Debra Basham

Living and Loving

Tag: spirituality

  • Wayne’s World – Nothing Really Matters but LOVE!

    Sacred Stories

    It was a day she was not really looking forward to, going to close out the bank account that had belonged to her husband, Wayne. She had made one trip already, but the person she needed to see was at lunch so they made an appointment for her at 3:00.

    A storm was threatening, scheduled to hit at 3:00. She decided to leave about ten minutes early to not get caught in a downpour.

    NPR was on in the car when the engine started. Backing out of the driveway, she was jolted to alertness to hear Terry Gross on Fresh Air mention Wayne’s World.

    Fresh Air is an American radio talk show broadcast on National Public Radio stations across the United States since 1985. Terry Gross was interviewing Brian May, lead guitarist for the group Queen. They were talking about the Muppet version of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody. That is what got them to also make a reference to the 1992 American comedy film, Wayne’s World.

    Earlier that morning she had been on a Zoom meeting with their two minister/friends preparing Wayne’s Celebration of Life. One of the sections is titled (drum roll….) Wayne’s World!

    So, rather than feeling down or sad, driving to the bank she was jamming out with Muppet Music doing the Bohemian Rhapsody, hearing Miss Piggy’s amazing closing as she belts out, “Anyone can see…. Nothing really matters…. Nothing really matters…. but LOVE!”

    Welcome to Wayne’s World!


  • Be the Peace (Piece) of the Puzzle

    Sacred Stories

    My dear friend, Wayne, recently passed away. At the Grief Journey gathering this past Sunday, one of the co-hosts shared his sense of a message from Wayne:

      He is saying there were experiences he didn’t understand why he had to go through them. And he just told me that when he crossed, all of of those questions were answered perfectly and completely, and he would explain it best as viewing his (and our) life experience as a jigsaw puzzle. Every piece of that jigsaw puzzle is a different shape, unique to every other piece of the puzzle, and every life experience that he (and we) have is unique but every one is necessary to complete that puzzle. And that creates the “portrait” (that is the exact word he gave) of our experience in this lifetime. Those experiences that he couldn’t understand when he was in body are absolutely clear to him, and every one of them was perfect in the creation of his experience that he had planned before he came here, as we all do. His message for all of us right now is that the experiences that we face — whatever they are — are by our own design and they are perfect for what we need at that time to complete our life experience.

    Working on Wayne’s upcoming Celebration of Life, thinking about possible pieces of music, I went to my car to get the compilation CD Wayne had made years ago, long before copyright issues. Imagine my awe when I noticed that the title of the CD is “Be the Peace of the Puzzle” and the image on the label is a jigsaw puzzle!

    When I sent this photo of the CD to the guy who shared Wayne’s message, he responded, “Nice confirmation. What struck me most about Wayne’s message was each “piece” of the “puzzle” was neither good nor bad. It carried no label. But, each piece was integral to the completion of the puzzle. Our opportunity to teach doesn’t end at transition’s door.”

    Transmutation: Grapes must be crushed to make wine. Diamonds form under pressure. Olives are pressed to release oil. Seeds grow in darkness. Whenever you feel crushed, under pressure, pressed, or in darkness, you’re in a powerful place of transformation/transmutation. ~ Lalah Delia

  • God Has a Sense of Humor: Speedway

    Sacred Stories

    She lost her job due to a corporate merger. It was a mixed blessing, because the new culture was not at all the same as the one she loved.

    On the first day of her new job, she sent this text and photo,”God has such a great sense of humor! The view from my new office window.”

    Her new office window overlooks one of the stores in the chain of the corporation whose culture she loved at her old job….

    For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. ~ Jeremiah 29:11

  • 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

  • Things Said and Unsaid

    How was it that her whole life could be
    distilled down to that simple truth?
    Words mattered.
    Her life had been defined
    by things said and unsaid….

