BREATHING WITH NANNY AND POPPY

I woke this morning on this first day of March with a headache. It’s been there for the last four days, joining the rest of my flu which has been visiting me for the last two weeks. Symptoms are gradually improving and leaving one by one yet the heavy head is the one that makes me weak and unable to connect with the world.
What is wrong everyone wonders with worry and fear in the eyes? Fear (a virus of power) that catches me in response (I feel it in the tension that takes over and my head gets worse) and I wonder to myself why my body is taking its time? What is it telling me?
Rest.

Rolling onto my back I felt my spirit and body wanting to do some breath work. I had tried on a few occasions yet felt myself fall asleep before it actually began.

Today I began to breathe and walked into my story. My breath brought me to the memory of the house of my grandmother and grandfather. To a house in Queens, New York.
I saw the steps, the door, the checkered marble floor and smelled the scent of mothballs and wood in entrance hall, this home smelled of coffee, comfort food and the held greatest feeling of a warm welcome.
I saw each room of the home, the carpet, the old stereo system and the bay windows that looked back out to the street where I once played as my grandmother (Nanny) watched and waved and blew kisses.

I then saw Nanny’s arm, an arm so sweet and aged. I saw the thin skin that I could slide my hand over and the pretty veins.An awareness of how beautiful this arm was popped into my thoughts.
I saw her rubbing vapor rub on my chest as a child, laughing with me, making being sick a funny thing.
Suddenly I was holding her hand, my fingers playing with her wedding ring. Love was everything to Nanny. To her love was greatest wealth and what life is for. I felt that she was sad sometimes that not everyone knew this simple truth. Love and laughter ruled in this house in Queens.

My grandmother loved. More than anything she loved my grandfather (Poppy). My Poppy was a quiet man, handsome and his eyes held a chuckle (especially for my Nanny).
I felt their wisdom and kindness. I felt cared for.

Then I could see them dancing. At their fifty year anniversary a song played as they danced. I watched them with their foreheads pressed into each other. A smile of peace on my grandfather’s face.
“Longer than there have been stars up in the heavens
Higher than any bird ever flew.
Deeper than any forrest prime evil.
I’ve been in love with you”

I felt no revelation. Just pure patience and peace. As my breathing softened I felt my body relaxing, my head felt soft and free.

No headache.

My feet felt warm as if wrapped in comfort.
Bless you Nanny and Poppy. Your warmth and lessons are never-ending and I carry them so gratefully.

©Lucy Hamel

AN EDUCATION IN HUMANITY

“Educating the mind without educating the heart is no education at all.”― Aristotle

In the summer of 1981 my high school class was graduating without me. I had failed gym class and did not have enough credits to join my friends in this major celebration of our incredible growth.

I failed gym because I skipped so many classes, sometimes to be cool and hang out with other 'cool' kids. Sometimes I just needed to disappear in my wonder.  I could not really understand how I ended up so far behind and lost, yet I was.

High school was also the time I learned I was attractive. It seemed it was all I had. It took practice to know how to handle as it came with its own gifts and pressures. I remember a counselor writing to my mother to 'get a handle' on me as boys kept walking up to talk to me in study time. My mother asked me “What are you doing?” I said “I don't know.” She laughed.

Yet high school was also a time of loneliness and depression. I wondered how everyone knew what to do and when to go where. Who guides you in this land of rules? My parents had divorced and life, sadness and change were preoccupying their focus; they were out of touch with my emotional state. I was living in two houses and in each I felt I was a nuisance. I felt forgotten. Or maybe they thought I knew how to handle life? I only have my version.

I don't write this to make judgments and accept none against anyone, especially those I love.

I write to acknowledge any child or adult that ever felt stupid.

I write to acknowledge how wise we can be, beyond the man made definition of 'educated.'

I write to encourage emotional education in schools, making them a useful human gift. How are students taught to handle sadness, grief, love, anger, loneliness, fear, jealousy, anxiety and elation to name a few? Does a student know how to define anger or love or how best to use it?
I write to feel cleaner in who I am.
To continue:

I had lost my way and was not functioning according to the educational systems rules of how I should get from A to B.

Today in my breath work meditation I saw myself standing outside the fence, gripping onto to it as I watched my friends graduate. I hardly remember walking to the school grounds yet I do remember the sensation. You know that feeling when you have a high fever and all sounds hurt your ears and your skin feels strange? It was like that.

