Saturday, January 28, 2012

The Cheshire Grinning Moon

Lisa has found a place in the heavens from where she can encourage me and point the way.  When I ran my early races, it was so comforting to come to the checkpoint guides who reassured me that I was on course and not all alone out in the unknown.  Last night, on the drive home from her funeral, I noticed the waxing crescent moon - grinning at me from behind clouds.  It morphed and yawned, widened and thinned, always slipping in and out from behind clouds.  It was alive with the Smiling-to-me twinkle that gets my attention.  It dawned on me that it was Lisa.  It didn't "dawn" on me, actually.  That would be a Sun thing.  It ?Mooned? on me...or rose on me, waxed or gibbous-ed on me...in any case, it was Lisa letting me know she's in the best place imaginable, and already in touch.  After days of anguished tears processing the shock, the loss, the grief, the disbelief, we parted ways, her parents and me, to go on with our life.  We were together, intensely, for days as we said our goodbyes.  Sunday night, she suffered a massive heart attack and was without oxygen to the brain for too long to be saved.  An organ donor, she was sustained on life support for another 36 hours while the arrangements were made for the recipients.  We sat with her, watching her "breathing" on the respirator, all monitors in the ICU indicating normal activity in her body, but the brain showed no response.  Placid and beautiful, she hovered there with us, mostly gone, but standing by for a few final gestures.

Her fourteen year old daughter, Maria, came to hold her, grieve and accept the unimaginable.  On her Facebook page the night before, she had posted notice that her Mother was on life support, and asked for prayers.  Maria had "unfriended" her grandmother, me, Aunt Mayra and other adults, giving only her peers access to her postings.  Her young cousins, Marissa and Vinnie could only report to their mothers what they couldn't imagine was true!  Maria!  Tell us this is not happening!  But between phone calls and frantic messages, we learned too soon; Maria was posting: "Rest in peace, Mommy."

OMG!

Thus we processed and accepted, alternating between sobs and ok-ness, seeing the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, the nurses busying about with the normal ICU activities, changing the IV, administering anti-biotics, checking vitals and emptying catheters for a body that was flushed with color and life as though with their care, she would revive.  Our hearts and eyes saw this ritual, but our minds knew she was already gone.  It was a see-saw of emotions; we intermittently chatted as visitors to a patient's bedside, only to be reminded she was not a patient as family members arrived, tearfully collapsing at the sight of her, so beautiful and placid, her long hair cascading across the pillow.  

Under the management of the Center for Organ Recovery and Education personnel, Lisa had transitioned to Donor.  Knowing her decision to give of herself so that others might live on gave her mother and dad comfort, and they respected her wishes.  Noble though it was, however, the questions of arrangements couldn't be made until the recovery surgeries had taken place.  So we marked in our journal that our beloved little girl was 

Lisa Jo Norelli Tosi 
September 19, 1971
January 22,23,24, 2012

To reflect that she had suffered a massive heart attack on Sunday night, was sustained on life support through Monday in accordance with the laws of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, Washington County and regulations of the hospital pending re-confirming neurological tests, and yet not declared "deceased" until 9:00 a.m. Tuesday, when those tests confirmed what no miracle could reverse.  We allowed ourselves to process by degree, finally and agonizingly. 

Didn't we just do this not six weeks ago when we buried our Mom, Helen?  The same Friends and Family members came to share their sorrow and respect.  Lisa had been at the bedside of her fiance's grandmother, caring for the 93 year old until she passed.  A few days later, her own grandmother came home and Lisa moved in with her folks to care for her through her final days.  Mom passed on December 4, and at her wake, Lisa hugged the very people who came to mourn her yesterday.  How much grief!  How could this be?  God be with us and comfort us.  Family in Faith, together, being there for each other.   

She was a young woman with a "take no prisoners" attitude and an astute awareness of a soul in  need of her help.  When Lisa Jo was around, we knew it.  Her voice carried with an unmistakable "Alpha" vibe that conveyed self-esteem and confidence, and at the same time, one that moved readily into laughter.  With her eyes and her tone, Lisa could make you wonder "What's got her so riled up?" and yet, moments later, she'd make a wry observation from the other side of the universe and with her eyes and her smile, whatever it was that she had just so passionately asserted, she was dismissing with amusement.

