Debra Basham

Living and Loving

Tag: mask

  • A Cloudy Day

    The past few days have unfolded very differently from my plans. I had expected to share fish-fry with Linda and Larry and Linda and Fred and play Hand-and-Foot on Friday evening, and to make vegetable beef soup with my mother’s cornbread for dinner on Saturday with Janis and Larry. I planned a visit with Delcy Kuhlman on Monday morning (to see the new retreat space already sporting a bed). The bed is on loan. She says the veneer has slivered off the headboard, revealing the image of an angel. Jane Foster was scheduled to come for lunch on Wednesday.

    Each of those wonderfully wanted experiences were crossed off my calendar when we received a text from Lora at 8:21 am Friday, “Asking for your prayers. John and I have tested positive for COVID.” John and John had gone out for coffee on Thursday morning and in the evening John and I had been with John for about 40 minutes.

    Normally there are 12-20 people at the Thursday jam. When no one else showed up for the jam, we went home.

    On Wednesday the CDC updated Covid exposure protocol. Ten days of precaution: first five – isolation or being with others only with a proper medically-approved mask, even if no symptoms test on day 6, and if negative, continue to mask until day 10. Thursday was our Day Zero.

    Day 1, Friday, August 12, 2022:
    Well before noon, I was painting paneling in the great room.


    Perhaps the job was begun a bit too impulsively since I was using only the paint left over from the previous kitchen cabinet project, without any primer. That paneling was soaking up paint like a lawn after a six-week drought when the rains come…

    I had the wherewithal to stop.

    Friday evening, after a conference call with Larry Britton, I knew I needed to put on gloves and a mask, and make a trip to Sherwin Williams before continuing. I needed supplies.

    I’ve begun reading The Rent Collector, by Camron Wright, in which the main character, Sang Ly, learns to read with the hope of creating a way out of their current living conditions: they live in and survive by picking through garbage in Cambodia’s largest municipal dump.

    Day 2, Saturday, August 13, 2022:
    Saturday morning at 8 o’clock I called Sherwin Williams to say I did not have Covid, but would be coming into the store in gloves and a mask because I had been exposed. “Laney” said that was okay. She did keep her distance, and as she carried the two gallons to my car she told me in two weeks she was going on her first vacation in two years. I told her I understood completely and that was why I could not come in without calling first.

    The name of paint color is Cultured Pearl. According to Wikipedia, cultured pearls are formed within a cultured pearl sac with human intervention in the interior of productive living molluscs in a variety of conditions depending upon the mollusc and the goals.[1] Just as the same as natural pearls, cultured pearls can be cultivated in seawater or freshwater bodies. Nowadays, over 95% of the pearls available on the market would be cultured pearls.

    By dinner time, two walls were painted and everything in the area cleaned and furniture put properly placed!

    Day 3, Sunday, August 14, 2022:

    “That is a wonderful lesson, Sang Ly. Remember it.”

    “What was it again?” I ask, not certain to what she is referring.

    She repeats it for me. “In literature, everything means something.”

    We open the pages and read.

    ~ The Rent Collector, by Camron Wright

    It is cloudy today. My knees and hips are sore from all of the squatting. This is a low job…. I am not sure if I will take the day off or persevere.

    I had anticipated Friday, August 12, 2022. Sixty years earlier, when I was twelve years old, my dad and I were in a serious auto accident — an accident in which I had an out-of-body near death experience (NDE) that has shaped my view of the world. I had expected to write, to ride my bike, to give space to be on a very inner journey. I certainly had not anticipated painting paneling.

    A poem gives rise on the page in my journal.

      A Cloudy Day

      Daily light replaces darkness
      and light begats light
      Where nothing reflected
      now everything does

      Oh, for sure
      you can see perfections
      formerly hidden
      now quite obvious
      but soooooo worth it

      Seeing all in the light
      even the flaws
      are lovely
      each adds an element
      of uniqueness, telling a tale

      Today the sun is hidden
      clouds rule the sky
      But still the sun shines
      and the light is, only
      waiting to reveal its gloriousness

      The sun still shines
      even on a cloudy day

      ~ Debra Basham, August 14, 2022

    P.S. Word came last evening from Gary Zukav, author of The Seat of the Soul, that his beloved, Linda Francis, transitioned on August 6. Linda Beushausen Gunter and I had the honor of spending a day with them some years back. Please keep them in your thoughts and prayers.