I was there for many reasons. I wanted to see my friends shine. I wanted my mother or father to look for me (I fantasized they would come to find me). Strangely I remember one of the biggest reasons I was there was because I wanted the principal to look in my direction and see me. I wanted him to see my anger, to see me alone, to see his face register that I knew that some people less clever than I were graduating while I sat out. I wanted him to see I knew he made choices of who he would set an “example” with. I wanted him to cringe in shame at his lack of support, but none of that happened.

Most people inside the fence avoided looking at me. It was supposed to be a beautiful day and I was messing up the joy. It was interesting to be so vividly visible and yet so invisible. (I suppose a lot like a famous star who's photo is being snapped by hundreds as she falls from grace and yet no one offers a hand)

Yet I did receive support in the form of my brother.
He showed up and put his arm around my shoulders. I remember he said “How ya doin’?” And really, that was all I needed. I was seen. It was not really the cool thing to hang out with your loser sister, but he did and I am forever grateful. I belong.

It took me some time to graduate. I ended up having one of the best summers of my life. I went to Boston University to a summer theatre and dance study program. One hundred kids had been accepted after auditions and one was me. I took seventeen courses and flourished. I had never felt such respect and pride in my life, I never felt so heard. We talked about emotions all the time! The professor sent a letter of high praise with my grades to my high school principal.

The principal said those courses were not enough and said I needed something more serious.

So I went back to Boston University to see what else I could do. There was a sociology course called “Life Crisis.” It dealt with depression and suicide. It interested me as I had lost some people close to me and I wanted to better understand them. I signed up for the class, my mother drove me there and my father paid. The only thing nobody noticed was that it was a master’s level class and the fact that I had no high school diploma.

I went in the evenings to study, read the heavy books, talked with students and doctors that were in the course with me. The final exam was tough for me, but I had read all the course work and was curious and intuitive enough on crisis to sense what to answer.

I completed the course and waited for my results, I received a C. I thought...I've done it!

I was surprised a few days later to receive a call from the professor of my course. She said she felt the need to call and ask why I could only accomplish a C on the exam. She commented that when I talked in class I seemed so knowledgeable.

I laughed and told her “It’s ok!!! I am happy, you see when I entered I didn't know I was in a masters course, I have never done this before!” She was outraged and told me she didn't know if I deserved a C under the circumstances. I shouldn't have been in the course. I felt like my heart stopped.

Professor: “How did you get into my class?”
Me : “I just signed up and paid”

She changed my grade to an F.

I asked her to please tell my mother. My mother had driven me to every evening class in the city. She would go off and take an art class at the same time and return for me. We were making friends again. I felt she was remembering me.

Mom told the professor she would sue the university. It took time but I received a letter of apology from the university and my C.

So back I went to the high school to see if they would now give me my diploma. Again he said no. Again my mother stepped in and went with me to the principal. It only took a few minutes with an adult by my side and I had my diploma. I belong?

“I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.”
― Mark Twain

I had long ago learned the diploma had nothing to do with how smart I was. It was a form of being acceptable to society. It was one of the ways to get from A to B.

What did I learn from all this? What was I meant to learn?

What do I want to teach?

There are a lot of ways to get from A to B.

Power plays exist. Recognize the ego.

Failure may offer an education.

Support people when they get a bit lost.

Ask for guidance when you get lost.

Share your feelings.

There are people out there who think like you.

Know you were born with gifts.

Choose to see everyone, even if its difficult.

Don't judge, stay curious.

Wisdom finds many ways to arrive.

Intelligence has many forms not on paper.

Have faith in your journey.

Your journey is your best education.

Superiority is man-made, not God given.

A true genius knows we all have genius. 

© Lucy Hamel

TRUE YOU

Once upon a non ordinary yet ordinary moment, a soul held among many more souls sat with a wisdom known by us here on earth as God.

This wisdom whispered to the soul. It is time once again to go to earth. Be beautiful. You know what that means now, but on earth you will be confused by the messages of beauty. My love, Peace will come when you are able to see past this myth.

The wisdom sang to the soul. Be successful on earth. How could you not be? But that is a secret you only know here.

Success may be defined for you on earth if you accept it, yet know you have the true seed of success always. It cannot be taken away.

Wisdom danced wildly with the soul. Find love and give love while on earth. Your supply is limitless unless you create limits. I will honor your ability to create.

Wisdom laughed and gave the gift of senses to riddle the soul. Sight, hearing, touch, taste and smell. Here are some tools for you. These can help ground you to the earth experience , yet they can also make you lose sight of the true you inside the earth story.

So the sixth sense I shall put right between your eyes. You can see what I see.

