Mothership Memories and Lemon Pound Cake

              

 We all experience pivotal moments in our lives. Moments we cross the threshold of believing a certain way, and suddenly an event occurs in our lives and we are inexplicably changed forever. One such event occurred in my life, four years ago today, on February 28, 2012.

I was at my son Harrison's grade 7 basketball game, cheering loudly, when my cell phone rang. My 16 year old son, Mitchell said, "Mom, I'm so sorry, but Auntie J just called to say, Umma has passed away." This was the moment I had dreaded my whole life, ever since my Dad had been killed when I was 5 years old, I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop; losing my mom. My heart was hurtled through the abyss of no return and yet, like any preordained destiny, I continued through that black hole towards inevitable pain.

On the drive to my mother's new care home, where she had been moved only 4 days prior, after being in the hospital for 2 weeks due to a fall, memories of her, like the vintage 8 mm family movies my Dad would play on his clicking Kodak projector, ran through my mind.

On the screen, Mom was the star, moving faster than real life time. The scenes flashed, showing a beautiful woman with a slim body and long legs dancing and laughing, then another, was of her, surrounded by children, smiling proudly, like a mother hen all puffed up over how smart her baby chicks were at finding juicy worms. In all the pictures she moved gracefully,  even when she was peeling potatoes. She was stunning, with soft, wavy brown hair circling her head, her eyes were hypnotic green cat's eyes and her face had hints of Slavic ancestry, from the invading Mongols centuries before. Her smile was gentle and kind but often sad, as she moved on a trajectory of grief, loss and struggle.

My mother was raised, smothered in fear by her parents,, who had lost two babies before she was born. They hovered over their princess, Ethel May, and panicked each time she uttered a cough or had a fever. As a result, she came to view herself as delicate, perhaps she was, I'll never truly know, but that shadowed her whole life and mine too. She was encouraged to play quietly, developing a rich, creative dream life, cutting out whole families from the Sears Roebuck catalogue and spending hours reading books. She loved animals and told stories of her pet bunnies disappearing, coincidentally around the same time the family had enjoyed a Sunday night Chicken dinner. Sadly, her childhood was layered with scarcity during the Great Depression and as a young woman, she perfected the art of worry and anxiety, while living through the Second World War.

Her face remained unlined for years, despite becoming a widow with four daughters at age 39 and then again at age 59. Even though hardship and depression had been her companions in life, she strove to be happy and looked for opportunities to help others with a kind word, or encouraging smile. She was  generous and loving to all who knew her, and you never left her house empty handed. 

Finally arriving at the Care home, I drew closer to the looming precipice of my existence, tightly wrapped in that of my mother's, and consciously noticed my senses were heightened, as the automatic doors to the Creekside Extended Care Home whooshed open and I entered a building, quiet as cotton batting in the ears and smelling of stale air.

When I walked into mom's room, she was lying peacefully in her bed, her arms crossed over her stomach, her eyes were closed and her face was relaxed. She appeared to be lost in a deep sleep, however, I knew my Mothership was empty. The vessel I had arrived on earth in, was broken and I would have to find a new way to return home.

 My sisters were standing, like protective sentinels next to her bed. They turned to greet me with  sad smiles, and I joined them, standing next to my mother's left shoulder. As my sister J, who had been with mom when she had taken her last breath, started quietly sharing mom's final afternoon, I began stroking the hair off mom's forehead.

J told how mom had been on her way to thank someone for a kindness, so like her, when she had suffered a massive stroke in the hallway and died suddenly.

As I had been listening to this story, my senses were acute, every fibre of my being alert, as I knew I was experiencing something that would alter me forever. J finished the story of mom's exit scene but I said, "She is still with us. Come and feel her head." Light, tingling waves of energy emanated, haloing her head and I was in awe, swept up in the current of her ultimate vibrating message, "I am still here and I love you." She had waited to say goodbye.

