30 April 2012

Hippie Soul

If you could see the trajectory of my life from childhood to now, it would look tradtional and very conservative. Fourth child of two depression-era parents, hard working, sober, Christians in a ranch style home with a yard. Dad, an ex-WWII POW, hand pulled the weeds in his American lawn, was disarmed for transport to the hospital when he had a heart attack in that same front yard on his last day. Mother, small town girl, raised four kids and managed the house and meals for decades.
Today I am an educated mother of one, mother to three overall, married to my second husband, a hard working, Kansas born, self-made man. I manage our decorated home, do laundry, make dinner, exercise and have painted toenails.
But turn up the volume, step in closer and see three siblings, the suicidal addicted sister, a brother, the former marine, dead by suicide, another brother, severely afflicted with mental retardation. But before all that, a little tow-headed girl adored them all, contemplated Abbey Road, listened to Ike AND Tina on LP, smelled incense, had love beads who remains, at heart, a hippie today.
My soul wears moccasins, smells flowers and responds to most things with
"neat,"
"right on,"
or  "beautiful, man..."
My reality is I use essential oils, listen to humpback whale calls and Born Free tattooed my life. My dream since childhood is to visit Africa. Long walks are my church. I have an animal totem. Or two...

I went on a rehabilitation slash restoration trip recently to Southern Utah. I packed hiking shoes, wool socks, hiking shorts and four Life's Good tees, all brand new, a journal and my camera going to walk and reflect.
I thought I would journal and nap, walk leisurely and
let go of grief on mother's first Deathday....
Yeah...
My first hike on the first day included a near 2000 feet ascent. I nearly died of respiratory distress. Seriously, I showed up, looked around at my hike-mates and thought "oh yeah, I can do this, I can take any of them." Roughly 85 vertical feet later and I was bent over sucking air, unsuccessfully.
After an ugly, puffy, red time, I made it to the peak, wheezed "I kick ass" and walked the remaining four miles in the freaking sand.
I was too terrified to show up for the hike the next day, opting instead for a leisurely walk to look at 7000 year old peteroglyphs with Boma Johnson, an archaeologist, geologist and former Federal government liaison for Native Americans, whom he referred to as Indians. It was a rousing lecture in the 90 degree heat.
The third day I fearfully took another hike in Snow Canyon State Park with a group, sure I would be the last one, heckled with "come on, lets go, hurry up..." I was at the end of the line but mainly because I wanted to stop now and then to look up, not only down at the trail. By the time we climbed into Scout's Canyon, I was kicking ass and taking names. Feeling more confident. Feeling good.
Feeling whooped. No journaling, not even energy to write my gratitudes at night before bed. I did however take a nap in a hammock as bees fed on fragrant bushes, lush, noisy, living the fecund life.
I had no time to think about grief or my dying mother or my dead mother or my good-as-dead sister, both of whom I saw for the last time on the same day one year earlier. Somehow my story, my own little tired story really didn't matter. All that mattered was vermilion vistas and moving my feet, even if it was to find a spot to lie down.

On my last morning the alarm sounded at 6 am, shit, this is a vacation, I am exhausted, I won't go...later that morning I had crawled up this rock, at 3800 feet. I buzzed aorund that red rock saying "I feel great, seriously, I feel high" with my arms outstretched overhead, leaping at times.
Who is that girl?  The hippie in the center, at peace via exhilaration.
I found my thing
I found my rehab. 
I found my center.
The final act was the Medicine Wheel walk with a Shaman. Later, alone, I walked the labyrinth in a true meditative bliss grateful for the lessons and struggles yet to come...
I think the soundtrack to it involved Led Zeppelin.
I coud smell a little sage.
I offered Holy Water to the Earth.

Now do I tell any of this to you?
Or just go ahead and make a video of my favorite beauty products for April?
Right on...

15 comments:

  1. YOU ARE AMAZING ROBIN !!!!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I am in awe of you Robin. Amazing...
    :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. What a wonderful post, Robin! This trip sounds so wonderful and spirit-restoring! You are one of the most honest people with your feelings, inspiring...I just really like you, girl!

    ReplyDelete
  4. Wow! Bravo! Good for you! I am so PROUD of you! What a true accomplishment! You did it Robin!

    ReplyDelete
  5. a hippie chick......cool! I need a trip just like this.....love you Robin....she who speaks to my soul......

    ReplyDelete
  6. Do you need an authentic, much-loved,scratched-up copy of Abbey Road? Love you.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Beautiful, man!

    "No Quarter" is on that soundtrack, I just know it!

    ReplyDelete
  8. Thanks for sharing this... so funny... I just wrote about my mom's death, family fractures, and labyrinths on my blod. The Universe is wild :)

    ReplyDelete
  9. RoBiN...what an experience, what healing. i absolutely love your beauty tips for the month, but this was wonderful. i had a similar experience when i went to ghost ranch in new mexico, it's a spiritual deal that is just hard to explain what you walk away with...franc

    ReplyDelete
  10. You are a brave brave bird.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Oh how you make me laugh and cry!

    Julie B.
    tabbytribe@earthlink.net

    ReplyDelete
  12. Hippies that are cleverly disguised as educated, professional women are my favorite kind! Love you, girl. I'm glad you took that trip.

    ReplyDelete
  13. Dearest Robin,
    Coming back to earth for a moment. I love everything you write Robin because it is you, so honest and so incredibly wise,. I love your red sweaty face (but I would draw the line at hugging you at that moment). I started to read this and realized that you a a year out from a lifetime of grief, from really losing your entire family. What sucks the most (this applies to widows) is that people tell me the second year is the hardest.
    I am two months out now. I am at my in-laws in Arizona so I am appropriately numbed up for the occasion. I am sitting outside and the cooing of the doves (on the golf course) is comforting me. When I am honest about this, it is rough. It also feels like such a solitary journey.
    Please see my new address and (important) if you write and it looks like things are sent back...don't worry. I am dealing with two addresses, one of which the University of MN ripped from me the day after Jud died. I got it back to find important mail but it is too much to deal with. Twenty-three thousand saved messages.
    Sending you huge amounts of love and thanks for you being.
    Suz
    suzreaney@comcast.net

    ReplyDelete
  14. This seems to have been such an adventurous, life-changing trip! You've got the right idea by living your life, finding yourself, and enjoying the ride rather that letting sadness take you down. I honestly love everything about this post, especially because it gives me the impression that you wouldn't mind packing your belongings and moving to the desert. I was also very enamored by the desert's ability to sweep you up in its beauty, so I say we start a hippie exodus to the west. You in?

    ReplyDelete

You have no idea how much this comment means. I really thank you for taking time to connect with me. This is why we are here, isn't it?

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...