A struggle with understanding

I have recently been engaged with an internal struggle about what has happened to my sister.  The past several years she has become very stressed and more and more forgetful.  Of course all of us struggle with stress and it is the bane of most of us as we get older to struggle to remember names and words which only come to us later.  I for one am quick to substitute words like thingy , thing a ma gig, what's it, that woman, honey or even sqigamahala (my own word for things whose names remain elusive).  Of late or the last year my sister does not recognize the man she lives with as her husband of 60 years.  She knows his name is Gene, but not her Gene.  She will insist  there is a stranger in her house and she will demand from time to time proof that he is really Gene.  When she is shown  papers like Drivers Licence, etc, she will insist anyone could have those made.  Jackie was always a great fan of mystery stories, puzzles and crosswords and she definitely knows of what she speaks regarding fake identification.  Jackie has been diagnosed with Dementia.
When I call her on the phone she seems normal for the most part with an occasional lapse into forgetfulness which really seems to bother her.
For my own understanding I have looked up the differences between dementia and Alzheimer's and the best short description I am quoting below:
 " According to the Alzheimer’s Association, Alzheimer’s Disease is a specific type of dementia caused when high levels of certain proteins inside and outside brain cells make it hard for brain cells to stay healthy and to communicate with each other. This leads to the loss of connections between nerve cells, and eventually to the death of nerve cells and loss of brain tissue.

 "Here's the major  difference between Alzheimer’s Disease and dementia — when an individual is diagnosed with dementia, they are diagnosed based on their symptoms without actually knowing what's behind the symptoms. In Alzheimer’s disease, the exact cause of the symptoms is understood. In addition, Alzheimer's disease is not reversible, whereas some types of dementia, such as those caused by nutritional problems or a drug interaction, can be reversed."                                                                                                                                                                I only wish my sister's disease which has been diagnosed as dementia could be, at least partially,  reversed.  I have had extremely vivid dreams the last 10 years.  They are like stories which can be interrupted and continued.  If I wake in the middle of a dream to go to the toilet, when I return I can go right back into and continue my dream.  The dreams are extremely realistic and most often involve people I know or family members.  There are a large number of themes and they keep recurring.  I will list only a few:  my mom is alive and alone and living is a specially constructed house in upstate NY.  She is divorced from my father, who sometimes has remarried, or is sometimes still married to mom.  Sometimes I have gone to visit my sister, in a sprawling estate which encompasses a lot of acres of woods and mountains.  Sometimes this property is in NY State and sometimes it appears to be in a state like the Carolina's or Tenn.  The actual house is always in disrepair, filled with unknown distant relatives, Jackie has gone out shopping or some kind of cult religious meeting with her daughter.  I am trying to clean the kitchen, find food and deal with various relatives I don't know.   As I mentioned before there are several dozens of themes and settings but they keep recurring and are rich with details and conversations and locations.  They always take different forms regardless of the particular theme and often involve arguments and conversations with relatives I have experienced problems with. I am always fascinated with these stories in my dreams and I want to go back into them to see how they come out or what is going to happen next.  They are extremely clear when I am in them but when I try to explain a dream to others I can only remember a few details and they are confusing.  When I was speaking to my Nephew the other day and he was explaining what Jackie sometimes experiences as her reality, I was struck by the similarity to my dreams.                                                                                                                        It occurred to me that it sounded like she was experiencing some sort of a dream or fugue state.  She recognizes the characters in her state but their reality is different.  She sees as if through a fog or dream and her people are sometimes who they really are and are sometimes very different from the persons she has known and loved.  This can be in the same waking time frame.  she will recognize, remember and talk to Kenny or Debbie and yet not recognizer Gene.   Even when they are sitting and eating at the same dinner table.  Gene is a nice man but simply not the Gene she was married to for 60 years.                                                                                                                  In my dreams the people are not the same ones I know in my waking life either.  They are either much nicer or nastier and appear in different settings than I have ever experienced waking.  Can this be somewhat like string theory or parallel lines which never meet, but in reality do meet???????
  I guess this is my theory to integrate reality, fugue states and dementia, a tapestry. 

     What is string theory in 10 words or less, by bgreene"It's an attempt to unify all matter and all forces into one mathematical tapestry."       

