In honor of the man whose guiding hand is forever on my shoulder, I want to share 10 things Louie B. Gregg taught me about life. Because on days like today it's important for us fatherless daughters, parentless parents, and adult orphans to remember the ones we lost and miss.
I just had my 46th birthday. The doctors told me I wouldn’t make it due to recurrent cervical cancer. This made me muse a bit before during and after.
Once I thought it was decadent. A luxury. Now I understand there is nothing decadent about self-care. I believe one of the reasons I got cancer was because I never allowed myself to think about what I needed to replenish my soul.
I'm kind of obsessed with podcasts, so when I saw an open casting call to be a host I thought it couldn't hurt to try. Here's my audition pod. It's three minutes on a subject dear to my heart: self-care is not a luxury, it's essential to our health and happiness.
Today while my family spoils me, I want to honor my mother, Marcie Gregg whose bright light went out in 1984. This blog raises a glass to her and I hope a permission slip to all other motherless daughters, motherless mothers and parentless parents to allow themselves to feel any emotions they have about missing their moms today.
Me going to the Botanical Garden on this day is non-negotiable. If I don't take this me time I'm going to be a much meaner, less grounded person, but if I ask permission I'll never get it.
Every mother needs some time off. Our sanity as mothers in this crazy, unrelenting, suffocating world is to insist on something that gives us air. I call it "putting on our oxygen mask first."
Sometimes the universe tries to give us messages but we're not ready to receive them. So it was for me and Kundalini yoga. During my cancer recovery I tried Kundalini several times. I thought it was just too weird for me. Now in cancer remission and much further on my spiritual journey, I’m ready to release emotions. I tried Kundalini again and am finally ready to receive the deep healing the universe is offering through the yoga.
I remember crying "don't leave me, Dad" as I held his feet while the nurses and doctors surrounded his body. The words formed automatically. But my heart and I dare say, my soul, felt him leaving. A calm "it's ok" trying to be heard in the background of my pleas. I felt "goodbye. I love you" in my body while my rational brain continued to selfishly beg him to stay.
To my family it's just dinner. To me it's the ultimate form of expression. With every slice of the knife, tear from an onion, waft of baked chicken, I'm expressing my love, creativity and sense of adventure.
A prayer doesn't have to be the Lord's Prayer or involve a rosary or be at a house of worship or even with closed eyes. A prayer is simply sending energy and love to a person we're thinking about.