The sun was just peeking from around the dark teal drapes in our bedroom this morning when my alarm went off. As I had a restless sleep the night before I decided to set a back up and snooze just a bit more. Easier said than done when you have three dogs that have a Pavlovian response to the alarm. In the end I was able to negotiate another fifteen minutes. "Fine, I'm up are you happy?" I snapped at the perky faces who knew that a snack was just minutes away. Once up the morning became easier and easier. Today I had purpose. I wasn't up early to go and see yet another doctor, there was a bigger plan in store for me today. I was going to church.
First of all, I almost never go to church (unless I am traveling abroad and then you can't keep me out of them. I have attended mass in almost every country I have been to. I am not a Catholic, I don't identify myself as a Christian, either. That being said, I was thrilled to be attending mass for Ash Wednesday! My friend Theresa, who was raised Catholic, would be my guide today. We had made plans the day before, deciding where to go. I want it big, grand, beautiful, with robes and incense. That settled it, St. Anthony's! Once inside and looking at it's beautiful decor of rose and verdi marble and the grand alter carved out of white marble, I flashed on a much younger version of myself. We attended The Church of Christ while I was growing up. In fact, my farther was becoming a minister in the church. At some point, I remember attending a wedding for a Catholic neighbor of ours at their cathedral. Upon entering the vestibule, I felt something that I never felt in our humble church. It was grand. This surly was what God wanted a church to look like! I felt closer to god in that church than I ever had before. They had a piano and an organ (Church of Christ being a literalistic faith, apparently uses a passage from the bible that talks about lifting up your voices to the lord in song, as a weapon on it's flock) I was dazzled throughout the entire wedding mass. I fell in love with the incense (which was defiantly not the dreadful stuff my oldest sister used to hide the smell of her pot). This must be heaven on earth. My mother must have sensed my defection that day because on the way home she made a point of telling me that it was too bad that those nice Catholics were going to hell because they did not believe in the true faith. (her's). I didn't know it then, but I stopped believing in my parents religion that day.
This morning I was moved to tears watching the congregants live out their faith. While I felt lost in the "script" used by the Catholic church and felt out of beat with the Catholic Aerobics (kneel, stand, sit, repeat). I still appreciated the warm feeling of the congregation. Being greeted by strangers who honestly seemed happy to see us. It was so different that the way I remembered church growing up. The women talking about the clothing other women had chosen to wear. The looks of distrust given to newcomers. Maybe because my father was a minister, and I had a different view of the church, but I saw it as a mean spirited self serving organization and wanted nothing to do with it.
Later in my early teens, I found a book in the thrift shop. I was so attracted to the cover. A dark black sky with diffused stars and a brilliant blue feather floating on the cover. I bought really for the cover art, but the book would change my life. The book was titled Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah by Richard Bach. If the name of the author rings a bell he had written a best seller years prior titled "Johnathan Livingston Seagull". The story was simple. A failed writer and barnstormer meets up with another barnstormer and they decide to travel together. The first believes in only in things of a material nature until his new companion starts to levitate wrenches and flies without gas. It has been years since I read the book but I remember saying out loud several times "that's right". To put it simply, I discovered my own faith and spirituality while reading that book. It didn't come from the book, it had been there all along. I knew from that moment on that I was connected to God. I have not always stayed on that path. I don't always feel a conscience connection to the divine. Somehow,no matter what was going on in my life, my belief has always been there. When my first life partner informed me that he had AIDS the first words out of my mouth were "you can cure yourself, if you choose to". I had not been taught that. That kind of knowing requires a connection. I believe that it is a connection that all of us have and can draw on at any time. Ultimately Tim did not cure himself. He was a beautiful kind man who died a shell of his former self in a hospital so void of human compassion that they were taking his blood for testing every two hours in spite of the fact that it caused him excruciating pain and fear.
I was angry for a long time after that. Why had been given this knowledge if I couldn't do anything with it, yet I never questioned it. I believed then and I believe today that we can heal ourselves This was 1985 and the worst years of my life were right around the corner. I jumped from the frying pan and into the fire. I volunteered for the local AIDS Project and watched in horror as hundreds of my friends, co-workers, and acquaintances died around me. It was like experiencing a modern day plague. I stopped counting funerals at 50. Stopped attending at 60 and stopped feeling anything at all around 61. I stopped paying taxes assuming that I was next to go. I didn't. I just kept on getting out of bed and going to work and going to bars to dance the pain off at the end of the day. I couldn't understand how after leading such a useless hedonistic life that I was the one chosen to live. But there I was alive. It was time to straighten my life out and walk the right path forever. Get real, Ran! Those of you who know me know that I tend to swing from tree to metaphorical tree.
Today that tree was St Anthony's. I came home with a wonderful calm energy around me which could be leftover from yesterdays acupuncture session. I find myself wanting to find the perfect ending for today's blog, but the day isn't over. I feel amazing. I have energy to spare. (OK this is almost definitely left over from acupuncture).
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