New Year, New Outlook

I have often posted, in the past, of things which happened, my opinions, my beliefs, etc.  Now I want to blog my thoughts with a new perspective.  I have never posted anything which I did not believe was true, at least at that time.  For the coming year I want to have a little different approach.  I will post mostly what I believe but also what I feel I am directed to post from a higher authority.
This will be a post which might not be provable or believable by most , but which is my inner belief. I have decided to do this because such magical things continue to happen to me. 
My fantasy's keep coming true, one by one.
My faith in God which has always been strong is becoming more and more heartfelt.  Everywhere I go, what ever I do, if I remember to ask him to take control, only the best outcomes occur.  I am not discussing things, I am talking about situations, circumstances, occurrences, etc.  I keep saying over and over how much I am blessed.
I have noted many people say this as a catch phrase.  They say it when I say it.  They say it like they would hope to believe it. even though all their talk and actions deny it.  They say it with a hope they could truly feel blessed just by saying it.  Of late when I say I am blessed or "Thank You, I feel so blessed", a strange feeling occurs inside me.  I feel lighter and a warmth pervades my being.   I feel blessed from the inside out and it may have nothing to do with what is right in front of me.  It is a different form of reality.
I so wish everyone of my friends and family could share in this kind of blessing.  Especially all the good people I know who try in vain to seek earthly satisfaction, and pray it will be God granted.  I feel sometimes this can be why some folks are so dogmatic in their view of their religion and Christ Consciousness.  They are so afraid to deviate from their rituals and what ceremony or occurrence brought them to God.   Some believe if they let their God given reason sort through various other religions or religious beliefs, that they will somehow be corrupted and will be unable to get back their original feeling of conversion or being "Born Again".  Somehow they feel their God or Jesus is so vindictive that if they even heard or entertained another thought or belief they would lose their presumed Grace and be damned forever.  They hang so tightly to their brand of religion or dogma or ritual that they become bound in superstition and True Glory continues to be denied them even as they protest how happy and fulfilled their religion is for them.  They answer Alter calls again and again and demand to know the time and day and year you too, were Born Again.  I may address this again in more depth at a later time but suffice to know that from my childhood, alone, looking at the night sky, on my back, pondering infinity, eternity, and indivisible, I have been walking with God.  This walk has continued throughout my life and has taken many turns and fancies.  I have taken my God given reason and let it explore many dark and dangerous places.  I have also explored the light and fanciful places and ever my Lord has walked along with me.  Sometimes leading, sometimes following behind as I explore,  but mainly remaining by my side (and inside),  and he has ever protected me from evil and dark influences.
Now I am learning it is my call to pass onto others what my travels with destiny have led me to discover.      " Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil: you are with me: your rod and your staff comfort me "
And so a New Year begins with my Savior by my side and inside, as always.

I've been led.....

I have not posted recently but once again I feel led to say what is on my heart..  I was reading my Devotional "Jesus Calling" this morning for December 6.  What was said really hit me.  The Bible references the devotion was based on were Deuteronomy 6:5; Colossians 3:23; and Psalm 16:11.  To paraphrase both the author and the Bible passages: Man creates duties and rituals to give God money, time and work but neglects to give God what he really wants which is our hearts.  By performing ritualistic, mechanical and habitual actions, over and over,  they come to require no thought.  "the soul becomes comatose."
What God really wants and what he created us for is our presence with him and our joy in his creation.  God does not want or need money, sacrifice of lives, ritualistic prayer, robotic-ally performed duties for the church, the poor, the sick, or the hungry.  What he wants is for us to pray, love and give with joy and wonder.  He desires our hearts and  thankfulness for the blessings we have received; and the relationship we continue to develop with him.
How indeed can the creator of the universe be in need of anything.  He has it all.  Except he gave us free choice.  Each of us can choose to be in relationship with this Awesome Being whom we cannot approach physically, but only with our hearts and minds.
It is as if one has a child who offers his parent blind obedience and respect, in his presence;  but once out of sight, merrily pursues his own appetites and desires with no thought or concern for who he hurts or kills in the process. What Parent could hold such a child in esteem when he learns his child has cast his values and principles into the mud and then stomped on them.  What Parent could be proud when he learns his child has deliberately stolen, raped, maimed, brutalized, and destroyed the very home and persons, with whom and into which, the child was lovingly born and raised.
When we care more for our own interests then for the Parent who gave us life and raised us, then we trample on sacred ground.  We pay homage to the god of self and try to buy off the Creator of all that is and has been and will be.  We offer meaningless rituals, prayers and offerings, never touching and engaging with the Blessing of Creation.
Yes, I am a Creationist, but not in the common meaning.  The Creator of all the laws and principles which yields us insights into Being and science is the Creation I believe in.  The God of Love who holds all of his children in the center of his Being and infuses those who choose to listen with knowledge and joy, and his Eternal presence within.
So say I, PooBah, on this glorious and God filled day.

