Outside The Box

Thomas Oppong calls it "limitless thinking" or "thinking without rules" (9 Ways To Harness Your Creativity ("Think Outside The Box" is Overrated). Whatever you want to call it, it challenges your long, established opinions. At least it did mine.

If you've followed my journey these past two years, you will know how my life has changed since the deaths of my parents...and then the loss of my job a few months later. As I write those words, it blows me away. The understatement of the century. I cannot wrap my brain around it some days. Some days it is so far from my mind. A blur is probably the best way I can describe it all. Literally.

Tomorrow, October 16th will have been TWO years since Momma died. Two years. It doesn't even make sense. And yet life has gone on around me, and I have been cloistered in my little bubble trying to figure out how to move forward. I know I HAVE to, so I do it all within the comfort and safety of my home. Safety. That's been my sole focus. If I don't go outside, then I'm safe, from pain, rejection, shame, abandonment, etc. But holy cow! How realistic is THAT?! Not at all. I had to get real with myself. Also, my bank account was a great source of reality as well. LOL

So....After several months of job searching and spending a chunk of change to have my resume and LinkedIn profile professionally rewritten, to no avail, I tried something completely different........For those of you who know me, you may be thinking, "What?! But you have an MBA! Why aren't you using your degree???" Keep reading.

I had been an Uber RIDER a handful of times over the past several months, but was apprehensive about becoming a driver. However, after a great deal of research on my part (I'm a researcher at heart!) I felt I had all of the information I needed to make the decision to become a driver. Within a few short hours on a Saturday afternoon, I was approved after submitting documentation about myself, my car and my insurance. I love driving and I love people, so WHY NOT! Plus, I choose my own hours. AND it provides me with the ability to continue writing my book. What could be better?!

This path definitely doesn't fit my original plans. My focus was entirely fixed on securing a position in local or federal government or politics, either here in Charlotte or back in Indiana. My "job history" was littered with positions I had taken simply because I needed a paycheck. After Momma and Dad died and I lost my job, I felt as if I had a new opportunity to choose exactly what I wanted to do....to no longer SETTLE for what I HAD to do, but finally do what I WANTED to do. This is just another route.

As I drive, I have found that I am able to share my story of the past two years, how God, my family & friends and my will to survive carried me through. I have had two divine connections through sharing my story which confirmed to me what a ministry this could be. I knew God had me in a rebuilding process, but He is rebuilding in his own design unknown to me. It is in no way what I envisioned in my small-boxed mind of what I thought I wanted.

Every day is a new adventure. I don't bother to try and look further than today. I have learned, through the most difficult season of my life, the power of living in the moment. Being grateful for the day that I have, showing love to my family and those with whom I come in contact. To use it in a way that blesses others...tomorrow is not guaranteed. Today is a gift.

Bless you!

Music On Rotation: Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers

Released in February 1963. It was Blakey's first album for Riverside Records after he signed with them in October 1962. The songs were recorded at the Plaza Sound Studio in New York City, on October 23-24, 1962

I know I've been posting a lot lately about grief, so I wanted to be sure I balanced it out with some of the music that has been keeping me peaceful...I'll be adding more. Make sure you check them all out on Pandora, Spotify, or Apple Music/iTunes!  

In the Cave: My Life This Past Year

My Momma used to call my times of being quiet and withdrawn, 'cave mode.'

There was no dark, damp place I would venture off to (not even in my mind, as some people might do,) but simply a retreat from the normal interactions of daily life. The going out to the grocery store or taking walks on the greenway; or even talking on the phone with her, which we did on a daily and/or weekly basis. Just silence. And that bothered her, but she said she understood and loved me through it. That's what Moms do.

I've been in 'cave mode' since November 2015. Let me explain.

Momma and I have always been close, even during my 'rebellious' times...which were short-lived because by the time they rolled around I was an adult, but still had some steam to blow off. Plus, I'd been raised well enough that I knew better. So from age 21 to 22, I had a 'funky attitude' and I told my parents to 'deal with it' when I wanted my own way. I said WHAAAT?! Back in the day I would have been whooped. But as a young woman in my early twenties, I was being disrespectful, and I knew it. It bruised Momma's heart, but I apologized after I'd learned my lesson, and we healed together and got on with life when I realized what was really important. 

