Butteries...we are more like the than we may think

Butterflies symbolize transformational change from the inside out. I have used them as a symbol for the changes I went through on my healing journey to health, wholeness and spiritual development. David and I developed the Inner Dynamics System for self-change from the inside out and the process of metamorphosis
that the butterfly goes through. As we change our thoughts, beliefs and perceptions it creates changes in our outer world. May we always be mindful of the quote below so we can live to the fullest, grow change, emerge and show the world our bright, true colors.

Butterflies symbolize transformational change from the inside out. I have used them as a symbol for the changes I went through on my healing journey to health, wholeness and spiritual development.

This video is a beautiful reminder how we are destined to grow, change, emerge and show the world our true colors.

A difficult acceptance...my mother's time draws near

While going through my going my writing files I came across this piece that I wrote it when I had my first realization that my mother's chronic health problems were increasing to the point that she would not be able tor recover.    My mother Edwina Kathleen Cunningham received her butterfly wings on April 20, 2005 and I know she is flying free and enjoying the next realm every time I see one in our garden. This is the first one David and I saw after Mom passed...it flew around us and we knew it was a sign from Mom letting us know she was find and had her wings.

Prior to that happening my hubs David and I had to brace ourselves and I wrote this article prior to her transition.


EARLY IN 2004


David and I enter Riverview Personal Care facility the bright light from warm spring sunlight is instantly muted. The heels of my western boots make a clunking sound as they hit the tile and as my husband David and I walk swiftly towards my mother’s ward I attempt to prepare myself for what is ahead. We hadn’t been able to visit her for a few weeks because I had a respiratory infection and we couldn’t risk giving it to her. She had been diagnosed with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) and was on oxygen to assist her breathing.

Upon reaching the triage we stop for a moment to discuss Mom’s condition with the staff and are told prepare ourselves. Her primary nurse quietly states that my mother is failing and will not improve much from this point on. As we draw closer to her room David offers to go in first and suggest I take a couple of minutes to ground myself before seeing her. I look into his amber eyes and feel blessed to have a partner who is sensitive to my needs. I agree and wait just beyond my mother’s room.

In an involuntary act my I feel my arms going around my body as I look around the ward at other patients in varying degrees of decline. The man  Mom sits with during mealtime is slumped in his wheel chair vacantly staring at the television. Another patient rigidly reclines in her chair and barely moves as nurses and staff walk past her preparing meds and getting ready for lunch. A couple of others wheel themselves up and down the halls carrying on one-sided conversations with someone who only exists within their mental realms.

 As I observe their conditions it is difficult to accept the reality that most of them were in this state when mom was admitted on the 2002  Thanksgiving Weekend. I remember how Mom had put on a brave front and said that it was a blessing to have been able to get into such a great facility. But now as I look around pangs of guilt creep in and I wonder if her admission here really was a blessing … or had it heightened her decline. Up until this point my mother was always one of the more cognizant ones and she took great pride in that. An unexpected wave of sadness wells up as I think that in a rather sudden turn of events my precious Mom is no longer able to participate in anything beyond the small confines of her room. She has totally withdrawn and the staff said she doesn't want residents to visit. It is hard for me to accept that these patients will probably continue living within their individual existences long after Mom is gone-- even though she was the more vibrant one until the past few weeks.

My thoughts are interrupted as David strides in my direction with a serious look on his face. He comes over, hugs me then says, “Sweetie it is not good—you need to center yourself before going in.” I snuggle into his strong arms and realize what a comfort it is to have David as my life-mate. After a few deep breaths I move towards my mother’s room. When I enter the senses are bombarded with the stale odor of stagnant energy. The scent of unhealthy body functions permeates the dull room and stops me in my tracks. I momentarily pause and David places a hand on my shoulder in a silent show of support.

There is a slight visual distortion as glaring light from the bathroom sharply contrasts the shadows in the rest of Mom’s room. There is enough light to reveal her multitude of collectibles and gifts from those who cherish her and memory banks are flooded with happier times when each one of those gifts gave her such joy. My breath catches as the sensory overload shocks me into the first realization that this is my mother’s final destination. Her prophetic words have come true … this personal care facility was her final stop before passing—and now it is happening. I clutch the bouquet of flowers we'd brought for her, take a deep breath and prepare myself.

David waits for my next move and finally I muster the confidence to round the slight corner and head towards Mom’s bed. Nothing could have prepared me for what I see. I am shocked by the amount of weight she has lost. Her frail little body is dwarfed within the large bed and I struggle with the recognition that the body with white shriveled skin pulled so tight over the skeletal face is that of the women who was always such a source of charismatic energy. Where is the person that I went shopping with only six weeks before?


