothless smile. What I was there for was the teeth to change that condition. The wonderful assistant came to the door guarding the inner parts of the practice and invited me to come in. I fumbled for a minute but grabbed my walking stick and followed her in. Sit down she invited me, I gladly did so. She opened the case sitting on the attachment of the chair and pulled out the bottom teeth with the pink gums glistening under pearly white even teeth on top of them. Open, she encouraged, I obeyed, and she inserted the longed-for lower denture. She reached in the case again and extracted the upper denture which I had given them on my previous visit and inserted that in my mouth.<p></p><p>She then produced a small mirror held it up to my face and asked me to close my mouth and look into the mirror. Oh my! There they were a little uncomfortable but oh so beautiful. Indeed, I now had a mouth full of teeth, my joy was at the top of my mounting happiness. Then she pulled the plug. This is not for me to walk away with, but a try in. Only if all was in order and I was satisfied with the product could I have them. Once all those conditions were met, they would be sent back to the lab to be set in permanent material. Then I would have them. Behind my eyes I felt tears, so strong was my sense of disappointment. My niece and I walked out of the office and headed for home. She spotted it first.</p><p>At the opposite end of the shopping center from the dentist's office was a small Jamaican restaurant. My niece made me walk there. We did, and I had some soft but tasty Jamaican food. Time for me to begin to grow my bubble of anticipation larger for my next visit to this dentist. New work for me to do.</p><p>Today is Tuesday, or a week after the top of this post was written. My anticipation bubble has not only grown but added gratitude as a large room inside of it.</p><p>Yesterday Jemille came for a visit. The gratitude room became a mansion right before my eyes. Love is now splashing all over my consciousness. So, all pervasive is this love, there is no room for any other thought or feeling. </p><p>I am so very grateful for all the ups and downs that brought me to this place of contentment and JOY.</p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-39049079690757795722023-12-07T06:25:00.000-08:002023-12-07T06:25:05.342-08:00Energy Burst<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxXCQq8CJ87CLJm5-xsSU2b2F7w_vkDVb4NF5n3yXuqfcQTUFermcLdo4N-kmr25Wc0HOujjxCeInZ8wAC_nY0AITv15EhSZ8S7bV6jA0s4fKyAgaizCjlyJDfCBJU79mgRzQHkIXCQfCc1MDhylsJzaYesWaRKUzJ19Z6mUilKFyKvX3fTu8Pt_Ij4hAr/s4160/20231207_015217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxXCQq8CJ87CLJm5-xsSU2b2F7w_vkDVb4NF5n3yXuqfcQTUFermcLdo4N-kmr25Wc0HOujjxCeInZ8wAC_nY0AITv15EhSZ8S7bV6jA0s4fKyAgaizCjlyJDfCBJU79mgRzQHkIXCQfCc1MDhylsJzaYesWaRKUzJ19Z6mUilKFyKvX3fTu8Pt_Ij4hAr/s320/20231207_015217.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />There is a shift in my body. It is just past 1am and I am rearing to go. I have moved things around in the middle drawer of the small chest of drawers holding my folded clothes. I dug through all the drawers searching for a particular cap that I want to wear to the dentist tomorrow. The reason for wanting that particular cap is it present the look I wish to have when I take the selfie with my new dentures. I am reveling in the same sense of anticipation I get when preparing for a big event the next day.<p></p><p>This is a forward looking feeling I have not had for the longest time. Truth is I can't remember feeling this energized since the second round with the cancer began. Instead, my prevailing mood for the longest time has been a low-grade malaise so familiar, I did not notice, nor acknowledge it for what it was. All during this stretch I would have bubbling moments of dancing energy, but never true anticipation. Because most of my focus has been on doctor's appointments and phone calls attempting to make arrangements for one service or another. </p><p>This new energy has the texture of "opening day is tomorrow, a big party is tonight, or the day before the photograph at the top of this post was taken." That photograph is of me at the book signing for my second book, Beyond Personality. The day before that event, I was bursting with the energy of anticipation and had great difficulty sitting down. This is a familiar energy, but one I have not felt in years. I hardly notice it's absence, and when I turned my mind to processing its absence, I attributed that to the aging process.</p><p>It is now 9:00am, took a nap after completing the last paragraph, woke up and had my first cup of coffee. The exuberance is mounting toward the crescendo when my new denture is inserted at noon. I will wrap up this blog post, get dressed and leave for the dentist's office. I promise you I will resume this saga tomorrow.</p><p>For now, in love and light, I bequeath you love.</p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-84197772602782308822023-12-05T16:57:00.000-08:002023-12-05T16:57:10.061-08:00My Human Body<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjykoDP6w9O8hMBdsby3h64C9JbKAXJ4W3Kw4JDubbuJAP5MZYjT2ES0y5JLAJIElkIB1aHFggjoVVqsSqRs7Qrxaj3lQsES4yQkYnzWCTS-X68vZ8IVBbb6vBn2ch1tJVknnRbi-hEXBAbKKS9ArbvM-F49XfMpB5FkSusU2c8GEyUIe3a5sRDKzH1_oOI/s4160/IMG_20211117_125034734.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjykoDP6w9O8hMBdsby3h64C9JbKAXJ4W3Kw4JDubbuJAP5MZYjT2ES0y5JLAJIElkIB1aHFggjoVVqsSqRs7Qrxaj3lQsES4yQkYnzWCTS-X68vZ8IVBbb6vBn2ch1tJVknnRbi-hEXBAbKKS9ArbvM-F49XfMpB5FkSusU2c8GEyUIe3a5sRDKzH1_oOI/s320/IMG_20211117_125034734.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> I am becoming aware that I have been experiencing my physical body somewhat differently since going on Hospice. During the two years leading up to becoming a client of hospice I was experiencing the body through the rhythms of cancer medications, pet scans, MRIs, infusions and the effects those procedures had on and within the body. Then, towards the end of those cycles, severe pain. <p></p><p>Saturday night, that changed drastically and perhaps I did not handle with as much grace as I would like to boast about. It started with copious sweating, not the famous hot flashes women are supposed to get, but a drenching sweat which forbad sleep all night long. accompanying the sweating was a debilitating weakness, which asked nothing more than I lay down with my eyes close. This malaise followed me into Sunday. I called my wonderful nurse, and she comforted me and encouraged me to eat something when I confessed, I had not eaten for the past two days. Toward nightfall on Sunday a smidgen of an appetite showed itself, and my niece made a steaming bowl of oatmeal which I gladly ate.