    Winter Garden: A Novel
    by Kristin Hannah

    Yesterday morning on my bike ride I had one of those mundane moments that reveal such eternal truth it almost takes your breath away. Making the left turn into a short cul-de-sac, I saw a cat stretched out on the driveway. In my best, high-pitched voice I spoke my heart, “Hello, Kitty!!!”

    Every rotation of the bike’s tires revealed deep yearning for a close encounter of the cat kind. Since 2000, I had cat energy in my life weekly, when I was in Kalamazoo at Joel’s home. The current generation of cats: Bobbie, McGee, and Zeus, were adopted into a new home after Joel was moved to a memory-care facility in Tennessee late this spring.

    Loss of Joel’s intellect, his collaboration, his witness to my birth as a writer was entwined with the loss of the satiating love of cat.

    During the winters in Florida, I would go to Great Licks Ice Cream Parlor, to pet the cat. Many a morning bike ride took me to St. James City Automotive, home of Sonny, who would enjoy the affection so much he would forget to swallow – dripping drool all over himself and me and the floor. (See Sonny in “Fingers on Fur” from 2018.)

    A few days ago, my sister posted on Facebook: There is no greater earthly privilege than to have been loved by a cat. My comment on her post was this emoji with a cat on my head.

    A lively conversation with a dharma sister about the nuance that unconditional love is probably really unconditionED love has opened my heart to so much truth these past days. This morning I was led to a Yellow Brick Road blog post from on February 17, 2019. In that post “Acceptance” I feel a sacred circle of truth: Saying exactly what you need will allow a new pattern to emerge. Be willing to say it gently over and over until the new pattern is stable.

    Circling that cul-de-sac I could feel the grasping for that cat encounter. In my head was a tug-of-war about stopping or not stopping. Approaching the driveway from the other direction, I still did not know if I was going to stop and approach the cat.

    As my subtle energy began making the turn away from the drive, that voice called out, “Have a great day, Kitty!”

    Then and only then, did my awareness expand and notice that the kitty was not the only four-legged in that driveway: A robust German Shepherd had been lying on the asphalt a few feet away from the cat!!!!

    So many times in life grasping or aversion have dictated words said or unsaid.

    One New Years Eve, somewhere about 1980, my resolution was to every day say to Stacey, “I love you”….

    Be willing to say it gently over and over until the new pattern is stable.

    Be willing to say it gently over and over until the new pattern is stable.

    Be willing to say it gently over and over until the new pattern is stable.

  • Dissent with Love

      WORD FOR THE DAY

      Love takes off the masks
      we fear we cannot live without
      and know we cannot live within.

      ~ James Baldwin (Gratefulness.org)

    Group 2 sharing last evening was active with exploring the question of the value of being ordained (in Buddhism). This was not so much an intellectual discussion, but a sincere reflection of the yearning many expressed toward living in a community that honors, respects, and supports those deeper dynamics of mindful living. Several in our group have been exploited by spiritual leaders in this lifetime — emotionally or mentally or sexually — and sometimes all three.

    Many said the time of hero worship or guru gazing have personally passed us by.

    Interesting, just yesterday morning out on a bike ride, Larry was telling me about the great-grandmother of a child Linda had the privilege of doing a baptism for last week. He said this woman is Hispanic, and he assumes she likely has a Catholic background. She also has dementia and, although she never said a word, he felt he could see in her eyes the accusation, “That woman is no priest!”

    Over the years, many miles on this Yellow Brick Road have been walking away from the past where patriarchy choked the rights of women out of our collective lives. This morning, two daily writings address the benefit of having “right view.” The first is from Neale Donald Walsch (author of the series of Conversations with God books).

      … that a point of view different from your own might be well worth entertaining. Sometimes it is not easy hearing an idea that is different from the one you are advancing — yet it might be that second idea for which you were actually reaching. Answers arrive in more ways than one. Sometimes they come through us, and sometimes they come to us.


    Brandon Morton’s son with a baby goat!

