manitou

No way it's a kestrel. These little guys are in a loose flock, on the ground, and aren't solo hunters.

A plethora of good is in your nature, you silly thing.

Humility. I just did the beautiful evening meditation. It dovetailed so nicely with my recovery program from alcohol, as it talked of releasing resentments and fears, which is something that I try to do nightly anyway. But as a meditation with the lovely music and gentle sounds of the waves, it was twice as relaxing. I realized from listening to this meditation that the only resentment I am carrying around is a political one, and how silly is that? That is something that I am totally powerless over, so why worry? I need to cut that loose and try to look at it more as entertainment...

I'm guessing a Palm Warbler and it migrates to Florida in the winter. I've been looking online, and they do walk and hop on the ground foraging for insects. I noticed this morning that they do pump their tails; they aren't in breeding plumage, as they are rather drab, but do have a little gold under the tail. The only thing that bothers me is that I don't think they're a 5" bird, they look to me to be about an inch smaller, but I could easily be wrong. The behavior is the most identifying trait, as I see it. Although the warbler generally has a nice song, these little guys chip back and forth - and one of the identification sites refers to that as their 'alarm chip' which would make sense because I'm always walking the dogs when I see them. I wouldn't go with wren, although really similar, because they don't have the cocked position of the tail. Edit: I just bounced around the wrens. This is really a close call. But the wrens, even the ground foragers, don't seem to have the 'chip' back and forth as the warbler does. Also, no eyestripe that I can see (although I'm not wearing my glasses when I walk, so I suppose there could be a feint one.)

Yes, this was my growing-up music. I always wondered what they were smoking when they recorded this. The Regents originally recorded this in the early 60's - much tighter, and nobody was tripping over their tongues.

LOL. I was pretty astounded when I heard your Minion song. My name is actually Barbara Ann.

Definitely not a finch - too small, and doesn't have the thick bill. This is maybe a 3 1/2" bird. They're easy to miss. When I first noticed them, I thought the breeze was kicking up a few leaves around me. Upon second glance, they were little birdies. When you're walking, they flit ahead of you by a few yards - almost like you're herding them. Funny little guys. And yes, ants was my thought too - ants and small insects on the ground.

Excellent post IMO, dwai. How wonderful it is that all traditions seem to cross paths with this very metaphysical thought. Eckhardt Tolle would call it the Big Me and the Little Me. I am currently reading the Siva Sutras and it refers to Shiva as that which Knows but cannot be Known. Some would call it the Essence, and it all comes back to us. Us as the perceiver, us as the creator, the universe being a manifestation of us. It's as though there are two 'I Am's'. The I Am which contains our conditioning and who has a name like Barbara or Steve or Bob, which contains our life memories. And then there is the I Am which is our manifesting essence, the thing we all share because we are it. Maybe, more accurately, it is the 'We Are'. We seem to be the universe wanting to experience itself.

LimA - I have a thread going in a different section regarding all of this. 'Grief: Mourning the loss of a spouse'. Yes, I do believe my intent is to get through the grief and remember him fondly with love. That is the goal. Thanks for your kind words. I do appreciate them.

I'll bet your psychic self is picking up on me holding a little Native American rag doll to my heart every night when I go to bed. It makes me cry for a few minutes because he used to have it on his bed. I clutch it to me when I sleep. Odd creatures, us humanoids.

Marbles? I don't have my bird book with me. Who are the tiny little brown peeps here in Florida that flit from place to place on the ground in a small, loose flock? They have a gold rump under the tail, their beaks don't appear to be those of a seed-eater - too delicate, more like a flycatcher - but they're going after something on the ground, even the pavement. Maybe crawling insects? By the way, do you even own a snow shovel?

No kids, LimA. We got together through alcohol recovery on both of our parts, both being well beyond the age folks traditionally had kids. As to words, he was a man of few words, although a recurrent topic of our conversation was metaphysics. If you are indicating that perhaps I shouldn't use so many words to describe our life together, perhaps you're right. Probably nobody wants to hear it anyway. Problem is, I have so few people I know here in Florida I tend to regard Bums as my friends. I probably give out too much information. Probably best if I just can it on this forum and look elsewhere for release of grief and the ability to move on. Point taken.

Maybe I didn't quite word it right. To go through something this horrendous will give me an entirely different depth of compassion when it comes to empathizing with others who have lost someone dear. That's what I meant when I referred to a price tag. And Stosh, I think you may be right. Things are lightening up. I got sick and tired of feeling this way, so today I pulled out some art supplies and did a really nice abstract with colored pencils and marking pens. I feel like I'm letting a bit of the grief go. Love remains.