A little bit irreverent, a little bit the Classic Italian Matriarch, Lisa was the quintessential Big Sister who delivered her statements with authority and intensity and then might just as convincingly erupt in deprecating laughter at the situation and find the most innocent fun in it.

This little girl understood feelings and how people responded to attention and interest.  From an early age, she developed her relationship skills, burnishing an already intense drive to provide caring and comfort.  Adding to her nurses training, and practical understanding of healthcare, Lisa was a dedicated provider and advocate who thrived on helping others.  In the hours during which we kept vigil at her bedside, we came to accept, minute by minute, that her life was about what she could do for you.  Never caring for material things, Lisa found her bliss in results.  She manifested kindness to those who needed a bit of encouragement, a gentle touch, a reassuring promise and steadfast tendency to break into a grin, them bubble with a giggle that grew into a full-blown belly laugh at how just regular folk we all can be.

Today and for many years to come, she lives on in those to whom she bequeathed what was hers alone to give, her greatest gift, herself.  Her heart-broken parents, Ernie & Joe, navigated the hours of accepting the loss of their daughter with the realization that Lisa's life, as we knew her, has acquired even greater reach and dimension in those she has helped live on.  Her daughter, Maria, will always be able to hear her voice speaking to her from within: no greater champion can you expect to find.  Those of us who knew her will, no doubt, miss her loving greetings and affectionate "Good Byes" can take comfort in the happiness of those who awaited her in heaven who are now greeting her with open arms and a wink for our "too smart," sassy, Lisa Jo.  In a week when Heaven called home Etta James and Joe Paterno, a lesser-known dynamo made the grade and tapped the bell on her way through the gate.  To all her cousins, classmates, friends and colleagues who share our grief and sense of loss, I can only offer this comfort:  Lisa has taken her caring to the next level.  Thank each of you for affirming what a World Class Spirit she is and what an unfailing gift her life was to all of us.

Through the sadness of the week, the sense of something very nice coming was ever present.  Tara will have a little girl in a few months, as we learned the same day Lisa passed.  Michelle dropped her custody challenge and brought Nicholas to be with his Family during this difficult time.  Fran found her own way to the gatherings with a GPS and determination, and Mary Ellen and Cil came with courage driving them past the difficulties following Mom's funeral.  In Joe's newly-finished basement, we toasted Lisa, shed those final tears and prepared for life without her.

It was only on the drive home that I thought about the Cheshire Cat grinning from the tree branch, then the clouds, then through the roof tops at "Alis"  (Lisa with the A moved to the beginning) and I look forward to writing with you.  I know you would have made a great saleswoman.  I'm sorry we couldn't see that in time to intervene.  We let Maria catch the plane with Anthony to spend a week in Florida with Aunt Mayra, away from the pressures of her loss.  Her tattoo'd, pierced, bejeweled gay friends kept her distracted, but could not obscure Maria's realization of the mountain of floral tributes sent by so many to offer condolences.  She had enjoyed quality time with her mother and Nana during three days of recovery from surgery last week after which she withdrew from Ringgold and planned to enroll at Belle Vernon again, moving back home with Nana & Pap.  It was coming together.  But for now, something nice is making a pattern.  To prove it's impending arrival, it smiled to me through the night sky, saying, "Hi."  Remember Frankie crying to Nicole and Sammy that they're the Big Girls now.  They're not ready to be the Big Girls.  Smile on them, Cousin Lisa.  Point the way.  

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Nehilist Manifest

From today's reading, I wonder, "Whom Should I Thank?" for reconnecting to all the many gains we, Spiritual Kin Study Group, have collectively achieved.  In tandem, we endure, nevertheless, a loneliness and period of uncertainty during which we are bound by the principles of our mission to remain open and aware, respectful of those with whom we disagree, and equally respectful of ourselves in the exchange with those who would dismiss us in an expeditious attempt to truncate the process.  So obtuse and self-possessed are they in their comfort zone that they are blind to the reactionaries now determined to sabotage their cruel advance.  Where they believe themselves to be "powerful" they are Goosed by those honking from behind, to discover that they are, instead, corralled in a blind canyon of their own invention wherein they are neatly, safely and irresistibly contained by those actual powers ensconced, not by the willing, but by the convinced.


