Heart Book Series

In my work as a career coach, I consistently advise my clients to look for the gifts in every job, especially the current one where they may most feel trapped and miserable. It’s well worth the time to review and identify the very best lesson, experience, or skill picked up from each position in each company. This exercise helps replace feelings of regret or dissatisfaction with gratitude and appreciation which helps a person move on toward success and realizing their full potential.

Being a coach who believes in “walking the talk,” I too have performed this analysis on my own job history. My very first job while in high school as a “kennel girl” at a veterinarian’s office taught me about customer service, the business side of pet care, and showed me the true value of pets in human lives. Summer jobs during college as an office clerk at a copper mine gave me opportunities to learn new skills and understand the operations of a large company. Retail work during the school year provided spending money and a social network.

As my focus on pursuing a career after college increased, I became aware of a different level of gifts and lessons. Working for small, entrepreneurial companies built the desire and experience needed to follow my dream of owning a business. A career in the staffing industry allowed me to hone my operations and supervisory skills and to understand the importance of matching employee talents with the right job. A position as a project manager gave me the appreciation of seemingly minute details required to implement new processes. I can look back at each and every job ever held and clearly see why I was there and how it helped me get to where I am today – the owner of successful career coaching and organizational training company. 

However, there was one job experience that baffled me. About 12 years ago, I spent two years working in a large retail organization moving up through the ranks to Assistant Manager of a multi-million dollar store. The gift of this job continued to elude me during my review over the years of its many components. It was perhaps one of my least gratifying jobs with more negative memories than positive. I could easily identify lessons learned about those things I didn’t want to repeat–the awful hours, a restrictive environment, and poor management practices. I knew there had to be something good there and was determined to pinpoint it. Just recently, I did find that one gift.

Like most of us, the values and priorities I expected from my work life shifted and I moved from being so very work focused to having a more holistic view of all my life’s components. Other facets developed and took precedence: the love of family and friends, the importance of life-work balance, good health, spirituality, and the need for a sense of meaning and purpose in all my activities. As I reviewed that particular job again after having made this mental shift, the gift became very clear–my friend Sharon.

Sharon was my co-assistant manager at the store and we developed a fun working relationship–first based on our mutual discontent and knowing that there was a better way to work–and then from our curiosity and true appreciation of each other’s strengths.  Eventually, we each found different job directions and moved on with our careers outside of that retail experience. Our friendship then really blossomed and became a strong and supportive one. When it’s so easy to stay in touch and get together regularly, even years later, that is a sign to me of something truly meant to be. Through these last dozen years, we have helped each other through life’s ups and downs and share an unbreakable bond–one based on trust, respect, and love. 

Now I look back on that one particular job and see how its gift was the best of all–a constant reminder of what’s truly important, more so than the paycheck, the career path, or any work related lesson – the precious gift of friendship.

While I stood there in disbelief, thinking of my options, the sound floated into the hallway—the primal scream of a mortally wounded dinosaur. Should I meet him on his terms? Should I retaliate? I turned without a word, went into my office, and closed the door. It is better to act than to react.

Major Miller did not agree with a course of action I had laid out for him. We discussed it, but I did not adopt his way of thinking.  He could not contain his anger. In my nine years on the Army Staff in the Pentagon, this was the only incident when someone so strongly and openly disagreed with me.

Coming to work in the Pentagon was distasteful for many officers. There is a popular cliché portrayed on postcards and other memorabilia, “Happiness is the Pentagon in the rear view mirror.” Officers coming into our division usually had been in command of troops. They were accustomed to being the leader in their units. In the Pentagon, they had a desk job in a cubicle, without a secretary or staff of any kind. Yet, a tour of duty in the Pentagon was necessary for moving up in the ranks. There, officers learned things they would never be exposed to in the units, like the culmination of the budget process, force planning data and assumptions, and preparing general officers for their Congressional testimony, among many things. They also had an opportunity to work closely with civilians in the Department of Defense.

Major Miller is a good man, a dedicated soldier with sound values. He had simply encountered a different kind of tension in this job, a civilian woman in authority, and he didn’t know how to handle it. The sound of his pounding floated into the office of the Director, a Major General (two stars insignia). After a short while the general’s executive officer (XO), crossed the hall. He knew that my boss was on Temporary Duty, out of town. The XO opened my office door, stuck his head in and asked “Is everything okay?” I nodded, “Yes.” He closed the door and went back to his office. That sign of affirmation and trust, and others like it, kept me going when otherwise my knees may have buckled.

