Laki

Respite: 1. a usually short interval of rest or relief [(from the Latin word respectus meaning refuge; see respect) American Heritage Dictionary]

Respect: 1. to feel or show deferential regard for; esteem [American Heritage Dictionary]

I just spent close to a week away from Hocking Hills Roasters and La-Ki Relaxation Center for the first time in over a year. In all honesty, it was my first vacation in over two years since starting the two businesses. Can you say "a needed break"? Roger and I made a short drive to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee for four nights in a beautiful log cabin. Pigeon Forge is much like Hocking Hills except on a grander scale--wonderful wooded areas, peaceful, and mountains instead of hills.

Before leaving, I posted a sign on my door at La-Ki Relaxation Center and changed my voice mail to notify all clients that I was on a winter respite. The time away certainly fit the definition of respite (i.e. a short interval of rest). While I knew the definition of the word, I was surprised to learn the etymology of the word after looking it up to write this essay. Its original meaning in Latin was refuge. My heart skipped a beat when I read the origins of the word because I had made the comment that our vacation cabin was like a refuge.

Since returning from Pigeon Forge, friends have asked, "What did you do while you were away?" My answer, "Nothing...we did absolutely nothing." Now, to say that we did nothing is not a true reflection of how we spent our time. However, we did not do the usual things you do on vacation--sightseeing, take in shows, imbibe heavily, overeat, or spend time shopping. I suppose a more honest answer is that we spent our time "being".

I have written before about the difference between a human "being" and a human "doing". We definitely were human "beings" on this escape. Most of our time was spent between the hot tub, playing pool, reading together, meditating, and just talking. Oh the bliss of having no schedule and no "doing" to get accomplished! While I totally enjoyed this, I must admit that on the second day I started to feel a little panicked because I did not have a schedule. I had this gnawing feeling that I had to get something accomplished and it had to be done now! I stood frozen on the stairs of the cabin as a persistent anxiety reverberated within me. The longer I stood still, the more my mind raced. What am I forgetting to do?

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Two words caught my attention and I felt a calm swell around me. Just Be. I looked around at the well-appointed cabin. Just Be. Suddenly, the square logs of the structure seemed to become more brilliant and I could almost hear the wood breathing in muted whispers. Just Be. I reached my left hand towards the side of the cottage and felt an enlivening warmth flood my soul. Just Be. I smiled as the words transformed what was once fretfulness into assurance.

I spend most of my time teaching relaxation and urging my clients to respect themselves enough to take a few moments each day. Sometimes, though, I find it difficult to allow myself the same reverence. The logs of the chalet suddenly became my teacher during those moments on the steps. They were resting, one on top of the other, creating a sacred space for me to enjoy...my own refuge. Too many times, we think by resting we are not accomplishing anything; yet, the logs tell a different story in their state of rest.

It's been two days since my return the routine of both businesses. Yes, I find comfort in routine. But, I also find comfort in knowing that my rest period was an outward reflection of esteem for myself--the very thing that clients hear me instructing them to do. Respect yourself and take a short interval to Just Be. The effects will surely reverberate to all those you come in contact with.

Copyright © 2008 by Scott A. Musick

"Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy to a friend." Martin Luther King Jr.

I had been watching television to unwind and was at the point of just wanting to crawl into bed but realized on the cold January night that the wood furnace needed to be stoked in order to ensure a warm night's rest. I opened the door to the basement stairs to make the final trek of the day to furnace when something caught my eye on the 150-year-old staircase. At first I thought I was catching a glimpse of my guardian angel which happens from time to time and was just about to greet him when the object in my vision became clearer.

A small brown mouse ran across the top step and looked up at me. I am not sure which one of us was more startled! My first inclination was to scream like a little girl who had just had her pig tails yanked, but what came from my lips surprised myself, "Oh, how are you little mouse?" Apparently, the 'oh' and my question was enough to startle the mouse. He scurried down the steps one by one.