</p><p> After that I slept until Monday morning, sweaty clothes and all. Come Monday morning the cheerful bather showed up and proceeded to assist me with a bath which took that sweaty feeling from my body. Her attention and caring lifted my spirits and left me with a feeling of exhilaration. and joy. After she left, and with clean pajamas on, I made myself breakfast and slept. Actually, I slept almost the entire day and night.</p><p>Today is Tuesday and a new pattern is revealing itself. I feel renewed and very lively. To make my day as perfect as a day can be, my hospice assigned chaplain visited, shortly after noon. No sooner had she left when my favorite nurse came for her weekly visit.</p><p>I am so very grateful for the new pattern that is emerging. It will afford a new consciousness through which to see living my Human Body.</p><p><b><i>The Photo was taken November 2021 at the start of the cancer treatment, I was on my way to radiation treatment.</i></b></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-76905705424047543262023-11-23T13:00:00.000-08:002023-11-23T13:00:44.072-08:00My Thanksgiving Day<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-oLVT5xla_9J0mD2rFggobzV82N9b927b8JPP-juNpycHrmv61X6xW9BfTq2bMZKDTpN_KuX3FQKb4jqmUey2BNnevauxj0yQKLIdIJsrNFrPWafIMz7FgrrRC9Uh4HCh8j8mW8jPo0ggFT5Uw3fnRNz0KnEveWFUz2SvrE-N8nSUSeutEzSpb_O8Yyg/s4160/20231123_110638.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-oLVT5xla_9J0mD2rFggobzV82N9b927b8JPP-juNpycHrmv61X6xW9BfTq2bMZKDTpN_KuX3FQKb4jqmUey2BNnevauxj0yQKLIdIJsrNFrPWafIMz7FgrrRC9Uh4HCh8j8mW8jPo0ggFT5Uw3fnRNz0KnEveWFUz2SvrE-N8nSUSeutEzSpb_O8Yyg/s320/20231123_110638.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />Yes, I am here with so much to be thankful for. Top on the very extensive personal gratitude list is the controlling of pain I have been having, Though the pain is present, it is so controlled with the medication, it now stays in the background of my consciousness. Far away now is the sharp burning that triggers small groans and sometimes an occasional scream.<p></p><p> Today as you know Americans tend to indulge in the very American habit of excessive eating. So, although I did not go on the family excursion to house of my great nephew, arrangement was made for me to have my private indulgence. My niece's husband, who is a chef, came over and made me most of the traditional Thanksgiving foods. That deed of kindness further enhanced the growing feeling I have of being cared for lavishly. This care is above and beyond the ordinary knowing of being loved and favored as a treasured part of this great and tender Universe in which we have being.</p><p>On the list of my many blessings are my friends who check on me every day and seem to like hearing the day-to-day segments of my story. The personnel sent to me by hospice extends the list. These loving beings meet my physical needs as well indulge me by laughing at my silly jokes. Added to that attention and care, my niece ran into the Nurse Practitioner who cared for me in the first phase of cancer's second visit about two years ago. She called me and gave him the phone and we had a very wonderful visit. The days leading up to this Thanksgiving Day were personally satisfying. How can I be anything less than grateful.</p><p><b><i>The flowers brought to me today by one of my beloved non-related family. See, I told you so!</i></b></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-28542265053376260922023-11-23T11:53:00.000-08:002023-11-23T11:53:10.873-08:00One week in<p><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQxvu9wDc5R4NRlEiMLtxLJdEq9TTm_FV0nGNCaaHLVB4ETHkm5OsXIRXmh9sDhpNZkbKbdOx3gjFcv8EQW1ZDx77kToQ9OUpZOBnfwP21-Al1Pbi2vYGlPVUSp8PO8iR32tbt6E_YB_A7VccOsYSgYONW6tXbJAWDA4e_a9VUULAQnqoDhJiwpBlxPaHO/s4160/20230714_081259.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQxvu9wDc5R4NRlEiMLtxLJdEq9TTm_FV0nGNCaaHLVB4ETHkm5OsXIRXmh9sDhpNZkbKbdOx3gjFcv8EQW1ZDx77kToQ9OUpZOBnfwP21-Al1Pbi2vYGlPVUSp8PO8iR32tbt6E_YB_A7VccOsYSgYONW6tXbJAWDA4e_a9VUULAQnqoDhJiwpBlxPaHO/s320/20230714_081259.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />Yes, it has been one full week since I signed up for Hospice. A lot of wonderful events filled that week. There is my assigned nurse with the perfect teeth, causing me to miss my own teeth even more. Well, that is being rectified soon, as I made my dental appointment last Friday. A wonderful treat as an impression was made for my new denture. That's just step one. The great delight of my first week was the bathing ladies two of them. Put me in the tub, they did and insisted that I had a bath. No, I screamed like the two-year-old I have become, I don't want to have a bath, but then it became so soothing and caring, that I half sobbed, I like it. The nurtured feeling the bath gave me lasted all day. I must pause here to mention the reclining chair which came the day after I signed on. The pain nulling medicine came near midnight on signing day. Because it is a narcotic my niece signed for it before going to bed. That settled the day, so I slept all night for the first time in months.<p></p><p>There is still some pain but not enough to trigger much complaining. Here is a bonus I did not see coming, so much so it surprised me. That bonus isa feeling I now have that a burden had been lifted. I was totally unaware that handling the constant pain was a burden, but it was, with the pain gone a new and exhilarating freedom enfolded my awareness. I am grateful.</p><p><i><b>An old timey picture of me</b></i></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-45679587082655451522023-11-05T08:17:00.000-08:002023-11-05T08:17:36.500-08:00Pulling a Jimmy Carter<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDyTZ5LosXoE6wfoRDgK-eczV09ruAKrd92Syq7d-3W0v9Wac5B0hseJk6byC0zlvvhsXeyC8cKSV2j5p0fPkooCS2CE1imCVp3FQwOQzYzRjZqT8-As9lgLCM85oJN0aBtWg-5-ribNuIoHv4n8IbDfdiUuXAEkT4xiahfPETCQKHTXZlLmJ9ouw_8j1M/s2592/20231016_120211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDyTZ5LosXoE6wfoRDgK-eczV09ruAKrd92Syq7d-3W0v9Wac5B0hseJk6byC0zlvvhsXeyC8cKSV2j5p0fPkooCS2CE1imCVp3FQwOQzYzRjZqT8-As9lgLCM85oJN0aBtWg-5-ribNuIoHv4n8IbDfdiUuXAEkT4xiahfPETCQKHTXZlLmJ9ouw_8j1M/s320/20231016_120211.