Taking a Trip Tomorrow
Wednesday, May 8, 2002 -- 11:46pm
Posted by Bar


Hi Everybody,

The last week has been very hard.  I've been crying a lot and asking
questions out loud to the sky to whomever might be listening.  Sometimes I
think that God might be there; sometimes I think that Forrest might hear me.
I seem to think of them as one and the same "person" these days.  Even when
it feels like it's God that I might be conversing with, I don't always feel
comforted.  Feeling God is not the same as feeling Forrest right next to me.
I loved being with Forrest.  It was real.  I could feel him physically.  I
didn't have to have faith about him.  He was just there.  Now my faith is in
question all of the time.  I have to ask myself if God is there.  I have to
wonder whether Forrest's wonderful spirit is around.  I have to question
where Forrest might be in every single moment that I am thinking about him
which is pretty much every moment that I'm aware of.  It used to be that I
obsessed about whether he would die or not.  Now I'm obsessed about where he
might be.  When I was sitting out at his grave tonight I screamed out loud
that I was tired of finding my faith.  I'm tired of pretending that I
understand some of what is happening to me.  Sure.  There IS a lot that I
understand, but the one question that I simply cannot get an answer for is
"where is Forrest now?"  I think about my intuitive answer to that question
which is that Forrest is elsewhere - in a new and fabulous dimension; that
he's re-met God, that he's in a very safe and peaceful place; that he's all
the things that my knowledge of him tells me is.  Why would I think
otherwise?  But guess what?  On days like today, his being with God (or
wherever) is just plain not good enough.  It doesn't fill me in on the
longitude or latitude of his being.  It doesn't tell me what he's up to.  It
doesn't tell me if I'll ever see him again.  I keep wondering if he's
evolving so fast that I have no hope of catching up.  He was so far ahead of
me anyway, and if I stay on this planet for another 40 years or so, he'll be
in another universe by the time I quit.  It's an awful feeling.  I know that
it will get better and in many moments I can see the Beauty in it all.  But
some days, like today and many of the last 10 or so, I don't see the Beauty
so well.

I have to tell you, though, that there is still a lot of great stuff
happening around here for Peter and me.  At Supertots, "Forrest's Place" -
the gazebo that the families put together in Forrest's name - has developed
into a magical spot on the outskirts of Fairy Land.  Peter spent 13 hours on
Saturday building the benches.  He suspended a big purple gazing ball from
the center of the ceiling, too, which Forrest would love, love, love.
Cheryl hung 40 or so hearts, hand-crafted by all of the kids, from that same
ceiling, and she made 7 bird houses to go in each of the gazebo's arches.
Next to the entrance she's hung a sign that says "celebrate life".  It's an
enchanting spot.  The kids love it.  When I stopped in to visit this
afternoon 4 of the little girls dragged me over to show it all to me.

My buddy Sarah gave me a little package while I was there - almost like she
was expecting me to show up today.  Inside was a heart-shaped rock that she
had found while swimming at a local swimming hole a few weeks ago when it
was summer here.  She found the rock, told her mom she wanted to give it to
me, and then proceeded to cover it with purple glitter.  When she gave it to
me, one of her classmates told me that he thought she'd given it to me
because Forrest had died.  I agreed with him.  But later, when I was leaving
the graveyard and I was thinking about them, I realized that she'd given it
to me not only because Forrest had died but also because she loves me.  It
was a very touching realization.  I was glad for myself that I understood
that.  It's nice to be loved by little people.  I feel as though I have been
really understood when someone much younger than me likes me.  It feels like
such an honor and a blessing somehow.

As I was driving through town I noticed another memorial to Forrest that had
been erected over the weekend without my knowing.  Two members of my church
decided to dedicate the new church sign to Forrest.  It's one of those signs
that tells the community what's happening at St Gregory's, Woodstock.  The
designer did a beautiful job and it made me feel very supported to see the
sign looking so nice on the side of the road.  Someday there will be a
little plaque with Forrest's name on it too.

It's hard to express my gratitude.  I am so moved by the love that so many
people are expressing for Forrest.  Their memorials are all the more
powerful for me because they express Love which was what Forrest did so
well.  There was always a deep sense of peace around him and it seemed to
rub off on everybody.  It was incredible to watch and to experience and I
keep feeling like I want to have more of it.  I keep seeing that in order to
keep feeling it, I will have to create more of it myself, and that feels
really good to me right now.

When I set out to write you tonight I was mostly needing to tell you that
Peter and I won't be around a computer again until the end of the month.
We're off to Italy in the morning for 18 days of quiet and distance from
home.  Everyone seems to think it will be good for us to get away.  Right
now I'm not so sure, but I think once we're on land over there we'll
appreciate the adventure and the new surroundings.  I will be in touch when
we get back.
Thank you again for listening.  I needed to gush about Forrest today and you
let me.  I miss him a lot.