Wisdom showed breath to the soul. Enter this moving energy. It will be your source of connection to life on earth. I am in the breath. We are together always. It connects you to all, to me, to the universe and to the body you will learn and love in. Take time to be with this energy and listen beyond the ears.

Wisdom took flight with the soul, dipping through time.

Through warm clouds under a fire burning sun

Circling to see the moon of dreams

and down

over colorful mountaintops filled with trees chanting stories only heard above

Freedom Is.

It belongs to all.

Love Is.

It belongs to all.

Dear soul, you are free.

As you grow

every soul grows

I love you.

©Lucy Hamel

LEAVING GIRLHOOD

Fay walked toward her mothers' station wagon and climbed up onto the hood. She always craved warmth and the brown hood of the car held the heat of the sun. Stretching her legs in front of her to inspect them properly she pressed them to the cars metallic warmth. Tipping her head at an angel, she imagined another person looking at her legs. At twelve, Fay was still very petite yet her body held the muscles of a dancer, strong thighs connected to brown knees followed by calfs of a girl who loved to run with her brothers. Small hairs covered the skin and shined in the sunlight. A sigh escaped as she looked at these hairs. Until recently she hadn't given them a second thought. Yet a few days earlier she heard that girls with body hair were considered ugly.

So this Saturday morning Fay bought a woman's razor, it was sitting upstairs on the side of the tub just waiting for her. Unsticking her warm skin from the heat of the car she slowly walked back to the house, opening the screen door and to make her way up the stairs. She climbed slowly looking at her toes seeing more soft hairs and wondering if they too were ugly.

Sitting on the edge of the cool tub she began to run the warm water, unsure how to proceed. A small knot of anger sat in her stomach along with a slight bit of excitement that she would walk out with pretty legs the world would admire.

As she touched the razor to her shin she let it take an experimental glide upward. A clean path made its way up her leg, reminding her of a lawn being tended. Looking at the strange smoothness, she smiled in satisfaction and continued. Sliding the razor along the outer ankle she jumped as bright blood appeared, Fay stopped in shock tinged with a strange guilt. She tip toed over to the roll of toilet paper and grabbed a big wad and held it to her leg watching it soak up the redness and inhaled to calm the nervous shake of her fingers. Her movements now had a much slower pace, pausing as she hit her thighs to consider. Why would you just leave those hairs? Wouldn't that look stupid? Up she went, removing all traces of simple girlhood.

The screen door slammed as Fay walked back out into the sun and climbed back onto the hood of the car. She looked at her legs, her scraped ankles and smooth skin that now felt ugly and too exposed to her, as if she were a plucked chicken.

Tears filled her eyes and for a moment her legs sparkled as they had only a few hours ago.

She felt the separateness from her brothers and already missed them.

©Lucy Hamel

THE OCEAN'S AURA

"You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is like an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty." ― Mahatma Gandhi

 

A friend once reached for my hand as we snorkeled in the Pacific. In the water she was stronger than I, free and happy. Her confidence bloomed in this womb-like atmosphere. She felt powerful and wise. I felt like a child and willingly let her guide me through the ocean's magic. She pointed out the jewel colored fish and swaying green plants that seemed to wave at me. As we moved to swim past our small tour boat a piece of bread suddenly floated down from a passenger above. A yellow and turquoise fish quickly swam past, opening its mouth to let the bread in, a snack from heaven.

I moved along, wiggling my legs behind me in slow motion, listening to the sound of my breath and the waters melody. A swarm of little fish came towards me, and though they were teeny tiny their speed surpassed mine and in seconds. I was in the middle of them being tickled and bumped by there pinky finger sized forms and moments later they were gone. I felt a wave of elation to be mingling in such a graceful setting. The liquid colors of life seemed to fill me with joy and made me laugh in the waters echo. My friend looked to me and smiled.

We began to circle a large rock, spotting an eel. 
My friend's eye brows lifted in her mask and she questioned me " Want to go closer?" In my mask my eyes become stern " nooooo! " She let my fears be, squeezed my hand and we swam on. Nothing felt more loving and healing than to just say I am afraid and have it be heard. 

In time we popped up above the waters surface, our bodies bobbing up and down. I think we came up to laugh, to see the air was still there and to feel the bright sunshine reflecting off our faces. We wanted to relish our moment from another perspective. A pelican was sitting on the rock nearby sunbathing and observing the strange spectacle we temporarily occupied in her home, yet she welcomed us calmly, as if change was to be expected. 