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />I am about to pull a Jimmy Carter. How you may ask. Here's how, I have just signed up for Hospice care. If you may recall the oldest living past President has been on Hospice since February 2023.<p></p><p>More than likely, I will do Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve and of course my birthday in February 2024.</p><p>The decision was a joyous one. For the past two or three months I have been uncomfortable with constant pain in various parts of my body. Palliative care now is much more preferable than the aggressive care I have been taking. I have become quite fund of the caregivers at the cancer clinic as well as the MRI clinic and will miss seeing them. However, it is time to say farewell to them.</p><p>I will have to find a way to have those wonderful chats with Miss Kat during my ride back and forth to my treatments.</p><p>Don't get me wrong the cancer drugs and the radiation treatment have decidedly slowed the progression of the cancer that has decided to cohabit the body in which I live.</p><p>That cancer had its part to play in the path my soul chose to travel in this incarnation, I am grateful for its service to the greater whole through me.</p><p>I will be documenting my trip with Hospice here so watch this space.</p><p><b><i>The photo is a recent selfie after I had my teeth pulled, please note a full denture will be here in a few weeks from now.</i></b></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-87227287097671438812023-10-05T02:44:00.000-07:002023-10-05T02:44:27.132-07:00Bright Spots<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPb4BWcYeIA3a81MMp5zQp6y8LkfWKHspP4OGQZAaUxvM89MyhYH0OmLTVa1uM9zeD16l1OR2mS0lzKBP99EnUfDCobaM8q6uFtAPn7QvMoNkvFw026hlhSQV8OYHNBEVs_T_6ac-2OK1wycrEZkDMFzeijtnaIEuuBM3zgcHIVQilrxmHcLZKIeYaYQtS/s2592/20230707_085636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPb4BWcYeIA3a81MMp5zQp6y8LkfWKHspP4OGQZAaUxvM89MyhYH0OmLTVa1uM9zeD16l1OR2mS0lzKBP99EnUfDCobaM8q6uFtAPn7QvMoNkvFw026hlhSQV8OYHNBEVs_T_6ac-2OK1wycrEZkDMFzeijtnaIEuuBM3zgcHIVQilrxmHcLZKIeYaYQtS/s320/20230707_085636.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />Yesterday, I finally gave in and called an ambulance and gat myself taken to the ER, where I saw Doctor handsome, I 'sware to God' he was straight out of central casting. Never mind the eye candy doctor. Let me tell you about the pain. It was steady with shooting moments that solicited a scream, sometimes it started under my left armpit and wound its way down the arm and into the elbow. All the while the pain was accompanied by thundering belches.<p></p><p>So, here's the first bright spot, they took an Xray of my left shoulder, right there in the ER waiting room. No calling down to imaging, no being wheeled down long hallways but in the screened room on the bed which served as a gurney. The young technician wheeled in a device fit for a science fiction movie, pointed it at me asked me to turn my head to the right, said thank you to me and it was done, and she was gone. </p><p>A few groaning minutes went by, and I closed my eyes for a brief meditation, a practice I do when I have to wait for the attention of medical persons to come to see me. I dozed some, then the curtain was drawn open and there stood Dr Handsome all smiles, with the second bright spot. There was a pinched nerve triggering the pain, and he had a doctor within the system that could take care of such a situation, I should make an appointment as soon as possible. You bet I will as soon as offices open.</p><p> I am so very grateful to know what to do about the pain which occupied my awareness for more than a month. </p><p>There are bright spots in every day, that was mine Today.</p><p><b><i>Photo is one of the many selfies I have been taking recently.</i></b></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-62050935681193802972023-09-17T21:54:00.000-07:002023-09-17T21:54:09.597-07:00The Singularity of Oneness<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvzBYimxURnv8DETfNmnu0YQNjInkc_Rybax0lj7FzOH3KG6sQkAVfoDLPj7gdRDaQFkmCBd4d8tQll2BSXgI_ApThKblqQg8gwmr_CmX6MAMXZYlgtkeJAqM9k3vmuxhLyALKmxa1RX4RzKW1na01pnO_HBURZzoHbuXjV2QI_Yx_fWtAW3LOx6jPks-/s4160/20230913_081006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvzBYimxURnv8DETfNmnu0YQNjInkc_Rybax0lj7FzOH3KG6sQkAVfoDLPj7gdRDaQFkmCBd4d8tQll2BSXgI_ApThKblqQg8gwmr_CmX6MAMXZYlgtkeJAqM9k3vmuxhLyALKmxa1RX4RzKW1na01pnO_HBURZzoHbuXjV2QI_Yx_fWtAW3LOx6jPks-/w150-h200/20230913_081006.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><br /> It's well past midnight and the television is playing something from the Meditative Mind on YouTube. My mind has entered into introspective and prospective mode that is somewhere it has not gone for many months. So, I feel compelled to write. <p></p><p>I'll start with the events of the past few days. I have been in a lot of pain due to the withdrawal of the cancer medication and its reappearance after the extraction of my few remaining teeth. Not having teeth leaves me with a limited types of foods to ingest. These are oatmeal, grits, mash potatoes ice cream and anything soft that does not require chewing. That is a boring gastronomical experience. The pain interrupts my sleep. All of the physical discomfort, I used to request my soul to leave this particular body. Sometimes this request was done in tears and with some self-pity.</p><p>The answer was always the same as it has been since I began this phase of my earth journey three years ago. No, there is more work this body has to do to complete the contract soul agreed to before entering this particular incarnation. Being me, I questioned if physical pain was a part of the expansion process. That is how I draw it up was the amusing reply.</p><p>These conversations with my soul marks the portion of my consciousness firmly implanted in the reality of duality quite interesting and amuses the rest of my soul which has remained fully ensconced in the Singularity of Oneness. This seeming bifurcation may appear as a sign of madness or dotage. It's not for me to say. </p><p><i><b>A recently unearthed photograph of me possible taken in an arcade self-photo booth, now placed on the back if an envelope and taken with the phone.