Hello, everyone! It’s great to be back writing Psychic Thought…I’ve missed doing it, even though I haven’t been doing it for several weeks now. (I’m saying the same thing about exercising, but I still haven’t gotten back to doing THAT yet, but first things first!) Let me explain my absence.

I mentioned a few weeks ago that a family member has been diagnosed with the late stages of terminal bone cancer, and that knocked me for a loop. Indeed, it did. Now that I understand that the family member in question is being very open about it, calling up old friends and colleagues to give them the news, I can reveal that the family member is, in fact, my father. Born in Bremerton, Washington, my dad has spent his adult life living in Seattle, Washington. I just returned from a visit to see him and my stepmother there a few days ago, and also spent a couple of days with my mother and stepmother in Bellingham, Washington. Dad is resting comfortably at home, in hospice care. He’s not going to have any medical treatment other than pain management, aka “palliative care,” and so it’s sure he’ll be able to pass away at home. He’s able to eat, talk, and walk a little, and is still as sharp and as funny as ever. He also has great meds…a blessing!

To say that I was bit surprised at the news about my dad’s health really is quite an understatement. Indeed, I now realize I’ve been walking around in a state of deep shock for a few weeks now. Really, some days I can barely remember my own name, much less think of anything articulate to say about psychic matters! Reading Lobsang Rampa’s book last night, “You, Forever,” he mentioned that when someone is grieving, the body sends out electrochemical signals to the brain to create a kind of numbness. He said that this allows the body to go through the massive energetic shift that takes place in grief, without having the person go through a total meltdown from pain. In other words, the sensation of being numb with grief is actually just a protective mechanism for the body while deep internal changes take place. The stronger the attachment, the greater the reaction—thus, the greater need for this kind of temporary psychological anesthesia.

It’s been an interesting ride so far. The two strangest things I’ve noticed about my own reaction to the news is that first, my energy levels and ability to concentrate have fluctuated both wildly and very unpredictably. Some days, I’m fine. Other days, I wake up and it’s as if I’m missing a few batteries. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to these fluctuations, at least to my conscious mind. The second thing I’ve noticed is that I seem to be doing “pre-grieving.” How strange! It doesn’t make any sense…Dad is still alive and he has the best possible care. Chances are good that he has several, maybe even many, good months left. So why am I crying about something that hasn’t happened yet? He’s not gone, and yet I’m acting as if he already is! So strange.

I was commenting to my stepmother that you never get to “practice” losing a parent. There’s no dress rehearsal, no do-overs. We agreed that for all the great care my dad’s getting, the hospice, the good meds and all the “extra” time he’s gotten to get his affairs in order and say his goodbyes, it really just amounts to a “nice silver lining on a giant, crap-filled cloud!”

An old story about a yogi and his student comes to my mind frequently. The yogi was crying over the death of one of his loved ones…I can’t remember if it was one of his students or his own guru. Anyway, there he was, the great master in floods of tears. His student asked, “Guru, why are you crying like this? You know that life is impermanent, you know the man has gone on to a new life, you know that all this is just “maya”…an illusion.” The yogi replied, “Yes, and this is a HEAVY illusion!”

Thus, my family and I are in the midst of our own heavy, heavy illusion.

Best wishes,

Lana