I love you all. Have a good month,
Bar

So much for fearlessness
Tuesday, May 28, 2002 -- 2:50pm
Posted by Bar


I think I remember saying that I was fearless just a few weeks ago?

HA!

Nothing like a journey overseas, grief, and vipers to take away a woman's
sense of confidence.  By the time Peter and I set foot at our destination on
the spectacular island called Elba off the western coast of Italy, I thought
that I might stop breathing from fear.  It was unbelievable.  Didn't I say
something about not caring a hoot about bear in my own backyard??  I don't
know, I guess the oxygen inside the Boeing 767 on the way over to Italy got
to my head and set me back about 3 lifetimes.

Let me explain:

Elba is stunning.  It is also an island of rock - basically a mountain whose
tip sticks out of the ocean to about 4000 feet above sea level.  Result?
The roads to and from anywhere on the island are twisty and turny and steep
and so sure that you are not going to drive off of them that they have very
few guard rails.  It is very uncomfortable until you get used to it which
takes a number of days.  Add that to the fact that there are vipers and wild
boar lurking in the grass and you have a woman who is jet-lagged,
freaked-out and generally out of control.

I am making fun of myself, but it was not fun at the time.  I honestly could
not function for a number of days and Peter had to bribe me with a serving
of gelati just to get me back into the car to explore the island.  By the
time we left, I was an expert on the road and almost daring him to take the
steepest roads to save a few minutes getting to the next town.

It was beautiful.  So good to be away in the sun and with Peter.  We only
met one woman who spoke English so we visited her often.  With others, we
got by on a few lame "Bon jornos", "Grazias", and "toilettes?"  and went on
our way.  We were pathetic when it came to using any of the very little
Italian we had tried to cram into our heads before we left.  What was nice
about it though, was that Peter and I talked to each other all of the time.
Our longest time together alone before this month was on our honeymoon 8
years ago which lasted only 3 days.

We cried a lot.  We joked a lot.  We faked Italian whenever we could.  We
ate tons of pizza and gelati.  We hiked many, many miles, saw many great
animals including a wild boar, a snake (not a viper much to Peter's
disappointment), a spectacular barn owl (which we are convinced was inspired
by Forrest), a hedgehog and a rabbit (both of which Forrest adored along
with his Granny), a bullfrog, (another Forrest favorite), cobalt blue jelly
fish, and ants (which I studied and learned an enormous amount from.  More
on that in a moment).  We went into ancient churches and forts built on the
most remote, most intensely steep edges of the island.  It was incredible to
think about stone masons building churches where they built churches and
then pilgrims climbing to those monuments to express their spiritual
commitment.  I sang in a remote church that took over an hour to hike to and
was built 1000 years ago.  The acoustics were the best I've heard and the
German tourists that were around didn't seem to mind my rendition of "Ave
Maria" as they wandered around the property.  We went out on a
glass-bottomed boat to look at a sunken ship from 35 years ago.  We were the
last to go up to the highest peak on the island via gondola and were quite
alone when we reached the top.  It was beautiful.  We were in the clouds and
we could see ocean on every side.  There were clouds above and below us
which was intense and rather disorienting.  It was the first time in my life
that I felt as though I had a view of the earth similar to that of an
astronaut or maybe even Forrest.

The house we stayed in is a friend of ours.  She gave us the trip feeling we
needed a vacation.  It was a lovely idea and it served its purpose.  We had
space and peace and we got in touch with our selves and our grief and our
new lives.  And now, we are home and better for being there and back.

As for the ants and their lessons:  I was doing yoga one morning out on the
edge of the driveway.  I had picked a spot where there didn't seem to be any
ants but as my practice went on, I noticed that there WERE ants and that
they were very confused by this enormous purple mat lying across their path.
They kept trying to figure out whether to go over the mat or under the mat
where, presumably, they would be unsure of what lie ahead in the dark.  As I
watched them I thought that I might move my mat to make their life more
bearable, but I decided it was ok for me to do what I needed to do there -
that they would work it out.  I figured that my moving would be somehow
co-dependent which wouldn't help the ants in their personal search for self,
so.....  I watched them manage.  What I witnessed was profound.

They did carry on.  They did what they had to do and they figured out a new
way to do it.  They showed me that decisions about the future can not be
made in advance.  Decisions about what to do and how to do it had to be made
in any given moment.  Those decisions had to be made based on the
information that was currently available not on information collected
yesterday or even five minutes ago.  If a big purple mat is suddenly in the
way, deal with it then.  Maybe it will go away, and maybe won't, but there
is still work to be done and life to live.  I'll tell you, watching them
make their choices was truly enlightening for me.  I haven't squished an ant
since and I feel much better for it.

I did a fair amount of writing and drawing while we were away.  I needed to
be writing e-mails to you all because so much was coming up for me.  But
there was no computer around and I couldn't touch base so I had to go within
or talk to Peter.  It was a very valuable predicament, but I missed being in
touch quite a lot.

