Wings of No Restraint (Danny Schmidt)

Maybe some of you recall the original owl visitation story a week or so after Eric's death.  There have been many more since I last posted, such that my words at Eric's Celebration of Life strengthened my desire for a tattoo.

"So far, he's given us signs of rainbows... and an owl appeared to me that I am sure was a visitation.  And, even though I've declared a moratorium on tattoos ("seven is the number", sings Dave Carter), if I hear Eric's voice whispering in my ear that it might be time for more ink, one of you will be getting a call to accompany me."

Last week, he whispered:  "It's time."  

Lovely backstory:  in September 2013, Eric decided to get a tattoo (not his first) of an octopus attempting to pull a ship underwater which, to me, represented his life-long struggles with anxiety (I am still trying to find the finished product, but here is the initial line work).  Look at that gorgeous detail, even in first draft form:

I wanted a tattoo for my 60th birthday (10 years ago), and Eric recommended his guy, Adam Forero... who immortalized our family on my back with a compass tattoo I designed; Sarah came with me, and got a beautiful flowers/dragonfly/butterfly on her lower back/left hip.  We had such a good time, laughing and chatting; Adam told us that one day he would have his own shop, 4 Arrows (sparked by his surname).  Sarah was a bit nervous so she asked Adam to put on Dave Matthews Band (her favorite music group) and, since it was late and we were the only ones there, he obliged (straying from the heavy metal that had been playing earlier - ha!).

Back to present day:  over the last few months, I had narrowed my new tattoo down to three ideas... and of course it only made sense for Adam to do it; I went in search, and he does indeed have his own shop now (six years!):  4 Arrows Art.  

I sent an e-mail before we went out of town last weekend for my niece Julia's wedding; he replied the Monday after, we continued the conversation, I sent him my idea, and we made a Wednesday a.m. appointment.  When I showed up, not only had he sketched it up, but he had found and researched the artist:  Amanda Clark.  So. Many. Owls.  Just one more validation I was in the right place... 💥

Also, Dave Matthews jam band music was on the PA.  Double-bam... 💥💥

And we hugged and we talked and we got down to business.  And he showed me his own owl tattoo; and he brought me water in an owl glass (his sister works at Disney).

Whatever might have been a consultation morphed into a full-fledged session, as I climbed into the chair, sitting comfortably cross-legged with my back supported, closed my eyes and settled into Zen mode while still carrying on a non-stop, in-depth conversation about anything and everything.  What a nice as well as talented young man!  Oh, and did I say gentle touch?  I was in the chair almost three hours, and barely felt a thing... 😌

And when we were finished, I gave Adam a pouch of E's ashes... 💜

Wednesday's experience meant so much to me on so many levels:  to see Adam again, 10 years later... to realize his 4 Arrows dream came true... to have a full-circle moment for/with Eric; I know Adam will take him on many adventures!

I already feel more peaceful, comforted, and protected with E on my left shoulder, next to my heart; I expected to cry, and was pleasantly surprised that I didn't.  The time was right, we made it happen, and I am beyond delighted with my new ink... 💘

[edited to add:  I realized, days later, that Wednesday 6/26/24 (when I got the tattoo), was 9 months to the day of Eric's death... 💞)

SONG:  Wings of No Restraint by Danny Schmidt

BOOK:  The Woman With An Owl Tattoo by Anne Walsh Donnelly, Isabelle Kenyon (Editor), Sally Mullaney (Illustrator)

POEM:  Beneath the Sweater and the Skin by Jeannette Encinias

How many years of beauty do I have left?

she asks me.

How many more do you want?

Here. Here is 34. Here is 50.

When you are 80 years old

and your beauty rises in ways

your cells cannot even imagine now

and your wild bones grow luminous and

ripe, having carried the weight

of a passionate life.

When your hair is aflame

with winter

and you have decades of

learning and leaving and loving

sewn into

the corners of your eyes

and your children come home

to find their own history

in your face.

When you know what it feels like to fail

ferociously

and have gained the

capacity

to rise and rise and rise again.

When you can make your tea

on a quiet and ridiculously lonely afternoon

and still have a song in your heart

Queen owl wings beating

beneath the cotton of your sweater.

Because your beauty began there

beneath the sweater and the skin,

remember?

This is when I will take you

into my arms and coo

YOU BRAVE AND GLORIOUS THING

you’ve come so far.

I see you.

Your beauty is breathtaking.

QUOTE:  “Rooted strongly yet bearing wings, Owl Woman signifies the wisdom that awakens through grounded seeking of the unknown. She presides over ritual, over ceremony. Grounded in solid practice, she opens her heart. With humility, she remains aware and is not afraid to look into the heart of darkness, knowing that she may find the lost parts of herself there. And when she does, she welcomes them back through the portal of her heart, digesting the experiences, retaining that which nourishes the soul, rejecting the rest.

