STUCCO SPIRITUALITY

So, today I want to write to you about stucco.

Okay, I know.

Stay with me?

I am in the midst of some pretty major home renovations. It began with impact windows, the cost of which was a very major impact to my bank account! Sixteen windows, a patio door, and three standard doors.
,br> Wow. Ouch. And thankful it is done and paid for.

Our home is of CBS construction, except for an add-on Florida room. The original owners built the Florida room of wood sometime in the early 60’s. There was some minor rotting to the wood when I purchased the house almost twenty years ago. It has progressed to the point where it proved to be problematic to the impact window job. I knew it was time to have some serious work done on that part of the house. One section of the wood had to be replaced to be able to support the weight of the impact window. After some investigation and advice from others far more knowledgeable about such things I contracted someone to stucco the outside of the Florida room.

Stucco.

Still with me?

The general contractor brought a laborer to assess the situation. A job cost was given, which, while high, seemed tame after paying for the impact windows. As I listened to the gentleman describe his process details, I was internally troubled by what seemed to me to be a missing aspect of the job.

He kept speaking of applying stucco over the existing wood.

Wood which was noticeably rotting.

I politely thanked him and him that I would let them know.

I let my contractor immediately know: no way.

He confirmed my assessment and said he would find someone that would replace the rotting wood, and then stucco over top of it.

So, why am I sharing these details with you?

My early days of new thought spirituality were revelatory, radical, and extremely exciting. They were also largely about the externals of my life. While I did not realize it at the time, they were a lot like applying effectual stucco over rotting wood consciousness.

Are you with me?

I know you are.

Trying to fix and plaster over situations and circumstances without addressing the underlying causal consciousness will always be a temporary distraction.

Had the first laborer applied stucco over the rotting wood it most likely would have appeared to solve the problem. It could have been painted over and looked great.

Temporarily.

The wood would have continued to rot under the stucco, and, after a time period, the stucco would have fallen away. It would have revealed the unattended rotting which would have advanced under the surface of the stucco.

Can I get a witness?

When spirituality is primarily about the surface it is much like stucco. Conditions and circumstances are always effects of our underlying consciousness. We all have some level of unconsciousness which amounts to our own personal “rotting.” This results in a level of discomfort and discontent. We don’t like what is showing up. Especially when it repeatedly shows up. In earlier stages of spirituality, we then try and stucco over the conditions we do not want to see. We misuse affirmations and plaster our minds with vision boards while skipping the most crucial step in any transformation.

We must deal with the rotting wood of old limiting beliefs. Outmoded senses of self. Core beliefs that bind and constrict. We must attend to consciously what lies within our own unconsciousness. Otherwise, we will stucco over the rotten consciousness with something that appears better temporarily. It will appear shiny and new.

And then…

The underlying “rotting” will advance while we are entranced with the surface. At some point sooner or later the surface stucco will fall away and the causal consciousness, in all of its rottenness, will be worse than ever.

A house or a home is always metaphysically representative of a field of consciousness. If a home is not properly maintained problems begin to occur. Short term fixes can lead to long term problems. Pink painting over rotten wood is a very short-term fix. Plastering stucco over rotten wood may buy more time. And it does not address the real issue. The causal issue.

When there is something amiss in my experience, I now know enough to explore the interior first, rather than trying to only fix external conditions. If there is rotting and decay, it is first and foremost in my field. It is causal. It is in consciousness. Everything out there reflects something in here. Always. Every time. No excepptions.

Every external problem must be resolved at the internal level.

I did my share of stuccoing over rotten wood in my consciousness. It never lasted. The effects I thought would solve the problem and satisfy my longing always fell away. I am grateful to know that. Very grateful. Grateful enough to want to share it with you.

I have moved from stucco to foundational spirituality. It does not mean I do not address circumstances and effects. I just do it at the causal level. I do it beneath the surface. I address my own wood rot rather than blaming and damning outer conditions. I attend to the withinness and then I seek to make the outer as pretty as is possible. I like beautiful things. But I do not identify with them. I live by the admonition “as within, so without.” As I let the outer reflect my transformed interior my life and my “house” get better and better. More and more beautiful at the real and depth level.

And as a result, my inner house is solid and stable. Much of the rotting has been exposed and attended to. I am not seduced into believing that if I stucco over problems the problems go away. Denial and suppression are not healing. Covering over and pretense are not healing. The rotting occurs in aspects of consciousness that indeed need to be exposed and that ultimately need to die. Only sustained, unflinching, and compassionate presence can do that.

It is indeed an inside job.

I type these words to the staccato rhythm of hammering that is the sound of the workers applying new wood to my Florida room. That wood then will sustain the soon to be applied stucco. I am confident in that the causal problem is being addressed and corrected first. I am grateful to immediately recognize the bigger-picture lesson, and I share it in hopes that it will be helpful to someone else.

A stucco spirituality isn’t about hiding the underneath.

A stucco spirituality is about deeply knowing that everything occurs in consciousness first. If you want a different result, you must deal with what may be rotting underneath. Do your inner work first. Forgive. Pray. Look intimately within. Be courageous. Be diligent. Address the inner and then have fun redecorating the outer. The more you put into the interior the more stable and lasting will be exterior effects.

