Message from the Other Side

[image from 67pics.com]

This morning I was joking with a friend about Life After Life (which I believe in). She was saying she figured she would be one of the few occupying lower realms  in Heaven, designated kitchen duties or some other lowly form of service.

I replied, "Me, too. I've always thought I'd be one of the cleaning staff, or some other work detail, because somebody has to maintain Heaven, right? And I'm so good at it!"

But then I told her a true story that would reassure anyone that there is a loving acceptance awaiting us, and compassion for our faults.

When I was taking hospice training, one of the other trainees, a nurse named Kathy, told us an amazing story. When she was a young nurse, newly and scientifically trained, she was a skeptic. She had no faith then, in anything that had no scientific basis in fact. On the ward where she was working, there was an elderly lady that everybody loved. One day she went into cardiac arrest, Code Blue was called, there was great effort to revive her, but finally the doctor pronounced death and left the room. The nurses were all crying, because this woman had been so loved, and someone - to lighten the atmosphere, and with no disrespect - said something funny. They were both laughing and crying. Kathy was in the process of actually tying the identification tag on the lady's toe when she looked up and saw she was pinking up.

Kathy ran into the hall: "Mrs. W. is pinking up!"

The doctor thundered down the hall, Mrs. W. was trying to breathe. They whisked her up
to  ICU and Kathy went on with her job and her life for two weeks without thinking much about it.

Then one day, on the ward, she saw Mrs. W. walking towards her with a big smile on her face. "I have a story to tell you," said Mrs. W. Kathy started to shake her head because she knew something was coming she wasnt prepared for, something that might just change her entire way of thinking and being. But Mrs. W. insisted.

"When I died," she began, "I was up on the ceiling looking down at you. The Doctor said this and someone else said that and you were all laughing and crying. I could see and hear everything. I could see myself down on the bed.

"Then I went to a place of great love and peace, where there was welcome and acceptance for me. And angels were there, helping me. And my husband's hand reached down to me from Heaven, and I just placed my fingers against his palm, when he withdrew his hand and told me, "No, now is not your time. I wanted to go with him, but he said no.

"And then the veil between this world and the next was pulled back, and I could look down and see the earth. I could see the whole globe, turning in the cosmos. It was so beautiful. And lights were flashing all over the world, millions of lights. Some were shining steadily, some were twinkling, but some were darting out far beyond the earth, more powerful and brilliant than all the rest.

" I asked the angels who were with me, 'What are those lights?' and they told me, 'Those are prayers, and the brightest and most powerful ones are the prayers of mothers for their children."

That moment started Kathy on her spiritual quest, which took her to such places as Macchu Picchu.

I recommend, for anyone interested, two definitive books on the topic: Life Arfter Life, by Raymond Moody and Many Lives, Many Masters, by Dr. Brian Weiss, M.D.

[image from mormontemples.com]

Word from the Dalai Lama

[image from time.com]

In New Delhi in November the Dalai Lama called for disarmament to pave the way for peace. He called for a violence-free world, and the need to demilitarize the world. "But before we work for universal disarmament, we must first go through internal disarmament," the Ocean of Widom said.

The Dalai Lama said that in the last century 200 million lives - two hundred million sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, husbands and wives, were lost in war and bloodshed.

He pointed out that billions of dollars are being spent on nuclear weapons, while poverty is left unsolved at both national and global levels.

"Some people, when confronted with many global problems.....feel helpless and discouraged. That is a mistake," the Dalai Lama said. "The inititiative must come from individuals. Small acts of kindness do make a difference."

Thank you, Great One. I needed that message of hope.

Clayoquot Sound in danger again

I am horrified to learn through our network that, even though Clayoquot Sound is a supposed Biosphere Reserve, once again a logging company is gearing up to slaughter this pristine jewel in the heart of the Sound. Flores Island  is one of the remaining few untouched old growth forested areas left.It is a global rarity.  It is also in the heart of Nuu chah nulth territory and, as such, no one has any business logging it. My heart just sinks that - all these years later - we are still fighting to save the Sound. Protection started in the 1980's, after 1993, there was some stoppage of the destruction. Yet here we are again. 

