I got a smiling Buddha for Christmas. From my Mommy. He
was on my X-mas list.
He is big and gold and is now sitting on my fireplace
mantel at home. He is sitting on a big sack of blessings and reaching towards
the sky to receive more abundance. I love him.
My Mom gave him to me because she knew I needed him. He
was hers and she loved him too. Now he is mine.
He is the first thing I have ever had that I have the
feeling I could actually picture myself praying too or believing in. I just finished
a book right now called “Geoff the Buddha and I”. Caro6 lent this book to me over 6 months ago and I saved
it for the perfect moment. Two weeks ago was the perfect moment and I read it.
Buddhism is the very first religion I have ever been exposed
to that holds any meaning for me. Important messages without all the religious
stuff that makes me stop listening right from the beginning in other religions
with all the rules and constraints and priests and bishops and stuff that
really really does not resonate with me and turns me completely off the
fundamental messages between this stuff. Buddhism is the first religion I have
read about that could resonate with me. Could it? Would it? Who knows right?
All I know is that I love my smiling Buddha and I will pray to him whether I am
religious or not.
In the book I finished it talks about a moment that changes
everything in your life. Your Karma of sorts. A moment that defines your life.
Well just as I finished that part my moment happened.
The man I was in bed with who was already asleep (my
husband) started violently choking. Then he proceeded to throw up very violently
in his mouth. The he began throwing up very violently all over the bed, the
floor, the door, the handle of the door, the sink, the toilet and my toothbrush
(all out of his mouth).
It was not gastro nor was it some kind of holiday drunken
stupor either. It was a bad bad case of indigestion and acid reflex.
Was that my Buddhist moment? Certainly not.
What
happened next was.
A houseful of guests listening to this circus downstairs.
And me weeping on the stairs. I have a thing with puke-I am scared of it. And
if I see it I throw up right on top of it myself making the barf situation considerably
worse. So usually I just fall very silent and weep on the stairs or in the
nearest corner. It is not very effective or helpful.
My children realize this about me. My husband has been
the only provider of all puke and diarreah cleaning for as many years as I can
count. He takes over the to do lists in this area always.
Bear hears his Dad puking and comes upstairs. Paper towels
and all-purpose cleaner in hand.
“I am cleaning this all up” he says assessing the damage
of the third floor.
“No way! I can do it Sweetie!” I say (weeping on stairs)
“No I am doing it. I am doing this for Dad. He has always
cleaned up after me when I puke and now it is my time to clean up his puke”
“OMG!”I shout
“Move Mom.Nothing you can say will stop me. I WANT to do
this”
And so Bear gets to work with his paper towels and
cleaners, his own feet sitting in the barf. Scrubbing away with love and determination.
When he is finished he tucks his Father into bed and goes down and gets two garbage’
bags one for the smelly garbage and one for the smelly towesl. He ties up both
bags and tells us that he didn’t want it to smell in the morning for us, checks
on his Dad again (who is perfectly fine by this point) and gives us kisses
goodnight. Then he heads back to bed himself.
Hubby are both left in shock and bewildered.
And I realize that this is my Karma. It happened at the
precise moment that I read about it. What happened that night are way too many
things to articulate. Way too many things to share. Way too beautiful and way
too scary to fully make sense of. But to give you a slight essence here were a
few things swirling in my mind:
We created an angel/ this is not a child he is a Buddha/
Would he clean up my barf?/ Gosh he loves his Dad/ Gosh they need their Dad/ I
wish I was not weeping / A child should not be doing this for a parent/ What
kind of child does this for their parent?/ People need to be together when they
are sick and not alone/ I can’t believe I
did not change the sheets of this barfed in bed/This is a sign for January
/What does this mean?/ I don’t want our kids picking up the barf/ I would never
have done this for my Mom and Dad/ I was never taught to nurture/ I am a
horrible nurturer/ This is a sign of true love/ This is so so scary/ This is so so beautiful/ Hubby is a way better father
than I am mother/ I hope if one of us ever dies it is me and not him/ What did
Bear do this?/ Will this be the theme of our lives?/ What does this say about our family?/ I need Caro6 advice/ I
need my Buddha/ I am changed/ Bear did not wash his feet.
So that was our moment. That was my Karma.
And in conclusion I realized that to really be successful…to
really finish the symphony the orchestra that has been written for me over all these
years.To really feel complete and whole in myself:
I
need to be able to clean up the puke. I need to live the puke process fully. I
need to accept it and be there and live it. I need to both live the puke and
detach from the puke. (All metaphorical as did you really
think I was going to mop it all up in the future??)
I can totally hear my mentors voice in my head right now “Yup
Tarina…time to clean up the barf-you know it”
For me to fully appreciate all the angels in my life
(Bear starring as number #1) I need to be able to clean up all the puke. Together. As a unit. As much as my heart and soul and
body resist it they all know it too.
It’s my time to learn how to nurture.
And that my friends is my Buddhist moment.
PS-It was confirmed this morning that this truly was the Karma when the utterly beautiful post I wrote about this yesterday night was deleted in error. The world insisted I have to write it twice to ensure I understand and remember the meaning)