Owl Woman aligns with the Moon, she understands what it means to cycle with the ebb and flow of the seasons. In ceremony, she smooths the way. On softened wings, she glides through the night, listening for the wisdom of the heart.” ~ Ona Christie Martin, Art of Awakening

Carry On (Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young)

At 10 a.m. today, I was weeping inconsolably in the local AT&T store.

Let's start at the beginning, shall we?  Rewind.

When I dropped my phone a few months ago and went there for a replacement, the amazing Raquel explained to me that, due to Eric's death, we could have him taken off the account and switch myself and my husband over to the Florida 55 Plus Plan, therefore saving us money.  E's girlfriend still had his phone and was using it, with our permission, for various music apps, photos, and of course, to hear the sound of his voice through his voicemail.  We approached her at that point and offered her three months grace period to transfer over whatever she needed so we could make the adjustment in our bill.

Today's appointment was to make that happen, and we got Carlos (who was a bit of a d*ck), who explained we had to remove Eric from the account via phone (not with them in-store), so I called them immediately.  I had already gotten teary-eyed telling Carlos of E's death, and then I had to do it *three more times*, as Shante transferred me to Tracy who transferred me to Asha, each one very helpful but starting from scratch.  In the span of 15 minutes, I had to tell *four* people that my son died eight months ago.  What is wrong with Customer Service these days?  Shouldn't the first person fill in the next person on *why* the customer needs assistance?  Why must I repeat this backstory, upsetting me more with each retelling?  Good thing I always keep my handkerchief (purchased for Eric's Celebration of Life) in my purse.  I was in full-on snotting mode.

And then, thankyoujesus, instead of the very impatient Carlos, the incredibly sweet (as well as efficient) Raquel stepped in, and was able to, efficiently and kindly, tie everything up, asking us the right questions, finding additional ways to shave off even more dollars, such that we walked away, now owing $100 *less* every month moving forward than what we were paying.  Grateful on so many levels... 💖

Then my 12:30-2 p.m. Bereavement Group, where I was able to vent the above; I adore those people.

Then a therapy session with Leigh, who has been so instrumental in moving me forward with my healing, so much so that, in July, I'll be attending monthly instead of every other week.  Continued thanks for my incredible support system... 🪷

Also, I included this book because it is Eileen's choice for our book club this Wednesday, synchronistic because, when Eric was moving to Atlanta last March, he had many books he asked me to donate.  I kept this one because I remembered it was required reading for him in high school, oh so many years ago.  I am glad I am finally getting around to reading it.  I wish he were around so I could discuss it with him.... 🕮

SONG:  Carry On by Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young null

BOOK:  The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien null

P.S.  I seem to be having trouble posting my links, and will get that figured out soon; in the meantime, click on the word null, and it goes right through... 😬

POEM:  “Where did the handsome beloved go?” by Jalal Al-Din Rumi

Translated by Brad Gooch and Maryam Mortaz

Where did the handsome beloved go?

I wonder, where did that tall, shapely cypress tree go?

He spread his light among us like a candle.

Where did he go? So strange, where did he go without me?

All day long my heart trembles like a leaf.

All alone at midnight, where did that beloved go?

Go to the road, and ask any passing traveler — 

That soul-stirring companion, where did he go?

Go to the garden, and ask the gardener — 

That tall, shapely rose stem, where did he go?

Go to the rooftop, and ask the watchman — 

That unique sultan, where did he go?

Like a madman, I search in the meadows!

That deer in the meadows, where did he go?

My tearful eyes overflow like a river — 

That pearl in the vast sea, where did he go?

All night long, I implore both moon and Venus — 

That lovely face, like a moon, where did he go?

If he is mine, why is he with others?

Since he’s not here, to what “there” did he go?

If his heart and soul are joined with God,

And he left this realm of earth and water, where did he go?

Tell me clearly, Shams of Tabriz,

Of whom it is said, “The sun never dies” — where did he go?

[Guest Editor Sarah Ruhl:  “I have long been obsessed with Rumi, who distills life into the poetry of ecstasy. Coleman Barks’s beautiful translations in A Year with Rumi, Daily Readings got me through the first year of the pandemic. Rumi’s poems were good medicine to take every day. The above translation is by Brad Gooch and Maryam Mortaz. Gooch has gorgeously translated many of Rumi’s as yet unseen poems as well as writing a biography of Rumi centered on his relationship with Shams, the great friend, the beloved, the Sufi master. So much of Rumi’s ecstatic poetry would not exist were it not for his profound love of Shams Tabrizi—mystic, poet, love, and teacher.”]

QUOTE:  "We are so brief. A one-day dandelion. A seedpod skittering across the ice. We are a feather falling from the wing of a bird. I don’t know why it is given to us to be so mortal and to feel so much. It is a cruel trick, and glorious." ~ Louise Erdrich