Spring Equinox: Out with the Old Self and in with the New Self

Here in Southern California we are a bit like the red-haired stepchild when it comes to the changing of the seasons. Scrappy north-easterners sneer at our lack of seasons (while secretly envying them), while hearty mid-westerners laugh at our mentioning that, "Fall is here, or Spring has sprung," just because we don't have 50 degree temperature swings during these transitional days. These people from places of ice and cold just think we are delusional. Well, tell that to my Wisteria, Jasmine and Coral Tree this week. It may look subtle here, but there is springing, spranging and sprunging all over the place.

Last Saturday March 21st was the Spring Equinox, which in my world meant that it was exactly nine months since my father, George Carlin's death. A period of time similar to a full, human gestation has occurred, and yes, I am being born, again. And just like childbirth, it is a messy and painful experience.

This week I really would love to connect to the lavender and carmine colors bursting, and Robins and Swallows flirting all around me, but instead I find myself focusing on my breath and just trying to make it through the next five minutes (do they have Lamaze classes for personal re-birthing?). I am in the stage of mourning where I get to pull out all my perspectives and feelings around my relationship with my father and re-examining them and decide which ones to keep and which ones to release. Like the equinox that holds the light and the dark in equal measure, not only am I feeling the deep love, respect and adoration I have for my father, but I am also letting myself feel the pain, disappointment and rage toward him that I have kept locked in the basement of myself for over 40 years. The father/daughter relationship is certainly a complex one, and I am knee deep in it this week. Once again, I am humbled by this mourning process, and truly get that I do not get to be in charge of it all. I really would love to write to you all that I am blooming and blossoming and buzzing around like a Honey Bee, and that the warmer days and lighter evenings have put a spring in my step, but alas, not quite yet.

Besides rummaging in the basement of myself, I think that these "birthing pains" are also occurring because I am finally looking at the reality of being an orphan. I am coming to terms with the fact that if I am to truly become anew, it is only I who can do the birthing now. There is no mom or dad to lean on, to live up to or to disappoint. They created me 46 years ago, and now it is my turn to create my self. But I feel like I want to scream, "But, I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' no Self!" Yes, I have had many transitions, discoveries, new beginnings in my 45 years on the planet, but this level of new beginning, well it's just all so fucking brand new. And yet, those blooms, those birds, they know what to do, year after year, season after season. Maybe I can't revel in the spring yet, but I can certainly watch the wisdom.

So here is what I promise: I will take it slow, wait until this baby (Me!) is at full term and truly ready to come out. I will push when needed, back off when appropriate, keep breathing, and know that when this labor of loving myself is through, there will be a miracle of life handed to me, and I will name her Kelly Marie Carlin-McCall.

You know, now that I think about it, it kind of feels like the whole world is on the edge of birthing something new. We are all in the thrall of a huge spring cleaning - out with the old paradigm and in with the new! And I know that we can all get through it if we all breathe together, and yes even take some time to smell that Jasmine and flirt with those Robins. I will try if you will. Deal?

Comments

[theCrimsonDynamo]

I lost my father in my early twenties. It does get easier as time goes on and I become more reconciled to the loss. I hope the same happens for you.

I've been following your writings for a little while now. As a mid-twenties, huge fan of your father's work - I own everything he has ever done, even the audiobook versions of his books, keeping me company on long rides - it's heartening that you're carrying the torch.

When I was a teenager and I didn't know what was what, George Carlin's standup material and books and albums changed everything for me. When he died last year, I didn't stop crying for two whole days, and I still can't help myself in my weaker moments. It's riduclous to tell you this, as he was your father, and I never met the man (regrettably) - but he touched me in such a way, and so consistently, that I feel a bond with him unlike any I've felt with somebody I didn't know. (I'm talking about "good touch," not "bad touch.")

Please continue writing. You are incredibly gifted. I know I will get to hear from you in the oral history you guys are working on, but you should give some serious thought to doing something long-form of your own.

And by the way, I noticed "Parting Shots: Still Laughing" and "Watch my Language" listed on Amazon for later in 2009. Does that mean that there is unreleased material coming out?

[Kelly Carlin-McCall - Huffpost Blogger]

Hey Dynamo of the Crimson type,

I am so touched by your feelings for my dad. Being his daughter, I did not get to see my dad as others did. My filter was different. It is so fascinating to me how he was able to impact people in such a personal way through his work. It was like he was just this guy telling people how he saw things, and this made him so accessible. And he WAS just this guy - he never really left the corner of 121st and Amsterdam.

Thank you for your encouragement. I will write in long form. I have a few chapters of a memoir that I began writing a few years ago, and although the stories have been told for our oral history, the context of them, for my writing will be different. It is becoming clear to me that I want to write about the father/daughter dynamic and the search for my own artistic voice as a woman growing up in the shadow of a strong and successful father. No matter who your father is, it seems that women must renegotiate this relationship in order to find their own place in the world.

And yes, there is some unreleased material that will be published soon.

Again, thank you for your support and heart. Keep laughing, thinking and living your truth. That is what he would have wanted.