    Our bicycle-riding conversation continued, “The church Linda’s brother and sister-in-law and her sister and brother-in-law go to still will not allow women in leadership. The husband is the head of the house, and the wife is by scripture ordered to be submissive to his will. Do you think Linda would go along with that?”

    I responded to Larry, “I would hope she would not, and more than that, I would hope you would not ask that of her.”

    Reading online this morning from The Discrimination of Women in Buddhism: An Ethical Analysis: “Men and women are considered the two wheels of a cart. They should be considered equal if we want the cart to move ahead. If one wheel is smaller than the other, the movement will definitely be impaired.”

    One of the headings in that article leapt off the page: Is Buddhism a Sexist Religion?

    I would also ask, Is Christianity a Sexist Religion?

    Perhaps (blatant or latent) sexism, along with other forms of discrimation, is within all religions and all of our human history. It is HIStory, for heaven’s sake…. But where do we go from here? We only pretend to repair a cart with imbalanced wheel size by exchanging it for a different cart that also has an unbalanced wheel size.

    The second writing that speaks us forth in love and wisdom and respect for all beings comes from Deep Spring Center for Meditation:

    Thought for Today by Aaron

    As we work with these practices, please realize that they are leading you in the direction of trusting your own ability not to enact anger or other negative movement when it arises. To hold it in the heart with compassion until it dissolves. To reclaim your power as higher density beings— no longer a third density human but higher density, able to trust that those around you will not be projecting negativity so it’s safe to share, and you will not be projecting negativity so it’s safe to share. But that you are still capable of saying, “No, I disagree with this or that.” That’s very different than expressing negativity. Expression of view is not an expression of negativity, it’s simply an expression of view. And we learn how to hold different views and deeply hear each other. Then one unified understanding arises and we move forward with it. Or, if one is not in full agreement, one sees that the rest of the group is and abstains from obstructing the process. But if one person thinks, “This will be totally destructive,” one will still hold, “I cannot agree. Go ahead and do what you need to do, but I dissent. But I dissent with love.”

    I was just about ready to push “publish” when I received this additional confirmation from Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation Thought for Today:

      The wise person questions himself, the fool others. ~Henri Arnold

      We pray for wisdom, and sometimes we achieve it. The strongest and wisest of men are not threatened by questioning their own answers. If we draw conclusions and blindly stick to them, we can never learn anything new. We have often made the mistake of avoiding the appearance of ignorance.

      Instead, we are at our best when we give ourselves the privilege of being a learner. When someone tells us something we don’t understand or agree with, our best response is to ask for more information. We can take our ego out of the equation, surrender our need to be right, and simply try to learn what is being told to us. What is it that I don’t understand here? What does the other person see that I am missing? When we attain a moment of wisdom, we are open to learning.

      Today, I will give myself the privilege of being a learner.

      From the book Stepping Stones: More Daily Meditations for Men.

    Once your intention is clear, perhaps the answer is also already clear!

  • Mama Coyote

    Sacred Stories

    So I have a story to tell you about Mama Coyote.

    If you told me this story, I’d probably call you a liar. But I’m telling it, and I swear it’s true.

    I’ve said before that I live in rattlesnake country, and I do.

    Curiously enough, I haven’t seen any this spring or early summer. Maybe the coyotes are keeping the rodent population down, or maybe it’s because it’s been so dry. I don’t know.

    Last evening, Maggie and I were out for our last walk of the day, on the road in front of my place. I’m oohing and ahhing over the clouds and sunset, and Maggie is walking beside me. When you’ve walked with a dog for more than a dozen years, you develop a sort of sixth sense. Even when they don’t make a sound, you know when they stop, when they’re listening. She stopped.

    I looked ahead of us, and there was Mama Coyote, blocking our way forward. Not more than a dozen feet away. Now this is unusual. The coyotes are generally pretty shy, and walk behind us, ready to dart into the sagebrush should we make a noise, or look too long.

