Nature's Healing Power, and Emily And The Cultivators

Plant and flower gardening is a big operation around the Meyer household, it just doesn't typically include my participation. Cathy tried golf for one summer but seemingly couldn't bring herself to harm a blade of grass with her club. Nearly every swing was the same; easy and smooth with the club blade gliding perpendicular, about one and a half inches above the grass, and almost perfectly over the top of the golf ball. Averaging easily a dozen strokes per hole, (not including the holes where she picked up) Cathy mastered the ability of "topping" the ball.

After being barred from playing the Sun Prairie golf course (Country Club in name only) for wearing a new, and pretty, sleeveless golf shirt (women with no sleeves are not allowed, men in cutoffs and tank top t-shirts are permitted) Cathy conceded defeat at the hands of the sport of perpetual aggravation, and returned to gardening with a passion void of frustration.

We have no less than six flower beds on this 1/2 acre lot (there is room for the house and some woods too). One bed is rimmed with a brick border built completely by Aaron as a Mother's day gift a few years ago. That project is all Aaron. He worked on it with peace, happiness, anger, frustration, procrastination, speed, care, and lots of heart. When he finally finished the job he was proud of his work. Cathy was pleased then and blessed for having it today.

The beds include plants from all times and places of our life. Remarkable when you get right down to it, and amazingly beautiful with seasonal changing plants.

Sunday morning was showing signs of a fine Wisconsin summer day following a needed summer evening thunder storm. Each morning, at our house begins with a reality check for Cathy, Patrick and myself. In our own ways we acknowledge the fact that the nightmare of losing Aaron is part of our life and will be part of the new day. Sometimes we move on without anguish and other times one, or more of us, struggles to move. Sunday was Cathy's time to reflect and cry. Even we don't have answers for eachother, so we hug, hold, and just be there.

When the most difficult time passed, as they all eventually do, and Cathy was able to breathe again, we decided to take a walk in the yard and see the plants, birds, animals, and feel the new sunshine. We've done this unknown numbers of times and this time was different. The far Northeast corner of our yard is a low area which collects water and the most sunlight. Usually an area we ignore, except for a vegetable garden in 1992, we saw this spot as ideal for a water-plant garden.

Cathy agreed that I could build the water-plant garden if I would first study up on the topic. Say no more. Cathy's "bible" is Treasury of Gardening, Copyright 1994, and I went right to school. I studied page 434 Planning A Water Garden, and I set to work on digging up the turf. By sundown I had an impressive garden area free of grass, weeds, roots, and our Television/computer cable which was disguised as a black root six inches below the surface. Cathy and I survived the 20 hours of no TV or internet, Patrick needs therapy.

By 6:00PM this evening, I was the proud parent of a uniquely designed water garden with 10 or so plants, in black porous soil of 6.5 PH, mixed with a large bag of peat moss, and topped off with a pond in the shape of a Holy Trinity symbol (looks much like a 3 leafed clover and matches the tatoo I have in honor of Cathy, Patrick, and Aaron). In a moment of tranquiltiy, I clearly felt Aaron showing me how the NW corner of the garden was shaping up perfectly for a three leafed pond. The shape was there and all I did was finish the art with a shovel.

After two hot days of digging in the dirt, on my hands and knees mixing moss, water, and dirt with my hands, I know I am closer to nature, God, and my family. Does my back hurt? Actually, no. Remember when we were in grade school, and spent more than half of the summer hours exploring the world on our knees or prone? I think there is something kids know intuitively and we forgot: it is good for body and soul to have our heads closer to the ground than to the sky.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow to see what life will mean to my water garden, my family, and me.

With dirt under my finger nails, gratitude to Cathy's gardening love, Patrick's encouragement, and Aaron's guidance, we know have the "Garden of Serenity and Reflection". There's more to do but it's ready to admire. Check back for photos.

