The White

People who have near death experiences describe the movement from in-body to out of body and the existence of being in The White. During these past months, I have had two such encounters. There were two times when I moved into The White. It was not a slide show of my life. Or flipping through the pages of a scrapbook - The White was out of body; it was me looking at me as I lie on the hospital bed. The White was not a color, it was more the absence of color. What struck me the most, what lingers with me, is the lack of sound - the true sound of silence. People meditate or do yoga seeking to find a place of silence - I don't know if anyone actually achieves that of their choosing or doing. My mind races. When attempt to meditate I think about not thinking. At night, trying to fall asleep, my mind checks through the day's events, checks through my "to do" list for tomorrow, or just thinks about a television show, a funny joke, a situtation I wish I had handled differently; (doesn't that one just get ya' though) Post interaction we come up with a witty response to an insult, or a clever put down of someone else's rude behavior - in the moment we are without any words - then when we are trying to fall asleep our mind is Einstein like in it's ability to conjure up intelligent responses. I reckon there are some folks who are in tune with the uniververse, or themselves, or with their higher power that they in fact can achieve a place like The White. One time when I was very young, I'm talking days old - one time then I was in The White; One time when I was around seven, Eva, my birth mother came to me - Were these actual events? Did they really happen? For me they did and since I cannot prove a negative I can't prove they happened. With an active imagination, such as mine, and a mind which never stops moving, I reckon both events could be nothing more than something I made up. If in fact I made them up, then I did so as a means of protection or sefl preservation. Perhaps I made them up because I needed comfort which was not availabe to me. The reasons "why" are irrelevent - these events occured, for me it is fact - Given now my 47 years of living and all the experience living 47 years gives you I lend more credence to my recent encounters with The White. What strikes me most is not the absence of color, or being out of my body, looking at myself - what is most remarkable is the sound of silence - I am sound sensitive to begin with. I think I am a bat, nocturnal and directed by sound. Loud noises bother me. Casino's bother me because they are full of sound. Loud music bothers me. Clinking glasses bother me. People who laugh loud, they bother me. I like quiet. At night there is a bird outside the window - he chatters the night away, that bird bothers me. I wonder whom he is talking to? All the other birdies are asleep and there is is telling is tale. I wish I spoke bird so I could convers with him. I would ask him to chirp quieter (is that a word?) In The White it is quiet - silence does not describe the sound of no sound. It is that whole you can't prove a negative thing - I can't describe it - I can't say it is peaceful, or soft, or warm - can't do it; Why you ask? I don't know. Just can't do it. Within me, through 47 years of life, nothing I have learned can describe to you the sound of silence. It was something precious - I can say that - it was precious; I felt I knew I should hang on to that feeling, to that lack of sound - There in The White I was not offered door #1, #2, or #3. No one spoke to me. ST. Pete was not at a heavenly gate. I was in The White, above myself, looking at the hospital room, and one time looking at my room here at home. While I hung out there (all pun intended), I sensed, and the what's funny is that song...Should I Stay or Should I go? That song was what I was thinking, or singing, it was jingling in my head. The idea of going to be with Mommie and Little Gram, to me Eva, goodness to see everyone, that was really something I knew would be remarkable. It would be so beautiful - the idea of letting it all go. Setting down my sword, laying to rest the burdens and bricks, and heavy trees I have lugged around for a long time - that was tempting. Except, there in the hospital, on a lumpy dumpy pull out cot was my Poopy Sister and there was no way she was going to wake up and be the one who found me dead - no, not a chance. That was a no brainer (more pun intended, you know they operated in my brain, get it - geez I crack myself up) No mam, Poopy Sister would not be the person who found me dead. I hung in The White for awhile, don't kow how long, no bells or whistles went off so it could not have been that long. Then I was just back in the bed, lying awake wishing I was asleep and pondering The White.

