Friday, August 9, 2019

Completion


Love and Life Cycles




©2019 by Joyce Mason



The zodiac, with its predictable cycles, teaches us the power of completion, as does life itself. When it comes to relationships, there is one rule for fulfillment. Let it go its course and grow into what it is or isn’t. Anything less haunts us.
- Joyce Mason

My husband died on June 15, 2019.  Radical Readers during my days of frequent posts know that I was Tim’s primary caregiver since early 2015 when he lost his mobility due to his muscular dystrophy.  From then on, I was taxed beyond anything I could have ever imagined—physically, emotionally—but at least not spiritually. We were utterly devoted to one another, and I could not have loved, or been loved, better. While I miss his physical presence terribly, by the end, death came as a blessing. Tim was miserable as his lungs shut down after two rounds of pneumonia close together. I always knew how our story would end; it was just a matter of how long I’d be lucky to have him (22 years). I married Tim knowing his diagnosis because we were reunited childhood sweethearts. Soulmates. The chance to complete this relationship—to let it become all it was supposed to be—was the second chance of a lifetime.

Joyce and Tim at her 8th grade graduation party.
We were denied continuation of our first chance when his mother forced him to break up with me after two years, a month before we both turned 14. She worried we were too serious and too young. My own parents were 19 and 20 when they eloped, and Tim’s mom saw the writing on the wall. She was also worried about pregnancy. And for her information in the Great Beyond, I didn’t lose my virginity until I was almost 19. Although, I suspect it would have been a lot more difficult to keep my knees together, as I was taught in Catholic school, for many years longer, especially with the guy I loved so deeply. And in equal fairness to Tim’s mom, her concerns sprang from promising Tim’s father, on his deathbed, that Tim would go to college. She saw me as the obstacle to keeping that promise.

We were reunited at age 49 and married at 50 (Chiron Return). Born only 10
1997: 1st Valentine's Day back together.
days apart, Tim and I led parallel lives in the same incarnation. No stranger to reconnection for completion, I had previously found my birth families, another man that followed Tim in my life who left a path of devastating and destructive “loose ends,” in his own words. I found a dear friend, my first pen pal. Then I was sitting at my computer on Thanksgiving weekend in 1996, feeling a divine pull toward finding someone again. I raised my eyes to Heaven and asked, “Who on Earth do you want me to find now?” Not hearing an immediate answer, I rolled it around in my mind and asked myself who I always wondered about. The answer was Tim. I had no news of him beyond high school, which worried me for many years that he might have died in action in Viet Nam. (Turns out he was never even in the military.)

Once I knew who, I remembered a really startling dream I had about Tim the previous March that I had written down in detail because it was so powerful. I called it Finding Tim. (I learned in a dream workshop that titling dreams helps unlock the meaning.) Here’s a shortened version.

The Dream. I am at a social event.  Feels like a singles get-together. The name Tim Schoos comes up out of nowhere about a book he has written on relationships. I am anxious to find a copy to see if he mentions me, since it’s all about his love life and what he has learned from it. 

I finally get to see a paper copy—a beautiful, hardbound book.  I never figured Tim for a writer. It is done up beautifully by a reputable, big publishing firm.  He honors me in the sweetest way through the book.  He has coined “Joycisms” into his language and relationship terms, from things I did or said that he found endearing, like “Just Joyce it.”  (It meant do it in your own unique way.) It’s obvious that Tim loves women in the best possible way. It’s not clear whether or not he has ever been married.He shows up for a book signing.

He looks wonderful.  Reminds me of the actor, Tim Robbins.  And he is very glad to see me.  It’s a little awkward because he’s the center of attention, but we exchange hugs and quick life updates, and phone numbers for later. 
I walk away from the encounter glowing with hope of spend time together.  Who knows?  Maybe we can rekindle the romance if we still click in present day.

Of course, there are more details and a lot of code in this dream that only I would understand. Example: Tim looked like Tim Robbins, reflecting my feelings of “Tim robbin’,” being robbed of my relationship with him. In waking reality, I wasn’t sure if this was destined to be a romance or friendship. I missed his friendship most of all. I was open to either (and got both). The message to reconnect with him was obvious. Thus began our new cycle together that we would finally be able to complete.

Astro-Thoughts.  This type of completion typically reflects a milestone within a cycle in our natal charts or relationship charts. Tim passed 60 years (second Saturn Return) from the time we first met at in 1959 at age 12. Saturn was in Capricorn once more. In my chart when he crossed over, T-Saturn and Pluto were in Capricorn in the 9th House. T-Saturn was quincunx my natal Saturn in Leo to the exact degree in the 4th. I have found myself publishing/being very public about my experience on Facebook of losing my closest family during 2018-19, including my Uncle Mike and two brothers-in-law. T-Chiron opposed my Venus, and as such a Chironic person this is not surprising. (Tim was Chiron in my life.)