Logging companies are ruthless in their methods, they lay waste an area, leaving behind an unconscionable mess, and a lot of waste. No benefit accrues to the local area, no jobs are created, no local value-added manufacturing rises out of it. It is all just chopped, and shipped out. Sustainability and the future - or even the present - are not even in their vocabularies. Even loggers know the methods are destructive - their own jobs will be phased out when the last trees are cut - if anyone is still breathing then.

So the environmentalists and First Nations will no doubt be rallying to take a stand. It is as insane to clearcut this small island as it is to strip mine Catface, right across the Tofino harbour - another project on the books.

Sigh. I get feeling pretty hopeless sometimes. But! I copied the info below from Joe Foy at the Wilderness Committee. I have sent my letter. If you feel moved to, you can send a letter as well.

"We have recently learned that there is a plan to log a pristine old growth valley on Flores Island in the heart of Clayoquot Sound. The company has marked out its planned cutting areas and is preparing right now to obtain logging road and cutting permits from the Provincial Government.

It would be such heartbreak to lose this jewel - but if we act NOW we can stop this shortsighted logging plan. Your letter will make a difference. Write the Minister of Natural Resource Operations, Steve Thomson now and let him know how strongly you feel that no road or cut permits be issued for Flores Island or any other intact areas in Clayoquot Sound's globally rare, ancient temperate rainforest.

Click here to send your letter: http://wildernesscommittee.org/write_wild_say_no_logging_flores_island

Your letter will be CCed to the Minister of Forests, Mines and Lands, Pat Bell and the President & CEO of the Integrated Land Management Bureau, Steve Carr."

Winter Magic

My youngest, Stephanie, lives in a beautiful location called Brentwood Bay, on the outskirts of Victoria, on the southernmost tip of Vancouver Island. She is a short walk from the ocean

and there are wonderful trails between her house and the water,

through a provincial park.

All of these photos were taken by Stephanie.

I am so anticipating my next visit, so I can wander these trails

and commune with the trees. In the New Year,

that visit is on my To Do list.

Gloriously beautiful.

One just wants to walk and walk, and not turn back.

This is the Bay, where the mariners keep their boats,

and wait for more suitable weather.

Some ice on the water, unusual for our usually mild climate.

This is Little Man Chase, Steph's beloved boy.

And here is Sanchez, who is also dearly loved. If my daughter lived on acreage,

she would be a dog rescuer and likely would have fifty dogs:)

In the city, she has to stop at two.

This is the beautiful view from her living room window. Wow.

Stephanie and Gord,

the man who is making her so happy,

which does her mother's heart good:)
(Not sure how they took this photo.)

Solitary Star

[image from 200asa.nl]

Solitary star
is it cold up
where you are?
Through bare
and brittle 
winter branches
I can see you
sparkling clear,
shining your brightest
just before
you disappear.

The rooster is
softly crowing
in the barnyard,
a sleepy sound,
reluctant in the chill.
My wolf-dog pads,
silent and old,
beside me.
The day is coming
when he no more will.

Nine white swans
in formation
now come gliding
almost noiselessly
winging
overhead.
Noses pointed west,
they're heading towards
the water.
Nine swans,
and yet they
mate for life
it's said.

Now daybreak crests
the silver-peaked mountains,
lighting the frozen rooftops
etched in ice.
Tall cedars turn
from black and
towering giants
to green again,
their beauty
beyond price.

I breathe the essence
of this winter morning,
wood-smoke on the air
as starshine fades.
My windows
are lit up
and, warm
and waiting,
is the cozyness
of this little home
I've made.
I feel
the blessing
rich with
all life's worth,
just to have
another day
like this
alive
on Planet Earth.

The Best Christmas Gift

[this is my daughter's window, down in Victoria~Stephanie took this photo. She looks out on a forest. Sigh.]

This morning the fog lifted to reveal a bright sunny sky, which perked up our spirits after so many gray days. First thing, after coffee with my sister, I went over to clean for Faiza, the sweet little elderly woman I wrote about a little while back.

Faiza is going through a hard time right now, as her beloved Bill is in the hospital. At home, Bill was happy; his face lit up when one walked in the door, he teetered around on his walker many times a day, he ate his meals and watched his movies with his devoted Doberman, Lara, at his side. He was happy. He was home.

