The Standing People

“For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone.

In their highest boughs, the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree.

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts. They preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy. Life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts. Let God speak within you and your thoughts will grow silent.

You are anxious because your path leads away from mother and home. But every step and every day lead you back again to the Mother. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you or home is nowhere at all.

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one's suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is a birth, every grave is Mother.

So the trees rustle in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts. Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them.

But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts, achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”

~ ~ Hermann Hesse ~ ~

Cricket LaStrada ~ An Angel Among Us

She was named Linda. But somewhere along the way, she became Cricket. As in Jiminy. As in Pinocchio's conscience. That's who she was. From very early in her life, she was the person everyone went to for guidance, and encouragement, and love. Lots and lots of love. The woman was fierce in her beliefs. And they were all grounded in heart. No one was ever more committed to making life better for those around her. She worked diligently and tenaciously for the Gay community, for the rights of AIDS victims, for teen-aged gay/lesbian suicide prevention, for abused women and children, for people with disabilities (which she called "gifts"), and for her family. ALL of her family.

Cricket and her wife adopted SEVEN children, four of whom came in one package. Sisters who were in foster care. They didn't want those girls to be split up. So...they adopted all of 'em. Their son, Thunder, was also in foster care. Then there was Ari, who came to them as a result of a familial situation that needed them. Daniel, their autistic son, had been with them from the beginning. In all, SEVEN little Beings who needed them. Can you even imagine????

For me, she was Big Sister, Protector, Coach, Sage. She hunted down the bullies who picked on me and put the fear of god in them. "You will NOT mess with my little sister." She made me feel safe, all through my school years, and beyond. It was in the sixth grade that she took the job of softball coach for the summer park league. She took her job quite seriously, and turned me into an MVP several years in a row. She taught me to "take ONE SECOND", plant my feet, and THROW. She taught me that my size didn't matter. That it was all about heart, and focus, and commitment. She was tireless. And she made every one of us believe that we COULD be better. Every day.

When I was thirteen, she taught me my first guitar chords. She LOVED music. She loved to sing and play and she made sure that all the kids had an instrument. From tambourines to tom-toms, everyone got to make  music. Her love of music was the driving force behind me, for more years than I can count. She called me a "star"...and she meant it. She never once doubted that I was "better than good enough". She  made me believe I could. Every day.

When I moved away, she was my constant supporter. She encouraged me to follow my dreams and ignore the naysayers. She was there for me, through every disaster, every trial, every misstep. She did not judge. She simply loved and tried to teach me how to love without condition. Her words, for all these years of my life, still echo. At precisely the right moment, they'll float up from my memory banks and guide me to my truth. She was, without question, an angel among us.

Cricket left the planet a few days ago. Her arduous journey has now come to an end. She left us with a giant hole in our world, a gap that will never be filled. But she also left us with her kindness, and her wisdom, and her enormous capacity to love. She did the best she knew how, and she did it with every fiber of her Being. She may have left the Planet, but she is not gone. She is here, all around me, whispering and giggling and urging me on.

She was my first hero.

She is my Sister.

Ti amo, Sorella Mia.

Volare con gli angeli.
{fly with the angels}

For All the Mamasitas ~~~

Kisses for your boo-boos
Hugs for your broken heart
Laughter shared when things get tough
Always there to calm your fears
To urge you on, to wipe your tears
To hold you close even when she's not here
Mama, Mother, Mommy, ALL
The quintessential
LOVE.

Happy Mother's Day
{to ALL the mamas....even those whose babies are furry, feathered, four-legged)