I kept wondering if Forrest would be able to find us.  I kept wondering if
his little spirit was wandering around at home wondering where we'd gone.
It sounds funny, but it was making me nuts in the early days over there.  I
could not feel him around me and I had gotten to a place at home where I
could.  Soon enough, though, he caught up with us and I got lots of signals
that he was around while we were over there.  It was a great comfort.

So many of you have written me with your thoughts on where Forrest is right
now.  I am very grateful and envious of the faith that many of you have.  I
thought a lot about faith while we were away and came to a few (possibly
temporary?)  conclusions about it.  The main thing I know for myself is that
in order for me to have faith about anything, I have to have experience.  I
don't have faith because other people do.  I have to feel it myself.  I have
to know it in my heart.  I have to trust what I know and what I see or feel.
I learned that I have a tendency to read or hear a certain thing and then
say to myself, "oh, that sounds good, that works for me, I think I'll assume
that belief" only to find I have doubts about that same thought a few days
later.  On the contrary, when I experience something that is True and Real
for me, I never loose my faith in it.  It's like the time I saw all of those
crows flying around me and around Forrest's gravesite.  I KNOW what happened
that day.  I KNOW that that was a gift for me.  I will never doubt that
experience for one moment.

(I must also add that I feel very strongly that faith precedes experience,
not the other way around.  I have learned that my own personal experience is
the truth that I seek.  I love hearing other people's truths, but I don't
feel their truth as my truth until I know it for my self.  When I think
about religion, which naturally I did a lot of in Italy with all of its
religious art, mysterious churches and images, I saw that for hundreds of
years men and women have taken their religious beliefs from other men and
women.  I realized that for me it has been important to have a personal
experience of God not one that is given me by someone else's experience or
belief.  It was also very clear to me that spiritual life is a very
different thing than religious life......do we have many more days to
discuss this??  Does anyone else want to talk about the differences??)

I need to take a breath....

Ah....

We spent the day in Woodstock yesterday celebrating Memorial Day.  People
here are still looking out for us.  We got hugged over and over again.  No
one feels the need to say too much, they just know we need hugs and I am
grateful for that.  I don't know if I can ever express enough gratitude and
joy for the amount of love we have experienced since Forrest was born and
certainly since cancer came into our lives.  There's nothing like love to
rejuvenate this mommy.  I feel like I love being alive again.  I love the
journey.  I know that my life will forever have this missing piece, but I
also know that I will always have love.

Which reminds me of another a-ha moment I had while we were away.  Because I
don't know for sure the exact "physical" location of Forrest, I have to
consider what I DO know.  And all I know for sure, sure, sure, is Love.  I
knew love when he was alive and I know love in his death.  And, I know that
there will always be love.  That observation convinces me yet again that
love is what it's All about.

And, at the risk of over-doing it with the insights, I'll add this one too:

When I got home, I learned that a very dear and life-long friend of mine's
husband was diagnosed with cancer while we were away.  Needless to say, I
was shocked and saddened and pretty much knew what the two of them were and
are going through.  It has gotten me to thinking about the beginning phases
of our cancer journey and wanting to know what to do for them at this time.
Two things came up.

One is that I want to see them and I need to drop what I am doing and make
that happen.

The second thing is something I've changed my thinking on since Forrest
died.  While we were going through treatments and life was very demanding
for us, I kept telling Peter I felt sure that I was being tested in some way
and that the test was somehow part of a bigger plan for me.  I was
determined then to somehow pass the test with flying colors and all of that.
I didn't know if that meant that Forrest would live or not, but I knew that
I wanted to accept the challenge and pass the test - whatever it might be.

But since Forrest's death I see more clearly what is true.  I don't think
that life - cancer or no cancer, love or no love, sweet times or hard times
- is ever a test.  Now I see life as presenting us with challenges that are
essentially opportunities.  They ask us to decide how we are going to
respond; how are we going to BE with this new information or this new
condition.  Our response is what is truly meaningful.  Feeling this way
gives me great comfort.  I don't have to worry about whether I passed a test
of some sort.  Somehow it leads me to a place of knowing that all is well;
that there IS a greater plan; and that Forrest carries on just as I do but
in another dimension.  I am greatly relieved by that knowing.

And finally, with regard to fear and overcoming it.  Despite Peter's careful
encouragement for me to get over my fear of the roads, the vipers and the
heights on Elba, I just could not overcome them in a hurry.  I realized that
fear is not something I can necessarily get over just by knowing it is
there.  What I needed was to take care of myself and acknowledge my
fragility.  I did not want to be paralyzed, but neither did I want to be
terrified.  Taking it kindly and slowly was the answer.

I feel as though I have over-loaded this e-mail, but I've been on withdrawal
from you!

It's nice to be back.  Thank you all for being out there.  I hope that life
is full for you.

Much love,
Bar