Where is the Shirley Temple wig framing a Dresden Doll complexion and two radiant blue eyes? I hear myself silently thinking, Mom—mom where are you? Are you still in there? Please open your eyes and let me know you are still here—that we have time—time for me to let you know you’re not going through this alone—that I love you … and will be with you until the end.

As I stare into the shell that used to house my mother’s vibrant essence I am relieved to her stir and finally open her eyes. It is a relief to see the glimmer of recognition as she sees me. Neither one of us speak as Mom stretches a mottled, thin hand in my direction. I move closer, pull up a chair and take gently take her hand in mine. I look down, hold it gently and kiss it. Waves of grieve arise as I have to accept this hand no longer looks like the one I once knew. It is almost unbearable to see that the hands and arms that comforted me since I was a child are almost unrecognizable.

The bony structure reveals has no muscle to support the ligaments and large blue veins protrude as her grip tightens. In silent grip our hands lock and we hold on—trying to sustain the connection even though we both know it is weakening and our physical connection will break apart and there is nothing either of us can do to stop it. Tears well up but I swallow hard and manage to hold them back. It is clear to me that my usually buoyant mother is not going to bounce back this time and it strikes a chord of melancholy that is palatable.

Her eyes stare into mine and within the silence of our shared knowing within our mother/daughter bond we are forced to acknowledge what neither one of us want to say out loud…so we do not. As it had so many times in the past we know that our symbiotic bond understands and accepts what is better left unsaid. My mother knows as I do that everything we once shared is ending—and she breaks through my waves of nostalgia and by looking deep into my eyes and saying, “I am so glad to see you—.” The there is a pause and I take a moment to kiss her gently on the forehead then say, “Me too—I miss you so much—and feel so sorry that I couldn't be here be here sooner. As the nurses told you I’ve had an upper respiratory infection—and they didn’t want me to come and risk giving it to you.” She squeezes my hand tighter as she says, “I know—they told me—I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself—even though I miss you too—so much.” She sighs a deep, shuddering hollow breath then changes the subject. “ I have been in so much pain—it has been absolute hell—sometimes it is so bad—I don’t think I can take it—and I think it would be better if I could die—but I don’t really want that—like I told David during his last visit I want to live—for a long time.”

There is another pause—and I steel myself against the reality that the chances of that happening are very slim. I hear a sigh from my own body as I study her face and as she continues I see how soul weary she looks. “They give me pain medication—but it doesn’t seem to help that much—then weird things happen sometimes. I keep seeing people—and some of them are plotting to kill me—I told you about that-- didn’t I?” David sits quietly in mom’s big chair by the window. I glance over to him so mom won’t see my dismay this latest admission. We both were told that the morphine was taking was making mom’s existing vascular dementia worse. They had previously informed us that she was experiencing paranoia and hallucinating to not to take anything she said personally. That knowledge didn't make it any easier to see her this way.

A few days before in rare phone conversation Mom had  envisioned a conversation with me that had never taken place. In her mind I had told her she was a crazy old lady and I had stolen all her money. It is all part of her process-and one that has to be accepted because it was unlikely to change. In minutes that seem longer than they are I turn back to mom and notice she has momentarily closed her eyes and possibly drifted away. But as I touch her face, then speak she opens her eyes and stares into mine. In a comforting voice that I hope is convincing I say, “Yes mom—I do recall you mentioning that. Do you feel frightened by the people who are here?”

Her response brings a slight smile to our faces as she says with a slight grin, “No--lately the people who have been here seem to be trying to entertain me—so it is feels better to have them here than the others.” Then in an unexpected turn of events she suddenly begins to encourage David and me to leave even though she said how much she missed us and we’d only been there about seven minutes. “I know you have a long ride home—you should probably be going now.” David and I exchange a quick look of acknowledgment and it is yet another jarring epiphany about how much everything has been unalterably changed.

My mother lived for our visits and now she is too weak to participate in sharing anything and my heart is shredded with regret. How has all this happening and how do I process it? Here my mother lies—in a rapid decline—in pain—suffering—confused—and it is happening moment by moment and I live too far away to be here every day. My mind begins rapid fire questions and possible stop-gap measures. Maybe I could take her out of here—take her home with us—let her die with us close by—then she wouldn’t feel so confused and alone. Then regret begins to set in. Maybe if we hadn’t put her in personal care none of this would be happening—maybe another doctor could have stopped it. How do stones develop and get stuck in the kidney and bile duct anyway? I just read an article that high pain levels during advancing years can exacerbate dementia—maybe it is our fault for not supporting her more. As my mind continues an inner tirade I feel mom’s grip on my hand weaken and she is drifting into the comfort of sleep—which is what the nurses say her pattern has become. Sleep, get up to eat a little, request her pain medication. They said she is withdrawing and that disengaging from loved ones and family members is a natural part of the death process.

