The Stuff of Holidays: Magic, Tears and Blessings

Posted on December 8, 2013 by Baja Rock Pat

I’ve already shed a few sentimental tears this past week—at my cousin’s photo of her kids brandishing candy canes and big grins, all bundled up and piled in the car as they get ready to go cut their annual family Christmas tree; at the silly Christmas program on TV yesterday when Santa Claus made his entrance ho ho ho’ing as he passed out candy to those in attendance; at songs like “A Mother’s Christmas Wish” by Olivia Newton John (and I don’t ordinarily even like her music) and “Believe” by Josh Groban; and at movies I will always treasure, no matter how corny they seem to anyone else: “The Homecoming,” “Prancer,” “Christmas Vacation,” the cartoon version of “How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” and the puppet versions of “The Little Drummer Boy” and “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.”

It’s funny, isn’t it? How a holiday can have such a profound effect on a person.

You see, Christmas has always been my favorite time of year—a time of joy: the intoxicating smells of evergreen, baking cookies, roast turkey, hot cocoa, a fire in the fireplace, stockings hung by the chimney with care (as my dad used to say), colored lights and sparkles everywhere, the anticipation of the looks on my kids’ faces on Christmas morning, and the way my heart overflows with joy when making others happy. I get caught up in the rush of it all, yes, the chaotic craziness, fights with my husband because try as I may (and I really DO try), I always end up spending too much, but I do it because I want to make that one special day perfect for my family. My mother used to do the same, and those are memories I will never forget. They are the stuff that made me believe, and never stop believing—that dreams really do come true, and that real love never dies.

The older I get, the more memories I now associate with Christmas, and although all of them used to be good, that is no longer the case. My precious father died unexpectedly just days before Christmas in 2005, followed by my mother in early 2006. In deep shock and inexplicable horror, we were forced to bury Dad on a snowy and cold Christmas Eve that year. It’s hard enough to enjoy the holidays after you’ve lost a loved-one, but even harder when you lose someone during what to me had always been the happiest season of all.

But, such is the price of getting older, I guess.

My tears during the holidays now come with mixed emotions—joy for the family I still have, and the grandchildren who now grace my home with the laughter, excitement, and innocence my own children used to exhibit—and a longing for those whom I once adored but are no longer here in the flesh.

Each year though, they send me signs that they are still with me in spirit, signs that my husband would say are mere coincidence—like how my husband’s computer turned on all by itself the other night—the screen suddenly bursting with a bright, blue photo of the ocean, desktop icons along one side. I got up to turn it off, but since it’s a version of Windows I’m unfamiliar with, I couldn’t figure out how, so I simply turned off the monitor. The next day when I told him about it, my husband said that that was impossible; the monitor wasn’t even connected to the computer; it couldn’t have turned itself on or displayed that photo.

But it did.

And, when getting out of the car two weeks ago, I clearly smelled the scent of my dad’s pipe. Impossible.

Not impossible. For me, Christmas prompts me to treasure the blessings I have—a roof over my head, food in my belly, and all the other material things I have, but most of all, Christmas is a time to remember that real love never dies, and to treasure those whom have blessed my life in so many ways.

Thank you for blessing my life. (Written with a tear in my eye and a lump in my throat.)

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Celebrating Joy and Gratitude and YOU!

Posted on December 23, 2012 by Baja Rock Pat

To me, it matters not, which holiday one celebrates, whether it’s Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, Solstice or nothing at all, but I’d like to share something I wrote in my journal the other day because it’s about experiencing joy and most of us could use more joy in our lives:

According to the Mayan calendar, today wasn’t supposed to come, yet here we are: days away from Christmas. To me, Christmas is a magical time, and this year, I’ve been trying to sneak in little moments of joy whenever possible–to pause and really appreciate the moment–because obviously, December 21, 2012 wasn’t the end of the world, but perhaps it will be the beginning of a new world where peace and love prevail at last.

I was walking through our local mall the other day when all of a sudden, a children’s choir began to sing, diverting my attention from the rush I was in. When I looked in the direction of the sound, I saw parents and grandparents crowded together in coats and boots and beaming as they watched their little ones perform. The children looked to be about 5-6 years-old.