Reflections on the election of 2016

Well, it is now the day after election day and Donald Trump won fairly and squarely, against most odds.  Lord, how I dislike pundits..
The American people have spoken, and I, for one, accept their decision.  I am grateful to God that I was born in and live in the United States of America.  I have loved this country for as long as I can remember; " For purple mountain majesties, Above the fruited plain,".
As a child I won a civics award, for best composition on the American Flag.  In the piece I wrote of our horrendous treatment of American Indians, slavery, the women's vote, the depression  and the wars we fought and the tremendous toll it took on our country and soldiers.  I spoke of my faith in the American people and how as a country we always attempted to correct our wrongs.  I spoke of the strength of our Constitution and Bill of Rights and how regardless of our differences we were a strong, proud and good people and our flag would forever fly as a beacon of freedom to immigrants,and to other countries in the world.  You might wonder how I remember all of this from an eighth grade composition.  I remember because these are the things I have always stood for.  My eighth grade teacher told me, "Claire, you have to continue to write, of course no one will ever be able to read it"( he was commentating on my spelling which I am proud to say has improved dramatically due to spell check).
As I said, I love our country and its diverse peoples and I have every expectation that regardless of who is President, we are bigger and better than an individual or group of policies.
I grew up in the tip of northern New York near the Canadian border in a small town called Potsdam. I know the upstate peoples and the struggles they have encountered.  My dad worked for Alcoa Aluminium. and was always a union man  He worked as a construction worker to help build the Seaway.  He worked for Putnam Hawley, (our local Home Depot),  cutting lumber and loading and unloading trucks.  He was  a union carpenter and a jack of all trades.  I mention this because I know what it like to be poor in an unforgiving, cold, upstate county where jobs were scarce, where Native Americans lived on reservations,and Blacks and Latinos were few and far between.  Even Jewish people were few back then in Potsdam and my Jewish schoolmates went to Massena to worship
I also know what prejudice is like because it was present in the rarefied air we breathed.  Prejudiced against anything or one who was different.  If you were poor you were looked down on because the chamber of commerce and the country club set had their own values and restrictions.  I remember my mom writing letters to the bank with five dollars to put down on the mortgage, saying to please wait until next month to foreclose as she could then make a larger payment. She wept as she made calls to her relatives to once again ask for a loan. My dad worked very hard at every job he had but was prone to injuries and frequently lost jobs to heal.  There was no paid health insurance in those days and we certainly could not afford doctors and hospital bills.  We always said my dad was an accident waiting to happen.  My uncle Jerry bailed my dad out countless times, recommending him for jobs and slipping him pocket money for gas to go for an interview.
Ok, so I know what it is like to be poor and to have baked beans and mac and cheese the night before payday and there was no meat left in the house.  I remember in high school our home ed teacher, asked us what our favorite meal was and I said baked beans and mac and cheese.  She was horrified.  She said "there is no Meat!!!!!"  I laugh today as a vegetarian, because it was a very high protein meal, but then I was just embarrassed.
My new clothes came from Fishman's, (the 5 and 10 cent store), or mama laboriously made them as she hated to sew, and worked full time as a teacher, and later a social worker.
I say all of this because I know the rural areas of the US and understand that if you are not among the favored few, life and Washington seem stacked against you. When there were large industries around and steel and aluminum plants, and manufacturing plants, and the auto and coal industries; at least you could find some kind of work.  Today those jobs are few and far between because most of our industries have gone east to China.  In this country today the rich and business' have gotten richer and richer through foreign investments and offshore bank accounts.  Even if the common middle class worker has a has a savings account they are lucky to earn 1% ROI.
So all in all, to sum it up.  I understand the rural mentality and it's desire for change regardless of the cost.  I know I got the hell out of there as fast as I could.  There was no room for a bleeding heart liberal like me in the beautiful farm country, unless I went to be a forest ranger in my majestic Adirondack mountains.
I know the rural vote is now in control and hope and pray the alternative right and the hate groups will continue to be disavowed by Trump and his soon to be formed cabinet.  We are going into unknown territory and we must bring our better angels to the foreground, and trust in our Constitution with its separation of powers and Bill of Rights, and the goodness and strong will of our generous American people.