Impact windows. Replacing rotting wood. Stucco. And finally, a new paint job. I picked a color called Kind Green. Got to love it. All part of making a house a suitable and sustainable home. Strong walls and supports. Pretty, warm, and even “kind” exterior.

Just like in here.

YOU CANNOT GET IT BACK

Date night by yourself is surely a different experience.

I have been questioned several times recently about what is going on a) with my husband’s health, and b) why I have not been more public about that.

Alright. I guess that is valid.

So maybe today is the day. And I guess this will be the vehicle. After all, I do call this blog RADICAL EXPRESSION.

In 2016 my husband Donald was diagnosed erroneously with Alzheimer’s Disease. This came less than two months after my mothers passing. To say that I was devastated is the king of all understatements.

I felt shattered.

Donald was emphatic that he did not want other people to know about what was going on in him and for us. While I honored his request, I also knew I could not cut myself off from the support of those closest to me. With his hesitant permission, I was able to slightly enlarge our circle of transparency and so support.

One person particularly close to us helped us get into a research center that was Alzheimer’s specific. While I am leaving out many details for brevities sake, Donald and I began an adventure in Alzheimer’s that lasted for over two years.

In most ways Donald received excellent support and care. And yet something felt off about it, at least for me. I noticed physical symptoms that did not coincide with the usual effects of that kind of dementia. I brought this to the attention of the head of the research center, who assured me I was mistaken about what I increasingly believed to be a misdiagnosis. I stubbornly pointed to what I saw to be an extremely different trajectory of the disease. Donald was not declining at the rate typical of an Alzheimer’s patient. While grateful for that I was also internally nagged that the doctors were missing and so not treating what was going really on.

At the end of a rather contentious session at the center a palpable dawning occurred for the lead neurologist.

His usually booming and assured voice dropped several decimals as he said, “I think I may have been mistaken.”

And so ended our journey with Alzheimer’s.

And so began our journey with Lewy Body dementia.

Donald was and is a genius. That has gifted him with a brain that compensates in miraculous ways for the losses the growths are neurologically claiming. The trajectory and prognosis for patients of Lewy Body dementia is always unique. Donald’s has been comparatively slow.

Until recently.

As privately as Donald wanted to traverse through this illness it is no longer possible. Many obvious physical symptoms telegraph not exactly what is occurring, but certainly that something serious is occurring. It can no longer be hidden. He now requires a level of constant care. While I am blessed to be generously gifted with some in-home care for him, it is mostly mine to feed, dress, and provide for his everyday needs. His opportunities to venture away from home are minimal at this point.

Subsequently, so are mine.

He remains the undeniably adorable expression of humanity that I fell in love with more than thirteen and a half years ago. He is cognitively still at a relatively high level of function, especially for where we are in the typical progression. He has moments of wit that still bring me to gales of laughter. His smile still melts me. His eyes still dazzle me. He is still Donald.

And the Lewy Body rheostat dims his expression slightly with every passing day.

He is still Donald.

And yet somehow, he is not.

Little, almost imperceptible parts of him are lost, and I cannot get them back.

I cannot get him back.

No matter how well I feed and dress him, I cannot get him back.

No matter how privately I go about this, I cannot get him back.

No matter how much I am criticized or praised for how I go about this, I cannot get him back.

As I have an aide who watches over him on Friday evenings, I have taken to allowing myself an evening away from home on that night. It is my version of a date night. Except it is without my favorite date.

Last evening, I went to an outside café in a busy public space. It is somewhere Donald and I had been together. As I settled into a table and awaited my dinner, I looked around at a bustle of people all going about their Friday evening activities. I recalled the last time Donald and I had visited this spot together. I pondered our level of engagement at that time. What we said and what we did not say. What we might have said had me known it would be our last chance to date night there together.

As I glanced about, I noticed a couple at a nearby table. They were busily scrolling on their phones, seemingly oblivious to each other’s presence.

I wanted to go to them. I wanted to grab away their phones. I wanted to implore them to look at each other. To listen to each other. To speak openly to each other. To be fully there for each other. I wanted to somehow impress upon them to relish each precious moment they had together.

I wanted to shout to them: "Be together!Be here, now! Do not lose this experience!Do not miss this chance! You cannot get it back!"

Dammit. You cannot get it back.

To you reading these feeble yet heart-felt words: you cannot get it back. Each wondrous, awkward, painful, joyful, heart opening-breaking moment. Once they are gone you cannot get them back.

And so I am here to tell you that date night by yourself is surely a different experience.

And I chose to be fully present to the experience that I was having, as I allowed myself to simply have it. All of it. The memories and the current reality. What I have lost, and what I still have. The man Donald was, and the man Donald is now. Even with the rheostat continuing to dim, he is still the only man for me. He is still warm, smart, adorable, and witty. No one has ever loved me like Donald loves me. And I have never loved anyone the way I love Donald. And while Lewy Body can take many things it cannot take our love. No diagnosis can rob us of that. The prognosis is our love is forever. It is undimmable.

This is long. This is not really the blog I set out to write. I suspect it is more than most of you will want to read, let alone digest.

Yet it is what my heart feels compelled to share. It is what is currently unfolding for Donald and I. When asked for transparency I will not veil it with filters for other people’s comfort.

When asked to be real I give you what is real.What is raw.What is authentic and vital. And once I share it I do so knowing I cannot take it back.

And so my words go forth.

And I cannot get them back.