Cloudy With A Chance Of Hope

After a brutal, beyond infernal week of 110+ degrees in Phoenix, I awoke to partly sunny skies. Could it be...clouds? In this arid desert, clouds are a God send, nature's way of teasing us with the remote possibility of rain, of which we've only received an inch this entire year. These cumulus clouds signal the arrival of monsoon, our version of the rainy season. As I gazed up into the heavens and welcomed the sight of dark grey clouds, the simile did not escape me. Almost 5 months since Anne's death and the darkness that I was shoved to live in, slowly recedes giving way to a cloudy outlook. A change I embrace after such a long exile.

Grief is a stubborn unwelcome guest and fickle, too. Just as I think I'm in the clear, it whacks me on the forehead and almost unconscious. It must possess the gift of invisibility, as I NEVER see it coming. Grief has no manners either, or it would know how rude it is to enter uninvited via a closed front door. No noticing the none too subtle doormat stating "LEAVE". Grief took no hint from it, evidently it's illiterate or it would be reading my blog posts relating to its visit. Don't you think 5 months is way too long for a house guest?? One of its most annoying traits is insomnia. This killjoy will sneak into my bedroom in the dark of night, and invade my dreams until I wake up with a nightmare. It seems misery loves company, especially at 3AM. I can't even shower without grief skulking in, and really, that's just indecent. If happiness were poison, grief would be the antidote. Life too good? Don't worry, grief to the rescue. If grief were on match.com, its profile would read: Lookin' for a lousy time? Call me, my no. is 555-PAIN. I am done with this visitor, but nobody wants it. I placed an ad on Craigslist partly stating " Free house guest to a good or bad home. Doesn't eat, drink or speak. Can be depressing, rude, overbearing, and a general pest." Maybe I'm being too honest. Perhaps I'll change it to say the following " Feeling lonely? This roommate is the perfect companion, always around. Will not leave food in the fridge for months because it doesn't eat. Got rowdy neighbors? Send this roommate over. Guaranteed party pooper!" I think I'll repost it today.

Joy Is Riding An Elephant to Happytown

They say it's the journey, not the destination. Yeah got it, but I'm antsy to reach Happytown and can't understand why I chose one of the slowest mammals on the planet to take me there. His handler, who has an uncanny resemblance to Gandhi, assures me Ganesh knows the way to joy and just enjoy the ride. My "ride" being an elephant, a very special elephant as I will find out. Still doubtful, I reluctantly nod in understanding. This is my last chance to depart on my journey before the rainy season begins. Mounted on Ganesh, we wander off down a rural, dusty path headed into the unknown. The handler leaves me with one dire warning, "Do not be tempted by the distractions along the way, stay with Ganesh, he will keep you safe".