Two weeks back, Faiza arrived home to find him on the floor. He had felt a little dizzy and had fallen and couldn't get up. The ambulance was called, he was taken to hospital and filed in a bed, where they left him lying for two weeks. They did realize he had been dehydrated and that he needed more oxygen.  Those things were fixed. But staff are too busy to do much more than maintain him. Faiza has been a warrior woman, trying to explain to the staff that he cannot be left lying down, he must be gotten up or he will lose his mobility. She keeps saying she wants to take him home, because he does better at home. But they keep replying he can't go home because of his mobility. "He is old. He can't get around."

But he was getting around before he went in hospital and was left lying in bed for two weeks. He should not even be lying down. At home he sleeps in a tilted recliner, with oxygen to help him breathe.

He has not been eating. Faiza finally found out they had been wheeling him down to a table where extended care patients were spoon-fed. He took one look, and figured he must be in really bad shape to be taken there. He refused all further meals because he did not want to go to that table. At home, he eats heartily, with his own two hands.

She went in the other day to find him lying with his eyes closed as if he was already dead.
"Bill, what is this? What is going on?"
"I'm dying, Faiza," he said.
"No, you are not dying. You cannot give up. You must try."

Faiza said she went home that night very upset, and she talked to God. "God, I have my pen and paper in front of me. I need you to put in my head what I am supposed to do. You tell me, and I will write it down."

What got written down on the paper was:
1. Call the private physiotherapist about treating Bill at home.
2. Call the masseuse about coming to the house.
3. Go and see Dr. G. in person.

Here is where my blood starts to boil. Faiza has serious mobility issues herself. She very recently had back surgery. She has had no chance to recover. She gets around on a walker and a scooter, but none of that is easy, when one is elderly and weak and exhausted. Her legs and feet are numb and give her a lot of pain and trouble. She had asked for the Handydart to pick her up from the hospital and drop her off at home, then come back  to take her to the doctor's appointment. But they were late getting her at the hospital - there was no time to go home in between. Faiza asked if she could be taken instead directly to the doctor's office. The driver said no, her instructions were to take her home so that is where they were going.

Faiza got dropped off at home and this four foot something little woman had to go up in the lift, back down in the lift, teeter over to the shed, unlock the door, wheel out her scooter, drive it up to the back of her car, lower the car ramp, get the scooter in, raise the ramp, close the heavy door. Then she  drove herself to the doctor's appointment, asking God to help her, because someone had to.

My good God.

Once there, she thanked the doctor very much for all he had done for Bill, and told him she was concerned because he was going downhill, lying in the bed, staff being too busy to exercise him, that he did better at home where she had home support four times a day for him, where he walked back and forth between his chair and the table, his chair and the bathroom,  and out to the porch to smoke the one cigar a day that he enjoyed. She told him  the private physiotherapist and masseuse both had agreed to come to the house to treat him. She asked could he please come home, because he was going to die in that hospital, he had given up.

The doctor was convinced. "All right, Faiza,  Bill can come home on Tuesday."  However, the physiotherapist in the hospital, who has so far done little for him, is disputing this, so it remains to be seen if he will be home Tuesday or not.

This little woman has a warrior heart, and she pushes herself, with legs that barely support her, but a will of steel that keeps the body moving forward beyond its capabilities. She says, "Bill is my number one priority. I ask for God's help and I will do whatever I have to do to take care of him."

I have been very worried about her, because the physical exhaustion of going back and forth to the hospital twice a day, and to her own medical appointments and physiotherapy, means she is getting no chance to rest, or take care of herself. She has been looking completely exhausted, peering out of raccoon eyes ringed with huge purple circles, just barely managing to  shuffle one foot in front of the other. She is one of those women who takes care of everyone else, and she comes last, one of the most unselfish people I have ever met. But I worry. If anything happens to her, Bill is sunk indeed.

Today she had called me to come and do some cleaning for her. I decided I could wait no longer to give her her Chistmas gift, a soft fluffy purple  fleecy blanket that I knew she would enjoy so much. She had no real blanket, I had noticed, and was using a utilitarian coverlet the ambulance service provides for its passengers. Not cozy, not soft and fluffy.

I handed her the gift bag and before she even looked in, she grabbed me in the tightest hug, just overwhelmed at being given a gift. She, who never stops giving.  When she pulled out the soft blanket, and when I put it on her bed, she was thrilled. "In the color that we love," she said, stroking it.