Oh, I should also recognize Emily Schmidt, of Emily And The Cultivators for her inspiration. This charming young person, she's so tiny, an organic farmer, grows the most delicious veggies. Anyone in the area can share in her abundance by visiting the East Side Farmers Market off Willy Street on Tuesdays, between 4 and 7. Emily shares with us the essence of being; being a farmer, being in nature, being good to earth, being kind to people. We met Emily through her Mom and Dad. Emily is an abundant person to know. Take some time to meet her.

Peace and Good Gardening.

Tom

Sign of Good Times

Monday, June 20th, Cathy and I took our canoe out for some decompression time on the Yahara River in Madison. Paddling back we passed under the Beltline Highway, away from the motor boat wakes and below rush hour traffic. Cathy caught sight of some fluttering movement on the water in a tangle of heavy weeds. We turned around to see a tiny, frail looking Goldfinch in a struggle to stay afloat. Cathy scooped the little angel out of the water, into the canoe.

A quick look at the gold and black bird and we were fairly certain he/she was not long for the world. A broken left wing, and damage to the body from a collision with a windshield or attack from a predator was my diagnosis. Cathy felt we should take him/her home to see if time would heal the wounds. Goldfinch stood on teeny-tiny, toothpick legs atop a towell for the 30 minute ride.

Once home, we took Goldfinch out to the deck and placed him in a large bowl. By hopping and fluttering, the bird managed to get airborne and fly about 4 feet to a chair. I picked the frail fellow up and placed him/her back in the bowl. Within a minute the wings, looking dry and improved, were back to work. This time Goldfinch lit on my right shoulder, above my tattoo of the Holy Trinity and Jupiter. He/she walked to my neck, and then to my back before bursting away with new energy. Goldfinch flew away from me, over the deck railing, twenty feet across the yard and landed perfectly on a branch. The early evening sun shown on him/her through the leaves of the trees. Chirping and flitting it's wings, the bird was telling us something.

Cathy and Patrick walked up to the tree in time to see Goldfinch take to the air and fly away. Gone as if nothing happened, but now living in our part of the world, where birds are welcome, fed, watered, and safe.

The parallels with Aaron are so compelling: broken left leg, body damage, alone. God plucked Aaron out of danger with Grace, gave him wings of Angels and set him off on his new life in Heaven.

Yesterday, my sister Kathy and her husband Dave sent us this insight from the book Animals Speak, by Ted Andrews:

Goldfinch...

Keynote: Awaking to the Nature Spirits...

Cycle of Power: Summer Solstice and Summer Season..

The gold finch is named for it's summer costume of shiny yellow feathers on it's body...It also has black wings and a black cap on it's head. This color combination is very symbolic...
Black and yellow are the colors of the archangel Auriel. These colors in meditation and ritual are used to invoke that aspect of this being that overseas the activity of nature spirits. The high point of activity of nature is during the summer, it's highest point being at the solstice itself.

The presence of goldfinches usually indicates an awakening to the activities of those beings that are normally relegated to the realm of fiction. Goldfinch can help you to deepen your perceptions so that you can begin to see and experience activities of nature spirits yourself.

Goldfinches are birds that can help us connect with those nature spirits that can show us how to heal animals wild and domestic.
Goldfinches are rarely silent. This in itself is a reminder that Nature is speaking to us constantly and that we should learn to listen and communicate with it from all levels. It reflects that nature spirits are around us at all times.

The Goldfinch also has an undulating (an up and down movement) flight pattern. This rhythm and pattern can be used in visualization to help loosen the subtle energies of the aura and facilitate leaving the body. The wave pattern also reflects the ability of a goldfinch to lead us to the inner and to the outer realms from the human to the spiritual...

Anytime a finch arrives, life is going to become more active.

Aaron chose the Blackbird as his symbol. Auriel is the archangel of the blackbird. Summer was Aaron's favorite time. Cathy gave the Goldfinch new life on the evening before the summer solstice...the bird, and Aaron's, highest point.

Aaron was known to finish his messages with this sign off:

Peace, Aaron...Good Times!