</b></i></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-68577533618533777762023-08-22T01:12:00.001-07:002023-08-22T01:12:54.966-07:00Karma's Hand<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipD-o1_USKijBqo5FICZo9olhZsv98gBwIHLTleTJzN72Ar0C7gOr5psyOoM4L7HOYhUqYqmke4N1_p1xnF87Anz4LQ66U-Zmn0RmXiTVWhINlBAEfBOBbJBR0FfMYkh7NFcG9BdYF38a4vvBCeDhDrz8rqZ86YETxfUJLknpEEfraSAhyEIB0OS_QDIP3/s4160/20230701_131314.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipD-o1_USKijBqo5FICZo9olhZsv98gBwIHLTleTJzN72Ar0C7gOr5psyOoM4L7HOYhUqYqmke4N1_p1xnF87Anz4LQ66U-Zmn0RmXiTVWhINlBAEfBOBbJBR0FfMYkh7NFcG9BdYF38a4vvBCeDhDrz8rqZ86YETxfUJLknpEEfraSAhyEIB0OS_QDIP3/s320/20230701_131314.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><b>Fani in Atlanta, Tishia in New York and Tanya in Washington D C, these</b> are the Black Women Karma is holding in Its timely hand to fulfill Its immediate purpose of correcting the curve in the road of America's Democracy and restoring balance in the forward march to the multi-cultural, multi racial, prosperous society, which is the intent of America's founding.<p></p><p>The balance comes in the form of accountability and reckoning to the one man who has become the glaring symbol of our collective imbalance.</p><p>What does this have to do with Human Spirituality you may ask?</p><p>Answer. Everything. We humans are Spiritual Beings with an earthly purpose. That purpose is to harmonize our relationship with the planet and all of its inhabitants, including ourselves.</p><p> We lost our way and the man who is experiencing the hand of Karma is the outward display of the correction that is underway.</p><p>Give ourselves a pat on the back and have a celebration for the grand correction we've made.</p><p><b><i><span style="color: #ff00fe;">The Photograph is of my beautiful mother, Miss Ena</span></i></b></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-62568763831524803502023-06-07T03:19:00.000-07:002023-06-07T03:19:46.694-07:00The Smells of the Earth<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvo06Tk-3nZg9_At-WoV00FbB7rR68mfac8xNM1y5IFQ5iAB_Zn4nE81QA4QVNeX_TOvcd2KQ4VDOMbuz5eAn6Sx5ZWXVX7Yf908BWh_70eQF-3pIefNf9nvZs6T-sFMaBBqDmohQadPY_wk1FZCiKkZUQlzgrZCk0afq-kPg_SZ446syMdRDJn3bzPQ/s4160/20230214_164140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvo06Tk-3nZg9_At-WoV00FbB7rR68mfac8xNM1y5IFQ5iAB_Zn4nE81QA4QVNeX_TOvcd2KQ4VDOMbuz5eAn6Sx5ZWXVX7Yf908BWh_70eQF-3pIefNf9nvZs6T-sFMaBBqDmohQadPY_wk1FZCiKkZUQlzgrZCk0afq-kPg_SZ446syMdRDJn3bzPQ/s320/20230214_164140.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />Yesterday, in the early afternoon I managed to get outside of the house. That may not sound as an achievement to some who come and go whenever they want to ou, or with very little notice of this feat. But to me it was a great overcoming. So much so, that while in the midst of this grand accomplishment, I texted a friend to woller in the glory of it all. I opened the back door and stepped out on the patio and sat on the bench that was a few steps away from the door.<p></p><p>The sun was warm. I immediately noticed that there were there were birds picking food from the grass, a few bees on the dandelions the mower missed, and the dappled sunshine under the tree by the fence. A very cooling breeze surrounded my body in an embrace I had not felt in what seemed like ages.</p><p>Then one of my favorite smells of the Earth caressed my nostrils with its familiar fragrance. The smell of freshly mowed grass thrilled me with pleasure and joy. I luxuriated for a long time in the intense feelings of joy I was experiencing.</p><p>As you can see in the recent photograph of me in this post, I spend most of my time in bed, because it requires less energy than moving around. Thus, my little excursion into the small outdoors was a delight to my whole bring. It brings a new sense of aliveness that makes my heart sing lullabies of thanksgiving to life for still being here in this body.</p><p><i><b>In Love and Light, I bequeath you Love.</b></i></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-38347270097196425182023-06-05T06:11:00.001-07:002023-06-05T06:11:51.199-07:00Reaching out<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEh50OETxxBK6Y-gEdmQgB2pmt2YucWzcUeTogyN3lDuDTcptIOj9Lvg-a9gYPtlezZBh7pvSxs7q4NwIjjlQNPhe7is11ExxxawkNC9su1BmpXQd6fnS2sfLMkP7OA0mxD6aVXMcwyqt5G6qXbNCioP_z9ySh3OSgexBgcaRig7qseKgMN_41aRJSpw/s4160/20230516_152030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEh50OETxxBK6Y-gEdmQgB2pmt2YucWzcUeTogyN3lDuDTcptIOj9Lvg-a9gYPtlezZBh7pvSxs7q4NwIjjlQNPhe7is11ExxxawkNC9su1BmpXQd6fnS2sfLMkP7OA0mxD6aVXMcwyqt5G6qXbNCioP_z9ySh3OSgexBgcaRig7qseKgMN_41aRJSpw/s320/20230516_152030.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> Today I spoke with my very dear friend, and she mentioned that a mutual friend was on her mind. I said that same friend has been on my mind as well. When we ended the call, I called that friend who had moved away from the Atlanta area, got here machine and left a message letting her know how loved she was by her Atlanta friends. Within a few minutes my beloved friend called, and we had a most loving and warming conversation.<p></p><p>(<i><b>That paragraph was written May 30, 2023, then tennis begun with the French open at Roland-Garros started May 31, 2023, so I will complete that amazing, serendipitous experience, after it ends a week from today, on June 11, 2023, or perhaps a little sooner, but it will be done.)</b></i></p><p>A few days before I had received a massive amount of the healing energy that sometimes courses through my body up and down my spine the same event happens whenever I need to contact someone who may need to connect to this energy. Sometimes the energy seems to flow into what I have come to call a connecting node and expand in another direction for further expression. It was clear to me that was the reason I reached out to this friend. Several minutes after hanging up from that call, the phone rang, and it was from another friend I had not heard from in quite a while. As soon as I said hello a surge of energy came flowing through me causing my body to quake. I sensed that another node was being connected into this expanding healing energy which I am privileged to be a part of. This energy I know as The Bright And Morning Star.</p><p>Over time I have come call this energy <b><i>The Singularity Of Oneness.</i></b></p><p>I have more to say about this phenomenon in the next post or few, please watch this space.