The house is flowing?
I found this morning’s thought a little bizarre. And as a follow-up admit to thinking, what am I going to write about here? I quickly reminded myself however that the answer would come, it always does.
Sure enough around mid-morning an old memory returned. A bittersweet memory. Sweet because it involved my grandmother whom I loved very, very much and bitter because the incident in question was distressing, she was crying. No. Not crying, it was more like full-on wailing. I was no more than five years old at the time but still remember the weeping and the words accompanying it.
My grandmother was a remarkable woman. In this lifetime I have met, associated with, worked with and known numerous women but never have I met one like her. This lady was out of the box as they say.
During World War II she lost a son, her husband, her home and just about all earthly possessions. What is more she was left with four young children and no support of any kind. Not only did she survive, she rebuilt, kept the family together and ended up achieving more than most families that were left in tact.
It must be said that life didn’t leave her unscarred. Life isn’t that kind. But she wore her scars well.
“Don’t you cry,” she would tell me as a little kid. “Don’t you cry, son, everything will be alright. God will provide.” It may have been way back then, when I was way too young to understand things about god or religion that I started resenting both. What kind of god could be such a non-caring piece of shit as to make someone I loved with all my heart so unhappy and heap so much misery upon her.
Back to the memory however. The day in question was sunny and balmy. She was looking after me like she did most of the time during my early childhood, as mum was working.
We were visiting the site of grandmothers home before the war. The ruins that is. And that’s when she started weeping and crying out for Nikola. I just remember the terrible howls and the most lamentable words, Oh my Nikola. Oh my Nikola, Why? WHY? Nikola was my granddad. I was named after him.
In the fullness of time, and based on the way she always talked about him, together with the fact that she never remarried or had a man after his death, I now know that what I was witnessing that day was the kind of sadness only those who have known true love can feel.
That understanding now makes me happy because despite her burdens my grandmother knew the kind of love the majority of people only dream about.
Those who have lived that kind of a love story have no need to read about it.
The Thought I Woke Up With Today was personal and as it turns out a part of my own mind-clearing / Undoing process. I’m glad to be able to share some of my housekeeping with you dear reader. I trust it helps in some way. We are all in this together after all.
Today’s thought also brought with it a gift. A gift of understanding and clarity in one simple sentence / question:
The house is flowing?
It means that our minds are our homes and we need to work on the flow. A kind of Feng Shui for the mind.
Is the mind flowing freely, filled with positive energy, controlled by you? OR does it sit, fester and stagnate with pseudo circular thoughts of unhappiness, anxiety, anger and catastrophes.
An analogy is that if you were to stand upon a bridge and watch a river flow underneath you would see that there is no stagnant water. The water flows, the river flows, freely and happily. Likewise it should be with mind.
I ask you, my dear reader, how is your house flowing?