grief

Honoring the Autumn of Life and Observing it with a Special Talisman.

Posted by Barbara Techel

For days I carried a sadness in my heart for someone who recently passed away at the age of fifty-two. He left behind the love of his life, two sons, and the animals, land, and home he deeply adored.

The thing is I hadn’t seen him for years but I appreciated the devoted relationship he shared with his wife as it was similar to the one I share with John. I was sad about what was lost and imagining how his wife and kids must be feeling.

For days I’ve passed by a stone I see on my walk. Each time I’ve sensed it calling out to me, but yet I didn’t pick it up. Today it caught my eye as I walked by it once again. This time I made a promise to myself that when I made the loop back through I’d take the stone home with me.

One foot in front of the other, taking in the beautiful clear blue sky into my being and enjoying the sounds of the killdeer, I thought about how John was lovingly teasing me the other day. I don’t recall what it was about, but the fact he had called me his nature girl. That’s the part that stuck with me – Nature Girl – I loved hearing that.

So many thoughts have been whirling through my mind of late. I’m approaching my birthday next month and this one in terms of astrology is referred to as our second Saturn return. It’s said our second Saturn return occurs between the age of fifty-seven and fifty-nine. I’ll be fifty-eight.

Our first Saturn return happens in our late twenties and if it is meant to be our third Saturn return is between eight-four and ninety. I distinctly recall what my first Saturn return was like, though I wouldn’t realize its impact on my life until my mid-50s’. Hint: I wrote about this in my last memoir, I’m Fine Just the Way I Am.

The second Saturn return is much like our first Saturn return in that it is a time to reflect and a time of growth as we give thought to the next stage of our life.

This also from Astrodharma.org regarding the second Saturn return, Now-or-never actions in the real world that demonstrate the wisdom of the elder. The deepening commitment to one’s chosen life service or a pivot into an entirely new, more soulful life direction. The hallmark of the second Saturn Return is that if you deal maturely with the old pockets of unfinished business, you gain the gift that will last till the end – the gift of wisdom. You become an elder.

I definitely feel the soulful life direction part of this statement pondering how I wish to experience the autumn of my life. I also feel the foundation of the wisdom I’ve gained to this point as a welcome guide to carry me forward. I’m also embracing the elder part of this and determined to walk into elderhood as gracefully as possible. Though I will be honest in that the physical aspects are sometimes the more difficult ones to be okay with. But I continue to work on that.

I often think about one of my favorite elder mentors, Tasha Tudor, and the Take Joy! documentary about her and her way of life. The part in the interview when asked about the winter of her life, then in her early 80s, she shares she wouldn’t trade being elderly for anything because she was having the time of her life.

Winding my way around the bend of my walking route I came upon a small maple leaf on the ground. Oh no! It’s too early for it to have already changed to this crimson red color, I thought.

But then I smiled and realized that nature was reflecting my thoughts. Here was the perfect symbolism for me about embracing and appreciating the autumn of my life. I was now walking with an extra bounce in my step holding the tiny leaf in my hand like a valuable treasure. How fortunate I am to be alive to experience my second Saturn return. Not everyone gets that opportunity.

The last leg of my walk home brought me back to the stone. As soon as it was in my hand I knew that I was just gifted the perfect way in which I’d honor this new phase of my life – the autumn of my life – this second Saturn return that I’m grateful to be experiencing.

The stone and the leaf came together perfectly that I made into a talisman and have placed on my altar for those days I need reminding of how precious this life is:

The blue on the top half of the stone symbolic of the universe and how it holds all the answers if we just take the time to ask, deeply listen, and allow the wisdom to flow into our being. 

The blues and greens on the bottom half representing water and being with all the many emotions that come at different stages of life.

The spirals symbolic of embracing the inward and outward times of our lives and the importance of each to living a life that is whole and balanced.

The leaf honoring the autumn of life and also the fragileness of it. How sometimes we can feel small in this vast universe and feel not seen. But that we are indeed a vital and important part of this cosmos and that the Divine always sees us and has our back.

And just as I finished gluing the leaf onto the stone I looked up to notice the time on the clock – 11:11 am. Thank you, Universe for yet another confirmation.

As I was getting ready to take a picture of my new talisman to share here on my blog I noticed a gap at the bottom of the stem to the right as if there should be another spiral there. But then it came to me – ah no – this is there for a reason. It’s the opening to the next portal I’m about to walk through. Welcome it, I thought, welcome it. And so I am.

XO

Barb

                  

Mourning Miss Marie’s Garden

Posted by Barbara Techel

In the late fall when I move my geranium plants indoors I think of my friend, Miss Marie. It was from her that I learned to do this. Soon I’ll have to cut them back, but for now, I’m enjoying the last of their blooms.

It will be two years ago in February, at the age of 72 that Marie passed away. Her white two-story house on the corner in the hub of our quaint downtown was sold to a gentleman who buys up homes in the area and rents them out to tenants.

It’s been sad to watch the changes to the property since then. Many of the shrubs have disappeared. Then this summer the black ornate wrought iron gate to the entrance of her house was taken down. Before I became friends with Marie, I’d often think of that gate as the entrance to a secret garden, and behind it, I was curious about the mysterious woman who lived inside.

Walking by what was once Marrie’s house is part of my morning route. Today as I rounded the corner I sensed something different once again. As I walked a little further I saw that the garden off to the side of the house was completely gone. Tears sprang to my eyes. It’s now covered over with gravel and has been made into a large parking area. Even the sidewalk that led from her back porch out to her art studio is gone.