With Gratitude for messages from nature,
Tom

Happy Father's Day

Seven years ago, at age 11, my son gave me a Zippo lighter as a Father's Day Gift. He wanted to give me something he picked out himself, and his grandma helped him buy the lighter. I remember Aaron being a little uncertain when he gave me the gift. In fact I think he was a bit concerned that I might not think a lighter an appropriate purchase with his own money.

My reaction was, and I'm eternally grateful, one of sincere pleasure for everything about a silver zippo lighter reminds me of my Dad...with every sense. The opening is a "flick" followed by a "click". How many times did I hear that sound coming from the driver's position, while I was riding in the back of a brown and white early 1960's Chevrolet. My Dad and I spent many a weekend or early evening "road hunting" Partridge in the northwoods. We spent hours riding to and from a fishing spot or back and forth to The Sport Marine in Antigo, his store.

The quite grind of the brass wheel on the tiny flint sent a spark which ignited the sweet, aromatic lighter fluid... "fluufff". A quick burn of the wick produced a new aroma of burning, sweet fluid and then a near silent crackle of the ciggarette or cigar tip when touched to the flame. The puff of smoke of burnt tobacco preceded hollow metal clink of the closing of Zippo. This musical performance of sight, sound, and smell replayed unknown times to untold numbers of audiances just like me. I imagine the one-handed performance was mastered by every Dad who served their country in the 1940's and 50's. I wonder if Zippo was standard G.I. issue?

That 1998 Father's Day is a special memory to me. How it is still in my possession today is a mystery. The little lighter has had many opportunities to become the prized possession of other fellows or to be lost in woods, field, ponds, lakes, marshes from Madison to Canada. At age 16, Aaron layed claim to my gift. Fearing it would suffer the same fate that befell my 1969 Little League Baseball glove in 1994 (left behind at the park and gone forever) I took my Zippo from the usual place of safe keeping and Aaron bought one for himself.

Last week, my youngest son Patrick, 14 (and a half) suggested a fitting gift for he to give himself in Aaron's memory was his own silver Zippo. Mom said she would have no part in such a thing. Dad readily agreed the purchase was appropriate, after all a zippo never hurt anyone. Patrick picked out the Zippo identical to my prize and Aaron's. The difference is Patrick had his engraved. On one side reads "AJM", the other "Here Comes the Son", a phrase Aaron wrote often on the top of his homework assingments, for the pleasure of his teacher.

To complete the circle, I told PT that I would show him "the right way to fill a Zippo" with fluid. Pulling the rectangular insert out, I took the squirt can and filled the main body about 1/3 full. Pushing the insert back into the body, as "always happens" the displaced fluid sprayed and flowed out. A quick spin of the wheel produced the "fluufff" and the wick ignited along with my lighter fluid soaked hand. PT wondered out loud if maybe this was not the right way and I assured him it was just "old technology" and that's the reason you need to be careful.

The next day, after doing the one thing Dad's never do...reading the directions, PT showed ME the proper, safe and easy way to fill a Zippo with lighter fluid. Amazing how long the fluid lasts when done right. For all those years I imagined American soldiers spraying precious lighter fluid and having the lighter run dry after just a couple of days of use. My youngest son taught me a lesson I missed from my Dad. I suppose he would look down from heaven with bewilderment that his "knuckle head" son didn't know what he was doing and was passing along flawed information on the proper handling of one of man's engineering marvels. Today Dad likely proudly said to Aaron, "Hey, little buddy; look what your old man learned from your little brother. Come over here, I'll straighten out a few more things he mis-taught you."

Love you Dad and Sons.
Peace and respect with lots of memories

Tom/Dad

Prayer Candles

Lighting a candle is an action symbolic of hope and prayer. Many people shared with me how they lit a candle and prayed for our son Aaron and our family. In our moments of suffering we too have lit candles and prayed. A mother whose son is missing after three years, told us how she visited a church in Ecuador and was given a candle to light in prayer. The mother was unknown in this community and the candle lighting is a local tradition. Hundreds of candles were already lit by other people as they prayed for their personal suffering, friend, family member, and unknown other sorrows or gratitude. Not one of the other candles, as far as she knew, were lit for her or her son.