I paused for a moment to listen to their sweet, little voices, but a tear formed in my eye and a lump rose in my throat as I thought about the twenty 5-6 year-olds who were gunned down last week at an elementary school in Connecticut. I don’t think I’ve ever cried as hard for people I didn’t even know, as I did for those babies. That inconceivable event NEVER should have happened.

I didn’t stay and listen to the children at the mall for long because I didn’t want those kids’ parents and grandparents to see me crying. Instead, I tried to focus on how it felt when my kids were that age and had to perform in the mall like that. There was never a mother more proud than I was as I watched my kids deliver their practiced lines while dressed as Santa’s reindeer or elves.

When I walked out of the mall the other day, huge, fluffy snowflakes began to fall from the grey sky and a sort of hush seemed to descend over the parking lot, even though people were scampering here and there to finish their last-minute shopping.

I stood beside my car for a moment and I smiled and sighed at the beauty of the snowflakes. I wished I could have stood there taking it all in for hours, but it was getting dark and I had a lot of things I needed to accomplish before nightfall, plus I knew I was probably getting dirty looks from impatient drivers waiting for me to vacate my parking spot.

Days later, I sat on the floor in front of our Christmas tree–we bought a real tree this year for the first time in over a decade–so I sat and gazed at the tree decorated with lights, tinsel and color and I thought to myself, “It just sings of joy!” And I wondered, why is it that the anticipation of Christmas is so magical? –the songs on the radio, the decorations and colored lights in the stores and all over town, gifts beneath the tree–yet once Christmas Day is over, so is the magic.

And how can I tap into that magical feeling and joy that only comes at Christmastime, throughout the year? I wonder if I’d still feel the magic if I couldn’t afford a Christmas tree or gifts for those I love. But like “The Whos Down in Whoville” in the Dr. Seuss story of “How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” I realize that the magic of Christmas–and joy–do not come from a store–they come from the heart.

So as 2012 winds to a close, I want to extend a sincere and heartfelt thank-you to all of you for your love and support of this website and my book “Dance of the Electric Hummingbird.” Without you, my book would simply be a conglomerate of typed words in my computer or a bunch of sentiments in my head. YOU helped make it reality by buying the book, telling your friends about it, by attending my book signings and by being there for me every step of the way. I couldn’t have accomplished this without you and it means more to me than words can relate. Please do not ever give up on your dreams and never stop believing in the marvelous and magnificent gift that is YOU.

Wishing you and yours the happiest of holidays and a New Year filled with perfect healthy, prosperity, peace, love and joy.

~Baja Rock Pat

My Father’s Spirit’s Christmas Gift

Posted on December 19, 2011 by Baja Rock Pat

This is coming from my heart. Unedited.

Six years ago today, I was stepping into my car, getting ready to go to work, when the phone in the garage rang. It was my brother, telling me that paramedics were working on Dad and it didn’t look good.

But it was too late; they couldn’t save him.

My precious father left this world just days before Christmas in 2005. We were a close family. Mom joined him 51 days later.

To me, Christmastime is family time. A time to relish the blessings I have in the form of my loved ones. And every year, I go overboard in spoiling them. I figure, what good are material things if not for sharing with others? According to my husband, I spend too much money on my family and friends at Christmas. I bake too many cookies and make too much candy; I have too many decorations and too many corny Christmas CDs. It’s true. I do. I can’t help it. It’s not because I think giving material things or causing people’s waistlines to expand are the most important aspects of the holidays, it’s because I use these things to honor those I love. Because to me, it wouldn’t be Christmas without the cooking, baking, gifts, and decorations, but mostly, it wouldn’t be Christmas without my friends and family.

And because of this, coupled with the fact that we lost Dad right before Christmas, I miss my parents more than ever during the holidays.

So last night, before I sat down to meditate, I was thinking about how much I missed my dad and I wrote in my journal about how badly I wished I could see him again—hug him, smell him, look into his eyes. And as I meditated, drifting to that place of serenity in my mind, I “saw” a black tunnel about twelve inches in diameter. The opening was small and it grew wider on the opposite end, like a funnel with the small end facing me. The inside of it was swirling and there were wisps of white stuff floating in it like threads of cotton candy. And suddenly within the tunnel, like the image from an unseen projector, was my dad. He was much smaller than in human form and he was walking toward me, calling me by the pet name he used to call me when I was a little girl.