I said, "When you get home, Doctor Sherry recommends you get under it and have a nap!"

As I went about my cleaning, she kept telling me, "I just love you to bits, you know, habibi. I love you to bits," and she just kept murmuring endearments while I  cleaned and clattered about. It was definitely the most satisfying gift I gave this Christmas. It made me SO happy to give it!

She is the sweetest little woman ever. I pray Bill makes it, and comes home for Christmas. He is the light of her life. She has a heart full of love and she never was able to have children. He is all in all to her. I hope they have this Christmas together. And I dread the day when the inevitable occurs, and they are parted. That day is coming. But she says, "While we are alive, we live! We don't give up."

I brought home a couple of wonderful movies, I have a new poem on the go, and on the stereo is the most wonderful music. My Christmas gift to me was the k.d.lang Restrospective, a gathering of her best tunes. First, she stopped my heart with Skylark and then she just DID ME IN with Helpless. Oh my goodness, does life get any better? The new fresh light sage green paint has lightened up my living space, the new light laminate floors, make it feel like I have moved into a new place. My sister did all that for me. It transformed my living space and lifted my heart a hundredfold, to get those drab dark brown walls and that terribly worn 45 year old linoleum covered with new clean surfaces. Great music on the stereo, dinner at my sister's tonight, a good movie to watch after, a comfy soft purple bed to climb into later with a really good book...........nope, it just doesn't get any better than this!

Update on Betty

Betty Krawczyk, the 80 year old great-grandma I wrote about some time back, has issued a press release informing us that the B.C. Appeals Court has denied her appeal.

"Of course I'm disappointed," Betty said. "I'm always disappointed in the decisions of the B.C. Supreme and Appeals Court concerning peoples' struggles over trying to protect public and/or First Nations property."

She said the court did address the ridiculousness of the Attorney General likening her to chronic offenders in violent pedophile cases. "Those cases are relevant" the statement quotes in the court's legal-speak "............concerning limits of the scope of appellate review in sentence appeals, and not for any other purposes."

"But I have trouble with this," Betty said. "Scope of the appellate review is supposed to compare like cases to like circumstance, not go wildly off the rails," as the Attorney General did in Betty's case. [I wrote the Attorney General's office in outrage, and received a carefully worded government-speak reply that meant absolutely nothing. Ass-covering, at best.]

The three Justices did mention that Betty's ten-month sentence was high. "And they did throw me another little crumb. The Appeal Justices did not seem convinced that Madam Justice Brown [who heard Betty's case] was right in refusing me credit for the one-month I spent in jail waiting for Cameron Ward [her lawyer] to return from vacation at the beginning of my trial. I felt I was being unfairly criminalized without my lawyer being present, and in a fit of pique rescinded my undertaking.

"Mr. Justice Tysoe wrote: Page 9, no. 29, “The rationale (for refusing me credit that could have been applied to my ten month sentence) was that it was Mrs. Krawczyk’s decision to remain in custody. I have reservations whether this approach is correct in principle…I think the point should be left to another occasion when the court has the benefit of full submissions.”Betty is trying to make the point that people should not be handed criminal sentences for exercising their democratic right  to peacefully protest the desecration of our public forests.
"I’m not sure at the moment what full submissions on this point might consist of but I will find out. Because there will be more of this governing by injunction as the Attorney General is apparently too lazy and morally lax to do his job while many First Nations and other environmentalists are gearing up for protest. And I will go with what the Justices of the BC Appeals Court have given me, meager (as) it might be. I will apply to be heard by the Supreme Court of Canada. In other words, I will appeal this appeal."
 
"I want to thank all of you who stood by me, came to court, spoke out, wrote to the Attorney-General's office because you also love this land, the waters, the wild animals and forests of British Columbia as I do. And you love justice. How can we possibly lose?"

Sadly, we know how all too well. We have been fighting to protect our remaining old-growth since the '80's and the trees are coming down faster than ever.

But, Betty, you rock and for using your life to shine a spotlight on this horrible situation, we love and salute you.

If you wish to follow Betty's journey, her blog is at http://www.bettysearlyedition.blogspot.com/