Goodbye 2010

          Tonight Unity Church of the Hills is having a Burning Bowl ceremony but I’m too sick to go. As my flight from Dallas to San Antonio landed Monday night my ears did not unplug and I experienced terrible earaches like the ones I used to get as a child, from swimming in the ocean.  The last two days of my trip, I had inklings that I might be coming down with something, but I just kept thinking, “get home, get home”.

          On the flight from L.A. to Dallas I sat next to a Pisces woman from Australia who was on her way to Mexico to rendezvous with a man she had known only four days, in Cuba. “But I have very good instincts,” she told me. “And if it doesn’t work out, I’ll just go somewhere else!”

          I found it fascinating that she travels three months a year, and can sleep anywhere. With a twinkle in her eye, she shared tales of some of her harrowing adventures in less-than-friendly countries. She, in turn, called me Earth Mother, after I told her how much I miss my manzanita trees and showed her pictures of my dog and cat.

          As we disembarked I realized that during the flight the lotus pendant I’d bought at Self Realization Fellowship nearly thirty years ago had slipped off me without my knowing it.  I stayed until everyone had gotten off the plane and then went back down the aisle to the bathroom but the pendant was not to be found.  I guess it decided it was time to live on someone else’s neck.

          My seat-mate waited for me and together we went to a bar where I had a shot of tequila, and she had water, and I shared the toasted almonds I’d brought for my journey. We talked about life, death, the afterlife. As different as the two of us are, I felt an affinity for her. There was a time in my life when I flew half-way around the world to meet up with a man I hardly knew. But not anymore.

          The last time I was sick on New Years Eve was in 1982 when Joel  and I went to a party in a freezing cold L.A. loft. I thought I was in love with Joel. I certainly loved his daughter and spending time with them, their dog and cat, pretending to be a family. Almost thirty years later I’m half-way across the country, living in a new state with my family that consists of a dog, two cats and a husband who happily spent the afternoon in the open garage working on boxes for his new speaker design. I sat inside by a sunny window and finished reading, The Weight of Water then took a two hour nap.

          I think today was my turning point and that my body is winning the battle against the virus that courses through my blood.  Tomorrow I’ll take down the Christmas decorations, do laundry and organize my desk. I don’t necessarily need a ceremony to let go of the sadness and worry that has plagued me this whole year. These feelings, like my pendant, will slip away on their own, and before I know it I’ll be smiling again. Funny, but even though my ears are still plugged and I look like crap, I find myself smiling now.