As I sit quietly holding my mother’s gaunt little hand I have no choice but to accept what cannot be changed. I am acutely aware of much my mom did her best to live by the prayer of serenity—but coming to terms with how little control I have over what she is going through in a serene way is not an easy thing to do. David and I sit quietly for a few more moments and as I stare at the skeleton that used to be my mother I look around her room and struggle to come to terms with the reality that in the not too distant future this room will be stripped of all her possessions and will go back to the sterile place it was before we filled it with the remaining representations of who she is and what she liked. Within immeasurable melancholy I know my Mom needs to separate and I must honor that and decide it is time to go.

Before leaving I pull a blanket up around her shoulders and hug her as best I can. Her eyelids flutter slightly and I kiss her on the cheeks and forehead. I cannot help but notice how clammy and cool her skin feels and it is just another sign that her life force is waning and cannot support her body systems as they once did. She musters a wistful smile as I tell her how much she is loved by us—and so many others. Before departing I leave her as I have ever since she was in intensive care and first diagnosed with chronic lung disease. “Mom—close your eyes, you need to rest—but before I go I want you to do as you always do before I leave. Wrap yourself up in angel wings and I’ll sing you our song". She nods in a knowing way and says, “Thank you—you have such a beautiful voice---I am ready.” With a deep sigh she closes her eyes again—and in a voice chocked with emotion the words flow from deep within as they have so many times before, “Jesus loves me—this I know for the bible tells me so—little ones to him belong—they are weak—but He is strong--. Yes,--Jesus loves me." Then with the final chords I feel her leaving heading into some domain I am no longer a part of and it is time to go.

David comes over, places a strong arm over my shoulder and we turn to leave and I have only one thought as my heels thud along the sterile hallways on the way out—my mother is dying and we must go on and allow it to happen. I silently whisper a prayer from my lips to God’s ears. Please help me through this now ... and in the days and weeks until her time comes. And if it by Thy will—please wraps her up in angel wings and release her from all earthly concerns in gentle a loving way. She was an earth angel and deserves the best and easiest transition from our world to yours. As the automatic doors swing open I try to comfort myself with an image of my mother’s sweet, gentle spirit flying free with her beloved butterflies fluttering around her.

Fly Free Like A Butterfly Video from Fresh Beginnings

We chose butterflies for the logo of our personal development company Fresh Beguinnings www.fresh-beginnings.com and our social forum on the Ning network www.freshbeginnings.ning.com  with the same name.They represent transforamtional change from the inside out. We made this video to illustrate our love and appreciation for their symbolic representation of the changes we all go through within the endless cycles of life, death, change and re-birth.

For everything there is a season, And a time for every matter under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing; A time to seek, and a time to lose; A time to keep, and a time to throw away; A time to tear, and a time to sew; A time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate, A time for war, and a time for peace. Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Mothers...A Tribute to Mine and Others

VALUABLE LIFE LESSONS MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME

By Coralie Darsey-Malloy

We learn simply by the exposure of living.


Much that passes for education


is not education but ritual.


The fact is that we are being educated…


when we know it least.

-~David P. Gardner~

When my mother, Edwina Kathleen Cunningham passed away on April 20th, 2005 my husband David and I decided to follow her wish to have her memorial as a celebration of her life…rather than mourning her death. And that we did. David prepared a wonderful visual presentation of her life with music that portrayed the woman she was. I decided to write a summation of the many valuable life lessons she gave me and give them out to everyone in attendance at her memorial on May 3rd. David and I have share a commitment to offer healthy, dynamic, spiritual ideas with others and some of the valuable life lessons my Mom taught both of us are ones we pass on to clients.

Although her given name was Edwina…she preferred to be called Winnie. So here is is…Winnie’s Wisdom and the many invaluable life lessons I learned from having her as my role model. Thanks Mom…this one is for you with love and appreciation from your only daughter.

WINNIE’S WISDOM:

…Develop and maintain an attitude of gratitude. Be sure to express appreciation for whatever blessings you are given moment by moment and day by day.

…It is not the size of your bank account that matters…but the size of your heart and ability to give.

…God is always there to help us through, keep your faith, pray and ask for guidance and it will come…it always does.

...When you pray for an answer and it is no…remember that is still an answer.

.. .No matter how bad things are…they always get better because there is a beginning, middle and end to everything in life.