After some time, Major Miller regained his composure and came in to see me, apologetic and ready to get to work. I was neither vindictive nor angry. His outburst had not diminished my standing or my self-esteem. He soon transferred out of the office.

During times of emergency regular duty hours in our area went out the window. Often it was 7:00 PM or later before we left the building. On one occasion, it was 10:00 PM before I got home. There were no taxis in sight.

Walking from the Metro rail station to my condo took me down a dirt road traveled only by our shuttle bus which had stopped running by the time I arrived. Two parallel ruts, a small clearing, then underbrush and trees—we had been warned of robberies that occurred along this road. This was in the days before cell phones and I was afraid.

My heart pounded—would the gate to the condo complex be chained? How could I get around the enclosure if it were? I nervously fingered my pass card as I neared the gate. The night was dark. God is good, the pass card slipped into the groove on the second try and the gate release clicked. I pushed and the bars began to move. Within seconds I was in the lighted parking lot. My steps quickened and soon I was inside Building 4 where I lived. The upholstered furniture in the foyer was very inviting, but I resisted. Upstairs I had a drink and fell into bed. Knowing that morning was not far away. When we realize the value of what we do, we are inclined to do whatever it takes to get the job done.

It was another exciting day. A unit commander who had served in our office when he was a young major, needed help quickly—desperately. He had orders to move his troops as quickly as possible from the tree-studded hillsides in Germany to the hot desert sands of Saudi Arabia. Saddam Hussein had already invaded Kuwait—no one knew where he would strike next. The adrenaline was pumping! This commander had a serious computer problem. If it didn’t get fixed, troops in the Middle East would not get the supplies they needed. In the fog of war, his regular chain of command was not responsive. He called me.

“I need some help here,” he said and then explained his situation. I called the experts at the Logistics Center in Petersburg, VA. They gave the computer problem the necessary priority and the mission was accomplished. Sounds easy, doesn‘t it? Creative thinking, professionalism and dedication to duty saved the day.

A few years later, as I stood in the line of well wishers at a Change of Command ceremony in Pennsylvania, I spotted that officer in line ahead of me. He was then Chief of Staff of an Army Depot, a colonel with eagle insignia on his uniform. I stepped out of line and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and in what seemed like slow motion, a huge smile spread across his face as he recognized me. He abruptly stepped out of line, grabbed me around the waist, lifted me off my feet, and began whirling me around! It was surreal! “Here’s a colonel in full uniform with his boss standing nearby,” I thought, “whirling me around and around!” It was like a warrior’s homecoming, our own Times Square celebration. He was very happy! I was embarrassed but very happy, too.

Celebration is good for the soul. Too often we demure, “It was nothing,” and short circuit someone else’s thanksgiving.
Whether on the battlefields of war or the battlefields of business, personal power is important. Be real. Know who you are. Value loyalty to your country and your God. Speak your truths and respect others. You have the power.
The Army is a family. It’s their culture. As a civilian employee, I was family, too.

In our organization departing personnel received a large picture of the Pentagon surrounded by a wide white mat. The print and mat were circulated among the staff for comments, kudos, and farewells, then framed and presented to the departing person.

My father was especially pleased that one of his children was working in the Pentagon. When he was hospitalized in Corpus Christi, Texas, with congestive heart failure, I asked one of the officers if I could get the print matted for my father. He wanted to know more. I explained about my father’s condition and suggested that our Director, Major General Akin, might sign it. The officer said he’d see what he could do.

After a few days he presented me with a framed, matted print for my father.
Our Director was away, so took the picture to the next level. Lieutenant General Ross, the Deputy Chief of Staff for Logistics, a three-star general. General Ross personalized it.

MR FREDDIE FOUNTENO
Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff for Logistics
Headquarters Department of the Army, Pentagon, April 1991.
“Mr. Founteno, We share your pride in Jo and the super job she has done for the Army. She is clearly one of our best. Please accept with our compliments this symbol of our nation’s defense.”

One might suggest that the comments about me were exaggerated and I would not argue. My father was so pleased, he had a nurse post the framed print in the hallway outside his room so everyone going by could see it. He died May 9, 1991.

Great people are never too important or too busy to take time for others.