Instead of falling off the cliff that day, my mom birthed a new belief in me. I woke and started to really live for the first time in my life being freed by so many fears and earthly concerns. Feeling her energy in that moment gave me the realization that death is not the end, it is simply the casting off of a beloved overcoat that has served its purpose, allowing us to move onto the next stage of existence. I had dreaded this moment my whole life and although yes, I was sad to know I would never hear her gentle voice again, I was also buoyant with joy and gratitude. I was so proud over how regally, like a queen, she had traveled the last bit of her life on earth, giving us time to settle into the idea that the end may be near, and also the easy and graceful way she left.

If there ever was a life lesson she taught, and she taught me many through the years, about over coming difficulties with dignity and integrity, this had to be the most illuminating lesson. She had released me from an old way of being, of thinking about life and dying and who we truly are.

That was a turning point for me in so many ways, with regards to my spirituality and my life goals. It really was the moment when I knew I had to start writing too; something I had put off, thinking I was too busy raising our family.  This blog is just one way that I'm living my new life.

But back to the story and my last memory of mom.

 Since I knew mom was still very much with us, she gave me one final gift and that was the chance to whisper, "goodbye and, I love you too."

                                             

     
Join me in hearing the song "Smile" by Nat King Cole....my mom loved music, she loved to dance but most of all she loved to smile and make people feel happy.

        

And before I leave you, hopefully uplifted because you know, there is no such thing as dying...which seems to be everyone's worst fear...so funny really....what we should be most fearful about, is not really.... living. Being creative beings full of love in this lifetime.

 Part of living is eating, and boy my mom loved anything lemon, so today, in honour her I thought I would make my lemon pound cake that she enjoyed when she came to visit. It's easy...which she would appreciate, never wanting to make work for anyone.

 And so delicious.

 It's perfect to take to any event, or when you have loved ones coming for tea. So without further ado....here is my Lemon Pound Cake recipe, dedicated to my mom, Ethel May Herrling, Clark, Finch. A wonderful mom, a beautiful person, and a delightful spirit.

  Hope's Lemon Pound Cake

Ingredients

2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 1/2 cups sugar
3 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 cup orange juice
3/4 cup oil
2 tsp lemon extract, or concentrated lemon juice and grate some lemon zest 
4 eggs

Glaze 1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
1/2 cup lemon juice

Directions

Heat oven to 325 degrees F. Generously grease and flour a 12 cup Bundt pan. In a large bowl, combine all cake ingredients. Bend at low speed until moistened; beat 3 minutes at medium speed. Pour batter into greased and floured pan.

Bake at 325 F. for 40 to 50 minutes or until the toothpick inserted near the centre comes out clean. Remove cake from oven. With a long tined fork, poke deep holes every inch. In a small bowl, blend glaze ingredients until smooth. Spoon half of the glaze over the hot cake in the pan. Let stand upright in pan for 10 minutes; invert onto serving plate. Spoon remaining glaze over the cake. Cool completely, and serve.

And enjoy!

I'm so happy you came to visit today....life is so good and I'm thankful I have been able to record some of my life stories on this blog and also share some of our family's recipes with you.

Until we meet again, may you be well, happy and peaceful.

Blessings from Hope

 

      

Living an Inspired LIFE....Holding the Vision

                                                    

 
Following up to my post which I wrote a few weeks ago on inspiration, (Cinnamon Raisin Bread and Inspiration, or is it the other way around?)  I wanted to share a few additional thoughts and also a link to a TED Talk I recently found, which further inspired THIS post. Have you ever wondered where creative inspiration comes from? I know you know what I'm talking about because we have all experienced it in life. Even those people who are very analytical, and have a black and white belief system and say they don't have one creative bone in their body. We all have that golden connection to the divine, whether we want to admit it or not. Whether we want to be open and allow it to settle within, filling us with brilliant light to shine out into the world. Our Bravo moments!

I have experienced those timeless, uplifting moments when I parent, cook, garden, but lately they erupt like a geyser to the surface of my consciousness, not able to be contained below ground any longer. They spill forth and I either have to grab a piece of paper and write down the flowing words, or they evaporate into the heavens. If I do capture them in time and I start to fill my bucket with ideas,  thoughts, feelings of expression; the words pour out of me and I KNOW, I am but a vessel of divine creativity.