As I walked down the steps, I started thinking about how to get rid of the mouse. My first thought was to let my indoor cats into the basement to have at him. Then I thought about setting a trap. I quickly discarded both ideas because I knew the cats would only play with him until he was dead. In both cases, I would eventually have to discard of the body and over the last year I have just really had a problem with handling dead critters.

I chuckled at myself as I finished loading the wood burner. "You'd cause a wreck to avoid hitting a rabbit or squirrel when you're driving. What makes you think you want to kill that mouse and then have to carry his limp body out of the house?" a voice seemed to speak to me. I shook my head as if to answer the voice and tell it that I was not going to implement either one of the tactics.

Suddenly my mind was brought back to the moment by the mouse running in front of me and then coming to a complete stand-still. He stood on his back legs and seemed to be sniffing at me. I looked at him in disgust and then he wiggled his nose at me again as if to show me how cute he was. "Okay, mouse," I said, "I won't let the cats down here and I won't set a trap. I know Creator made you for some purpose and I won't play God by ending your life. You can have reign of the basement without the cats as long as I don't see any of your droppings down here. And, if you even think about getting into my kitchen...well, let's just say I can't guarantee I'll keep the cats away. I will do my best to live peaceably with you if you do the same with me. Is it a deal?" He turned his head and ran off to the area of the basement where the crawl space is located.

A week has past since my first encounter with the mouse. He greets me every morning now as I load the wood burner just after getting out of bed and starting coffee. He apparently enjoys the warmth of the fire because he is always near it when I make my way down the steps. True to his word, he always runs off to the same spot where he takes his respite and I do not see him until the next morning.

But, I'm getting a little concerned. I noticed this morning as he ran to his hiding place that he was looking really thin, so I began to worry that he was not getting enough food. I giggled as the thought crossed my mind. Is that what love does--I now see my enemy, the mouse, as someone to care for? I know it sounds crazy. Either I love the little fellow or...I really don't want to carry his dead limp body to the field. In either case, I sure break the stereotype for a southeast Ohio boy.

Copyright © 2008 by Scott A. Musick

So it is a start of another year...the time to reflect on the future and make commitments or resolutions. As I set my sights on the coming year, I have clear goals that I want to meet: finish the Masters/PhD program, complete my first novel, exercise more, eat healthier, meditate more, laugh often, exhibit well-formed love, and the list goes on. You, too, probably have a vision for something better this year. While I believe in goal-setting and having a plan, there is something lightly tapping at my spirit even as I design this new year.

The gnawing started on New Year's Day when I visited my only living grandparent, Mamaw, in the nursing home. My sister, Steph, went with me for the visit. Mamaw is in her 80's and the ravages of time have taken a toll on her mind through dementia. She knew who I was even though I had not seen in her in about five years and her guilt-laden tone let me know that she would not have known me if I was not with Steph. I smiled in spite of the remorse I felt at her remark. She was right. I should have visited her sooner. Although I had spent quite a bit of my teen-age years mowing her lawn, she and I were never as close as I was with my other grandmother--we just did not connect the same.

The visit lasted for close to an hour. Most of the conversation revolved around Mamaw's repeated questions on the same subject. Each time I gave the identical answer, she would laugh as if she had just heard the remark for the first time. Then, she would ask the same question again and I would repeat my answer. More laughter. As we were leaving the nursing home, Steph pointed out how well Mamaw was able to live in the moment and I nodded in agreement as her statement reverberated in my spirit.

For days, I heard my sister saying that Mamaw lived in the moment. It was as if the same repeating bug that gripped my grandmother's mind had somehow latched onto the phrase from my sister and embedded itself into the core of my being. The more I thought about Mamaw living in the moment the more I realized there was a lesson in it for all of us. As I busy myself about with my planning and schedule, do I forget about the moment? And in reaching for my goals in this new year, do I somehow miss the opportunities to laugh and love more? I believe the danger is there in my striving to miss the occasions.

As I look over my list for the coming year, I find myself rearranging and adding a new item. Yes, I still want to accomplish all the things I listed previously. No, finishing school is no longer number one…it is number two, though. The first entry on my list is now "Live in the Moment". Do you have a moment to join me?