-Jo Condrill, CEO of GoalMinds, Inc., www.GoalMinds.com

What does it take for a woman to successfully lead a diverse group of seasoned personnel? The Secretary of the Army awarded Jo Condrill The Decoration for Exceptional Civilian Service. It is the highest award possible for a civilian employee.

When it comes to down to it, all any of us want in our lives, is just one, great, image to be remembered by… is it too much to ask? And our biggest fear is that we will be caught looking hideous and that is how we will be thought of… FOREVER!!!  

When we first start out in business, we are always trying to find that one thing we are good at, I was fortunate to find my "good at" thing when I was 20 and became a portrait photographer. When I first started, I asked myself, "What makes an image look great?"

At first I thought, good lighting (bought that), then a cool studio (got that), great equipment (check), then I became skilled at hair and make up and wardrobe… still, with all that, I noticed there were photos that had of none of these advantages but still looked great.

So I asked myself, "What is it that makes an image look great?" And the answer came "Capturing the real person." REAL, that’s what we love, no fake smiles, real ones, no trying to look confident, real confidence. How do you get that out of a person? How do you capture that which is secret and guarded? 

I’d spend an hour getting everything set up right, putting them together so they look perfect and then stick them out there and say. "Be Real!" My clients just stood there asking me what to do. And at first I really didn’t know, I just knew I wanted them to be comfortable and have a fun and successful experience at my studio. I would start telling them a funny story, maybe one that wasn’t funny when it happened to me… but one that was real. I put on their favorite music. I ask them about their lives, what they like, what they love, who they love. I devoted myself to them and who they really are, relinquishing and resonating with their individuality… creating special moments in my studio where people are truly and deeply connected, connected enough to show me their real self.

So how can YOU take a good picture of someone?
By first giving to them from your heart, then all you need to do is push the button!

To produce a different result, something will need to change. What you have done up until now has gotten you where you are. Doing the same thing going forward is going to keep you there.

Change can be frightening and uncomfortable. That’s why many people choose to continue repeating past behaviors rather than risking a change that will take them to their most cherished goal or dream.

The decision to leave the corporate world to start my own business a few years ago was a major change for me. I knew that in order to pursue my dream of helping people become more empowered, fulfilled and successful, I had to make a change. It required me stepping out of my comfort zone and taking risks with no guarantee of success. No doubt, it has been one of the most challenging things I’ve ever done, but making this change has also led to success and opportunities I would have never imagined.

1.    Decide that you will make a change.
Hope is not a strategy. Rather than sitting around hoping things will change, decide that you will commit to doing something different in order to create different results in your life, your relationships or your career. 

2.    Get clear on your desired outcome.
It’s hard to hit a target you can’t see.  If you don’t know where you are going, how will you know when you get there? Where do you see yourself once the change has become a reality? What is important about the goal?

3.    Create a plan.
Develop a plan to use as your roadmap and guide. It is easier to make progress when you have outlined the steps to take. A clear plan will act as a compass to keep you on course amidst the hundreds of distractions you will face along the way.

4.    Get into action.
Once you decide to make a change, it’s time to take action. Many people get stuck at this crucial step, letting their fear of the unknown stop them from moving forward. By taking action, you create momentum and positive energy to propel you forward.

I used to spend a lot of time trying to impress,
Little did I realize how it added to my stress.

My zealousness for business and my desire to succeed,
Led me at times to stretch the truth, exaggerate, mislead.

Name-dropping, bragging or a little white lie,
It’s harmless I’d say, I must impress, or at least try.

My home is the biggest, I make lots of money,
My spouse the most wonderful, my world is sunny.

Look at me! Look at me! Do you think I’m great?
I’m not quite sure, how do I rate?

Later I’d lament that all was not well,
What in the world was I trying to sell?

It was then that I learned as I worked with my coach,
That perhaps what I needed was an adjusted approach.

Be humble, speak the truth, understate, promise less,
This new way of thinking would be key to success.

As I shifted my focus and turned inward to grow,
I discovered the truth that I had longed to know.

I’m truly enough, just as I am, being me
No exaggeration necessary, WOW, I feel free!

Even though equality in the workplace has been around for many years now, in some of the larger firms, mid-level and executive management positions are still doled out to members of the “good-ol’-boys” club.  Women have had to overcome the stigma to even be recognized for their accomplishments, to earn the right to compete for these positions.  Once there, they possess and offer what no man can.

