Itty Bitty Dancing Shoes

Dane & Shannon, Winter 06/07 (I think?)

For Ms. Elodie Shannon, in honor of her namesake

I read a book written by a guru or monk or something of the like, I can't quite remember.  I just remember the author's name was Pima.  It was all about accepting the world for what it is, ripping our own cuts open a little deeper, and pushing ourselves toward a higher level of spiritual growth by continuing to "stare" persay when it pains us to do so. 

I tried really hard to implement this into my own life at the time.  For example, I remember being in Detroit, MI for training and there were homeless beggars all over the place.  I normally would have looked the other way when driving by them but I made myself look at them.  And I hated every.single.second of it.  It literally made me physically ill.  Like want to puke I was so sad.  Did I grow? Who knows. I learned a lot about what it is that makes me uncomfortable and hope I've evolved since then.  Anyhow, the author had a phrase in her book that went like this:

"Confess your hidden faults.
Approach what you find repulsive.
Help those you think you cannot help.
Anything you are attached to, let it go.
Go to the places that scare you." 

I like to believe that there is a logical explanation for the fact that I cannot listen to my child cry for even 30 seconds, can't stand to see any living being injured, am deeply disturbed by sad movies, and have to turn the channel whenever that damn battered animal commercial with the Sara Maclachlan song comes on. 

I've come to the conclusion that I am so empathetic that every once in a while a nerve is hit and I just cannot take it.  Every detail of the saddest circumstances I have ever been witness to are burned in my mind like a series of huge photographs.  I read an article or excerpt from a book (can't remember, not important though), that discussed how some of us are overly empathetic and come acrossed as selfish if we have not yet learned how to deal with the distress that being empathetic causes us.  Yup, this is me but over time I have improved on that last part.  Regardless, I always appear more cold than emotional (as my brother would gladly attest to)  but I am about 1000x more likely to cry in response to someone elses sorrow.  It hurts me too much to see and I would really rather look the other way.

But Pima says I have to "stare."  So "staring" is what I am slowly learning to do.  Even when I am all alone.  I let sorrow in, but only in small amounts.  Then I ponder the happy that relates to the sad.  I just reframe my thought process so that I never get too comfortable with sadness.  Because I don't think that it is a good thing either. 

Today is Shannon's birthday. I'll be honest, right now I don't want to think about it because it hurts. In fact, it pretty much makes me feel sick inside. It is far too empty of a place to frequent, but birthday or not, I think about her every.single.day. However, I feel disrespectful for acting as if today would be just another day because for those of us fortunate enough to have known her,  it is not.  So in this moment, I am acknowledging today out of honor for her, and then I am going to move on. Not because I do not care but because I care too much. So to all of those who are missing her today, among every other day of the year, my thoughts and heart are with you. I hope you can find solice. 

Even in my attempts at implementing Pima's wisdom, I am far from being spiritually advanced.  But I am trying to be kinder and swear less...so maybe, assuming there is a heaven, when I leave here someone will let me in.  Cause I am thinking that Shannon is there wearing her dancing shoes and searching for the eternal Halloween party.  I bet she doesn't fall when she is dancing up there though because it is heaven and all. 

With the exception of a good gossipy story she liked to repeat (over and over and over again), Shannon was too busy living in the moment and dreaming of days ahead to dwell much on sad affairs. It is my preference to honor her by putting effort into living the way she lived, rather than by living my days in their entirety as if I have really lost her. Tiny dancing shoes must be a start.