Why I write this Blog

 I have often wondered why I expose my inner most thoughts to the public and friends through this blog.  I believe it is because I am crying out to people to really know and love me.  With all my thoughts, warts, bumps, inadequacies, and every other unnameable thing that occurs to me.
Actually, in truth, I do not expose my inner most thoughts and feelings.  Those I save for God alone.  So even here I wear a mask.  There are some things/thoughts that are unspeakable.  Not bad, just unspeakable.  A voice crying out in a wilderness, but masking his true identity.
 Do you too mask your true identity?  Do you too cry out for fellowship you may never have, with people you will never know.  Is this a common experience or is it only me?
Internally my God is all to me.  He walks slightly ahead of me everywhere. holding my hand but stepping out first so he can both protect me and lead me in the way he would have me go.  The Lord is my Shepherd and I am a pretty dumb ewe.  But I do know enough to follow him.  Sometimes I forget to request his/her companionship but he is there anyway, watching me make my mistakes and blunders, and falling down.  The Lord is ready, always ready, to pick me up when I ask.  I truly am never alone.
 But in my external world I seem to need fellowship, understanding, congruence between my inner and outer worlds.  I make a fool of myself reaching out to Facebook friends who never answer me.  Oh they may like or love something or post a three word comment. but they never relate to my advances in a real way.  I send them a long message telling them about myself and asking about them and I get back bupkis.  My one friend,Eileen, and my one niece, Margo,answer me.  I already know them.  I want to know you.  I want to know about your life, your family, what you think and what you believe.  I want to engage in real conversation.  I am basically a shut in, with supportive Church friends,  a wonderful husband, but few other people I can really connect with.  I keep reaching out.  Like a damned fool.  Or a fisherman casting into the water, but I only get nibbles.  No bites.
 I am getting tired of it and myself so I am thinking of not doing this any more.  I can put my photos in order or scrapbook instead: for people who will only throw them all out when I die.
 I know this is a rather dark post but I am a needy person.  I need feedback.  Who is it that is out there in France, Germany, and China, who is reading my blog?  Why are you reading it and can you not comment? Who is it on Facebook, or is responding to my blog update emails?  
 Where are you?  Who are you?  Why do you keep coming back?
 It is all a great mystery.

Moody and Sarcastic, says who?

All of my illusions about myself have been shattered once again.  I have been married 52 years and counting.  December makes it 53.  You would think by now you would have a good idea of who you are and who you are married to.  I would have thought by now I would have known how my husband and others see me.  Instead this morning I was brought up sharp with an answer I NEVER EXPECTED.
 I was taking a quiz on Facebook to find out what kind of cat I would be.  I encountered the following question and four possible answers:
What kind of person are you
1.  Kind, caring and sweet
2.  Sarcastic and Moody
3.  Relaxed and laid back
4.  Fiery and Aggressive

I was having difficulty deciding between # 1 and # 4 so I ask my beloved husband. Well, don"t you know he chose # 3, Sarcastic and moody. I could not believe it.  I said " Really, you really think I am sarcastic and moody"?
He said " yes, you are always making rude faces and yelling over the simplest things and making sarcastic remarks to me and about others."
I just could not believe it.  I realized then I had no conception of the effect I had on others.  Suddenly I could see why all my former friends had deserted me over time and why some people said I was hard to get to know at first. I must come off as a super bitch to most people.   And I talk about moody people, oh my God, who am I.
My inner reality about who I am seems to be just a facade and my outer self  is completely different.At least with regard to how I feel about and see myself.
I was so sure I was kind and caring and sweet and became fiery and aggressive only when defending others I felt have been wronged.  Now I see the illusion I have been laboring under.
So please try and forgive me, both my friends and my enemies.  I will be observing myself and my words and actions even more carefully from now on and will try to bring more cogency to my inner and outer realities.
P.S. I came out a Maine Coon Cat in the quiz.

