Richard

Continuity 2.2 I left off at the first anniversary of Woody’s passing. It was a very hard day for me. MY dreams were starting to shift as if going over the cliff of the first anniversary was a pinnacle in my progression of healing. I was starting to travel again in my dreams, and I was going places I didn’t recognize but I knew in my heart they were good places, places which I could fall back on as places of power. One night I saw a huge book and I was filled with curiosity as to what was printed in it, but I couldn’t read it. I felt like Alice in Wonderland when I saw it. When I woke up, I felt rested and upbeat. I’ve been a musician since I was 12 and played professionally from the time, I was 18 until I was 30. On January 15th of 2025 I had a dream that I was inside a song. It was beautiful, calming and invigorating. I n my dream I just stood there and watched the notes and time signature pass me by, weave around me, wrap around me and lead me out the other side. I awoke with such a feeling of awe and wonder. I got up and went out into my backyard and stood I the dirt barefoot and meditated on the beauty that I had just experienced. My dream was a further aspiration that my dreams are a very real part of my life, that I am active participant in them. I am also very aware of how much information and knowledge that is transmitted to me through my dreams, I remain grateful to this day. As I write this in July of 2025, it feels as if my time with Woody was years ago, he’s only been gone 18 months, but I still feel his presence every day. The intense grief that I felt in the beginning has lessened, but there are waves that still come, and they can be crippling, stopped me in my tracks, making me regroup and find my footing again. I’d like to share a poem from a woman. who passed from a fight with cancer on 7-14, yesterday. I did not know here but the last lines hit me like a freight train when I read them, I share this with you now. I hope it helps you in your journey, I will become that “Grief astronomer” I pray I can help you see. A difficult life is not less worth living than a gentle one. Joy is simply easier to carry than sorrow. And your heart could lift a city from how long you’ve spent holding what’s been nearly impossible to hold. This world needs those who know how to do that. Those who could find a tunnel that has no light at the end of it, and hold it up like a telescope to know the darkness also contains truths that could bring the light to its knees. Grief astronomer, adjust the lens, look close, tell us what you see. Andrea Gibson (8.13.75 -7.14.25)

Continuity 2-1 I finished writing the book Woody on 12-24-94 and the last title was called Continuity. Woody’s story and the changes that he is still instilling in me didn’t end with the last word, they continue today. I had a hard time figuring out the ending of the book “Woody”. I tried several different approaches, none of them worked. I’m an avid and adventurous dreamer and my pattern is I wake at 4 am, I welcome my dream allies into my dreams and ask them if they have anything they are willing to teach me, be it good or bad. That morning of 12-24, I woke up at four and then fell back to sleep. In my dream I saw what to say and how the book should be completed, quite magical. That morning when my wife got in the shower, I wrote the final chapter in 5 minutes. I’m not good with holidays or anniversary’s, statement of fact. My birthday falls very close to Christmas. My parents would ask me, “which do you want presents for, Christmas or your birthday?”. I always felt left out because my brothers or sisters had present so for both. I usually chose Christmas because the one year I chose my birthday because it was hard to tell the other kids I didn’t get anything for Christmas, we didn’t have a lot of money. I remember one moment around Christmas time when I was 9 or 10 when my parents went to HFC, Household Finance Company) and took out a personal loan of $300. I remember the lead painted light yellow walls of the office, the industrial chair that I sat in while the agent making the loan belittled my father, asking him several times if he was sure he could pay it back. I remember my mother in the car on the way home yelling at my father that he had made a promise he couldn’t keep and the hardship that was about to come down, “Where do you expect to get that money from?” she kept repeating over and over and he would yell back that he’d work more overtime at the gas station and the school. I remember most of the money went to my sister who was about 18 with 2 children already. I don’t remember if I got anything that year, I remember the yellow walls and the chairs. I remember my friends showing off their Christmas gifts. I felt left out and like the poorest kid on the block. I had a paper route at the age of 10, if I wanted anything, I had to earn the money. I got a job at a gas station on the weekends at 13. I bought my own clothes at that age and have ever since. I share this because loosing Woody and the profound changes that have taken place in me has brought this to the surface. I am discovering that the shame that my parents placed on me ran deep in the fabric of my life, how that shame influenced almost everything that I did. My parents never said, we’re poor, they just didn’t answer my questions when I asked. I don’t remember ever getting a hug from my mother or father. Without knowing how it was affecting me, I plodded on through my life. Through my work with Ophilia Mandara and my dreams I began to understand all of this. Christmas and my birthday passed. It’s the first time I’ve been sober in 53 years for it so it was different. January 3rd was the first anniversary of Woody’s passing. I was very quiet all day and quite emotional. I felt lost and didn’t know how to commemorate it. I have a sacred space set up in my music room with items that I have collected over the past year. I have 5 words printed on it, Thoughtful, Aware, Present, Continuity, and Honor. At the hour of his passing I sat in the room, burned a candle and meditated on those words for over an hour. I allowed myself to feel the tremendous loss and I focused on the path ahead. It’s takes courage which at times can run very low, but that’s what it takes never the less. My journal entry for that day was, “1 year, so much reflection”. I hope you find strength and courage, I thank you for reading this.