Newer thinking firms embrace women in management positions and acknowledge they bring compassion, nurturing, and determination to the table. Compassion underlies the understanding that both the firm’s employees and its clients are human beings first and an “entity,” second. Nurturing is that innate mothering instinct that helps ensure that everyone is encouraged to do their best, they are taught to be independent, and provide a working environment that is conducive to both the employee and the firm. Determination means that she will stop at nothing to protect what is hers, with the veracity and ferociousness of a mother tiger, but with tenderness to encourage those in her care to prosper and be productive. 

The "good-ol’-boys" will always be part of the "good-ol’-boys" club, but firms wanting to move ahead in today’s market will look at women to lead the way.

Heart of a Woman in Business is an inspirational collection celebrating working women and their unique contributions to the global workplace. This “here’s how,” sisters-sharing-with-sisters book shares their authentic stories, and offers “here’s how” and “I did it, you can too!” Selections offer strategies, practical information, career-bolstering lessons, insights, affirmations, poems, prayers and quotations.

Whether you already own a business, planning to start one, or working in a job you love.

Chapters include: The Driving Force; Fulfilling Your Soul; Polishing Business Skills; Workplace Wit; Best Practices; Transitions from the Day Job to Your Own Job; The Entrepreneurial Spirit; Business Builders; Nurturing Our Mind, Body & Spirit; and Whispers of Wisdom.

Submissions include: career dreams come true; self-worth; goal setting; the history of women in business and as inventors; leadership and ambition; humor in the workplace; change, stress and time management; inner guidance and intuition; business promotion; hiring and firing; ways to rejuvenate and recharge; fitness tips at your desk; mid-life career transitions; and being a working mother.

The 240-page book features top talent and experts, including: celebrity personal trainer Jeanie Callen Barat; financial alchemist Morgana Rae; presentation skills from Juliet Funt (daughter of Candid Camera’s Alan Funt); having a leap of faith, from Sharon Wilson of Chicken Soup for the Soul: Life Lessons for Mastering the Law of Attraction; Life at the Pentagon from Jo Condrill; Hill Street Blues costume designer Karen Hudson; and sage advice from Oprah.

Quotations of inspiration include: Mary Kay Ash; Debbie Fields; Steve Forbes; Michael Gerber; Louise Hay; Kathy Ireland; Andrea Jung, Avon; Anthony Robbins; Martha Stewart; Donald Trump; Madam C.J. Walker, first black female millionaire; Marianne Williamson; plus the Founders/CEOs of Amazon, com, Apple, Craig’s List, Dell Computer, Google, McDonald’s, Microsoft, Starbucks; The Body Shop, Virgin Airlines, and Wal-Mart.

ISBN: 978-1-880878-19-4
$16.95 US, releasing October 1, 2008, 288 pages
Trade Paperback, 6×7”
Inspiration/Business/Self-Help
Sparkle Press

Other Books by Sheryl L. Roush:
Heart of a Woman, ISBN, 978-1-880878-13-2
Corazón de Mujer (Heart of a Woman in Spanish),  ISBN 978-1-880878-16-3
Heart of a Mother, ISBN, 978-1-880878-14-9
Heart of a Mother–Book & Music CD, ISBN 978-1-880878-18-7
Heart of the Holidays, ISBN 978-1-880878-15-6

Although it really does feel like you are at the mercy of other people’s emotions, you can stay in an energy that serves you best. You don’t have to get on the emotional roller coaster with them. When you allow yourself to become more of an observer in any given situation you free yourself from believing you are being personally attacked or that you need to solve their stuff. It helps you remember they are speaking from their truth and it doesn’t necessarily represent your truth. When you know who you are, how you want to feel and that you really do want the highest good for all involved, you create an energetic vibration that can move from you to them, ultimately changing the outcome of any situation allowing you to walk away feeling good that you stayed connected to your energy.

My career celebrates who I really am.

I am living my most pure essence, with ease and grace, living creatively every project, task, day.

I know in my heart “the right thing to do,” and with integrity and respect, I do it.

I honor myself for my choices.

By aligning with my calling, I am living my heart’s desire and my higher purpose.

With ease and grace, I make decisions.

Business and opportunities flow abundantly to me, because I am living my truth, living my passion, and living my calling.

I honor my body, listen to it, and nurture it.

Today and every day, I expect great things.

I open my heart, my mind, and my spirit to the Guidance of God.

I am willing to see my magnificence.