Those moments, when I have captured pure love, and passed it on to my child, or put it into my soup, or my garden, or allowed it to flow onto a page, I know that is eternal soul speaking through me. That is the little piece of GOD that shines within me. I live for those brief, elusive moments. They are the things that get me up in the morning and I hold my breath for all day....always looking to be taken, swept away and allowed to soar on the wings of inspiration.

We are all given these glimpses, but for some of us they appear more readily or for longer stretches of time so we can produce great works of art. Some of us have to just show up as Elizabeth Gilbert wrote in her book, "Big Magic," and say, I'm here, ready to do the work and just hope that "creative genius," will come to the table. That is our job, to show up, to not lose hope, to trust that we will be lifted by creative genius to have a baby, write a song, paint a picture, or write a book.

Sometimes, we just have to keep breathing, keep experimenting, as Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote in the quote that started this blog post.

    "All Life is an Experiment, the more you experiment the better."

Because the more that I do what I love to do, parent, cook, garden, practice my yoga....and write....the better I get and sometimes that is enough. It has to be,.....but I'm still holding out for the moments of pure Grace that come in the early morning hours while the house lies in deep stillness.

If you have 18 minutes and want to be further inspired, check out Elizabeth Gilbert's TED Talk called, "Your Elusive Creative Genius." It's interesting that she gave this talk quite awhile before she wrote the book, "BIG MAGIC." The ideas for that book, were obviously starting to stir and  alighting inside, ready to settle and allow her to write another great book.

We all have it in us, we just have to BELIEVE and keep showing up, being open.

If you can't see the video below, check out this hyper link to "TED talk, Your Elusive Creative Genius."

I hope this post and the Elizabeth's TED Talk lifts you up and moves you in the direction of your most creative self. So you can live your best life.

Lately, I think that is what my blog is evolving into. I started it while on the road to becoming more environmentally conscious, more sustainable. My intense appreciation for Mother Earth, (H.O.P.E. is my acronym for "helping our planet earth") but there are other ways to give back. Helping those find their link to the divine is truly coming home. Surrendering fear and filling the space with gratitude, is the first step. Always letting go and trusting, holding the belief we are souls first, living an earthly existence and we are limitless as a result. If we can assimilate that belief system into our lives, not just for seconds but  mindfully throughout our lifetime. It's then we will be filled up with love and creative genius will alight within us to help us create a better world. Each of us contributing the beauty of our soul.

And while yes, I'm going to be talking about building chicken coops, gardening for a more productive vegetable yield, baking a healthier cake, raising a kinder, more conscious child, and more, I want to tap into why we are all here on this planet at this time in history. I know the world is shifting, the vibration towards pure consciousness is speeding faster and faster. That explains why in many pockets of the world there is chaos, because many people are driven by fear and that creates anger and hatred, but if we remember from where we came and who we truly are, our time on earth will be remembered as the shift in mass consciousness towards spiritual awakening.

 It may feel unsettling but any change, even a positive change can make us feel shaky. As one final link, check out this piece written by, Jim Malloy, "How The Consciousness Shift May be Affecting You." We just need to let go and trust and peace will reign. Hold the vision with me...H.T.V....maybe that will be another new acronym for my blog...sounds like a new T.V. network.

Stay tuned for more from this network....more to come on H.T.V. as the inspiration is flowing nightly. Thanks for being my co creators! I love you all!

Here is a quote from Choquash – a Native American storyteller – which captures the essence of all this…

“The elders have sent me to tell you that now is like a rushing river, and this will be experienced in many different ways. There are those who would hold onto the shore… there is no shore. The shore is crumbling. Push off into the middle of the river. Keep your head above the water, look around to see who else is in the river with you, and celebrate.”

Until we meet again, may you be well, happy and peaceful.

Blessings from Hope