      My Dear Spiritual Partner,

      Linda Francis, my Beloved, my spiritual partner, my life partner, my co-creator in everything, my co-author, my inspiration and model, completed her journey through the Earth school on August 6. Her soul returned home to nonphysical reality. When a soul decides to return home, nothing can stop it. I saw this happen before my eyes. Linda was at my side in our kitchen when the stroke came. Within hours an experienced surgeon had attempted three times to remove the clot in her brain, yet it could not be removed.

      I am still reeling. Each time I turn to say something to Linda and realize that she is not here to answer me, and each time I rush home with groceries to be with her again and remember that she will not be there when I arrive, and countless experiences like these are each a source of great pain for me and also an opportunity to create authentic power. Each hurts a lot before I recognize it for what it is – a frightened part of my personality – and move my attention away from “what ifs” and “if onlys” to what is actually happening in the moment, and toward an opportunity to love, to support, to contribute.

      This is not over for me, and it is probably not over for you. I and our precious support team will send you some practical thoughts and suggestions over the next few weeks so you can practice transforming your experiences into opportunities to create authentic power. You will receive your first emails next week. I invite you to experiment with them and to let me know at garyzukav@seatofthesoul.com what happens.

      I hope you are healthy and joyful and appreciating the power and beauty of each moment.

      Linda joins me in sending you love.

      Love,
      Gary

  • Ageless in this Moment

    This week is the anniversary of my mom’s transition. May 20 is also the date Ursel, the former owner of our home, passed, as well as the date Ursel purchased the home 33 years earlier. Both Ursel and my mom had their funeral/celebration of life on May 23. (See the Sacred Story: May 20).

    My mom passed in 2003. That was also Memorial Day weekend. No picnics, no parties, no plans this year.

    I am choosing to find ways to enjoy the moments.

    The leaves have come out this week! Scrumptius spring greens are silouetted against the sky.

    I continue to wear a mask when I go for a bike ride. I do not feel a need for a mask when I am out-of-doors doing activities on my own, but it is an important reminder.

    Yesterday I made some more no-sew masks, as it looks like social-distancing and safe-sheltering is going to be with us for a while longer. Let me know if you want a couple of easy patterns. One is made from a sock, and another is made from a sleeve. Stretchy fabrics are preferred….

    One of my mask-enhancements (inspired by a Dharma friend) is a photo of my smile! It is a black and white printer-quality paper print that I colored with crayons. Quickest teeth-whitening ever! I used clear packing tape to cover both sides and to adhere it to my sock mask.


    Ageless in this Moment Debra Basham May 22, 2020 (WC 250)
    Hiking in the western US for the first time we were
    stepping on rock beneath our feet instead of soil
    nothing seemed familiar except the sun overhead

    A small pool of water caught the sun’s light
    and I kneeled down to take a closer look
    myriad life forms were swimming together

    Precious life-giving water is at a premium here
    nature taking full advantage of resources
    as they present themselves

    This modest puddle is teeming with activity
    but I feel like a voyeur as
    I silently watch closely in awe

    Tiny minnow-like swimmers
    unnamed bugs skating on the water’s smooth surface
    a small lizard lounging

    In the distance I hear others approaching
    I notice a sudden feeling of protectiveness
    hoping those coming along will also be mindful

    A young girl—perhaps six or seven
    wordlessly asks permission to join me
    we peer together into this pool of possibility

    We both have a zillion questions but
    only our eyes give hint to the intellectual activity
    our lips remain still as we keep vigil

    She is motioned to rejoin the others
    reluctantly she leaves our shared perch
    glancing over her shoulder as she obeys

    Many times I’ve abandoned my delight
    when beckoned by some outer call
    wishing I had been able to stay where I was enjoying myself

    I am no longer I but she and all children and adults who can remain ageless in this moment in time and space if we take full advantage of the resources as they present themselves

  • It Hurts


    Old doors close
    so new ones can open.
    Don’t get stuck on what
    fell apart just because it hurts.
    Transformation requires
    growth and letting go.

    ~Brahma Kumaris Thought for Today

    My friend, Kathy, lost her husband on January 18, 2020. She had been his care-giver. Their home was visited almost daily by friends and a devoted team of home-care and hospice-care helpers. For weeks now, she and their dog and cat are there. The pandemic means EVERYTHING social is lost. It hurts.

    Yesterday was to have been the college graduation ceremony of our only granddaughter, Courtney Nicole Ross. All face-to-face classes at UTC went online Monday, March 23, and for the remainder of the spring 2020 semester. Courtney is the first female college graduate in my line. With all A’s and B’s, she has graduated, but the ceremony and our family gathering together to celebrate as we watched her walk in her cap and gown did not happen. It hurts.