I regard him differently in that he has most likely shed his illusive ego identity and there is no longer a separate 'Joseph' with whom to communicate. In that case, he would not 're-member'. He has passed into the collective, where we too are at present, only our ego identities remain, in varying degrees of strength depending on the false belief of any given individual that they are separate from the rest. But the gross physical part of me who remains on this planet wants so badly to believe that he does remember our life, and that he still loves me. These are merely the rantings of a sad old woman who has lost her partner of 35 years. I would love to believe that he does. Yes, I have heard and read of stories of those who have been able to communicate with those who have passed. Perhaps this is due to what a Buddhist would refer to as Attachment. Perhaps there are different degrees of 'leaving this place', depending on the liberation of the soul of the one who has passed. Those who have gotten down to consciousness-awareness, or self-realization, would not be earthbound in any sense after passing. Or maybe they can by choice and somehow reassemble their personality and memory in order to communicate with those who have summoned their old persona. We are Consciousness, only currently in our gross physical form. He too is Consciousness, only he has passed into either a different form, or a place of rest within the collective, or into a kalpa, or into a different realm - which may even take up the very space we breathe, only we cannot experience it because of the frequency of our present sensory organs. There are so many trains of thought as to what happens after physical death, one can just choose which we choose to believe, I guess. I don't suppose anybody can say for sure what happens. The incredible thing to me are the stories of some who have had a clinical death and returned to this life. If that person has a penchant for Jesus, they will often see Jesus upon death. If their preference is Buddha, it is Buddha they will see. Or a very strong connection with a deceased relative will manifest that particular relative in the time immediately upon death. This seems to indicate that all is Mind, and again, that we are the creator of our world. All I know is that I flux in and out of grief, although it's getting better. My periods of grief are getting further apart and a little gentler, a little shorter. But Damn!. I miss him.

Yes, you hear so often of people who say their life flashes before their eyes at the moment of death, if that's what you're referring to. I was talking about 'him', after being dead for 3 months, can summon any memory of our life together. I sometimes wonder (since, in a sense, we are all 'the creator') if just calling to mind the deceased person doesn't in fact open a door between you - if only for that moment. I would sure love to believe that.... I think the reason that a person's life flashes before them at the moment of death is because linear time is an illusion anyway. It's really all crunched up into Now. Just seems like it's linear, like pearls on a necklace. You can look at the necklace held out from hand to hand as a 15" necklace (linear time), or you can hold it perpendicular to your eyes and only see one pearl (Now). One's whole life would manifest as an immediate flash if you're only looking at the one pearl. How strange this all is.

I wonder about this as my husband died a few months ago. Does one who's passed have memory? Or does memory of the recent past life dissipate in the collective consciousness? I think of him all the time. I wonder if 'he' remembers me. And a very Happy New Year to everyone.

I listened to your recently posted meditation just now, and I'm so relaxed it is actually hard for my fingers to type. What a beautiful meditation. Thank you, Michael. I laid on the floor as it was playing, and it's always funny how animals can sense the change in (maybe?) vibrational frequency. Both dogs lay down on top of me as I was relaxing. Made it just a bit harder to breathe but the experience of the three bodies as one felt so tingly that I just let them stay. My first husband and I (not Joe) went camping in the desert many years ago. A moonless night, pitch black, the stars so vibrant that it was incredible. He had started a huge bonfire and in addition to the stars we were watching little red embers fly up into the sky, among the stars. When your meditation mentioned the black sky, twinkling stars, and falling stardust, it immediately swept me away to that night in the desert. I hadn't thought of that in years. What a beautiful memory. Well, that was my New Years Eve gift to myself. And a beautiful one it was. Thank you again, Mr. M. I'll be listening to it again.

Ten-four, good buddy.

Love the hard boiled egg story.

Nice metaphor, the day length. I agree. And things are actually getting a bit more tolerable. I'm meeting with a grief counselor this coming week - I'm thinking a bereavement group may be a good idea for a while. I tried a group a few months back but I wasn't ready - still in shock. It's been 3 months now. Oddly, a big part of losing someone who has been such a huge part of my life for so many years, is what to do with my time now? There is an emptiness that I haven't felt in a long time. We did everything together. Having to change my thinking, change my habits - this is a very big part of the grief process too. As sad as all this has been, I must admit that this is also incredibly interesting when viewed from a more detached perspective. There is a definite dovetail with the pursuit of conscious awareness when something this monumental happens in one's life. One gets to see the breadth and depth of the attachment, to feel it, to feel it being ripped away. And this can only result in further awareness and understanding if one keeps their eye on the ball and actually uses the experience for growth. As hard as that is. The tears certainly get in the way. But they are lessening, although love remains. There's the beauty. A very happy new year to you, cold. And your friendship and care during this process is greatly appreciated. I hope to be able to do the same for others, as you have, when their grieving time comes. This is something that all of us humans must come to grips with at some point in their lives - the loss of someone dear. There is a strange comfort in telling myself "it's just my turn, that's all".

I gotta hand it to you. At least you know your neighbors.

Really nice observations, Michael. I just thought I'd mention that I may not be participating to the degree you are in this exercise. I look forward to your comments, but I don't know if I have it in me to follow suit right now. The desire just isn't there, at least not yet. I really appreciate your attempts to help get me through this; things are slowly getting a little better. And again, I reiterate, you are the very kindest man in the world. You certainly walk your talk, and I for one really appreciate it.

thanks, cold. I'm here at a 55+ mobile home park in Florida awaiting a Christmas dinner up at the rec room. Whoopie. I'm forcing myself to do this, just to get out a little. Remind me to never again buy anything in a 55+ setting. Too damn many old people.

The memory I have of sitting on my dad's lap is after he would hit me with a belt and I'd be crying, he'd make me put my arms around his neck and tell him I loved him. Yes, I have much to be released.

Yes, this is this it exactly. Last night I was crying so hard....thinking of the life that Joe had as a boy. He was taken from his (aunt?), or whomever it was that raised him, and put into a reform school. He was a bed wetter in reform school and was mocked daily for this. He was raped at the age of 9 by 3 men. It goes on and on. It occurred to me, as though a voice said it in my ear, "you are crying for your own childhood" - most of which I can't remember. What you say is exactly true. I just can't believe all the crying. This is transference to the nth degree. Three months, for god's sake.