I am willing to receive all abundant gifts from the Universe.

I graciously receive praise and prosperity.

I honor my path as well as the path of others.

Being an eight-time entrepreneur, I can attest to the best business school courses worthy of consideration, with the lowest tuition yet the highest return. Some of the most valuable ethics were those role modeled by my mother. To support the family income, and to get her out of the house being a young stay-at-home mom, she was the door-to-door Avon lady. Since my two brothers were old enough to attend school, she carted me around on her weekly routes. Believe it or not, I was quite shy, so she made me meet people – which translated later into natural networking skills.

A few years later, to help put my brothers through college, mom starting selling Amway products, and our household was one of the first to use biodegradable products – a truly novel “green” concept at that time. When I was 14, she dragged me to an Amway “Revival” where I heard my first motivational speaker, Charlie “Tremendous” Jones. Today, we are colleagues in the National Speakers Association, and I’M a motivational speaker! From painfully shy to inspirationally high! (We never know where the seeds are going to be planted.)

From mom, I learned Midwestern values, work hard, show respect, do right, have integrity, help others, and what I now know as good old-fashioned customer service skills.

“Know what you want in life—and go for it.” A child of the Depression, at 18, mom moved herself from the farm in Iowa, with only $10, and her best girlfriend to “get a life” in California. She taught me about goal setting and visualization, without ever using the phrases. (I was named after that best girlfriend.)

“Be positive.” Attitude truly does make a difference in our ability to succeed—I’m convinced of that! In challenges where I have not yet developed the skills, it’s been having a positive attitude has catapulted me through the fears. As a speaker on the topic today, I believe that Faith is the “compass” of Attitude. We’ve also got to believe in ourselves.

“You can do anything you put your mind to.” A secret dream of Mom was to compete in the Olympics. At 68, she was selected to carry the Olympic Torch, on its way from San Diego to the 1984 Los Angeles Games. When I started a business at age 16 in the patio of my parents’ home, she encouraged and helped me with the silk-screening of t-shirts and bumper stickers. (My first “client” was the Shriners.)

 “Use what you’ve been given.” We each have skills, talents and unique abilities. As a youth, I was a graphic artist with a typewriter and mimeograph paper. (Remember those?) Mom constantly volunteered me to donate time designing the boating club and church newsletters. Later I earned four international design awards for newsletters (Top Ten in the world), have written five books and have presented seminars in eight countries on the topic. (It’s as if she knew…)

The best business school courses I’ve ever attended have been those in the classroom of life with Mom as my Teacher.

Roush paralleled Roddenberry’s early Star Trek "Communicator" with today’s flip-open cellphone, as well as the "Tricorder" device to today’s iPhone technology. She stated that unlike most "science fiction," Star Trek and Roddenberry’s ideas were "science fact" that were either medically or scientifically proven–or could be–created. True enough. "Phaser pistols" became today’s laser technology.

Even if you are "not into" Toastmasters or Star Trek, just remember this…
"Resistance IS futile. You will be assimilated!"

This touching tribute to fathers is created by Heart of the Holidays book contributor, Terri Marie Whitewing, of White Wing Entertainment.

Thank You Fathers
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cYDzY70Iu1A

She invites you to pass this along as an electronic greeting card.

Looking at the calendar I realize how close we are to the vernal equinox. Since Tita died last December, I have not taken a walk in my neighborhood. I just became aware of this; I have missed watching the trees at the end of Park Boulevard dance with the breeze, apparently unaware of their bareness, on this soon to end winter.

I have lived in University Heights for almost six years. Through all this time, Tita and I tried different routes on our daily walks but we always returned to the northernmost block of Park Boulevard. Tita loved being recognized and petted by the storekeepers along the street and I loved keeping track of the passage of the months by observing the trees lining the street. Those trees were the constant measure, the chart by which I knew the season we were in. Those trees marked consistently the perimeter of the circles in my life.

Whoever says we have no seasons in Southern California is not very observant. It doesn’t matter how much we humans wish to detach ourselves from nature, we possess an innate internal compass pointing toward it. This compass is not obvious to everyone. Most of us live life immersed in what we call “life and living;” our daily routines of ‘important’ jobs, superfluous diversions, inadequate nourishment for our physical survival, and a lack of awareness of who we are and what we are doing.