The Path Forward. Tim very much wanted me to get back to writing once he was gone. He felt terrible that his care and support meant big delays to my new career in fiction, almost as soon as I launched my first novel, The Crystal Ball. There were times when I wondered if my creative juices could ever be pumped up to that level of outflow again, but I doubt it less every day. I wrote his obituary, which isn’t an easy thing for a wife to do, but it certainly helped that I’m a “wordmonger,” the front-end of one of my email addresses. I have gotten a lot of positive feedback on it, which reminded me how expressing emotions in writing comes easy for me. It also affirmed how memoir seems to be my best medium.

The medium is the message in this case. I am being called to re-do my long finished memoir with a different focus than the original draft, in a way that focuses on how important it is to bring relationships full-circle. The new title is My Life in the Lost & Found: The Power of Completion.

It will be an expansion of the stories about finding my lost loves summarized in this post, including how intuition, dreams, inklings, “signs” and synchronicity guided me all the way to the finish line. There will be many more details of what I have learned on this amazing odyssey. The “coincidences” alone still leave me breathless.

If you want to know more, watch this space. I don’t know how long it will take to get to publication, given all I have to do and digest in the early days of widowhood and my many responsibilities. But I do know that My Cosmic Tractor Beam is pulling me strongly to share my story with a larger audience. I am told often, both on and off Facebook, how much Tim’s and my love inspires my friends—and how I have modeled acceptance in my response to his passing. Although I live to inspire (and to entertain whenever possible in the process), the main reason I have been unable to launch a memoir up to now is my discomfort with the level of public exposure required. It seems I didn’t even realize I was practicing with my FB friends for opening my life to even more readers.  And the cosmic hints to write this memoir border on nagging.

And if you have any feedback, suggestions or comments for me about where I’m headed, including specific things you hope I’ll cover in this book, I would love to hear from you.

~~~

Opening photo: I call this “Tim’s Heaven,” as it shows him completing a run in his young, athletic body. You’re free, honey! 

Saturday, March 9, 2019

Pisces into Aries: A Spring Equinox Poem


Poem © 2019 by Joyce Mason


The winter knot in my stomach:
A tight bulb
putting out shoots as the rains come.
The weather is seductive,
flaunting bursts of sun and shirtsleeves.
Spring is alluring in the final days
of the Dark of Winter.
A tease.

I begin to see green things in my dreams
sprouting from my eyes, ears and other openings.
Sometimes they dare to bud and laugh at me.
I hide under my down comforter in a flash frozen moment,
teeth chattering in tempo with the gauzy sights and maniacal sounds.

As Pisces peaks
I crave music and meditation
but like Aries itself, I cannot muster patience
even from Bliss.
Want. Spring. Now.

And while I’m distracted
trying to figure out my overactive night movies,
Spring dashes in from behind,
nearly Equi-obnoxious,
soon racing far out front.
I am left in a wake of stardust,
post-morning coffee eyes
and Get Up and Go.

Now that’s awakening.

~~~

Photo Credit: © Nadiaforkosh | Dreamstime.com




Thursday, March 7, 2019

Poem: Chiron in Aries

Dear Radical Readers,

Happy Chiron Return to all our fiftyish readers. This is a gift to you and a mantra for the rest of us to explore for the current cycle of Chiron in Aries. I see it expressing the potential for healing as we reel from a time of bullying, harshness and the need to cut through some pretty cruel crap and in-fighting so we can protect what we call wholly. This is one of 12 poems in my ebook, Poems to Heal the Healer: The 12 Chiron Signs. You can purchase via the link just cited or in the sidebar for $4.99. It makes a great gift for people who speak astrology and especially those in the healing arts. It's a condensed course in understanding the Chiron signs. Feel free to share this poem with attribution.

With hope for a sweeter world,
Joyce







Swords pierce and define me:

Nightmares of bullies
violent beginnings
softening
protecting the softened

I, hero, heal
in the world of physicality

Derring-do:
T’ai chi,
kick box
head butt

Ebb and flow
put out fires

Discover myself
my vocation
somewhere
in my own heartbeat

Blood racing to compete the circuit
my warrior quest:
Who Am I?

In helping and healing the bruised     
I find the real competition:

bursting the tape at the finish line
of wholeness

in my own time

not necessarily first.


© 2010 by Joyce Mason
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www.radicalvirgo.com