The Grey Ghost

How many lives does one live? I think for body workers, it is about nine, like a cat. I have been through at least six or seven…but I am not certain as I have lost count. My body, however, is forever aware of the score and is not the least bit fooled by my diversions.

Fooling yourself and others is easy, but to fool your own body? Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

Our body/mind, in all its complexities, has a way of revealing to us the compartmentalized pain we have been carrying for decades.

I always tell my clients, “Learn to release your pain the moment it bubbles to the surface for air.”

Hanging on to pain is exhausting! Life can be heavy enough without all that roll-away luggage. If we could just focus more on holding our joy instead of our pain, we just might make it through this journey with a carry-on bag.

A distant memory crackles across the airwaves of my mind. “Breaker 1-9, has anyone seen the Grey Ghost? He knows where all the fish are at!” Yes, those hardcore anglers really do talk like that 😉 I love those guys!

The “Grey Ghost” was my dad’s CB handle. All the guys on the lake would spend their days in search of the “Shirley Ann.” That was the name of his boat. He always told my mother she was his first and only love. But she always knew his first love was fishing!

When I was a kid, I loved going fishing with him. One time, dad caught me at the back of the boat, trying to release his catch. “You cannot come with me anymore if you are going to do that!” He scolded.

Damned fish…Stop looking at me like that! Why do I have to be such a girl?

“No time for being lady-like out here.” He scoffed. “Bait your own hook, free your own catch and pee in this.”

A coffee can…Really? Okay, he is trying to toughen me up a little. I had to get with the program. Up at four, lines over the side of the boat by five and no whining…We were not going in until he had enough fish for everybody.

I had many moments of clarity sitting at my dad’s bedside while he lay dying. I would hold his hand and drift in and out of sleep, sometimes meeting him in my dreams. One such story I wrote for a book series entitled The Four-Fold Formula for All Things Wellness. It was released the Fall of 2022. Go grab it. https://amzn.to/3xfpPT2

These moments were precious opportunities to face my own pain, always under the watchful eye of highly trained spirit guides. They always show up for you, even if you never show up for yourself.

“Watch out for those baited hooks, Miss Cyndi; I do not want to see you back here too soon.”

I doze momentarily while living images flash before me. I see how this all works now. These “moments” are all lived simultaneously in the libraries of our minds. Time itself is all “ONE” moment.

My left-hand hovers over a gentle flame. It does not burn me; however, I feel its heat licking at my fingers. There is a soft rhythmical percussion permeating my upper back.

Pierced deeply with a hook straight through my heart, I arch straight upward and hear the giggles of delight at the release of my pain.

A gentle voice whispers, “Now that, Miss Cyndi, is the anger pin.”

That is for sure. I had been holding onto my pain for decades. It was now time to let it all go.

The ‘Grey Ghost’ turns me over and thoroughly examines me from head to toe before releasing me back into a gently flowing current.

“Watch out for those baited hooks Miss Cyndi,” I hear a voice say. “I do not want to see you back here too soon.”

Just as I recognize my dad as the voice in my dream, I awaken to the squeeze of his hand. Even as he lay there dying, I am still impressed by his amazing strength. I always knew he was the man of steel…and Superman does not go down without a fight. Damn, those are big shoes to fill.

I am reminded of a quote I heard recently, “Grow into yourself and stop chasing your father’s shadow.”

Phew, that takes the pressure off! Thank you to whoever said that.

As I listened to him breathe, I never thought I would be so happy to hear him snore like that! It meant he was still here with me, for whatever precious time he had left.

I reminisce about the stories his closest friends shared with me. I am so glad we could all be in the same room together one last time before he passed…playing his guitar and singing to him. He was so delighted by music, even if we were all a little off-key. That is an incredibly special bond we all now share in our memory of him.

My dad lived by humble means, working hard to support his family amid what some may consider insurmountable challenges. I would like to think that I have done my best to fill his very large shoes.