The spread, "Three Fates," synthesizes the scan of the Past/Present/Future as deliverance, returning the response to the inquiry, rather than the answer to the question.


The left card represents an important element of the pastKnight of Swords, when reversed: The dark essence of air behaving as fire, such as a tornado: A merciless and skillful warrior, unfettered by emotion or conscience. A nihilist who can refuse not even the most insurmountable of challenges. A person who inspires fear and hate through their domineering nature and the power of their presence. Speaking without tact or tolerance, in a sarcastic manner. May portend the swift initiation or conclusion of conflict, through the calamitous invocation of force.     


Definition of NIHILISM
1
a : a viewpoint that traditional values and beliefs are unfounded and that existence is senseless and uselessb : a doctrine that denies any objective ground of truth and especially of moral truths
2
a : a doctrine or belief that conditions in the social organization are so bad as to make destruction desirable for its own sake independent of any constructive program or possibilityb capitalized : the program of a 19th century Russian party advocating revolutionary reform and using terrorism and assassination

We are reminded that the past demonstrations of nihilistic behavior have served to associate us with Nikolai Lenin of the Bolshevist Revolution that so weakened and subverted itself as a result of emasculating its people.  We understand Power as the energized-by-intangibles which the Nihilists deny.    


In the two weeks since the encounter with Jim Burn, State Chair, I have been driven to the depths of the whirlpool of disorientation, and find myself being launched back to airspace where I may live and breathe free of what I must credit the Facade for describing as:  "the swift initiation or conclusion of conflict, through the calamitous invocation of force" with aforementioned self-respect.  I am reassured that the "mistake" was mine, for failing to convey to my esteemed colleague, my unwillingness to sustain further breach of that vault wherein my Family of fellows preserve their learned, evolved skills.  I would be remiss in my service to the registered Democrats of Butler County were I to permit Chairman Burn to approach the circuitry of our procedures with Table d'hôte when the consideration of all views brought to the table are de rigueur.  
   
Practical matters left unattended by those so impatient to take up the Lamp of Leadership, they were neither qualified nor willing to serve, pursuing the position, unaware of the sphere of contributors hovering in waiting to attend to all that.  As with Energies of all natures, those culled for securing and stabilizing the All found their bliss.  In their mutual company, they applied discipline and nobility to the maintenance and eventual development of the refined structure they now survey.  Arcs support a cantilever-aged deployment of natural and sustainable force present in our midst.  From the past, we resurrected the fulfillment of those challenges met and mastered discovering that the familiar lent itself to confidant exchange among our proven, tested best.   

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Creative, Insightful Articulating of Conservative Principals - Vintage Newt

The quote from Dick Morris takes us a notch closer to the tone Republicans want to hear in this Primary.  We monitor the whole thing with a comprehension of their mission and begin to knit together the fabric underfoot upon which we'll step to leave behind the Obama Hope / Hype / Hip, Hip, Hoot.  Crystallizing it all, Juan Williams - despite posing AS a monitor - carried the Administration's water with contentious posturing to spin Gingrich's racism.  The crowd culling a second dunning of Americans as racist (it worked before, didn't it?)  were thus, succinctly sorted into Americans and hyphenated Americans....bring it on.

Yeah, "99 Weeks is an Associate's Degree."  The Unemployed are getting an education with or without the Academic Community.  The same fire must be invested into purposing the Republican Primary as the exercise to deliver a nominee who will lead this Country back to greatness.  Michelle Bachmann is gone because she spun every opportunity to speak into a yarn about herself.  Jon Huntsman is gone because he failed to lead the Spirit.  Romney's lackluster hovering at 25% is leaving a lot on the table.  To borrow a "come full circle" phrase from Jimmy Carter, "Why not your Best?"