To keep it all in context, I wander through life watching the sun’s light change its hue, angle, and intensity; tracking the phases of the moon on the firmament; and absorbing the subtle changes around me. One thing I have observed so far, and of this I am certain: life is a puzzle of cycles, of circles. We journey through intellectual, physical, emotional, as well as spiritual cycles. And it all moves forth in such a flux of experiences that, oftentimes, we are unaware of their endless repetition.

Some of the cycles we go through that appear more relevant to some of us are the emotional cycles. Often, when we experience loss, we focus so much on loss that we do not realize it is only one aspect of a much greater cycle, but not its entirety. To experience loss, we have to experience its opposite, the prior absence in our lives of that which we have lost. We also dismiss the process by which what we lost came into our lives, how we became engaged and related with someone or something. The intensity with which we experience loss has to do not with a constant that applies to everybody, but with a variant that is our own individual perception of emotions and values.

I grew up in Mexico, where pets are not part of the family but rather third-class members of the household. I remember our poor dog, “Consentido”—his name means spoiled and trust me he was far from that—eating leftovers at the very end of our meals. There were no pet stores where one could walk in with a dog to buy toys, special food, treats, and all these things Americans afford their pets. Hell, for all I remember, we were struggling to feed ourselves!

Then I moved to the U.S. where I met Cuauhtli and Tizoc, two beautiful Xolo Izcuintle breeds who taught me a different way to relate to dogs. They were walked twice a day, ate special foods, and slept at night with Kish, their owner, who preferred to sleep with them instead of his human lover.

 A few years later, after I begged my friend Kish for a dog, and after I put up with him for months on end telling me I would never make a good parent, Tita, a perfect mix of Xolo and Italian Greyhound, arrived one Christmas day and life was never the same.

Falling in love with her was very easy. It was essentially love at first sight. I remember Kish walking in with this tiny, dark charcoal-colored bundle in his arms. He laid her on the floor; she looked up at me and then started shaking violently. She was afraid of those strange surroundings. My parental instincts kicked in instantly.

Kish told me I needed to find a name for her. I didn’t hesitate for a moment—the scene in my favorite movie, Like Water for Chocolate, in which the main character, Tita, had been beaten by her mother and was hiding in the dove cot, where the doctor came and found her shaken and bloody, came rushing to my head—and in one breath I said, “Her name is Tita.” Never mind that was the name we grew up calling my older sister. In Mexico it is not considered an honor to have a pet named after a human, particularly a family member, but I did it anyway. That was the first huge sign that my attitude towards pets had changed greatly.

Staying in love with Tita was not as easy; it was somewhat challenging at times. I look back now and I can think of more than one thing I would happily give to relive the same situations all over again.

I remember her as a puppy, waking me up in the middle of the night. I would get up thinking she needed to go out to do her business, but she would look at me happily wagging her tail and all she wanted to do was play. She did this at two or three a.m. I must tell you here that I am a Leo. You can mess with anything but my meals and my sleep; so you can imagine how ‘excited’ I was.

I also remember taking her to the park one cold winter morning. She was wearing her brand new sweater when she took off running and disappeared for a while. After I saw no sign of her coming back to me as she always did, I started calling her. She returned covered in human poop, proud as could be, and very eager to kiss me showing off her newest favorite scent. I was irate. I threw her in the back of my red pick up, took her home, and hosed her down with freezing water—I know, all of you dog-lovers hate me right now…but it worked. She never did that again. She would find poop along our walks and she would pretend it wasn’t a big deal; and she made sure I saw her ignore the poop.

Then there was the time she ran right into a cactus and came back to me screaming with needles all over her butt. When she tried to take them out with her mouth she got them on her tongue also. So I sat there, on the side of the road, plucking needles out of my dog’s mouth and butt. She cried with every needle I pulled out.

It was not only trouble she got into. She would also make me feel very special. Anyone who has a dog knows about those welcome-home displays of happiness from the little ones. When I was coping with my mother’s passing, Tita would lick my tears at night whenever I was having some distressing dream and woke up crying. There were also those times when I would catch her looking at me as if I was the most beautiful and perfect thing on the face of the earth. I don’t know if she was thinking of a juicy steak but it certainly felt good to be looked at that way.

I watched her grow old and slow down. All that energy she had as a puppy and as a younger dog was gone. A calm ease took over her and she was content staying on the sofa, always looking at me, always trying to take in as much of me as she could. I would go to work and leave the soft music playing for her all day long. When I returned, I would find her on the couch in a reverie, drooling all over the pillow.