Momma had a health crisis in 2005 and was sick for 10 years. Loads of issues, but mainly her lungs. She was on oxygen 24/7. Thirty-three years of smoking inflicted tremendous damage on one of her body's most vital assets. Hospital visits too many to count added SkyMiles to my Delta account, but I wouldn't have been anywhere else. At the end of September last year, her pulmonologist gave us the news. There was nothing more they could do for her. Her lungs were too weak, and he was sending her home on hospice. So I immediately booked a one-way flight & hopped on a plane. No idea how much time she had, but I wasn't going to miss any of it. Of course, its my Momma. 

I've been rolling all of these thoughts around in my head for the past 12 months. Allowing myself to marinate on them, giving my heart permission to grieve wide open, feeling the hot tears roll down my face, my body convulse with sob after sob. Hospice. Just THAT thought, all by itself.

And this was just the beginning....there's so much more to the story. 

I arrived the same day I booked my flight. Momma was still in the hospital. It was Friday, October 2, 2015. Dad and I had talked via phone during the day and he PROMISED me that he'd wait to tell Momma her prognosis until my brother and I had arrived to the hospital. When I arrived, I learned he had broken that promise and told her on his own. The anger burned in me (Dad and I had other issues as well, so this only added to the building inferno.) My only focus was Momma. 

I stayed at the hospital with Momma both nights before she was released on Sunday afternoon to go home. She was somber, but tempered with hope because she was receiving info from various people who said other patients had been released from Hospice and lived long, happy lives. So we remained as positive and faithFILLED as we could under the circumstances. Momma was just glad to be home. 

We had no idea that just 13 days later she would enter into the arms of Jesus. 

I was grateful for those 13 days. The first 9 were extremely difficult (beyond anything I'd ever seen or experienced) but Momma was slowly improving, getting stronger. . 

She was up and around and visiting with everyone. 

My brother was home, so we enjoyed family dinners, just the 4 of us, which was the first time since possibly high school.

I soaked up Momma-Daughter talks on the couch. With no knowledge of time, I poured out my love to her and my thankfulness for always having her in my corner (even when she didn't always agree with my decisions,) and for growing up with a Momma who exuded love and kindness (and expected it equally from me.) I apologized to her, again, for the many times I was a brat. I asked forgiveness for hurting her heart and fracturing our relationship. Even as she drifted into the cloistered silence of her own mind, I sat stroking her hand, her arm, her cheek ministering love and comfort to her just as she did so many times when I was a child. It was all such a surreal time. It almost felt as if I was having an out of body experience.

Having been her primary caregiver, my senses were on high alert those final days. I would have moments of emotion, however I knew I had to keep it together for Momma. There were responsibilities needing my full attention. Even through planning her services, I pushed my emotions down...The focus was Momma, not me. I told myself that my time to grieve in the Cave would come later. 

Random thought....

Where do you do your best thinking? Mine is in the shower. I desperately try to record in my mind those nuggets of wisdom, action plans and searches of the soul but I'm not always successful. Today however, was different.

I asked myself....Why do you go into 'cave mode?' 

One would have thought I had asked myself that question or had an understanding long ago, but I never gave it much credence. It was simply part of who I was. I realized today that I go into 'cave mode' when I'm overwhelmed, mentally, emotionally, physically, probably even spiritually. When I'm feeling vulnerable, I descend into the Cave. When I'm sad or lonely, into the Cave I go. When I've had a great deal of activity or responsibility on my plate, I retreat into the Cave. Its a place of safety, peace and quiet. There's no need to justify or explain within the Cave. No questions. No judgement. I can be authentically me in the Cave. . 

I am silent in the Cave, for the most part. I make little to no effort to reach out to anyone, even family. THAT unnerved Momma. Often. Having said that, I savored calls, texts or emails from friends or family members reaching out to check on me. I was desperate for space yet my soul cried out for connection. It was the strangest dichotomy. 

Growing up, the Cave was not my permanent residence, although it was a vacation home. My current stint is the longest I've ever occupied the Cave. It began in November 2015 when I returned to Charlotte after Momma passed. I am uncertain as to when I'll finally emerge.

Just as I was beginning to process Momma being gone, and dealing with the strain of a relationship with my Dad, I received a call early on a Saturday morning on January 9, 2016. Dad was found outside his RV in the park where he was staying in Florida. He'd had a massive heart attack. He was gone. To say that I was stunned was an understatement. 