The ocean wrapped itself around our bodies yet floated away from us at the same time. "An image of an aura" it whispered. "Do you want to understand what your aura can be like? Feel this." Do you want to understand how much is happening in one moment? Look up, look down, look under, be afraid, be brave, be surprised, be powerful, giggle, hold a hand and stay curious. 

©Lucy Hamel

A WALKING CONVERSATION

A cold December years ago, my son Alex and I met up with my father in Zurich to celebrate Christmas. The morning after our arrival a snow fell in  wistful slow motion, bringing a  welcome silence to the streets.

 On this soft, white morning my father and son were heading out for a walk to explore the city shops. I wrapped Alex up in gloves and a hat and wished them happy shopping.  Once they were gone I moved to the hotel room window to enjoy the sight of their forms leaving  footprints along the white dusted sidewalk. I knew their big plan for the morning was to buy me a Christmas present (which ended up being an enormous pair of furry tiger slippers which I wore proudly through the fancy hotel's hallways).

 Yet the gift still feeding my heart is the sight of the two of them walking hand in hand.

Alex had his own peculiar walk. One defined by his joy and excitement. He seemed to skip and leap in spasms, my father's arm being yanked around in it's socket. The two of them at times seemed to tip off balance and then right themselves again.  Every now and then Alex would reach his hand out to sweep snow off the hoods of the parked cars, leaving the small finger lines of a four year old boy. Although his movements were wild and scattered, he held respect in the tip of his head, glancing now and then to make sure his speed was equal to that of his grandfather's.

Beside him my father's body hunched forward to hear Alex's tales, sharing in the conversation and very much enjoying being slightly pulled about by his grandson. Although his body leaned slightly, there was no missing the pride and confidence in the steady forward movements of my fathers gait. I was sure there were occasional words of wisdom being shared, as his finger would point to something of interest. In his back and shoulders there was patience and presence. Time could stand still for a bit and that would be just fine.

I felt somehow proud to be a part of this conversation from my window. As if I had just received and given something very true.

©Lucy Hamel

WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LOVE?

Summer, 2015

Have you ever considered what your own personal definition of love is?A year ago I began to journal on it, just for my own heart and understanding. I have asked others about love too.

Some definitions I have heard sound like I hit a repeat button. Kind of like a post they may have seen on face book, read in a poem or what a parent may have once upon a time shared.

Yet I believe it is a growing and ever changing definition that I can move higher with. For what would the love of an angel be like? What would the love of a God be like? What is the love of a baby, a parent and grandparent like? How much space do you give your romantic love?

What am I here to understand if not love?

This year I have forgiven more completely old loves. I have listened more truly to family, hearing them without my teen age mind rolling its eyes. I have practiced self-love by saying what hurts and asking for better and knowing I deserve it.

I lived in my growing self and decided to be more aware.

Some days I crawl backwards and some days I fly forwards. Love, I am finding is like a wave or a heartbeat. Love can move at the pace of a growing tree and the spinning earth. Some loves are quick like a falling star or a setting sun. All have such meaning. There is no need to put one above the other. Enjoy what comes and be aware of its glory.

Love. September 2014

I say I love you a lot. Every day and many times.
Today I was thinking of how difficult it is for many to say this word. I wondered what it meant to each person and why it has been ingrained that it is a word you should limit yourself to in some way.  So I sat down, opened my laptop and looked up the definition of love. This is what I got:

Love Definition
 ( according to the dictionary) : noun, 
A strong feeling of affection and concern toward another person, as that arising from kinship or close friendship.
A strong feeling of affection and concern for another person accompanied by sexual attraction.
A feeling of devotion or adoration toward God or a god.
v. verb
To feel love for (a person).We love our parents. I love my friends.
To feel sexual love for (a person).
To feel devotion to (God or a god).

After reading this, I thought how odd it was that no better explanation or thought was given to such a magnificent word as love. The description seemed anemic for such an expansive emotion. So I began to write what love is to me...I am only beginning but thought I would share the question.

Here is what I wrote below:

Love: To see clearly into another's soul and understand another or yourself with a caring heart. To want only the best and highest for yourself, another or many.

To listen, free of judgement and opinion in order to truly hear and connect. To hold your truth and others with honor.

To offer your heart, not for the purpose of receiving, but for the joy of the experience of union.

To know when to let go in order to let yourself or another grow with faith in the process. To know love is not possessing.

To enter into a soul, through body or thought in order to share our vulnerability and truth.

To witness the goodness and growth of a person and let them feel cherished. To support another and forgive with faith in the soul beneath the fear.

Love is that undefinable powerful energy that lets connection exist between the soul and the body, the body and the world and the caring synthesis of every life force.

©Lucy Hamel