Copyright © 2008 by Scott A. Musick

Dreaming...everyone does it and I am intrigued by dreams. I trace my interest in dreams to my grandmother. Grandmother's religious denomination was Pentecostal and her genetic heritage was mixed Cherokee. I believe that the combination of these two influences affected her perception of dreaming and, in turn, had a profound effect on me. It was not unusual to receive a phone call from her early in the morning because she had a dream the night before and just wanted to check to see how things were. I remember these calls very well over the thirty plus years I shared with her; and, more often than not, her timing was indeed extraordinary. Although she crossed from the physical world to spiritual reality several years ago, Grandmother still visits me in my dreams and always has sage advice to share.

As I have written before, I think dreams have much to tell us about dealing with pressures and stressors in our daily lives. Too often, we disregard the wisdom of our dreams and overlook the comfort that they offer. It may be because we do not understand the symbolism in the dream state or that we brush off the significance as just fantasy. My belief is that dreams assist us in our waking hours.

One of my passions is dream interpretation. I have clients and friends that tell me about their dreams and want to know my opinion of the significance. I am always honored and count it a privilege when asked to interpret a dream for someone. Recently, a friend emailed the following:
Hey, I want to give you a portion of my dream and see what you can determine from it. I had a dream last night about a friend of mine. In my dream this guy was clean shaven (normally has a beard) and was wearing a sharp looking dark green suit (he normally wore jeans or shorts, t-shirt, and tennis shoes). In my dream, though, this guy was walking around waiting to die. It was his time, but for some reason it was like he "couldn't die". Then (and you know how dreams go) I heard a moaning noise in another room, as I went around the corner it was my friend, but he wasn't a human anymore he was this huge dog, like a Great Dane (my friend is very tall). This dog was lying on its side on the floor in obvious distress. The dog managed to raise its head slightly and looked at me and in its own way he appeared to smile. I hollered for my friend Kandi to come quick something was about to happen. I then blew the dog a kiss goodbye...and then my alarm clock went off.
Scott, this was our very good friend Timm who passed away from a short battle with cancer last night. I was aware of this already, as I received the call about 8:30 last night. But was I dreaming this because he naturally was already on my mind or do you see some kind of significance with this dream. I know you aren't an expert in all dreams, but I know you are curious about when an animal is involved. This dream was so vivid and seemed so real. So, I thought I'd take a chance and see what you thought.

I took a few moments to "feel" the dream for myself and then looked through some reference material on dogs before responding. Below is my response:
I think the imagery of the dream is a beautiful testament of your friendship with Tim. Dogs in general are symbolic of an undying spirit--one of unconditional love and companionship. In ancient Greece, dogs were a companion to and guardian of the place of the dead. A Great Dane in particular is one of the friendliest breeds and is often referred to as the "Gentle Giant". It is among the tallest of all breeds of dogs. Obviously, the Great Dane is symbolic of Tim's height and friendly nature. Our dreams are affected by the events surrounding us, but are also a very effective "healing" tool. I am sure that you went to sleep with his passing on your mind. My belief is that Tim was letting you know that you had a positive effect on his life and that he is alright (i.e. the dog smiling at you). I also "feel" your perception that "he couldn't die" is symbolic of the close connection he had with his friends/loved-ones because he was concerned about their well-being after he passed (the companion/guardian attributes of dogs). I wouldn't be surprised if you dream again about the Great Dane...I still have dreams where my grandmother visits with me and helps me through situations and she has been gone for close to 5 years now.
Again, I think it is a beautiful dream and very comforting. What a blessing to have had such a vision!

She responded with another email almost immediately after I sent mine. Apparently, the interpretation was spot on for her. She said that the tears were flowing and could not wait to share it with everyone she knew. This is just one example of a dream speaking truth to the receiver. I encourage you to dream with your eyes open so that you can perceive the goodness and message from within.