    Maggie turned around, to head home. Her hackles weren’t raised, so I knew it wasn’t because she felt danger. I, the ever curious human, however, wanted to figure out what was going on.

    So I stared at the coyote. She stared back. Not aggressive, just self-assured. Stubborn, even. No signs of rabies or other sickness. Just standing there.

    A movement another ten feet behind her caught my attention, but she did not turn to it. Odd. Coyotes are the most situationally aware animals I have ever known. Scent, sound, sights, they inventory it all and act accordingly.

    There, in the middle of the road, coiled up and ready to strike, was a medium-sized rattlesnake. Not rattling yet, but poised, should any disturbance arise.

    I quickly turned around and joined Maggie, already on her way home. I looked to the side of the road, and there was Mama Coyote, walking beside me, back to her normal self, not looking me in the eye. Just escorting me home.

    Now for the really eerie part. My late Border Collie Angelo used exactly the same behavior when he saw a rattlesnake. He’d put himself between me and the snake, and he’d become an immovable object. Sometimes I couldn’t even see the snake, but I knew enough to trust him.

    Coincidence? Reincarnation? A wild animal watching out for a weak human? I have no idea. But, gentle reader, I broke Maggie’s rule, and I threw the coyote two cookies. And I marvel at the world we live in and how lucky I am to be in it.

    (Published in Sacred Stories by permission. Find “Leland Hermit” on Facebook. He has several books – fiction and nonfiction – available on Amazon. Check out Leland Dirks Books.)

  • Momentum Being Gathered

    For years I have been fascinated by a particular wind feature in the Memorial Garden at our local hospice office. There is something inspired about the way the moving parts cooperate. I only visit on days the offices are closed. Today was one of those welcome days.

    As I leaned against the utility case watching, an understanding of the movement dawned on me. Parts would move backwards, then stop and wait, and then turn and move in the other direction. The momentum being gathered by this “seeming” reversal was obvious. The pause was deliberate.

    Tears streamed down my face as I got on my bike and rode toward home.

    I am not sure if I have shared this poem on the Yellow Brick Road previously or not.

    Poem Double Standard

    It was 1966
    when the rabbit died
    killing a rabbit to test for pregnancy
    is recognized as absolutely ridiculous now
    as is allowing the father to attend high school, while banning the mother
    for being obviously sexually active
    a bad influence on the other girls
    but I did not get pregnant by myself
    and unless this baby too is an immaculate conception
    it took two to tango

    Double standards did not stop there
    and sadly they continue today

    A woman who has more than one lover is labeled “promiscuous” or “a slut”

    A messy house reflects on her character

    Overweight men attract sexy women but a fat female is seen as unattractive and told she let herself go to pot or hell or the dogs

    The knife of double standards cuts in both directions

    By the age of two, boys hear that big boys don’t cry

    We tell them only sissies eat quiche

    Women are not taught to lead and men are not taught to follow

    Not being allowed to attend high school shaped my destiny
    Feeling less-than, became a part of me

    Formal education would not be part of my life
    crossed off the list when I became a wife

    But after decades of yearning and a lifetime of learning
    I’m finally free to be me
    I can honor my past—
    thank god-at last—
    proudly hang out dirty laundry where all can see

    I would do it all again
    except for the guilt

    I’m a great mom
    he’s a great dad
    our baby girl
    the only one we had
    over fifty now
    time has flown
    already her kids
    out on their own

    If I had it to do over
    I certainly would
    I’d let go of the hurdles
    and remember the good
    I’d refuse to allow
    another to say how
    my life should be
    can’t they see
    it’s time now
    to tear down the double standard
    or to step over it at least
    live and let live
    in kindness and peace

    Yes, looking back
    it is plain to see
    what has been there
    was shaping me
    into the woman I am
    the one I’m very proud of
    that double standard
    filled my life with love

    ~ Debra Basham 5/30/17

    Arundhati Roy, author of the novel, The God of Small Things, is a political activist involved in human rights and environmental causes. This past week our daughter, Stacey, was let go from her job as an administrative assistant to a regional director for Speedway Corporation. She has loved her job, her “team,” and the Speedway corporate culture. In August 2020, Speedway was sold to 7-Eleven Inc. for $21 billion. Stacey was one of over a thousand employees who were let go just this week, and this sort of thing happens every day, a product of the way things have always been.

