I went to my childhood home last week, flying 1400 miles from Spokane to San Diego.
The purpose of the trip was to meet with my siblings and decide what to do with the old family house.
My mother and father both died over twenty years go, but the ranch style view property in Point Loma was tied up as long as my stepmother continued to occupy it. She passed away a couple of months ago, in her late 80s. We hadn’t stayed in touch. She suffered from dementia, so her passing seemed a blessing.
Staying in the house surprised me. I loved being with my sisters, Sue and Marcie, a few other family members, plus my son and daughter. Without a stick of furniture we all slept in sleeping bags on the floor. Fortunately we had working electricity and a refrigerator, but the campsite atmosphere was festive.
The panoramic view of San Diego’s glittering skyline, from Harbor Island, across downtown’s high rises, to Coronado and the hills of Tijuana, was even more beautiful than I remembered.
I lived in that house from 1952 until I graduated from high school in 1965.
To my reckoning, I probably hadn’t slept there since 1966.
I felt a delight last week, even euphoria, to be with Sue and Marcie. We captured the camaraderie that marked the best part of growing up together. The intensity of my love for them felt sweet.
But now that I’m back in Spokane, I have been overcome by sad feelings, shivers of dread and fear, remorse over things said or not said long ago, huge regret that I never got really close to my parents, that they died when I was in my 30s (Mom from cancer, Dad from emphysema), all of us somehow immature. So easily hurt.
I wanted some relief from this heavy heart, so I meditated and asked for help. A Presence assured me that the darkness I felt was endemic on this planet.
“Your Earth is one small activity in one classroom, and it isn’t to be taken too seriously,” said the Presence.
The voice, which I’ve heard many times before, a shy angel-type personality that only comes when I invite her, suggested a mental journey.
“Take a ride on my consciousness,” she told me, “and lift above the web of misunderstandings on your plane.” She said we all are showered with love and blessings, and that if we focus on our mission — to give love to each other — then we’ll rise above the darkness.