When she was diagnosed with cancer, I promised her I was not going to let her suffer while I told myself that I was going to be strong and live up to that promise.

She had surgery one morning in late September. I went to the veterinary to pick her up in the evening expecting a limp dog, all drugged and knocked out. I found a very happy and alert Tita, wagging her tail, excited to see me. When we got home, I looked at her and she reminded me of an old stuffed animal with many stitches on her belly. I felt very sad. I told myself she would be fine and I told her she better hang around for a few more years. She looked great during the following days and I believed she would be around for a good, long time. A couple of months later I realized I was in denial when I saw her energy drop and her health decline rapidly.

Some people believe in reincarnation but I do not know what to believe in that regard. Lately I have been reflecting on my life repeatedly and I realize I have gone through so many seasons, so many cycles that I feel I have lived several lives and I have traveled a long, long way. Internally, physically, intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually, I think of myself as an ancient tree: I have a ring for every one of the lives I have lived. Tita is one of those rings, one of the bigger ones perhaps.

Life does present itself to us in cycles, in circles. Things, people, friends, lovers, and yes, pets also, come into our lives and leave an indelible mark on us. We are left transformed forever when they leave us. At one point, it will be us who will leave others, and we become another season, another cycle or circle in someone else’s life.

I had Tita put down early on December 9, 2005. It was one of the saddest days in my life. The previous two nights we didn’t sleep well. She struggled to go outside to do her business on the first night, and on the second night she peed, pooped, and threw up all around even though she had not eaten for three days. She looked at me and I could see in her eyes how sorry she was, embarrassed perhaps—we tend to anthropomorphize our pets too much sometimes—but I knew the time I feared the most had come. At 3:00 a.m., I made the decision I was going to call the veterinarian in the morning and went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep.

When I came back from the veterinarian my cultural beliefs in dealing with the deceased took over me and I made a shrine with Tita’s picture, her collar, flowers, candles, food and water. I also kept her bed intact for three months and I have allowed myself to cry as I please.

“Our life is an apprentice to the truth that around every circle another can be drawn; that there is no end in nature, but every end is a beginning; that there is always another dawn risen on mid-noon, and under every deep a lower deep opens. There are no fixtures in nature. The universe is fluid and volatile. Permanence is but a word of degrees,” Ralph Waldo Emerson also wrote.

I know that another pet will come into my life, a wonderful pet indeed, because there is a history that is waiting to be repeated; there is a circle whose circumference must encompass some of me, there is a cycle that cries to be circumvented again. I also know that I will not forget my beautiful companion of ten years; an unforgettable animal soul that taught me about love and responsibility, a dog that tamed me, trained me, and made me hers.

This spring equinox I will walk the 4600 block of Park Boulevard in University Heights, I will look at the trees lining the street, I will think of Tita when I see on them the new growths, the harbingers of yet another season, and I shall smile and rejoice.

If I sing, you are the music
If I thrive, you are why I’m good
If my hands can find some magic
You are the one who said they could
When the child who’s still inside me
Finds a song in empty air
When there is joy in making music
It is you who put it there.

I had heard this song several times before and I remember focusing on the bridge, which is the second set of stanzas. I assumed the song to have a romantic overtone and being directed towards a lover. It wasn’t until recently that I actually listened to the lyrics and realized it was directed to a mother; and while listening a tear peeked in my eyes.

No, my mother didn’t play piano or any instrument for that matter—neither do I—and she didn’t need to. There were so many other things she did…and did well.

I vividly remember seeing her for the last time, and I recall how much I cried at the certainty I was not going to see her alive again. I also remember clearly the words a friend offered to help me deal with such a heart-wrenching moment.

“When we pass, we don’t just disappear into nothing. We simply become more a part of those we leave behind. Your mother will always be a part of you,” he said that evening over dinner at a fancy restaurant overlooking beautiful Acapulco Bay.
 
When I was a child, I am embarrassed to admit, I don’t believe I appreciated my mother. How could I? I was a child and therefore the world had relevance only in reference to me. My mother was not a human being with feelings and needs then. She was there to provide me with care, love, and attention. No more and no less.

I remember however, in my earlier years, thinking of both my parents as these giant, all-powerful, all-capable people. I admired the fact that both of them had no formal education—my mother barely finished second grade and my father third. They, nonetheless, had a great sense of what was proper and right, and their common sense and set of values was admirable.