Was all this just my imagination? I wondered.

Still maintaining the controlled breathing I use during meditation—slow, rhythmic, even, measured—I opened my eyes. And then I saw it—the outline of something moving and transparent like liquid egg whites. I could see primarily just the edges of it near the dresser in my bedroom. It was the shape of a human, but I didn’t recognize it as anyone in particular. And it was about eight inches shorter than an average adult.

A tingling sensation went down the back of my head and down my spine. Tears flowed from my eyes. I knew then, that the sensations I was getting, were my body’s way of telling me that this apparition was the spirit of my dear father.

I said out loud, “Is that you, Daddy?” as tears ran down my face and my nose began to run.

There were no verbal or intuitive messages from the spirit, so once again, my mind told me, “You’re just imagining all this because you want so desperately for it to be so,” but at the same time, a part of me knew. My body knew; the chills I felt were not imagined.

I told my father that I loved him. I told him how much I missed him. And the spirit lingered for a long time, as if it was working very hard to make itself more recognizable to me, but it never quite accomplished that.

Before I knew it, I laid down on the bed and fell asleep. I never sleep soundly, but last night I did. I slept like a rock.

Perhaps this sort of thing happens to other people on a regular basis, but it has never happened to me before, which was why my mind kept telling me it was just my imagination. But I’ve heard it said that imagination is the bridge to the world of spirit. I also believe that at Christmastime, there is a kind of magic in the air even more so than at other times of the year. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve believed this. And what we believe is more powerful than any amount of scientific justification, is it not?

I believe this was the greatest Christmas gift I could ever have received—the gift of love from beyond what I see with my eyes—the gift of love, which never dies.

Wishing you and yours the blessings of love and joy in the coming year.

–Baja Rock Pat

Christmas Mind

Posted on September 21, 2011 by Baja Rock Pat

December 18, 2010

As I look back on everything that has happened to me this past year, I try not to dwell on the negative because there is already too much negativity in the world. Instead of thinking about how my dear sister-in-law is no longer here to share in this happy time with us, or that I’ve lost my job, or that my body is getting saggier by the day, I choose to think about all the blessings I have, like my family and friends and how they’ve enriched my life.

I choose to think about how wonderful I feel when I listen to music or how I feel when I look at the colored lights on my Christmas tree: I’m immediately a kid again, a kid believing in a jolly fat man in a red suit who so unselfishly grants wishes to children all over the world in a single night.

I remember how I used to lie awake for hours in my bed on Christmas Eve, sweating under the covers because I was too nervous to move, afraid that if Santa heard me stir, he would be scared away before he left us anything.

Then in the wee hours, I’d wake up my little brother, tiptoe downstairs, peek around the corner, and gasp at what I saw. There stood our Christmas tree, shining with silver tinsel and colored ornaments, and beneath it were the gifts Santa had brought—things I wouldn’t have dared ask my parents for because they were too expensive—a cardboard corral and plastic horses, and a doll that raised her hand and turned her head when you pressed the button on her back. And right then, in my uncontrollable joy, I was absolutely certain that dreams really did come true.

I still am.

Some parents choose not to tell their kids about Santa Claus, maintaining that it’s all just a lie. But for me, that “lie” taught me to believe in the goodness of humanity and in the magic of spirit. One of my favorite quotes of all time is from “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus,” by Francis Pharcellus Church. He wrote about how, even if we find a logical explanation for something, there remains an unseen world of magic that can only be reached through “faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance…” and that there is a boundless universe out there, the likes of which we are not capable of understanding through intellect alone.

I believe this with all my heart.

Appreciating the wonder of each moment as if it’s the first time we’ve encountered that experience, is something that comes naturally to children. In Zen, there is a similar concept known as “Beginner’s Mind.” As we mature, society tells us that certain things are impossible or strange or wrong. But every Christmas, Beginner’s Mind and the joy I felt as a child who believed in magic, is reinforced in me all over again. I’m going to hold onto it with even greater sincerity from now on.

That is my wish for you too.

In the coming year, let us strive to approach each moment with the wonder of a child and without judgment, wherein we may discover at last, the beauty, the magic and the truth that our hearts so desperately long for.

Clikc here for a wonderful video: The Polar Express

Believe in your dreams.

Baja Rock Pat