</p><p><b><i>In Love and Light I bequeath you Love.</i></b></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-61446022097179601292023-05-10T11:52:00.000-07:002023-05-10T11:52:05.984-07:00Roberta<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMHz2zdEMYFQX7AhJtUgu6mCWAsxqgFVnF65g7EJiJ12-s7IT84hEp8GwQ3MvGUUbZBBbxQE-Pi5PQmmtLSfZG_0nqATD3mIFrISG7smmxXcS6JXHd1WlrxLY4x0pYpOLSBUNAYxswWx5-QT8Lrq8tzYZTeg1ZQVA9MijhhxmdT-v0cfJpdNVoaVsoGw/s4160/20230510_101817.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMHz2zdEMYFQX7AhJtUgu6mCWAsxqgFVnF65g7EJiJ12-s7IT84hEp8GwQ3MvGUUbZBBbxQE-Pi5PQmmtLSfZG_0nqATD3mIFrISG7smmxXcS6JXHd1WlrxLY4x0pYpOLSBUNAYxswWx5-QT8Lrq8tzYZTeg1ZQVA9MijhhxmdT-v0cfJpdNVoaVsoGw/s320/20230510_101817.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> Roberta is my sister-in-law. She<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: x-small;"> was born in the verdant countryside of North Carolina. In the place of her earthly beginnings, she learned that family is important and equally important is being a part of a loving community. Roberta McCarthy, Nee Harris came to the bustling New York City with her values intact and kept them for the rest of her life there in that bustling metropolis.</span><p></p><p><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: x-small;"> She was soft spoken and a woman of few words, yet her commitment once given was never withdrawn. Seated within her values is a generosity that was unparalleled, and an attraction which drew into her life a new family, which grew with every person she took into her heart. She found community within the Jamaican community, she loved them, and they loved her in return. Living within that Jamaican community was her husband, my brother Clement. Having found the love of her life she. became one with his family. Clement's mother became her mother, his daughter, Barbara, her daughter, his Grandchildren her grandchildren, and me her sister.</span></p><p><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: x-small;">When our mother was ill, Robert gave her the care only a daughter could. </span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: x-small;"> For that act alone I will forever be grateful she came into our family and became one of us. </span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: x-small;"> Roberta extended her family by other means besides being married into it. She did so by including coworkers, Miss Carmen and her sisters, the precocious young person from the apartment downstairs, Tatiana, along with the caregiver who took care of Clement in his final days, Nicole. There are too many members of her grand extended family to mention here. The final member Roberta plugged into her grand extended family is Clement's son Lloyd, discovered by her only after his father passed away. To that big warm heart, we say goodbye holding close</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: small;"> in our hearts all the love you shared with us.</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: small;">Thank you beloved.</span></p><p style="background-color: white;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: x-small;"><i><b>Roberta and Clement, my beloved brother and sister on their wedding day May 1st, 1981</b></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguMqZgbemO5xtwZXFc7S-aK2ydtudoAqZt4QT54cx9eRJtH6uiR5-LKc65DIrwtVj1ajSjtv_N9A4HYA-FaANlHSi5rRCZ5N5t1uUtT8muloIBbmB66te0zPO37yKD22LqJUQpGQ_Bz3U0zmR1i1MNBguSECVVmNM_u1FPwgPi30DiXnnAqoDU1SBksQ/s4160/20230510_101651.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguMqZgbemO5xtwZXFc7S-aK2ydtudoAqZt4QT54cx9eRJtH6uiR5-LKc65DIrwtVj1ajSjtv_N9A4HYA-FaANlHSi5rRCZ5N5t1uUtT8muloIBbmB66te0zPO37yKD22LqJUQpGQ_Bz3U0zmR1i1MNBguSECVVmNM_u1FPwgPi30DiXnnAqoDU1SBksQ/w240-h320/20230510_101651.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="background-color: white;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-size: x-small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSySZYgutUUey40dFByt_9JUpiVOrwgUNZ8BbOpCInrHD6N5swgH6dutyYuW_1llN4NUOYjc9VhKrthma_ZkO3SXmuTtFA7xVNzPjZ2oYRhD6pMBLPLOX4sv554HFszFGtHvpnG0mK7SGg_7hSyR0zChDmU-Scm_cPc3oanOkOWTyX5i2CnXLs1Avdow/s4160/20230510_101815.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSySZYgutUUey40dFByt_9JUpiVOrwgUNZ8BbOpCInrHD6N5swgH6dutyYuW_1llN4NUOYjc9VhKrthma_ZkO3SXmuTtFA7xVNzPjZ2oYRhD6pMBLPLOX4sv554HFszFGtHvpnG0mK7SGg_7hSyR0zChDmU-Scm_cPc3oanOkOWTyX5i2CnXLs1Avdow/s320/20230510_101815.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><a href="https://motivatedinspirit.blogspot.com/">Motivated By Spirit (motivatedinspirit.blogspot.com</a><br /></span></span><p><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p><div><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div></div>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-13390500935833951732023-05-05T22:20:00.000-07:002023-05-05T22:20:04.588-07:00One of My Little Visions<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDp-iWoRagLBfo7kAThn6Q4mTrvBkkmod_QcGFpwvt_ZGVnRiLzqBm5pcuWp3e3bh5EoFR4Dk3B6m1Kd1bdkdAaGGovi3oZr3UgH29oV_82Dlq0LcppxUb-TKm4nJQP2dApqiik0e_bZdDd7_AfmOgy1J9CohRi6P2pLR2FIVKP4wmoIoAoKDo2S0pwg/s2592/20230418_124747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDp-iWoRagLBfo7kAThn6Q4mTrvBkkmod_QcGFpwvt_ZGVnRiLzqBm5pcuWp3e3bh5EoFR4Dk3B6m1Kd1bdkdAaGGovi3oZr3UgH29oV_82Dlq0LcppxUb-TKm4nJQP2dApqiik0e_bZdDd7_AfmOgy1J9CohRi6P2pLR2FIVKP4wmoIoAoKDo2S0pwg/s320/20230418_124747.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />Yesterday was the day for me to see the doctor at the infusion center where they monitor my ongoing progress with the challenges my body is handling since the return of the cancer, we had banished in 2014. However, the visit was very different this time, My skin encased Angel. the lovely Miss Kat who takes to my appointments and stays with me though the rigors had to change the routine we followed for these visits ever four weeks. She had an unexpected event, so she planned to leave for the time between the doctor and the infusion and return to take me home. A great plan and would have been perfect except my toothache got in the way. The tooth needed to be pulled and I needed an oncologist dentist to do that. A referral was necessary, and the infusion had to be suspended until after the extraction because the medication given by way of the infusion could cause excessive bleeding. <p></p><p>Infusion day usually starts with blood work, then the doctor consultation, then the infusion. That whole process is usually three or four hours. It was the gap between doctor and infusion that Miss kat had planned toto leave and attend the funeral of one of her friends. What happened instead was we both attended the funeral of her friend. The service was a traditional one held in the tradition of my childhood with very familiar songs.