What Newt is saying, and the audience is hearing is this:  "Work through it."  Esprit de Corps evolves from unity of purpose applied to the effort.  Talk's cheap, academic and can be no substitute for activity.  When a plan is formulated and committed to paper, there takes a fair amount of talk to ferret out the points that will prove pertinent.  The way to the Voter's heart is through the stuff he can't stomach.  That "stuff" is not the notion of defeating Obama, but in accepting that the current occupant of the Oval Office isn not All American.  Sure, you can back off the criticism centered on birth certs and protective secrecy, but the thing the Field must produce is the essence of knowing what works, what makes us work and how to work.

In 2008, we watched the Fourth Estate drag the all-but-tapped-out Obama across the finish line, forced on the Democratic Party by arm-twisting thugs.  The 'Dog Who Caught The Bus' was obviously out of his league and no amount of spin could cover for it.  Unanimity of purpose lay in the determination of Chris Matthews, Dee Dee Myers and the New York Times to dump the actual work of surviving the Candidate In Chief on Clinton People.  That's the sound of wind whistling past our ears as we fall at black-out pace from the top of the heap.

My closer instinct alerted me last night to the Buying Signals on display in Myrtle Beach.  Cheering on the concepts of competing legitimately, the crowd elicited from each candidate the notion that we should kill our enemies, not our competition.  Compete and Conquer.  Cower and call "Racist" and get yer butt kicked.  It has taken THREE YEARS for the Axlerod Attitude-Coppers to get the message.

Unfortunately, for them, they are steeped in their own spin and capable of only one thing: blaming the other guys.  It could have been worse, sure.  But we are capable of seeing daylight beyond the shadow by which your body of "you call that work?" has darkened our door.  The full retinue of protective spin plays...the recapitulation cantata of strategies that scored impressively ... are coming through.  Work 'em out; don't just "invite 'em" out.  Just Ought 'Em!  Black Leaders may no longer spit out ugly, angry accusations of racism; that card's been played.  What they reveal in launching such ploys is that they are merely "playing" and haven't ever even begun to actually work.  We get it.  It's not a racist thing, gentle people: it's what soccer moms and kitchen table economists understand.  Security.  Does the hot guy on the make "Make" you feel secure?  No!  He "thrills" and excites you, he causes you to obsess about him based on his animal magnetism, but after about six months, you'll be over it and looking for the bills to be paid and the indicators that you're the One and Only to HIM.  Absent that, you're admitting that Dad was right.  This guy is a fad and will never be the substance, supportive structure with whom you can make babies, rear and provide for them and keep you secure.  He talked a convincing rap sayin' things you wanted to hear, but he didn't deliver and he's now playing you for another chance to disappoint you.

Dog Whistle?  Are the black leadership players going to again turn this election into a trap into which they'd herd the trusting?  Are you inclined to blow another $50 bucks on the street tricks?  Or are you inclined to just pop that bill into a credit union account and hold out for the industrious, serious gentleman who's spending his "capital" on stabilizing himself and looking after his family?


