Here I am, in Southern California for a week. Already, I feel the effects of the tree pollens and felt a little sick upon landing in a concrete jungle with a layer of smog around me.
Interestingly, I had little pain (trigeminal nerve) while at high altitudes. I’ve also noted that if my mind is intensely occupied, or my mind and mouth is going, I feel less pain.
Normally, I’m not a chatterbox, but when I got to talking to my Mother and her husband, it was like a faucet was turned on and there was no shut-off valve.
The research I’d done as a family historian, was pouring out of me. I talked, I cried, I talked some more.
You see, I am quite empathic. I feel for people. I don’t have to know them, see them, feel or be with them. I am with them already.
I shared with my mother – things she didn’t know about her own family. I shared parts of the lives and deaths of people in the past. Some of the deaths were terrible – my heart aches for the suffering of our ancestors.
We are connected, all of us.
I feel my great grandfather, Dermot Cole, who came from Ireland to Quebec in the mid 1800’s with his sons and wife. He arrived declaring a skill – carriage maker! How beautiful to know! And still, I seek his work, his death, his essence. I call to him.
Today, I will enjoy a day with my Mother. She looks so pretty and I’m proud of her accomplishments, and determination. I like my mother, aside from loving her. We have deep discussion and hearty laughs.
Last night, the word forgiveness came up. We had plenty of time to determine what that means to each of us, who forgives, why anyone would forgive and if it was necessary to forgive. It’s really a philosophical question – one I’ve been interested in and will perhaps add to my book of perspectives, in progress.
So, good day everyone. Thinking of you and the words are coming fast.
Your comments and discussion quite welcome here.