My story is an homage and critique to the practice of life. My practice and that of fellow seekers. An interweaving of observations of self and life through storytelling. This blog is my truth, as I see it. Foggy at best. Only when Truth is found in the universal can it truly reflect Reality. This is my reality it may not be yours.
My life has been both typical and unusual. It began in the suburbs of upstate NY one of five children born to an Irish descendant mom and an Italian descent father in the 1960’s on a development built on farmland. One of my mom’s earliest memories of me was, “you lurched out of your nip nap landing head first on the floor and the doctor said watch her for 24 hours to make sure she doesn’t sleep. You had no trouble doing this your big brown eyes staring into mine all night long.”
This curiosity and need for action followed me into my preschool days. When four years old, I jump out of our moving sedan after shifting the gear pretending I was driving while waiting for my parents to come out of our modest home. My parents (who were inside our home) watched in horror as their young child slipped out of the car and then as it rolled over my back. My mom tells the story of how the ER doctor didn’t believe her version of what happened until she showed the tire marks that lined my back only hindered by a poison ivy rash.
My own earliest memory was less the victim of my behavior and that of the hero, saving my youngest brother from drowning at age seven. Already the budding nurse in the family. My dad was mowing the lawn while a tall seemingly mature 12 year old girl was hired to lifeguard for us. As we were swimming about, I noticed my youngest brothers, Pat suspended head first floating in the pool. I can still recall pulling him out and holding his head above water as best as I could his body seemed so heavy to me.
A commotion ensued as we screamed for my dad to come help and how he tried to resuscitate Pat unsuccessfully until the shouts for our neighbor, a tall surly father of four came to our rescue. Mr. D athletic and long-legged, pole-vaulted over two fences to get to us. Pounding Pat on the back until he regurgitated the water that he swallowed his face finally returning to pink from the ashen blue that it had been. When my mother got home from grocery shopping an hour or so later, we excitedly ran off to tell her what had happened. Adventure and crisis an everyday occurrence it seemed, but this merited great importance as one of us almost died. She was angry at my father for mowing the lawn instead of watching us. After getting Pat checked out at the pediatricians she had him back in the water that night telling us “you have to get back on that horse that throws you.”
If I was going to begin this storytelling in adulthood it would be right before my 20th birthday. Nine months pregnant and newly married, overdue to deliver my daughter I found my mom one afternoon after my OB-GYN appointment on the bathroom floor of the house I grew up in in a pool of her blood with a bowel hemorrhage. The fixed memory of the ambulance medics not able to find a pulse or reassure me that she’d be ok and live to see her granddaughter born the next day remains with me as a pivotal memory. My mom now jokes in her Irish way that she didn’t want to be outdone by the miracle of birth.
These stories have an alarming ring but thankfully all ended on a happy note and hopefully will continue to. When people tell me that they don’t believe in God, I listen, respect and try to understand but from my own life’s perspective, how can I not believe? I am grateful to the Divine for protecting me as well as she/he has. I thank my good karma for paying back so kindly and trust in the interplay of lila that has lead to the development of my life and its shaping in many ways. Crisis arising and resolving with the same rate of speed has been the hallmark of my journey.
The mingling and interweave of our experiences is remarkable if we just tune in and noticed the synchronicity of our existence in relativity with all living beings. We are blessed and there is an unfathomable plan. Despite the precariousness of nature and existence things usually work and we move forward on our path as we grow, learn and falter along the way. When life goes wrong, this is when believing that there is a higher order and greater plan is helpful and holding true that life will remain a mystery at least for now.
I guess for many of us it isn’t death that we fear but living fully which can scare us and detracts from the beauty of life. If things just flowed along we wouldn't need to have faith, would we?
Some of my storytelling is of major events that have occurred but more often, just a reflection of the inane, the mundane. Isn't it within the pauses of life, when things often happen for us and shouldn't we welcome these times of space with gratitude.
I hope you enjoy!
with love, Kristin
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Disclaimer: In no way is anything that I write or muse about meant as professional advice or recommendations...I have changed up some of the people's names to protect their identity
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