Saturday, January 14, 2012

"THE BOW - Tebow and Intangibles

Through careful conservation of their fuel, the engines of creation continue onward.
Mayor Luke Pays UP
Decades of work in the "off-beat" have taught me the very real role played by the Unknown in our daily lives. While a cynic, a quitter, one of religion without faith might dismiss the Tim Tebow phenomenon, we can look back on the "Change" meme, the "Don't Worry" fun of Bush 41, the direct line to god of W, and the energy of the Steeler Nation to respect the influence of emotional rooting for the underdog. Conversely, when the energy of support leaves the competitor, the results can be convoluted. Following each Super Bowl victory, Ben Roethlesberger has done something utterly stupid. His motorcycle incident of 2006, riding a crotch rocket without a helmet, then two sexual assault charges in less than a year following the 2008 Super Bowl victory prompted bonfires of "Steeler Gear" by fans no longer inclined to indulge the caustic behavior of an overpaid jock. In Pittsburgh, the "No Name" barely-out-of-the-Minors Pirates of 2011 were the darlings of the Family Fans because none of the players who streaked in first place right up to the 2:00 a.m. blown call of July 25 at home plate, were anybody but teammates. No Name believers in themselves inspired the "joes" who go to baseball games to be together. Nobody who lives in a real world wanted the party animal to defeat the genuflecting Tebow last Sunday. The Steeler Nation dutifully turned out and tuned into the Denver game, but in their hearts of hearts, grudgingly conceded the "Higher Ground" to the gesture that has even the most cynically immature high school boys taking a knee with a bowed head to the bigger circle drawn 'round the circle. Cartographers indicate 'elevation' by drawing
"circles" that connect points of equal feet above sea level described as contour lines. The key to these amoebic circles is that they neither cross nor intersect. They are, in fact, meaningless to those on other levels and, while they are known to each other by virtue of shared existence, they establish separation as a function of their existence, and are, hence, mutually exclusive. A cloud at 1,600 feet is produced and held there by a set of characteristics forming a stream. In a stream, the choice is removed and awareness, not activity, determines presence. We who call upon Americans to come together in decency and patriotism are unwilling to lend our hearts and minds to the contrivances of media hype. We see, in the Steelers logo, the "Unseen." To the top, a gold hypercycloid, to the right, a red hypercycloid, and to the bottom, a blue hypercycloid - marketing symbol of United States Steel, the building block of twentieth century skyscrapers. To the left, as described by Thomas Carlyle in his book On Heroes and Hero Worship: in his French Revolution (1837), "A Fourth Estate, of Able Editors, springs up; increases and multiplies, irrepressible, incalculable. ...Ideas to be gathered from those ethers of the next higher levels where dream-like impressions without actual substance call us onward, upward. "We're better than this." Where inventors, angels and necessity move us to explore space,to "See a need, fill a need," we are gridded up/down to an opening in the membrane that separates our level from that which calls to us where-in we have always existed but have yet to explore in time and space. This is the mystery and the universality of creation. Where what doesn't exist becomes the basis of everything new, we do it. We leave behind despair, anxiety, demoralization and the Who, What, When, Where and How to lay EYES on it. Recall the first time you saw the actual White House, or the Washington Monument, or the Statue of Liberty, or the Grand Canyon - landmarks of history that you'd seen many times in photos, and now in the flesh. Flying points of reference cause the vision to lurch dizzy-ingly until we are able to bring into focus our emotion, our relationship and our experience. From the moment a teacher or book raised our consciousness about the significance, we have seen the same image time and again. When we see it in the "flesh" we actually drop all those depictions into the little computer in our mind that compares and concludes: 'this is it.' We suspect it but remain to be shown that Tim Tebow depicts such a future. In a moment frozen free of the emotion surrounding his gesture, the viewers are sorted by their own emotions. Some embrace and applaud. Some reject and react. Some aren't "there" yet. Cross/Over attention begins to attract the uninitiated to "market" the idea whose time has come.  The momentum of the marketplace erases whatever preceded. 


 Championships and Elections are thus won.


In the minds of we, the Thinkers,

Tebow has embodied the often attempted (Dobie Gillis) but not-quite-nailed, moment of oneness with the desire of the heart. In his sideline re-enactment, the victorious play-master processes the outcome of the battle just waged, between his known and desired. While the potential exists, the quarterback represents what can be, and drives through doubt, history and the wind beneath his non-existent wings, to land in his next "life." In the moment of completion of the play, Tebow's leap of faith is rewarded by his teammates, fans and the big scoreboard in the sky. Momentarily, the others reaching for the same bouquet are resolved to accept the results. No "marriage" in store for them; No "Next In Line" for Union. Ah! The Game. Secularists need not apply. To any who defile the magic of the moment, hopelessness reigns, sealing their hearts and minds to the sight. Sparkle and Glimmer protect the essence of what happens when the unfolding of events have prompted this action, and prior to taking his next step, the BOWing #15 gets over himself.  While everyone is looking at him, he's looking within, calming desire with culmination.

At the line between what is heaven and what is earth, where the light is slightly brighter, faeries play....