</p><p>It was during the singing of one of those songs, "His Eye is on the Sparrow", that I closed my eyes and had one of my little visions. In the vision, I clearly saw the lady for whom they were having the service. I did not know her, nor did I go up and look into the casket. In the vision she was laying wrapped in the arms of a very handsome man while they both reclined on an ornate divan. Surrounding them in the brightly lit room were several other people as though they were at a festive occasion. Everyone was peaceful in the place where they were.</p><p>A sharp and clear vision which confirmed my enduring belief that life is eternal, and it is only the body that dies when we make our transition.</p><p><b><i> My photo taken about 3/28/2023</i></b></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-22185270658072092052023-04-05T23:58:00.044-07:002023-04-06T00:26:46.772-07:00Bits And Pieces of a Journey<div class="separator"><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh216H8-tPi4bWkfH8JXABDF7vcXZSJkgVx5dbRFNDHiaAv7rhC7FL1hluexMnEjNdUOvsvdkwGY-IFXHFZrhql6lo6WTLtOzaGHwX-t4AY0KJ19fswxq-y0mSnFKY0EITfTZW3np2vcVpIrUAteKaysDwHzxCOFluK9_6GLhX3XhJCxv8NPuJAukpURw/w240-h320/20221230_092102.jpg" width="240" /><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></div><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><i>In </i>1986 the company for which I worked shipped me to Miami Florida from Nashville Tennessee, a turn of good fortune as there was a Jamaican community there and lots of mango trees. I was not unhappy with the move. I found the New Thought community via the Unity Church led by the Reverend Goodison-Orr. I also found a wider New Age Community and continued my deepening Spiritual growth through both of these communities. In other words, I thieved while there and ended up spending the next fourteen years there. I made many friends in both of these communities.</span></div><p></p><p>Early in my Miami sojourn, I attended a group meeting with my newly found New Age friends. As is my wont, I pontificated on the topic of walking the path of spiritual unfoldment. After all I had read many books on the subject as well as attended many retreats and workshops. I knew a lot about that topic, or so I convinced myself at the time.</p><p>As I entered my stride in the pontification process, a kind gentleman entered the group surrounding me. He listened politely with a knowing smile on his face. When I paused between my flow of words, he asked how long I had been walking this path. At that it was a scant 10 or 11 years. His smile deepened, he tapped my forehead and then my heart. With his smile intact, he said " It Has To Drop."</p><p>Today I am very grateful for his loving words. Every time I notice some of those teachings dropping, I widen into that same knowing smile.</p><p><i><b>Photo: Me after performing a wedding ceremony at a Quartus Retreat in Boerne Texas.</b></i></p><p><br /></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-73595475370374595502023-02-20T09:28:00.000-08:002023-02-20T09:28:28.623-08:00Birthday Number 79<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRXNIMvsUHKo6Uk3CxIb2GHfL0vVuq2BuBTbftuo9CiDpz3nASPG-8NhoYMVcIjzOAstpCtUgfhzKf-XkTkTFH9tUTc227XFrAQXf4Oe_Cb65qJ_ebPIVOBGxTNr4Xy8Za2eXNnZSXRUo6SS0YPd89k_ZojJ06Y5RwQJSbH0Wvpm9PAhvSF3jvLJC2Og/s2048/1000006402002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRXNIMvsUHKo6Uk3CxIb2GHfL0vVuq2BuBTbftuo9CiDpz3nASPG-8NhoYMVcIjzOAstpCtUgfhzKf-XkTkTFH9tUTc227XFrAQXf4Oe_Cb65qJ_ebPIVOBGxTNr4Xy8Za2eXNnZSXRUo6SS0YPd89k_ZojJ06Y5RwQJSbH0Wvpm9PAhvSF3jvLJC2Og/s320/1000006402002.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> Yesterday, I celebrated my 79th birthday. It is wonderful knowing I've lived for 79 years in this body. <p></p><p>As I recall my span of years, it seems that it was just the other day, I was nine or ten years old and my only concern was could I go next door to pick some genype (a beloved fruit with a huge seed that could be roasted), from our neighbor's tree. Here I am 70 years later crying with joy at the sight of my family gathered around my bed singing happy birthday to me.</p><p>Here's the story of this body. It had a recurring vaginal abscess for thirty years, which led to a phenomenal healing of the childhood trauma of being repeated molested by a neighbor who bribed me not to tell.</p><p>From that point I journeyed on in it as a very healthy vehicle until in the middle sixties when it encountered cancer as an accelerant to a deeper plunge into the invisible world of Spirit. Using the opportunity cancer offered, I began to knowledge some of the other talents I brought into this lifetime. and made them available to my fellow travelers.</p><p>Today I allow the healing energies to flow freely through this wonderful body. In doing so I allow others to use their down strength.</p><p>I am Blessed and very privileged to be here all this time.</p><p>Now on to the next seventy, after all this pinch of eternity we call our lifetime is a marathon, not a sprint.</p><p>Photo: <b>At the back is Barbara, my niece, in the forefront her three children, Quinton, Monique and Lavena, in the middle is Barbara's three grandchildren, next to Barbara is the beloved Miss Ka and then there is me with the glasses on my head.</b></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-8914865728073581192023-02-13T13:34:00.000-08:002023-02-13T13:34:53.885-08:00Have Being<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW0vD2CzuDrmMdLlZt18pHhRUKRCS_VZ7aaaWLnyi8Rf3wtJjEyi9TQpoVnX7aT4sa_IaSBcuxNOKf9L1dNnf7j9rIt52MPkJvVZD6tYINYsBl8z05l6hYgNW7k2JnENvRK3WYIG1ra7fZjk5eSWk5FyuDVh5d14KD8j592ET3XrxGTfT_PrBUNWTOlA/s960/Resized_20221230_092024.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW0vD2CzuDrmMdLlZt18pHhRUKRCS_VZ7aaaWLnyi8Rf3wtJjEyi9TQpoVnX7aT4sa_IaSBcuxNOKf9L1dNnf7j9rIt52MPkJvVZD6tYINYsBl8z05l6hYgNW7k2JnENvRK3WYIG1ra7fZjk5eSWk5FyuDVh5d14KD8j592ET3XrxGTfT_PrBUNWTOlA/s320/Resized_20221230_092024.