    Arundhati’s words send a shaft of light into my soul:

      “Our strategy should be not only to confront empire, but to lay siege to it. To deprive it of oxygen. To shame it. To mock it. With our art, our music, our literature, our stubbornness, our joy, our brilliance, our sheer relentlessness – and our ability to tell our own stories. Stories that are different from the ones we’re being brainwashed to believe.

      The corporate revolution will collapse if we refuse to buy what they are selling – their ideas, their version of history, their wars, their weapons, their notion of inevitability.

      Remember this: We be many and they be few. They need us more than we need them.

      Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.”

      ― Arundhati Roy

    Our beloved friend lost her power in a strong thunderstorm on Thursday evening. Friday morning she received a call from the facility where her beloved husband has been in a memory care unit for over five years. He had taken a turn for the worst, and could she come right away. Today is Saturday and her power had not yet come back on. As John began action to get help to take our generator to her home, I sent him a text message, “Does it make sense to wait to see if it does come back on?”

    He wrote back, “It’s probably time we get it running.” Before he pulled in our driveway with Larry in the van, I had a message from her saying the power was back on.

    The conversation that followed was not isolated. It is woven into the web of patriarchy that has outworn any benefit it might have ever had. As John shared with me that “the guys at coffee” said the refrigerator stuff was critical by this time, I spoke truth. This was just the most recent of his discounting my opinion in favor of the opinion of his male friends. Earlier in the week we confirmed what I had known since 2019: we had a roof leak in the guest bathroom. Before the market crash in 2008, we met with our financial advisor and I expressed worry I had about our investment. I wanted him to move our investments out of the market for a while. The investment broker said, “If fear takes you out of the market, it will keep you out of the market.” He used logic to override what I had no logic to back up. All I had was a feeling.

    As I was riding my bike away from that amazing wind feature with its powerful lessons, a song came into my head. Here are the lyrics:

    Oh, I wish I were famous
    Like Sarah or Ruth
    I wish people would listen
    When love speaks the truth

    I wish knees would bow
    And hands would clasp
    When we all remember
    Who we are at last

    I wish I were famous
    I don’t think it’ll take long
    If someone would pray
    Another sing a song
    Write a poem
    Paint a picture
    Let everyone see
    I belong to you and you belong to me

    Oh, I wish I were famous
    I’d give it all away
    I’d lay down my weapons
    And go out and play
    I’d let the sun shine on me
    I’d dance in the rain
    Oh, if I were famous
    I’d end all our pain

    Seemingly backward motion might just be momentum being gathered….

  • At the Grave

    Sacred Stories

    A friend saw Hello, this is Meghan, and was moved to share the following:

      The day after Kathy (my friends sister in law ) passed away, her mother and brother visited the cemetery and this is what they saw watching over them:


    Clouds are full of secrets that are not visible to us.

  • Hello, this is Meghan.

    Sacred Stories

    Her daughter, Meghan, had recently passed. As she was preparing for a trip to one of Meghan’s favorite places, she took time to share a sweet encounter on her social media page.

    Of course, there is always a frenzy prior to leaving the country and this morning nothing was going right as far as uploading travel documents. I finally decided to call the airline for assistance. I was talking to Meg out loud.

    After only a one minute wait the phone was answered and I heard a young woman say, “Hello, this is Meghan. How can I help you?”

    What are the odds?

    It’s easy to take clouds for granted. They are almost always up in the sky and we often don’t notice them. But then there are the moments when they command our attention. (60 Cloud quotes)