I spent the next few days talking with Sheriff's deputies, County Coroners and the funeral home. Once again, I took the lead on arrangements and administrating details....because that's just what I do. Defense mechanism? Maybe. It helped keep me occupied so I didn't go crazy. And that was a plus. 

I've officially now hit FULL TILT but I cannot hide away in the Cave because my family needs me, at least at the moment. Thankfully our funeral home (they've become quite familiar with us, unfortunately) took care of everything and eased my mind, so we did not have to worry about anything until the memorial in April. 

I took the lead on my Dad's estate although my brother and Uncle are also executors, which is a tremendous help. Gratefully, I can accomplish many tasks from inside the Cave. 

In June I was fortunate to take a much needed vacation (first adult vacay EVER! Yes. Seriously.) to rest and find some healing for my spirit...in a beautiful paradise resort in Antigua. 

Upon my return to the States, I was greeted with a call from 2 members of the board of directors where I was employed stating that I was being let go due to 'budget cuts.' 

WELCOME HOME!!

Well then. Hello Cave. The safety of the world in which I live is in question right now. I've lost both my parents. My job. My childhood home is about to be sold. So I'm going to just cloister myself for awhile. 

My life's foundation has been essentially ripped out from under me. Tomorrow is one year since Momma has been gone from my world. And yet, it still feels like it was yesterday. I can sit in a silent room, staring out the window. I zone out on television all day. Or simply stay in bed. Energy or motivation was no where to be found in me.

This book arrived in my mail, anonymously. It has been such a resource for me. A comfort, really. It has helped me understand everything that I've been thinking and feeling these past months. I read a bit and then need to put the book down as it can be heavy to process. Emotional. I have cried through it. Its good. Honestly. 

My parent's house was sold in November 2016. The son of the former VP of Student Development at my alma mater, Bethel College bought my childhood home. Although I'm sad, I'm also at peace knowing the young man who purchased Momma & Dad's house will take care of it and make it a home. I know his parents, his Uncle & Aunt and his Grandparents. (His Uncle was my pastor from elementary through adulthood.) I'm grateful for how it all worked out. Relieved that the sale of the house is complete. My house is now filled with items from their house....I want to be surrounded by them, forever. 

I generally stay in "the Cave" on a daily basis unless I absolutely HAVE to go out, whether to a meeting or the grocery store. I've restarted my job search, so re-entering the real world as a career professional is in my near future unless I find a remote position that allows me to work from home (JACKPOT!)

Life is, slowly, getting back to normal. Being without my Momma and my Dad, NOT normal. But life goes on, and I still hold on to their memory each and every day I take a breath.

The Best Laid Plans...Often Go Awry

So, we're coming around the bend of September. Hard to believe, really. 

The last nine months have basically been a blur. I've been running a local mayoral campaign. Before that I had been managing that same municipal leader's digital media, and before that I had helped run his 2013 city council campaign, so this was basically a continuation. On Red Bull. 

Suffice it to say,  I've been busy.  For the past two and a half years.  This is the first weekend that I've had absolutely nothing to do. And when I mean nothing, I mean zippo, zilch, zero.  Its been wonderful and weird all at the same time. Been there before? I found myself getting a bit bored. 

Early in the week I was the most exhausted that I have ever been in my entire life. I thought I'd be sleeping all weekend long. Didn't happen. So much for the best laid plans. Guess that means I'm caught up on my sleep? Let's hope so. 

Although my body may feel as if its caught up on sleep, my heart feels as if its grieving. Ever been there? Where the body and the mind contradict each other. 

A friend told me the other day to allow myself to grieve.  Grieve, you ask? Yes.  I put my heart and soul into the campaigns for Mr. Barnes. Believed in him without a shadow of a doubt. He loves the Lord. He lives his life and conducts himself with the highest degree of integrity, and seeks to leave a city that will benefit not only his family but every family in the city.  I knew he had a future as a public servant. 

I have great passion for politics & government, but no tolerance for the nasty sort of 'politics' that we normally see; the partisan people out for their own agenda, or those people who pander for votes, saying things just to sound acceptable to every group they encounter; but leaders who use their power for good and not evil. 

Mr. Barnes is different. There's no partisan bone in his body. He and I shared the same opinion about politics. It was the greatest work of my life. Had no doubts. Whatsoever. So, I took this one pretty hard. He's a good guy. And a great leader.