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br />Within the pinch of eternity called my life span, love is the state in which I live and move and have Being. Love fills the cracks and crannies as it carves with infinite precision the moments of my days.<p></p><div>Love wakes me each morning to gaze upon the bright new day in which to see its handiwork in the lives of birds, butterflies, scuttling armies of workers in speeding cars every spot an eye can see. It puts me to sleep at night so that I can enter the realms of light the day obscures with actions in the place of being.</div><div><br /></div><div>My life here in my pinch of eternity is made soft, alluring and fulfilling each moment when I remember I am the Love that created the Universe in which a salamander coexists with exploding stars. Oh, the joy of having my being in the cradling nest breathed out by love!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>Photograph me leading a meditation at a friend's wedding, in Miami 80s?</i></b></div>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-12734598932766826162023-02-13T13:08:00.000-08:002023-02-13T13:08:35.475-08:00Two Short Poems<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj03V1az4N4QaVXpSjW3fkmmCl5M2LHx5dux-0peUuHVxUj0c1lj81Qc_LjC09F3kP5eDlMh6ET026z-Cm4joy5FGijDpdABaH-OiAPi0TOR3k1gAjaJlCdvGaiIgLVCobMnwjFgtcBO05Tx1FRB7R0Owf-Mssc6mXm5IT9yiGKVc00tN0O1AkWsWivbg=s4160" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj03V1az4N4QaVXpSjW3fkmmCl5M2LHx5dux-0peUuHVxUj0c1lj81Qc_LjC09F3kP5eDlMh6ET026z-Cm4joy5FGijDpdABaH-OiAPi0TOR3k1gAjaJlCdvGaiIgLVCobMnwjFgtcBO05Tx1FRB7R0Owf-Mssc6mXm5IT9yiGKVc00tN0O1AkWsWivbg=w150-h200" width="150" /></a> Six Yellow Leaves</p><p>Fluttering in the Autum's breeze</p><p>Glinting in the sunlight</p><p>Shinning for all to see</p><p>Six yellow leaves</p><p>Saying goodby to summer's heat</p><p>No moaning nor defending</p><p>The life force now receding</p><p>into winter's long sleep</p><p>Awaiting the awakening</p><p>Spring's joy will reveal</p><p>As they fall into the ground</p><p>to nourish the dormant seeds of a new day's dawn</p><p>Six yellow leaves swaying on branch bare</p><p>Holding with deep grace</p><p>The cycle's yearnings to return</p><p>The never ending</p><p>Upwardly spiraling pace of grace.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj03V1az4N4QaVXpSjW3fkmmCl5M2LHx5dux-0peUuHVxUj0c1lj81Qc_LjC09F3kP5eDlMh6ET026z-Cm4joy5FGijDpdABaH-OiAPi0TOR3k1gAjaJlCdvGaiIgLVCobMnwjFgtcBO05Tx1FRB7R0Owf-Mssc6mXm5IT9yiGKVc00tN0O1AkWsWivbg=s4160" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj03V1az4N4QaVXpSjW3fkmmCl5M2LHx5dux-0peUuHVxUj0c1lj81Qc_LjC09F3kP5eDlMh6ET026z-Cm4joy5FGijDpdABaH-OiAPi0TOR3k1gAjaJlCdvGaiIgLVCobMnwjFgtcBO05Tx1FRB7R0Owf-Mssc6mXm5IT9yiGKVc00tN0O1AkWsWivbg=w150-h200" width="150" /></a></div><p><br /></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-91765572843956143562023-02-06T09:35:00.000-08:002023-02-06T09:35:43.005-08:00Happiness<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-3CWUPD7WLL0Viau2x88FddmzGp1FMniYtZEdV1SEZNvxe35E4EtVGw39ZQT3TtT82SYQbuFArW-tfu2TiijfjxfJI5W4Q99ydQYQH0XrN6oQ4WHYXl6bcwy69LetIWFjgK5sIzaSYcry1-YyTABkPIOpfqdFu_pkMbRRUX-T1wjSXB6xTe0_iHiyQ/s4160/20230205_115521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-3CWUPD7WLL0Viau2x88FddmzGp1FMniYtZEdV1SEZNvxe35E4EtVGw39ZQT3TtT82SYQbuFArW-tfu2TiijfjxfJI5W4Q99ydQYQH0XrN6oQ4WHYXl6bcwy69LetIWFjgK5sIzaSYcry1-YyTABkPIOpfqdFu_pkMbRRUX-T1wjSXB6xTe0_iHiyQ/s4160/20230205_115521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-3CWUPD7WLL0Viau2x88FddmzGp1FMniYtZEdV1SEZNvxe35E4EtVGw39ZQT3TtT82SYQbuFArW-tfu2TiijfjxfJI5W4Q99ydQYQH0XrN6oQ4WHYXl6bcwy69LetIWFjgK5sIzaSYcry1-YyTABkPIOpfqdFu_pkMbRRUX-T1wjSXB6xTe0_iHiyQ/s320/20230205_115521.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> Deep within the core of me, well below the level of language, in the center of all spaces, lives happiness. To enter and partake of the luscious fruits this happiness holds, I must surrender in each moment to that which is greater than I. There is something which haunts me, which seems to desire all my thoughts and feelings, to distract me from communion with happiness. This figment of disruption is quite incapable of causing the tiniest ripple in the lake off my happiness. There are times when I hold the disruptive shadow close and believe myself to be other than happy. Happiness is constant, a living stream within the center of my being. <p></p><p>There within me, just the surface of my consciousness, flows the stream of happiness, a deep hum underlying all my thoughts and feelings. It bubbles ever so often into a song, a smile, peals of laughter, a sigh, a poem and love.</p><p>Happiness has always been a part of who I am. In former times, I used events to allow myself to flow in this stream called happiness. If there were no events to warrant its presence, I pretended it was not there. This happiness is primal, a thread in my very being. It invites me to dance on moonbeams and laugh with the lizard on my doorstep.</p><p>I ofttimes desire to deny its presence; to appear happy where the reason for its presence is not a part of the social milieu. To be accepted, I push hard upon happiness and turn my face toward adversity. That I think is the saner of responses to the situation. Yet my happiness runs smoothly through my moments undisturbed by events and circumstances.</p><p><b><i>The photo is from the back cover of Beyond Personality Published 1991</i></b></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-31189988955884835592023-02-06T07:09:00.000-08:002023-02-06T07:09:34.306-08:00Hypnogogic<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS19t4SSiQFIQLQk07RlKtxsE6A1jfc3Te1M_uS8lojqcY8ZZkGmatF_-e2MEkOocjExIkxe0S43D3EFwJl8y_JUhX6ghcXF8KO_Gm0Zw2_M8UxtZgLvKU_xld-PrBUhwZh8qG-caDWIKTbP4XAOulAgRkV73QFaXxc3pp6CIyT6fzNYO-Z7hIxgTruA/s2592/20230115_125608.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS19t4SSiQFIQLQk07RlKtxsE6A1jfc3Te1M_uS8lojqcY8ZZkGmatF_-e2MEkOocjExIkxe0S43D3EFwJl8y_JUhX6ghcXF8KO_Gm0Zw2_M8UxtZgLvKU_xld-PrBUhwZh8qG-caDWIKTbP4XAOulAgRkV73QFaXxc3pp6CIyT6fzNYO-Z7hIxgTruA/s320/20230115_125608.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> Hypnogogic, a word I learned long after I had been occupying that state almost nightly before knowing it had a name.<p></p><p>Once, I learned the word, and had the state described to me, I understood I had been spending many hours in it. Each visit I made expanded my ability to understand the vision I often had.