From this height, the world seems smaller and quieter. The slower pace allows me to sit back and observe the mundane as if through a microscope. We pass through a tiny village and at its edge, a candy apple red Maserati comes into view. A peddler rushes up and craning his neck yells up at me, "You can ride the Maserati or the elephant to Happytown, they are both the same price!"  Really?? I can't pass up driving an Italian sports car, so I dismount Ganesh and slide into the buttery toffee colored leather seat.
Two hours later with steam bellowing out of the hood, I crawl to a stop. Turns out Maseratis are no match for pothole ridden dirt roads or 105 degree heat. I spot something meandering my way, it's Ganesh. He halts, turns his majestic head towards me and says "The Maserati is beautiful, but not practical for this harsh climate". A talking elephant? Ganesh shares his story with me as we continue our journey into the night. He is no ordinary elephant he explains, he is the Lord of all living things. The remover of obstacles, obstacles that prevent us from achieving joy. "Humans gravitate towards material attachments, which create suffering. You choose an impractical vehicle to travel to Happytown and it leaves you stranded. Why?" he asks. I ponder my answer and respond "Because I've never driven a Maserati before and it is a status symbol of wealth in my country. I wanted to boast about it to my friends back home". Ganesh lifts his trunk and pats me on the head as he chuckles and says "Ahh, ego. Another obstacle I must clear for you".
The rising sun is breathtaking here, a rainbow sherbet sky spread over the horizon. Just then, a dark object with a humongous wing span buzzes by me and as I focus in, realize it's a flying carpet! It circles back around and its driver devilishly smiles at me saying, "You can ride my magic carpet or the elephant to Happytown, they are both the same price." Well, a magic carpet can't break down and it is much speedier than an elephant, so I hop on the Persian rug and wave goodbye to Ganesh. Wait till my friends hear about this, I think to myself.
Two hours later with a few bumps and scratches courtesy of the towering fig tree we crashed into, I am sitting down, pressed up against its trunk tending to my wounds. Turns out flying carpets are fast but not good at dodging a flock of birds. Plus, it's really windy up there, Aladdin never mentioned the wind part. Regretting my latest transportation mode and the suffering it's causing, I glance into the vast desert and who should appear but Ganesh. He languidly arrives to my rescue and I clamber on, wincing all the way. We travel in silence for a while, which I welcome. I don't need a lecture from the Lord elephant right now. After our lunch break under a shady Bodhi tree, I quietly admit how my choices led to suffering and unhappiness and ask Ganesh for help. "Be aware of your actions and inactions. Will they lead to joy or suffering? Life should flow like water, unobstructed and without resistance. That is the path to joy. Get out of your own way", the wise elephant answers.
The remainder of our trip was uneventful and I rode into Happytown with a clearer outlook on the true meaning of finding joy within rather than without. You may not need an elephant to lead you to joy, the path is the same for us all. Happiness does not come from material wealth or our emotional attachments to it, happiness comes when we travel with the Divine or God at our side.
May your life be free from suffering, May you be at peace, May you be happy.

Parsnip Juice Is A Sweet Treat

Continuing my venture into juicing new vegetables, I discovered parsnips this week. Their generous juice is sweet and pale, high in vitamin C and folic acid. Choose a parsnip that is heavy and white. They are extremely dense, my high power mode struggled a bit with the really thick piece. You may want to halve a 2-inch wide parsnip. My juice concoction consisted of: 1 head of celery , 4 large cucumbers, 2 large parsnips scrubbed well and 1 peeled lemon. Trim ends of all veggies and split into two equal piles. All except the cukes and lemon use high mode on your Breville. This made 64 oz. so I omitted the carrots I bought. I did throw in a couple of broccoli stems leftover from dinner. The parsnips added sweetness and mellowing, a great substitute for carrots or apples. Parsnips benefit asthma sufferers and lungs. Next time you have a chest cold, chomp on parsnips!

Swim At Your Own Peril, The Ocean Of Grief is Uncharted

I am completely out of my favorite element, earth, and submerged in my least likeable one, water.  I say this just as my toes palpate a grainy sandbar, gripping on to terra firma. My short lived elation is washed away as a forceful, rogue wave shoves me back into the deep waters. My head bobs up and down like a cork, catching a glimpse now and then of land ahoy. Grief, it seems, comes in waves. Small, unassuming waves, and monster waves. I steady my sights on the refuge of dry land and begin to feverishly swim towards it. At times, the ocean coaxes me along easing my journey and grief begins to subside. At times, a riptide sucks me under and spits me out as if it swallowed a bad clam, throwing me off course. How did the ocean get so big and how did I get so small?  If I stop fighting the tide and give in to my sorrow, will the current eventually deliver me to safer ground? It's a game between grief and joy, a tug of war of sorts. I reach for joy, and grief sweeps me out to sea.  Ungrounded and disoriented, I find solace in knowing that I am not alone. The ocean of grief is vast and unmapped, even if you've been there before.  There is a lot to be said for feeling the ground beneath your feet. A solid foundation provides comfort and security in an unsteady world. I miss being centered and grounded. When I do eventually reach the shore, it will be an unfamiliar one. We can never go back once we've been swept out by the ocean of grief. But I will be a much stronger swimmer, already am.