Saturday, July 24, 2010
Ho'oponopono, Life Transitions, and Sewage Trucks
There has been a death in my family, and I have been spending time with my father. His wife (my stepmother) has been ill for a long time -- but died in Hospice very recently.
It has been a difficult process for both of them, and for the rest of the family too. Evolution is sometimes like that. Even the beautiful, flowering lotus pictured above is known to grow from mucky origins.
All along, I had been asking Divinity how to best to clean. Dr. Ihaleakala Hew Len had also been kind enough to share a cleaning tool with me -- which I have used liberally. It has given me great peace.
For the first few days after his wife of 45 years died, my father wanted no one to come. After all, she wanted no memorial, and he didn't think he needed any help. I spoke with him daily on the phone, and although he called himself "lachrymose," he insisted he was fine.
Despite Ho'oponopono I had struggled with this, not knowing what was correct for me to do. Suddenly one morning I felt guided to make plane reservations; there was no hesitancy, no further questioning. Later that day, my father said it was all right for me to visit.
Through this, I understood what Dr. Hew Len has so often told me: when you clean enough for Divine Inspiration to come through, your next steps appear and you simply take action. No second-guessing or worry to confuse things. I have to say this was the case with me.
The overall family situation has been challenging for us all, yet similar to many other families I've assisted in my work. It's very different when it's your own family needing healing, though.
I wasn't sure what I'd find on arriving, but was clear that Ho'oponopono cleaning was the main thing to do. I care about my father of course, but this process seemed somehow more loving than any other kind of support I could offer. So I came prepared, with my book of Ho'oponopono tools and manuals. I breathed "Ha" many times a day, and talked with my inner child moment to moment. I talked with the house, and with my step-mother's spirit as well.
It turned out that the house had not been physically cleaned in many months either. It asked for help. My stepmother had been at home for part of the time, but unable to maintain household chores. Proud and also mistrustful of others, she wouldn't allow housekeepers in either. My father, and sometimes visiting nurses, attended to her personal needs.
In addition, she'd been hospitalized for the last several months. My father would come home at night, go to bed, wake up, shower, and return to the hospital each morning. Exhausted on all levels, he had no energy to deal with anything but immediate crises. This is the case with many caregivers.
You can imagine that there was plenty of opportunity to clean with vacuums, mops, and rags . . . . along with Ho'oponopono cleaning tools.
And so I did. It seemed the right and perfect thing to do.
My step-brother and his wife came and joined in the process. Their three little kids livened up the energy further; the house resounded with laughter and squealing along with the vacuum's roar. Spider congregations disappeared, and decaying food got launched from the fridge and freezer.
My father seemed to appreciate the company, and even asked me to help him organize the papers that were all over the floor in his office. Usually he wouldn't allow women to do such things, but this time was different. I cleaned with each one, placing it carefully where it belonged. Some he allowed to be shredded or discarded -- a miracle in itself.
Other odd things happened during this visit also.
As background, some of you might recall my writing about "The Lesson of the Pipe Wrench" in this blog a few months ago. A Hawaiian kahuna had recommended I keep a pipe wrench handy with certain family members, in order to disconnect from "sewage pipes" overloading me. He was referring to the old memories and data I share with my family -- all needing to be cleansed and released rather than be flooded by.
Well, I didn't bring a physical pipe wrench during this visit . . . but actual sewage trucks showed up!
One time, my father and I came out of a restaurant to find such a truck pumping its wares from a drain right next to our car. On entering the place, I hadn't noticed this very important drain in the ground, but sure enough there it was. The gentleman doing the work apologized. "I waited to see if whoever owned this car would come out before I started, but then I couldn't wait any longer. Sorry about the smell." I could only laugh inside -- and say "thank you" for the reminder to clean.
Driving the next day, I somehow got directly behind sewage truck #2. Thankfully, it didn't leak! Then 2 days later, I stopped to put gas in the car. Noticing a familiar stench in the hot summer air, I looked up to find . . . . you guessed it! Sewage truck # 3, doing its deed.
Those kahunas know what they're talking about. :-)
In all of this, I noticed a feeling of deep peace -- despite these stressful, painful circumstances. My father and I had some very frank discussions about previous events, but nobody got mad. I cleaned during each of these talks, both while listening and also so that whatever I might say in response could come from inspiration rather than from memory. Though I'm far from perfect at this, there seemed better alignment than in other conversations I've had with him about similar things.
My stepmother is free of her suffering now, and we are all thankful for that. Yet we as a family face many more decisions in the months to come. Ho'oponopono is helping me show up and do what's needed so far. Without it, I would only add to the memory pile, rather than letting them go. It is tedious at times, and yet I know deep inside it's mine to do.
I am grateful.
Peace begins with me,