</p><p>Hypnogogic consists of being awake and asleep at the same time. It is not as impossible as it sounds. We travel through the hypnogogic state every time we enter into sleep. However, for most of us the time spent within it is so brief we hardly notice. </p><p>The trick to becoming fully human is to become conscious of our individual evolution. Being aware of our visits to the hypnogogic is among the states we experience.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b><i>The photo is me currently; the text is from my book Slices.</i></b></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-19253790904558152542023-02-05T09:44:00.002-08:002023-02-05T09:44:44.498-08:00Evolution<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkb_24hgnndSNKRQXwqvb-Hs7_p4gnjnOztnmFmsIEPrRUgRk8NHKIXQKmw9sLNmTng7Ek74WyNNyGDPzxSGtMkk5wG55uKIcfJOCcFUkwB8tZhjOnbKXbfIE1bRLKI4fg2gOd-7-hp-7rDWPgMl87fZP0sz3KWdfWJe_aNt1aN1XKGbFotKe3d453xw/s4160/20221230_092145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkb_24hgnndSNKRQXwqvb-Hs7_p4gnjnOztnmFmsIEPrRUgRk8NHKIXQKmw9sLNmTng7Ek74WyNNyGDPzxSGtMkk5wG55uKIcfJOCcFUkwB8tZhjOnbKXbfIE1bRLKI4fg2gOd-7-hp-7rDWPgMl87fZP0sz3KWdfWJe_aNt1aN1XKGbFotKe3d453xw/s320/20221230_092145.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> There is a point in the evolution of a flower when revolution takes place. It is an instant, a mere dot in all the time it takes for the flower to bloom, to open its petals and give its beauty and fragrance to the world. One Pico second before the bursting, the flower was only a bud, an embryonic form of what it will become. Then in an instant, faster than there are instruments to record, it burst the concealing shell of the bud, and becomes a fragrant flower.<p></p><p>Up until that point n time it was becoming. It gathered energy from the soil, the sun and the air, while growing inside shell that formed the bud. An onlooker would not see this internal activity. such an onlooker would see a bud sitting on a stalk; hardly distinguishable from the greenery around it. Its striving to blossom would not be an observable phenomenon to the outside world.</p><p>The instant it opens, that flower changes its environment. Where there was only green, there is now a splash of color. The world is now altered by the appearance of a colorful flower where there was only a bud before. The same is true of a seed, a caterpillar, a bird a soul.</p><p>One instant there is one form the next, a bursting forth, a new form, a more exalted form of life.</p><p><b><i>Excerpted from my Book Beyond Personality.</i></b></p><p><i><b>The photo is of me at the Mendenhall glacier in Alaska, behind a sign saying don'y go beyond this point.</b></i></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-28968107917478202132023-01-31T11:26:00.000-08:002023-01-31T11:26:57.029-08:00Grace<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMVY1v07DB2QUQgTTT8nGybb9ynNbxztUElJ4SRUUI1gJrsCjyblbQRfnYX9Hlr1rn1lSfGmbMqGNqraEkeNbLOEYqaEiK10_e4uzQcwG9tEgL1kxkZTE_PjX0wHPP93SRcmxZvvnkAfOxBukdMHZ57FQTqWhAZdxz-27P3x6cq_1RppGdNysRzRJBWw/s4160/20221230_092102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMVY1v07DB2QUQgTTT8nGybb9ynNbxztUElJ4SRUUI1gJrsCjyblbQRfnYX9Hlr1rn1lSfGmbMqGNqraEkeNbLOEYqaEiK10_e4uzQcwG9tEgL1kxkZTE_PjX0wHPP93SRcmxZvvnkAfOxBukdMHZ57FQTqWhAZdxz-27P3x6cq_1RppGdNysRzRJBWw/s320/20221230_092102.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> Grace comes on padded feet calling softly to our hearts to express her. It is our task to know when and where. Grace is needed and expose her loving garment to those who have crossed her path.<p></p><p>Yesterday on my way home from a doctor's visit I had one such opportunity. I did not eat before going to the doctor, so I was hungry. I asked the ever-gracious Miss Kat who has taken the task of taking me to my various doctor's visit, if we could stop at one of my favorite fast-food places. Naturally she agreed and we pulled into the drive through ordering point. I dithered a little and changed my choice a few times. I settled on the dish I love with iced tea as my beverage. On the short drive from the ordering and pick up, the lovely Miss Kat suggested not having ice in the tea as there was ice at home and I would have more tea.</p><p>At the pickup window we told the attendant of the choice not to have ice in the tea. Immediately it became obvious that she did not like all this dithering from the look she gave my Miss Kat. She grabbed the cup and slammed it down against the tea container before turning to get something else. She turned to face the open window and I saw her face, then grace stepped in. I leaned across Miss Kat and told the young attendant how beautiful she was.</p><p>Everything changed. She smiled a most enchanting smile.</p><p>Grace padded away to call someone else, that's what grace does.</p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-236592081825309891.post-25763459633664782282023-01-19T04:57:00.000-08:002023-01-19T04:57:07.929-08:00Personal Healing<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ZsE0-oJRvIJMwXmueJfYd3tjuyCd4SRU1PKjLpSp9sCyFlhtQPCikIFv2T18E1E_0MypwVww7TxncGIW5Xs5wodYWcAlCdkwiwjeTWdA95j5RNj019vZsPS4EydH_k8Ivgy7vQGOghGavc4HPxqmWe18wzPwqp0mY5k2HSwy2K4h8xSQAMbmQWHUBA/s4160/20221230_091717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ZsE0-oJRvIJMwXmueJfYd3tjuyCd4SRU1PKjLpSp9sCyFlhtQPCikIFv2T18E1E_0MypwVww7TxncGIW5Xs5wodYWcAlCdkwiwjeTWdA95j5RNj019vZsPS4EydH_k8Ivgy7vQGOghGavc4HPxqmWe18wzPwqp0mY5k2HSwy2K4h8xSQAMbmQWHUBA/s320/20221230_091717.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />AS I've let known I am in the process of healing from a second round with colon cancer. <p></p><p>This portion of the trip is slightly different, combining intense pain with a sense of privation as I surrendered my driving privileges. Those factors led me to the insight that my personal healing is intimately connected to the planetary healing which is well on the way.</p><p>Let it be known that as each one of us heals, we increase the balance the planet uses to heal herself.</p><p>Our emotional healing is of grand importance to the endeavor.</p><p>This day I heal every hurt I recognize as my part in the great healing work goes on.</p><p><br /></p>Cecelia Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11290014941864352945noreply@blogger.com0