I am 'grieving' because Mr. Barnes lost the election. Rather unexpectedly. Stunned is probably the best word to describe how our team felt. None of us even fathomed this outcome. 

There was no Plan B.

We knew we had the strongest candidate in the race, with the greatest qualifications. Trusted.Genuine. Focused. Forward-thinking. 

Determined to bring opportunity to the entire city, because he had proven his ability as a district representative and an at-large council member. Quantifiable results. Didn't mean a thing, apparently. Or, it did, and fear was stronger. I believe there is a deeper meaning to the results. I may not understand them now. Maybe I'm not supposed to. God's got it all under control. And its ok to grieve. Because it was a valuable experience and it left an indelible mark on my life.

So here we are. 

We may see stoplights. But, "blue skies, smilin' at me, nothin' but blue skies do I see....Blue days, all of them gone,  Nothin' but blue skies from now on."

The Lessons Were His Gift To Me: Dwayne Burno's Legacy of Expression

Its been just over 57 hours since learning the tragic news of the passing of my friend and jazz master bassist, Dwayne Burno. I know many, like me, have been going over memories of him in their minds, recalling conversations, performances, dinners, family gatherings, etc. We all have our experiences and memories with Dwayne. We're all dealing with his passing in our own individual ways. There isn't a right or wrong way to grieve. It just is. And that's ok. 

Talking through my own personal grief over Dwayne's passing with my family & friends, I am able to process and come to a realization about who Dwayne was to me and the blessing he was in my life.  And what his life taught me ABOUT life. 

I don't know about you, but I hear his voice in my heart and I see his face when I close my eyes, and I think of him when I am listening to jazz and I hear the bass line. Its amazing that I am experiencing all of these levels of remembrance, and I was only in his presence 3 times. But once you met him, he left an indelible mark on your spirit. Throughout the past almost 6 years, I would check in on him since he had faced various health issues, his kidney transplant, and most recently issues with his heart. He was one of those people you just always kept tabs on every couple of weeks either by phone, text, or instant message. One thing that always amazed me about him and his dedication and love for jazz, was that for years he traveled around the world, lugging all of his medical equipment while on dialysis. He didn't go anywhere without it. And yet, he never let it stop him from living or making beautiful music. 

That was lesson #1. Don't let obstacles get in your way of pursuing your passion & purpose. Keep at it, every day. No matter what the situation looks like. 

Lesson #2: Never let time pass by without telling those loved ones in your life how much you love and appreciate them, because you never know when your last conversation with them will be. I found out all too well this past week, when my final conversation with Dwayne was on Christmas Eve, and we exchanged Christmas wishes. I told him Merry Christmas and that I loved him much, at which he replied 'Love you too, CAT. Merry Christmas.' 

In May, Dwayne posted this on his Facebook wall:

Dwayne Burno

May 30 via mobile

Seriously, y'all. Make, take, borrow and/or steal the time to let those you love know in life rather than posthumously exclaim and proclaim your adoration. Doesn't mean s*it when you can hear or enjoy it.

He knew the importance of expressing love and appreciation to those people in his life who he loved. He did it freely and without obligation. He did it and he meant it. Every word. Every time.  He wasn't afraid of the words "I love you." Because he meant them, genuinely, sincerely. We, too, must not be afraid to say those 3 powerful words. They can change someone's life. It doesn't have to be a spouse or boyfriend/girlfriend. If you care about someone, tell them. You may not ever get the chance again, so make the most of every opportunity. Time is short. We're not guaranteed tomorrow. Dwayne understood this, I believe. 

Dwayne Burno will not only be remembered as a master jazz musician, with his unmatched knowledge of and skill in the art of jazz, composition, history and technical ability, but also his passionate pursuit, dedication and expression of humanity. He was the embodiment of Life, Love, and all things JAZZ. 

Nothing stopped him from living or making his beautiful music. For me to embrace that in my own life would be the greatest acknowledgment of the gift he passed to me. 

As memorial plans get underway, you may donate directly to the family through the Jazz Foundation of America. Please make donations either online at: 
JAZZ FOUNDATION OF AMERICA 
OR 
MAIL A CHECK IN HONOR OF DWAYNE BURNO TO : 

Jazz Foundation of America

322 West 48th Street, 6th Floor

New York, NY 10036. 

(212)245-3999

http://bit.ly/1cf3gxm