Without ever seeing this church in life, I had a clear vision of the scene from the description I heard. I asked this mom “were all the candles the same size when handed to the visitors?” Yes, was the answer and we know all of the candles burned with the same intensity. The candles were lit for personal sorrow and gratitude. They tell us that all personal sorrow and gratitude is the same. My sorrow is no greater than the sorrow of the little girl who prays to keep Mommy and Daddy together. The Grandmother who prays for the soul of her dear departed husband suffers no less than I grieve over the loss of my teenage son. The aunt and uncle who light a candle with their children in prayer for a cousin, have the pain of explaining the unexplainable. A young boy and girl who pray for their friend who passed, struggle mightily for clarity and meaning of life, so do I.

The candle lit in thanks for prayers answered burns with gratitude the same as another’s candle lit in grateful acceptance of the cross they are to bear.

Society gives me a pass and room to grieve. Not so much for the friends or relatives. Look at the prayer candles and know that sorrow and gratitude have no size. All sorrow and thanks burns with intensity. We can identify the beginning of grief, and gratitude not there ending; there is no end. Like a burning candle… grief and gratitude change.

Peace and Good Will

Tom

Conformism or Totalitarianism or Individualism

Man's Search for Meaning, by Viktor Frankl concludes with his explanation of "Logotherapy in a Nutshell". Logo, Greek word for "meaning" is easy for me to comprehend. In a sentence: We are asked and are to answer, what the meaning of our life is; not that we search for the meaning of life.

Individually, the question is put to us, by life, over and over in different ways. The essence of our existence is in our responsibleness to ourselves. By living, loving, or suffering, we answer the question. The answer is different for every soul.

Those who will not find the answer do what other people do (conformism) or they do what other people wish him to do (totalitarianism).

Life's Transitoriness
"...the only really transitory aspects of life are the potentialities: but as soon as they are actualized, they are rendered realities at that very moment; they are saved and delivered into the past, wherein they are rescued and preserved from transitoriness. For, in the past, nothing is irretrievably lost but everything irrevocably stored."

And

"...At any moment, man bust decide, for better or worse, what will be the monument of his existence."

Viktor E. Frankl
Man's Search For Meaning an introduction to Logotherapy
$12.95 at Barnes and Noble (general psychology section)

I will become aware of a meaning worth living to fill the void left by the loss of my son Aaron.

Peace
Tom

Sharing

We should impart our courage, and not our despair, our health and ease, and not our disease, and take care that this does not spread by contagion.
Henry David Thoreau, Walden

What you have experienced, no power on earth can take from you...

human life, under any circumstances, never ceases to have a meaning, and that this infinite meaning of life includes suffering and dying, privation and death...face up to the seriousness of our position.

No one can relieve him of his suffering or suffer in his place. His unique opportunity lies in the way in which he bears his burden.

But there was no need to be ashamed of tears, for tears bore witness that a man had the greatest of courage, the courage to suffer.

Viktor E. Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

I'm reading, writing, talking, sharing. Many good people are giving me insight into great thinking. Certainly I endeavor to uncover the "why" and day by day the "how" to live with what happened. Frankl wrote, "Our answer must consist, not in talk and meditation, but in right action and in right conduct."

Right action and right conduct is something I can and will do.

Peace

Tom Meyer

Addressing a Graduating Class

On June 9th, the first graduate of Horizon High School in Madison, WI will receive his diploma. What would you say to the young man who will walk across the stage--alone because his friend and fellow graduate died-- to accept a well earned diploma?

In a few days I will speak to this wonderful guy, his parents, the staff, and students, as the Dad of the other young man who is not present. The words will be God's.

Peace
Tom