…Live by the Golden Rule and ALWAYS treat others the way you like to be treated. Have understanding, acceptance and respect for differences, even when you disagree. When people let you down try to understand why they do what they do. If that isn’t possible then forgive them anyway. Let things go and move on—life is too short to hang on to ‘stuff.’

…Always remember that people’s opinions are just that—you don’t have to buy into it if it seems stupid. Who made them the authority anyway?

…Trust your Inner Knowing…it is a far better yardstick than other people’s opinion and their rejection of you and your ideas.

…Don’t borrow trouble---worrying and fearing things can draw them to you. Half of what we worry about never happens so don’t waste time and energy on things until they actually happen.

…Watch what you ask you--you could get it!

…God never promised us a rose garden--but stop and smell them anyway.

…Make wishes upon stars, keep dreaming your dreams and make your passions happen.

…When people give you a compliment—don’t counter it and accept it graciously.

…Pay attention to the little things that make life sweet. Remember to feel wind cooling your face on a hot summer day; enjoy the scent of lilacs in the spring, hoar frost in the winter and the way everything smells after a rainfall. Think of those who are disabled in some way and cannot taste, feel touch, smell, see and hear. Little things can be big blessings!

…Ask yourself on a regular basis…if you were to die today how would people remember you?

…Don’t buy into stereotypes. How people look on the outside doesn’t matter. Everyone bleeds the same color and our differences fade when we look for common ground.

…Keep the kid in you nourished...that is where innocence, joy, enchantment and the unlimited possibilities of magical thinking originate. When you lose touch with that side of yourself life can get old and stale really fast.

…Believe in yourself or no one else will.

…Listen to your inner own knowing and trust it.

…It’s okay to be funky, dress the way you want and express who you are at any point in life.

…Age is only a number. How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?

…Respect and love everything within in nature. Creatures large and small are God’s gift to us to let us know we are not alone. Look for treasures and bring them home as a reminder of your connection to the natural world. Celebrate each rite of passage with something special.

...Remember that we are all like butterflies. We come from closed, cocoon stages then as we grow and evolve we emerge and are finally able to fly free with our own wings.

… You are only young once but can be a kid forever…if you allow yourself. You’re never too old to enjoy teddy bears, stuffed toys, dolls cars, trains or whatever else makes you happy.

…Animals and other creatures have feelings. Pay attention and treat them gently and cause no harm to any living thing. They have a right to be here and fulfill a part of God’s plan for creation.

…Dog’s ability to love us unconditionally is the way God loves us—maybe that is why dog is GOD spelled backwards.

…Kneel down to eye level when talking to children it creates a feeling of equality.

…When guests come to visit always remember that love is in the details. Create a lovely setting, bring out the best linens, special soaps and create ambiance. Then while you’re cooking stir a whole bunch of love into the mix. When it is time to eat say a prayer of grace and let them know how fortunate you feel to have them in your life. Without loving families and friends life can be hard to bear.

…To have a friend you need to be one. Reach out, stay in touch and be there through the good and hard times.

…When you talk to people look always look into their eyes, pay attention and really listen. Don’t interrupt. When you do offer a sincere apology and strive to become a more attentive listener.

…It is easy to take things for granted. Be sure to express gratitude, say that you let others know what you value about who they are and what they do.

…It is not the size or cost of a gift that counts…only how much love, care and thought went into it.

…Remember to feed the sparrows in the winter. God leaves them behind to remind us that during the longest, coldest, darkest days of winter that spring will come again.

…Don’t go away mad and hold anger in…make peace before the sun goes down or you may not get a chance.

…Each day is a clean slate--what are you going to write on it?

…Negative mind chatter prevents your ability to hear your own knowing…so go to that quiet place within. Ask, be willing to receive and trust what you are given.

…When you begin working save something from every paycheck…and pay yourself first. When you look after the pennies the dollars will eventually look after themselves. Saving for a ‘sunny day’ fun gives a sense of security rather than spending everything you make.

…Think ahead…there are consequences for everything you say and do.

…I don’t mind getting older when I think of the other alternative.

…Winkles…I don’t care about them because they show that I’ve lived, loved, cried, smiled and laughed.

…When you value something in who others are...or what they do…don’t be shy. Make a point of telling them. Life is made up of experiences and events that create who we are and what we become. Do your best to make the ripples positive because we may never pass this way again.

…When things feel overwhelming with no way out hold on to the fact that God is always there. Ask and you shall receive the answers you seek and trust that the light will shine through the shadows…because it always does. I know that as surely as day follows night and the sun comes out after it rains.

So these are some of the most valuable life lessons my mother taught me and I live by them and share them with others her legacy lives on.

I love you Mom...thanks for being who you were...and are! We had a good ride together and our love lives on...somewhere over the rainbow bridge in the next realm.