The garden, with raspberry plants that leaned over the walkway, and how I’d often sneak a berry or two as I sauntered up the sidewalk to the back porch when I’d visited Marie were now gone too.

Tears filled my eyes and my heart ached for how Marie loved birds and the many that hung out in her garden (and stole the berries too!) who no longer have this special place to dwell. The stories we’d share of critters that often appeared at her home or mine — the toads, frogs, and the dragonflies, oh my (!) — and how we both took such great delight in these sightings.

It all felt so harsh. I could barely contain my sadness as I continued on my path home. Marie loved nature, flowers, books, and animals and was an artist that collaged fabric into the most exquisite designs – she had quite the eye for combining colors and patterns together!

I realized once again why my attraction to her all those years ago when I’d catch glimpses of her downtown or at the post office – and her eccentric style always fascinated me. She lived simply but also loved to indulge now and then in a few of the finer things of life, which she was able to do so with a depth of joy because of her frugalness. Somehow it just made those indulgences all the sweeter. I loved how her eyes lit up and her whole body came alive in excitement when she’d share with me the experience of something she had saved up to do.

For a moment I wanted to just stuff it all down and not feel the heaviness of it all. For a moment I wondered why I feel these things at this depth. I thought to myself that it was silly to be mourning a garden. For a moment I didn’t want to be the person who feels so deeply.

But it is who I am. I realized once again that just as I feel something like this so deeply I’m also able to experience great joy in things others may think seemingly ‘small.’ 

I realized also it’s the essence of Marie that is a part of who I am too and that I continue to strive to be. Nature, animals, art, books, and indulgences in the finer things now and then is what brings me joy too — and what makes me deeply appreciate life.

While I can’t bring back Marie’s garden, I can continue to carry on that very spirit of who she was and who I am too. In many ways, the steps I walk through this life, Marie walks with me and the mourning I experienced with the loss of her garden today was in fact my missing her here in this life.

But it strengthened my determination once again to live the principles that are in alignment with my heart — and the sorrow that had enveloped my heart for a time during my walk this morning is a beautiful thing. And before I knew it I found myself smiling at all the sweet and fun memories.

And this box that contains some gelato crayons that sits on my art table in my Joyful Pause Cottage. It was a box Marie gave to me one day that contained some chocolates inside.  I was just as excited about the box, as Marie was mid-sentence that she said to return it when the chocolates were gone, that she changed her mind and with a smile said to keep the box because she saw how happy it made me.

And I realized now looking at this box how it is a nudge from Marie to continue to experiment with the collage pieces I’ve been making and to continue to make art more a part of my life.

A moment of sadness that turned to sweet memories that turned to inspiration…

xo,

Barbara

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Remembering Friend Marie and Reflecting on Her Message to March Forth

Posted by Barbara Techel

It was one year ago that I was moving through the grief of my dear friend, Marie. She was 72 years old. I fondly referred to her as Miss Marie. I’d known her for about six years, but in that time she had a significant impact on my life.

A big fan of the author and illustrator, Tasha Tudor for many years now, Marie reminded me of her in many ways. Many, including myself, considered Tasha eccentric in her way of living. She dressed in wool frocks, a scarf upon her head, and a shawl often around her shoulders. She didn’t believe in hurry yet accomplished much in her 92 years of life.

While Marie didn’t dress in wool frocks, she certainly had an eclectic flair, and she too an artist, she definitely lived to the beat of her own drum. It was something I deeply admired about her and what drew me to her like a magnet. And once we became friends, I soaked up all the wisdom I could from her.

I’m thinking of Marie today, March 4th, and the day we often associate with progress day. This day also the day of Marie’s funeral one year ago. I still recall how I awoke that day with a heart still heavy and missing her so much. As I shuffled into the kitchen I glanced at the calendar noting the day. I then glanced at the altar I’d made on my kitchen table with my favorite photo of Marie holding my dog, Gidget. 

I was swimming in sadness staring at the photo when I heard, “March forth.” It was Marie’s voice. I knew she was encouraging me to get on with life. It was just like her as that was the way she was in life. Though she suffered from depression, she was always encouraging me to make the best of life.

I devote a chapter in my latest memoir to her because she was an important part of my healing journey. 

Looking through photos of her to share here on my blog I felt the grief bubble up within me again. I tried to hold the tears back at first, but then recalled the words I’d just heard yesterday listening to a speaker on the Animal Wisdom World Summit. They came from Hanna Bracken, an animal communicator, and she said,  “Our strength comes in our dignity to shed our tears.” 

And so I let it out.

I then reflected on a post I saw on Facebook yesterday from fellow children’s book author and Wisconsinite, JoAnn Early Macken and her post that said, “It’s March Forth, the date I intentionally misspell every year to mean forward motion, not just a number. I’m reminding you now so you can take time to reflect on where you’ve gone (Hooray for you!), where you are now (Count your blessings!), and where you want to go (Luck, luck, luck!).”

And I think of my friend, Miss Marie. This is how we march forth by releasing the grief and pain when it comes and honoring it for reminding us that they are vital in understanding life. While I’ll always miss her, I have learned to be with her in a new way. And I want her to know that I have marched forth carrying her wisdom within my heart each step of the way.

xo,

Barbara