My mother was quite the disciplinarian. Being the one who stayed with us all day, she was the one who laid the law and enforced it in the house. But that is not to say that she was harsh; quite the opposite, she was able to remain loving in spite of having to deal with 5 children all day long. I do not know how she did it. All I know is that mothers like mine should automatically qualify for sainthood.
 
I remember some hot nights in Acapulco, when I was about 4 years old, in which I would wake up unable to sleep because of the heat. My mother would take me outside and give me a bath under a sky laden with stars telling me stories prompted by the endless questions I had about everything around me. I remember her telling me once that when people were no longer with us (she was smart enough to know not to use the word ‘die,’ God only knows what line of questioning would have ensued) they became the stars we saw above.

We also had cooler nights, and I remember waking up because my blanket had slipped off and I was cold. As if I had summoned powers beyond me, two hands like butterflies would grab the edge of the blanket and cover me gently, at the same time that rose-petaled lips would kiss my forehead and tell me everything was OK.

When I had a project in school, something for which we needed our parents help, I would be all worried when, before going to bed, I would realize I had not done it. My mother would tell me not to worry and, the next day, things would be miraculously materialized before my eyes.
 
I remember how she told each one of her children separately we were the one she loved the most. She also told us not to share that with our siblings. Her voice could be thunderous when she had to, but for the most part she was soft and tender. I loved the way she call me ‘papa’ or ‘mi rey,’ which means my king. I have many memories of her willingness to help others, her inability to refrain from giving, and her capacity for being caring.

I remember how beautiful I found her even on a ‘bad hair day.’ I remember how simple she was, how unsophisticated, and how humble. Although the latter is something I didn’t get from her, I was fascinated about how much I looked like her in my teens when I tied a scarf over my head and around my chin. That was until I started growing facial hair though.
 
I imagine how challenging it must have been for someone from our culture and with her level of education to deal with having a gay child and yet I can’t find a single instance in which she made me feel I was less of a child of hers because of that. As it is common for our culture, my sexuality was not something we spoke about openly, but there was always the uttermost respect for who I was and I always knew myself to be loved as much as my brothers and sisters.
 
In my later teens I suddenly grew to appreciate the woman who game me the gift of life, and I remember how we would joke and tease each other. “You should have stopped having children after you had me,” I would say to her.
 
“I should have stopped having children right before you,” she would be quick to reply.
See all this gray hair on my head?” She would say, “You gave it all to me!”
 
My mom grew old
Her hands grew numb
Now she cannot play
I came to visit
She sat and asked me
How it could be this way
I couldn’t find an answer
I played this tune for her instead
My mother sat there, smiling
For she knew what it said

When she grew sick with cancer, she kept most details about her illness from her children, especially those of us who were away, in order not to worry us. I was fortunate enough to be able to see her 3 months before she died ten years ago, as I was fortunate to spend a few weeks caring for her and pampering her exactly the way she deserved. She would not take that easily though. She still wanted to be the mother and she wanted to get up and cook and make me feel like everything was normal, like she was still the mother and I was her child. I would hide from her and cry because I found it so unfair for her life to end that way and because there was only so much I could do about it.
 
If I sing, you are the music
If I love, you taught me how
Every day your heart is beating
In the woman I am now
If my ears are tuned to wonder
If when I reach the cords are there
If there is joy in making music
It’s a joy that you put there
 
It is true; I am blessed to have known for a few years now, that when we pass we don’t just disappear. We simply become a part of those we leave behind.

There is a wonderful woman in me and it has nothing to do with my sexuality or my flair for feather boas and high heels.
 
I get to experience that woman all the time, when I feel successful and accomplished, when I feel capable and proud of what I have done, when I experience myself as a caring, giving member of the human race, when I am able to extend a hand to someone who is in need, and most especially, when I get to be nurturing and loving.
 
I have 3 children in my life now—Jesse, Aiden, and Liam—who remind me of my own childhood and my mother almost every day. When I read to them before they go to bed, it is my mother’s voice I hear; and when I go into their rooms to cover them, it is those butterflies of my mother’s hands which grab the blanket; and when I kiss them in their sweet foreheads, it is my mother’s rose-petaled lips which kiss them.

We are not asked … to believe in a perfect world. We are asked to equip ourselves with courage, hope, readiness for hard work and to cherish large and generous ideals.
—Emily Balch