    My client/friend/colleague, Bonnie, passed away from COVID-19 in a hospital—a hospital her family was not allowed to enter. I had to decline an invitation to come offer a brief ceremony at the funeral home or cemetery, saying, “Let’s wait and honor her Celebration of Life when we can be together.” It hurts.

    In May of 2003, my mom was nearing the completion of her transition. I was finally alone with her for a few moments. I began to spontaneously sing (badly) a made-up song, “Momma’s gonna get a brand new pair of wings, fly, Momma, fly….”

    A social worker walked in and, embarrassed, I stopped singing.

    The social worker softly whispered, “Please, go on….”

    I continued to sing until I felt my mom’s center of gravity shift from her material body to her energy body. My mom’s face softened into a beautiful shade of pink as she relaxed into her wings.

    Moments later my sister and her son and daughter-in-law and their young son returned from having gone to get something to eat. I knew it was OK for me to leave. It hurts.

    Soon after, my sister was alone with our mom. My sister said, “Mom, I would really like to be with you as you cross. If you want me to be with you, it is time, because I am very tired and I need to go home soon.”

    Three minutes later, our mom was soaring with her brand new pair of wings.

    Old doors do close so new ones can open. We don’t have to get stuck on what fell apart just because it hurts. The transformation of humanity and our soaring with new wings requires growth and letting go.

    I found myself singing another ditty about flying with new wings while I was out riding my bike wearing my mask.

    I sent the voice memo titled “My Bonnie” to Bonnie’s daughter, Melody.

    It makes me laugh because my Bonnie had a semi-professional singing voice!

  • Make May Day a Mask Day

    Today is May Day.
    It is a day to hang flowers
    on the door of someone you love.

    In 1886, more than 300,000 workers walked off their jobs demanding 13,000 businesses honor an 8-hour work day on May Day.

    We know the value of doing something that benefits another. And we value doing what benefits us. Making May Day 2020 a Mask Day is a way of doing both.

    The Task of the Mask

    Beneath the mask, beyond the persona,
    beside your humanity is your true divine nature
    My friend died last week
    she went into the hospital with acute pancreatitis
    Her final ride home was on the coronavirus

    People keep asking
    if the masks are necessary
    They think they
    or the ones they love to touch
    Are surely free from COVID-19

    Another friend wore her mask
    while the plumber came to plumb
    But she did not ask him to
    protect her from his exposure
    I once hit a dog, driving home in the dark

    Would that plumber sadly feel
    remorse—a lifetime of guilt
    Were he without malice aforethought
    to have left the grim reaper running amok?
    He thought he came to help

    One simple “No,” fueled by true compassion
    is an act of wisdom and kindness for all
    I said “No,” when asked if I would consider
    coming to the cemetery or funeral home
    Doing a short ceremony for my beloved friend

    “Let’s wait and do a memorial together,
    really honoring her”

    Let’s wait
    Let’s not waste a moment
    Each time you act from wisdom
    and compassion
    You are revealing your divinity

    Debra Basham May 1, 2020 (WC 190)

    We may not be able to hang flowers in person on the door of every person we love today, but we can make this May Day a Make-a-Mask day.

    Making a no-sew sock mask is easy!


    Let me know if you would like to see the little video instructions.

    Is the task of the mask necessary? You can bet your sweet life on it….

  • N-95

    Sacred Stories

    A text came from a Michigan friend, also wintering in Florida. Everyone is navigating the COVID-19 pandemic.

    “BTW – Any connections locally for finding a mask for an ailing friend-of-a-friend who needs to fly home next week?”

    She asked her husband if he had seen a mask in the shed of the homeowner. He had not. Nor had she.

    “Let me ask,” she responded before quickly sending an email to one of the moderators of a Facebook page for the local community during the pandemic. Then she went out to the shed.

    There, on a hook behind a saw blade, was one single perfectly clean, unused, mask. Looking closely, this mask was the suggested rating: N-95.


    She sent a text message to the home owner, explaining the need of the mask and asking permission to pass it along. The home owner graciously said the person could have it!

    She quickly took a photo of the mask, sent it via text message to her friend who had made the request, sharing where the mask had been located so quickly.

    “Verrrry interesting,” her friend replied.

    “A SACRED STORY for sure! Please let your friend know,” she added.

    “Are you offering it?” came the inquiry.

    “OF COURSE. THIS mask is for your friend’s friend.”