"...open your eyes and see--how good God is." Psalm 34:8 (The Message)

Copyright © 2007 by Scott A. Musick

I am one of those people who takes notice of dreams and believe that dreams have much to tell us about real life situations. I recently dreamed about spiders. I know. For most people the thought of dreaming about a spider is enough to cause them to jump out of bed and not fall back to sleep. This dream was not just about a spider, but rather many spiders! As soon as I would shake away one, another identical spider would appear. And, these were not small spiders; rather, they were very large! If I had not previously suffered from arachnophobia, this dream was about to push me to a new fear.

Yet, even in the dream state, I felt a sense of calm and that I was supposed to learn something from the multitudes of spiders. I decided to take special notice to the coloring of the spider in hopes of learning what kind it was. What struck me as odd is that it was orange and black. I have never seen orange colorings on a spider before so I was intrigued as to why I would envision this particular color.

My research side kicked into full gear and I hit the web (no pun intended) in search of spiders with these colors. After just a few minutes of searching, I found a picture of the exact arthropod on the Texas Agricultural Extension Service website. It turns out I dreamt of a Southern Black Widow. "Yikes! I'm about to be killed by my mate," I thought. My fear of impending death was soon calmed when I read that this particular Black Widow does not eat the male mate. I also learned that the bright orange is usually found on the male of this species--another interesting piece of imagery that I need not approach in this essay.

With the spider now identified, I decided to look more into the meaning behind its colors. The color black seems to get a bad rap since most people automatically associate death and evil. The reality is that black is a wonderful balancing color when used with another color and can bring comfort. Orange is considered a welcoming shade and is a fantastic color to call people together for fellowship. It helps self-esteem and to bring about poise. A-ha! If you have read any of my previous writings, you are well aware of my history of battling with self-image. Thus, the combination of black and orange is a symbol of balancing my self-esteem.

Another attribute of orange is that it is the color of a second-wind. I have to tell you that I am more than open to this aspect of orange. Not only is it the holiday season when it seems that everyone could use a second wind (myself included); but I have so "many irons in the fire": two businesses (six days a week), a Master's/PhD program, writing for my blog, working on my first novel, and then family life. Whew! Oh yeah, I could use a second wind about now.

The symbolism of the colors really seemed to be speaking to me, but I still needed to know more about the spider. I pulled out my book on the meaning of animals and quickly spun (okay, pun intended here) through the pages to find the chapter on spiders. I discovered that spiders have three primary lessons: 1) the energy of creation, 2) the assertiveness of creation, and 3) spiral energy of the past and future.

By spinning a web, the spider teaches that we are our own creative source. How appropriate for me as I write blogs and work on a novel. Yes, I have to do research and check to make sure the information I give is accurate. But, there is also the creative energy that guides from deep within me the desire and ability to thread things together in an intricate pattern that as a whole is a marvelous piece of work.

The second lesson that spider teaches is that of assertiveness with creation. If I go back to the black widow that kills after mating, I realize that there is nothing more assertive than creating new life and then killing to protect it. I am not suggesting that I have to assault or slander another author in order to "get a leg up", but I do think the imagery speaks to believing enough in myself to put my writings out for others to read. (Hmmm...sounds like the color orange is weaving very well with the spider.) Self-confidence is obviously a lesson being taught to me through this dream.

The spiral energy of the past and future is the third major lesson from the spider. It is about learning that everything is tied together. Too often all of us use the excuse for not moving forward because something "bad" happened in the past. Although we are tied to the past, it is the past that has brought us to the present point and it is the past that can be used for good in the future. Yes, there are things that I wish I had done differently. But, I am the person I am today because of the lessons learned from previous mistakes.

The thing that impresses me most about the lessons of the spider is that it takes command of the future by weaving its own destiny. It uses the creative juices flowing through it to make a beautiful piece of work. By combining the feminine powers of creativity and the masculine powers of strength, it survives and flourishes. Yes, I believe dreams have much to say to us and the spider speaks to me.



