I WANT TO KNOW WHAT LOVE IS ~ singing from a hole in the heart is WYNONNA JUDD

When I saw this Oprah show, I so regretted that I didn't record it for the sake of having these moments in time.... when Wynonna Judd sang this song...or better to say, that she let this song out, out from a heart that was raw that day. If you saw the show and "experienced" the hole in her heart within her family and what she never had manifested in her life, then you would have a more authentic "understanding" of "where" the feelings came from that delivered this one-of-a-time rendition of this song. Some "singings" are sacred, holy ground....and this is one of those....
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MOMENTS OF REAL VERSUS A LIFETIME OF PRETENDING

I choose the moments I have left to be moments without pretending.


When Death Comes

by Mary Oliver

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

from the book Ten Poems to Last a Lifetime
page 111-112

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I am reading the book The Body Never Lies by Alice Miller. And it is so helping me. It says things I have already learned, but find it so helpful to see in print the words. It validates and gives permission to really believe things that have so rung true in my search for living a life fully, free and unencumbered. I have colored the sentences that just made me pause and drink it in.

If you click on the post title, you will go to Alice Miller's website.

From chapter 10, The Body as Guardian of the Truth
a story of Elizabeth from pages 121 - 123
...But, as always I managed to ignore my own feelings and adjust to her mentality...All I had to do was to listen to my own body, because in all the encounters with my mother I was invariably afflicted with severe physical symptoms as soon as I started repressing my feelings. My body appears to be completely unerring in this respect, and my impression is that it knows my truth very well; better than my conscious self...

It would be nice if I could find someone who would let me be as I am, let me say all the things I would like to say, who would not force-feed me with moralistic homilies. This might help me intregrate my painful memories....I am closer to my own feelings than I have ever been before. I can express them...Since I started doing that, my physical complaints and my depression have more or less disappeared.

...I haven't seen my mother once this year, and I do not feel the need to do so. The memories...protect me from any illusions I might have and also from expectations, that she might have something to give me that I missed out on so much as a child. Even though I still miss it from time to time, I now know exactly where there is absolutely no point in looking for it. ...I feel no hatred in me. I do not need to hate my mother because I am no longer emotionally dependent on her.

...failed to understand that. She wanted to free me of my hatred and did not realize that she was unintentionally thrusting me into that hate, which was an expression of my dependency, a dependency she would have created all over again...Today, I no longer need to suffer from pretending that I have feelings for my mother. I don't. That is why there is no hatred left inside me.

And this part I was really grateful to read:
It does not matter so much whether we have to break off all contact with our parents or not. The process of separation, the path from childhood to adulthood, takes place inside us. Sometimes breaking off all contact is the only way in which we can live up to our own needs.

Form Chapter 11 ~ Can I Say It?
page 127
I can well remember the fears that haunted me when I was writing Thou Shalt Not Be Aware.
...I knew quite definitely that I had chanced on an unwritten law, the devastating exploitation of children for the retaliatory needs of their parents and the taboo placed on that reality by society. We shall not be aware.

Did I not risk incurring the severest of penalties if I insisted on breaking that taboo? But my fear also helped me to understand a lot of things...

p 132 -133
...When their parents lie dying, they desperately hope to feel, at the very last moment, the acceptance and confirmation that they never felt in the presence of their parents throughout their whole lives. Dagnmar writes:
Every time I talk to my mother I feel a poison flowing into my body and forming an ulcer there. I try not to see it like that, because seeing it like that gives me guilt feelings. Then the ulcer starts to suppurate, and every time I lapse into depression. I try to admit my true feelings and tell myself I have the right to feel them, to see the intensity of my anger. When I admit my feelings, although they are not always good feelings, I start to breathe again. I start allowing myself to stay with my true feelings. If I succeed in that, I feel better, more alive, and my depression disappears.

...But, how can I respect myself if I don't take my true feelings seriously? If I don't do that, I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'm supposed to be respecting.

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See the comment section for personal writing

BECAUSE OF MY DAD I KNOW I HAVE KNOWN WHAT LOVE FEELS LIKE ~ DAD'S MY ANGEL

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The Last Rose of Summer

Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone,
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone.
No flower of her kindred,
No rose bud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
To pine on the stem.
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go sleep thou with them.
'Thus kindly I scatter thy leaves o'er the bed
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow
When friendships decay,
And from love's shining circle
The gems drop away!
When true hearts lie withered
And fond ones are flown
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?

This is the note I sent recently to the nurse who was with my father when I talked to him on the telephone when he moved from mortal life to immortal life…

I cried today. I have my regret that I wasn’t there in body to be with Dad and watch him take his last breath, to hold his hand. But you were. I am grateful for you. Thank you.

I didn’t know how my note would be received because my family is broken and people knew it where dad lived his last year of his life in an institution. They didn’t know the weird inside story, but we had to appear in ways to draw judgments. I was never told by my mother that dad was near death and she knew he was. So I was in Rhode Island the day he died. I sent my note to Marcia anyway because I am sincerely grateful for what she did for me and for my father. I really only knew Marcia from a couple exchanges. So I took a chance that she would receive me in the spirit that I sent my sentiments.

Today, I received a reply from my note that I sent to Marcia ~ who sat with my father in Indiana, May 10, 2007 the morning he died. I have been so moved. It has helped me grieve, finally, for losing my father.

This is the note sent to me.

Dear Sandra,

I felt privileged and honored to act in your behalf at your Father’s Death.

I admire your courage and strength born of the great faith that you shared with your Father.

I think back at that unforgettable moment in time when Mark took his final breath precisely at the final word of your song. I was in awe at the peace and stillness in his presence.

I have no doubt that Mark was very proud of you ~ and had great love for you ~

Sandra ~ thank you for sharing those final ~ precious moments with me ~ PEACE

The song that I sang to him was “The Old Rugged Cross”.

Today, I don’t feel like sharing my deep feelings or talk more of the story. I did write about it complete with pictures at posts
Though My Dad Died He Lives On
and
I Sang for My Father ~ Precious Memories

From my childhood through today, I love the old hymns we sang as I was growing up. And Dad and I shared this love together.

This is in honor of my beloved Father:
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I Surrender All

Thank you, Dad.


Mahalia Jackson ~ Just A Closer Walk With Thee