It has been a while

Indeed it has been sometime since I have written. A lot has happened. I spent the month of February in the hospital. Had surgery to remove a "weeping" cyst from my pituitary gland. I don't know why the cyst was weeping - it sure caused a lot of tears for other folk. When they dig around your brain, well, I would not recommend it. I am on the road to recovery. This road is longer than I expected. Elizabeth Taylor died today - she was on the 8th floor I was on the 4th floor and the 6th floor. I was going to be moved to the 8th floor but something happened and I ended up on the 3rd floor, finally I cam home. I didn't think I was going to leave that hospital alive. It was a difficult time. While the doctor insists I was depressed, I wasn't. I was frustrated and angry - I was out of patience. I have been home now almost 4 weeks. Some days I feel good. Some days I feel really lousy. I take each as it comes trying to do the best with it. Now, I can admit to being in a funk. Between this situation and the situation with my leg, my life is under the control of doctors or lawyers and when I should take which pill. I can't drive. I have a difficult time walking any distance or staying focused for any length of time - this is frustrating. I can't really make plans for the future because I don't know when I will have my independence and control over my life. I don't like that. It may be true when I had control I did not make all the right decisions but at least I owned them. As there is a silver lining to every cloud - while I was sick - the support I received from so many people humbled me. Aldona Mae flew from Dallas, she came to the hospital and did not leave until I did. Night after night she slept on that cot, and she watched me, she kept the doctors and nurses on their toes. Liz was there every moment she could be. She brought me little treats, or just sat and watched me sleep. And when I came home she had the bathroom fixed so I could sit in the shower, my bed downstairs so I could be a part of daily life, she has driven me everywhere, rearranged her schedule for my benefit.  Eileen flew from Burlington, after three attempts and took care of me the first few weeks I was home. Flew across the country and made BLT sandwiches. Lynn has handled paperwork for my leave of absence and driven me to the doctors office - so many of you have sent cards or messages on FB. In light of such love I cannot remain in a funk. Sometimes I just have to realize that I have to let go of what is not in my control - not such an easy thing but doable. I can do it. I see so much possibility for the future. I want to begin today. Except I can't. That stinks, but I can deal with it.  When I have to allow my body to rest, well I just have to do that. Sometimes I have to push myself, sometimes I have to let it go. Then there is the wanting of it all to go away and the knowing that is not going to happen. Finding a place in the middle that I can live in. Here it is the end of March. My hopes of having a great school year gone. I so wanted to make up for all the time I missed last school year and now I am missing more time. My poor students. Then I think of so many people in Japan, and the bombing in Libya - why are we always sticking our noses in other people's business. Save the bombs and send the money to help the victims of that devastating earthquake. Didn't enough people lose their lives in the tsunami? Do we really need to kill more people? What is the purpose? I don't understand. Watching the news is an exercise in frustration. We move on though. We move on and we do the best we can. Winter is almost over for my Eastern friends. That first robin will soon be spotted and the world will become bright with sunlight. That spring fever will set in - the days when you want to sit by the river or just be outside - going to work or school seems like cruel and unusual punishment. They should have a spring fever day. Just one day you can call in with spring fever - then do whatever you want to, outside in the sunshine and warmth. Spring brings rebirth and renewal - I think it will do the same for me. Though her in SoCal it is not so dramatic we do have a spring (except right now we are having a late winter) This spring is going to bring forth a renewal for me. Issues are going to be resolved and I am going to continue on this recovery road. No, the Mets are not going to be any good this year - but baseball is baseball - and who knows? Miracles happen right? Whatever the case I will prevail. Like Karma from his cocoon I will emerge, and I will find my wings and then fly. What I once thought was an end is a beginning. I only need remember how much I am loved and how much so many sacrificed to help me, how much people have prayed for me, and kept good thoughts for me - where there is love anything is possible. Though I may be in this funk, it is only temporary. Onward I will go and through the darkness I will emerge. When one is so blessed it is just wrong to feel in a funk. I should just slap myself -