Copyright © 2007 by Scott A. Musick

Lydia Grace, it's been thirteen years since you were born and what a rough start you had! You were the only child out of my three that I actually cut the umbilical cord. Although you were a full-term baby well over eight pounds, you born very sick. Your color was an unusual yellow due to your liver being swollen and out of place. The hospital staff allowed me to carry you to the nursery and then quickly removed you from my grasp. At that time, I did not know the severity of the situation. I do remember standing outside the window to the nursery and watching a team of doctors and nurses surround you. The minutes played out for me in slow motion as if I was in a dream. Finally, a doctor and a nurse came out and told me that you were in very grave condition. The nurse asked what we wanted to name you and I said, "Lydia Grace." She assured me that it was a beautiful name and the doctor suggested that I return to your mother and wait for word in her room.

As I walked away from the nursery and towards your mother's room, a numbing pain took residence in my spirit. What would I say to your mother? The looks on the medical staffs' faces spoke volumes while the doctor spoke so little. The nurse seemed urgent about naming you as if it was a consolation to acknowledge a short life. I fought back tears as I composed myself outside the door to your mother's room. I took a deep breath and entered the room trying to appear that everything was normal.

I have never been good at lying and this night was no different. Your mother knew immediately that something was wrong by the look on my face. I will never forget her interrogating me as I was trying to spare her the anguish I was feeling as you and the doctors fought for life. Eventually, I gave in and told her what little I knew just before the doctor made his way to the recovery room to deliver the news that they did not expect you to live more than 24 hours. My world felt suddenly turned upside down.

Your mother and I had not intended on having a third child, but I had dreamed that we would have a girl. An angel appeared to me in the dream and told me that it was God's design for us to have a girl and that her name would be Lydia Grace. I have always taken dreams seriously and felt impressed that Creator had sent this message to me to reconsider stopping with Corey and Joshua. I had never known anyone named Lydia and just barely knew that there was some kind of reference to a Lydia in the Bible. After the dream, I researched Lydia from the Bible and found that she was a seller of purple and the first European convert to Christianity. It was settled. We would try for a girl.

After much urging from the doctor and your mother, I returned home to await word of your fate. I did not sleep a wink that night. Most of the time was spent praying, pleading, and even wrestling with God. For the first and only time in my life, I was angry with Him. I was forceful in my prayers, "How could you allow this to happen? I was finished having children! You were the one who sent a dream to me. You were the one who told me to have a girl. You were the one who gave me the name. Why are you doing this to me? Haven't we suffered enough with one sick child and three years of chemotherapy? You can't let her die! Do you hear me? You promised me a girl. I didn't ask for her! You made me want her. You can't take her away now!"

As I wrestled with God into the early hours of the following morning, I thought of all sorts of reasons why I should not have a beautiful girl. The sins of my past told me that I did not deserve you and that it was justice for you to live just a day. My hope and faith in divine healing was waning as the cold December night became a wet dreary morning. I started preparing for the moral judgment to fall on me.

Later in the day, the pastor from our church came and prayed over you. Within an hour, your liver started functioning properly. The doctors did not know what to think and ordered an ultrasound to look at your liver again. Miraculously, your liver had shrunk and moved into place. The medical staff was so amazed by the change in you that they started calling you the Miracle Baby. Whether it was my prayers, Pastor Pat's, or a combination of both, I will never know. I do know that you recovered and have been a healthy girl since then.

I have always thought that your name suited you well. As I struggled the first night you were born and then watched your miraculous recovery, I realized that Grace was very appropriate for you. Creator did have a lesson for me to learn about Grace in your first day of life and I am constantly reminded of grace every time I say or write your name.

You are now leaving the child years behind and entering the teen years. I know that you will enter this stage with the same poise and grace you always have over the previous twelve years. I ask that you, too, share mercy when justice would be appropriate just as God did for me at your birth. Since that time, I have had the pleasure of thirteen years of watching grace grow--both spiritually and physically. I am so thankful for the dream I received and encourage you to dream with your third eye (the spiritual eye) wide open.

Thank you for sharing your grace with me. I just want you to know that I love you and I always will...just in case you ever wonder!

Love,
Dad



Copyright © 2007 by Scott A. Musick