Death and it forerunners

Today's topic is not too cheerful but we must all face the subject in our life.
When I was a child I once regaled a friend's mother with an ad hoc list of all the ways one could die: from a safe falling on one's head from an upper story window, to an infection from a dog bite, to car accidents,  etc,etc,etc.  She got so angry with me but I just would not stop listing every conceivable way to die I could think of.   She was baking and my friend and I were watching her while I chattered on.  Finally she had enough and banished us from the kitchen.  She later asked my sister what was wrong with me.
I remember running like a banshee through the basement of the funeral home with my cousins at my Father's mother's funeral.  We had the best time ever until we were apprehended by an an angry uncle. Whenever I got angry with someone as a child I would wish they would die.  This seemed to be the only way to permanently remove the troublesome people in my life.  It seemed so easy and final...Wam!  your dead...no more problem.  Otherwise, difficult people remained a continuing problem in one's life.
I guess I have always had thoughts of death on my mind, because again as a child, I used to pray my Mom not die until I was at least thirty years old.  I thought by then I would have it together enough to deal with her loss.  Alas, it was not to be the case as she died when I was only twenty one. I found it impossible to deal with and despite the fact I was married, I cried and had nightmares of my mother leaving me for at least six months.  My husband told me later he did not know if he would ever get back the girl he married.  I was depressed, always crying, gained weight and I quit a good job to get a horrible little job in Uniforms For Industry.  I was tallying load sheets and keeping inventory of how many uniforms went out and how many came back.  I worked with an extremely crippled man named Charlie, who taught me to use a calculator without looking; and a older woman named Charlotte who had severe scaring from acne, and used to come to work with a parrot on her shoulder.  It was a dark period along factory row in Jamaica, N.Y., but it gave me time to heal my soul among people who had far greater problems than I had ever dealt with.  I learned to love my co-workers and value the time I spent with them.  I visited their homes, met Charlies mother, and was surprised by Charlotte's cosy little world among her birds and antique treasures.  Her windows, in an extremely poor area, were willed with light and wind chimes.  Both of my friends were safe in the environments they created for themselves.
But back to death.  It all my preoccupations with death in my youth I never was afraid for my own life.  I felt invincible.  I could go anywhere and get involved in any situation and never fear the outcome.  Someday I will write about some of the scary situations I got myself into and out of, but until later I never was afraid for myself.  Each situation was a challenge that I thought I could get myself out of.   I always believed in God and had felt with him by my side there was nothing to fear.
I realise now the reason death never scared me.  I know that when one dies, for better or for worse, change is inevitable.  We either go from a living state to no state at all, a profound change; or we experience a change to another whole existence.  Heaven, reincarnation, time travel to the place we originated from, who knows?  There are those who claim to know but they can offer no proof.  So we trust our reason, our God, or we fear death because it is unknown.  I have always welcomed change, both in the physical world and circumstances or in the mental with new thoughts and ideas.
I do not still fear death, but I do fear very much living in pain and physical and mental deterioration.
Some of my worst fears are of being enclosed.  I have claustrophobia and in later years developed a great fear of heights.  I have a deep fear of being unable to breath.  My COPD has most likely increased this fear, but one of my worst fears from long ago was of drowning.  I truly fear torture and all the books I have read about prisons, concentration camps and bondage situations have fed these fears.  I have a vivid imagination and empathy with others so I experience a lot of what I fear.  I also fear pain, pure and simple.  I know when we feel pain we know we are alive but still I do not at all enjoy the sensation.  Worse, perhaps, is not being able to move or feel anything.  Being trapped in one's own body must be one of the worst sensations.  Once I was prescribed a sleeping pill.  As I drifted off to sleep I felt I was unable to move my limbs or turn around.  I was terrified.  I swore I would never take a sleeping pill again.  I once read a book called "Johnny Got His Gun", about a soldier who was trapped in his body and unable to communicate in any way.  He was completely conscious and remembered everything and the book was a stream of consciousness story.  I have never forgotten this book although I was eighteen when I read it.
So all in all I conclude it is not death that I fear but rather the process of losing life.  Losing the mind/body connection, with which I have lived my life.
So now I must begin to master the process of dying so it will not be so fearful.