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Domestic Tranquility: The Election to Dump Obama

I came to consciousness this morning aware that I was a link in a chain-dream; one in which I was the friend of a woman whose spouse was berating, controlling, aggressively threatening and to heighten the ridiculousness of his demeanor, brushing his teeth. In the waking dream, I was at their home preparing to take a walk with her - our planned exercise. While she was agreeable, "normal" in her behavior and showed nothing different - we made steadfast haste toward the door and away from his negative vibe. Instead of simply heading off in the direction of the park, however, I looked - puzzled - as she turned the outer key and headed for my car. I unlocked the doors and we hopped in as the "dream" concluded. I had been deliberately kept unaware of her plan, yet as she launched into motion, readily recognized that she did, indeed, have one. Her "Escape" from the captor who held her prisoner in her own home entailed turning the tables. She had changed the locks earlier in the day leaving him with keys that would not work tonight. It was a move that bought her time to get to shelter, to notify the police that he was being temporarily restrained and to turn in the keys by which she had turned her life around. For the first morning in months, I was stirred to a level of awareness that made me get up at my - once but not lately - normal 5:00 a.m. It's Iowa Caucus Day. In my waking dream, I was connecting "dots" from the 2008 primary in which testosterone-driven Obats shouted down the Hillary supporters and launched a mixture of vicious and shocking tactics intended to both intimidate and stampede Caucus participants. At the same time I was thinking about the recounted witnessing of Caucus Fraud, I saw the face of Louisa Rodas and her Mother, Betty Jean Kling. I saw the many family members of Police Officers, killed in the line of duty, responding to Domestic Violence calls. I saw the moment I became a participant in the Peace Chain more than thirty years ago. The Iranian Embassy, seized by students holding the Diplomatic Staff hostage, was progressing through 444 days of torment as the Clergy of Iran completed the Coup. I was a mere link in a strong chain of mentally tough Peace Officers determined to restore stability and calm to a world disabled by conflict. The New Diplomacy preserves the Peace in the face of vindictive, reactionary, self-indulgent males obsessed with control issues and yet utterly incapable of taking care of their own business. I begin this day with a nod to the Blessed Mother, Virgin Mary, patron and protector. I affirm my faith in the gentle, Christian principles demonstrated by Joseph and Jesus; honoring of Women. The traditions of Family Values include the cherishing of wives, mothers, daughters and sisters. To men who miss the message, we offer this gentle response: a better way is available. In the words of the Angels who roused the shepherds of Bethlehem, "Peace On Earth; Good Will towards Men." The Democratic Primary of 2008 was a textbook demonstration of how NOT to run a campaign. The demeanor of the members of the media and the political class who conducted an assault upon the women of this country with their insufferable insults proved to be the canary in the coal mine alerting Women to the danger in which they found themselves. Women of class and substance, who have children to rear, educate and feed, are neither impressed nor intimidated by class warfare or whiners who blame the Republicans for the woes of the DNC. They are engaged in the active, but peaceable process of restoring and preserving domestic tranquility wherein they may protect their kids and get them to school. In communities where gunfire routinely erupts and often takes the lives of innocent children in the cross-fire, Peace is the victim. Insanity rules. Thinking is non-existent, drugs and disruptive behavior rob the children of their American right to pursue happiness. We are Sisters in the Chain, linked and connected to reverse the threat. The objective of threat is to ward off aggression with thought-provoking reminders of the right of redress. The males who failed Louisa Rodas blame her mother for angering them. For 'talking back' she is held responsible in the face of emotional tyrants whose own threats are intended to be the final say. To BJ, and her son, we say, "Enough!" It is the duty of each of us to control our emotion and respect ourselves. We understand completely, yet remain saddened by the lack of peace produced by the judicial process. Disturbed people without a balance of comprehension of power's double-edged sword and Choice are attempting to call the shots. The Chicago gang - so full of themselves, superlatives and historic significance - is a blowhard bunch of motherless punks whose plans for re-election center around assassination and threat. We hear, attuned. We are reminded by our Mothers: We Have A Choice. In the United States of America, we have Freedom. We take personal responsibility of the road our choices have paved. We accept ourselves and acknowledge our errors of judgment. By these mistakes we evolve when choosing to correct and restore. Our balance, not our mistakes, propel us.