Best,
Kelly Carlin-McCall

[Jazzcomedian]

It is a very sobering moment to realize when the last parent has died, that we are now orphans. Though when we think about orphans we always think of the Charles Dickens type. On the one hand we are sad to find ourselves in that state, on the other hand that's the only way our parents would've wanted it, because it is so heartbreaking for a parent to outlive and bury a child.

The thing to take away after our parent's death in my opinion, is to realize, and hold on to what they have taught us. Because those teaching days are over, and we now have to make do. I try to be glad that I had parents that did their duty during difficult times, and did try to teach me, and my brother the right way to live, and to honor them by applying it to our lives.

[Kelly Carlin-McCall - Huffpost Blogger]

Jazzcomedian,

My heart bursts with many lessons that my parents gave me. I feel their staediness guide me in moments that are confusing and chaotic - my dad's voice echoes in my head and gives me strength when I need to question and assess. My mother's energy fills my body with grace when I walk into a room of strangers and know that an open heart will get me far.

I proudly stand on their shoulders. And I proudly leap from their shoulders when asked by life to go farther and higher than they could.

Amen.

Kelly

[hartypatricia]

Great piece. I recently lost my mother so I know what you are going through -- it comes in waves. Love the line "do they have Lamaze classes for personal re-birthing?"
Patricia Harty

[JRHassan]

I'm always impressed by your bravery and openness when it comes to dealing with things that a lot of people refuse to face. You're willing to push through difficult times to get them behind you. I bet the Big Electron approves.

[Kelly Carlin-McCall - Huffpost Blogger]

JRHassan,
I think the courage you speak of me comes from both the light and dark sides of my father. He spoke about the elephants in the room of our culture. The elephants that our family chose not to speak of (and I am including myself in that avoidance of truth), also makes me want to speak about all those dark and creaky places in our own hearts. I am honored to be an Carlin speaking the truth now.

And that Big Electron is spinning and spinning forever.

[protagonia]

Kelly,

Thanks you for reminding us that we have been given another chance. We all miss your father very much. You have his insight, and we are blessedly lucky to have those insights available to us.

Another wonderful piece from a truly gifted writer.

[Kelly Carlin-McCall - Huffpost Blogger]

Protagonia,
There is life after death. We are still here. He lives on in hearts and youtube :). Thank you for your respect and support, it means the world to me.

[1redhead]

Kelly, thanks for this inspirational reminder of the cycle of life. Not always easy, lots of pain, lots of joy, and always a sunrise and a sunset to keep us in line.

[Kelly Carlin-McCall - Huffpost Blogger]

1redhead,
Thanks for joining me here. Thank God for the sunrise and sunset.

[perplexo]

Hey Kel, Southern Cal has seasons. I remember Fire Season, Flood Season and Mud Season.
Spring makes me think of rebirth also, but in my case the same old dude gets born over and over again.
I guess I like it that way. You wrote a beautiful, true report of how you miss your dad and I understand.
He was the best guy I ever knew. Perplexo

[Kelly Carlin-McCall - Huffpost Blogger]

Perplexo,
As my wisteria gets bigger and more purple everyday, I know that there is a force way bigger than me and my process. The hole I feel in my heart when I miss him, gets filled with the burst of life all around me. And the day I face every morning lets me know that whether I like it or not, there is a life to live here now. Not always easy, but what is asked of all of us.

[Amybelle]

I so identify with all of this Kelly. Birthing involved pushing. It's not some laid back deal. There is beauty in the messiness and humaness. It's an opportunity for the heart to open and to be more connected to a higher power. What a release and relief. And as you go through this the whole world to is going through a major paradigm shift too. It's all connected. That connection is comforting. It's all good.

[Kelly Carlin-McCall - Huffpost Blogger]

Amybelle,
I love the connection you make to the messiness and my heart opening. The more I sit with ALL that comes up around my dad, the more room my heart seems to have to hold it all.

I feel the paradigm shift in my bones. Painful, and yet exciting.

[carole131]

Kelly, a lot of us have gone through what you are going through right now. I had issues with my mother, not my father. She even said, "I haven't been much of a mother, have I?". Nope. There were some really painful times for me, an only child. However, your life goes on. Take the good that you have gotten from your father, & let the "bad" go. We're fallible human beings, all of us. I've already apologized to my 3 grown kids (now all in their 40s) for any & all mistakes I've made in raising them. The boys scoff, but my daughter..­. I hope she's only thinking it over :)). Sometimes parents don't have a clue about what to do with their kids. We only know that we love you with all our hearts. Live your life. I wish you happiness.

[Kelly Carlin-McCall - Huffpost Blogger]

Carole131, Thank you for sharing your own experience here. I also went through this 12 years ago when my mom died. There is a place where you must go through it to come to the other side which then allows one to have a complete freedom from the past. All of it burns away and we are left with a deep acceptance of the whole person - all of them. It was a huge gift to me when I found myself on the other side with my mom, and I know that I will find my way through with my dad. I love him dearly, and the gift of individuation is that I will get to love ALL of him, including the truly human parts. I am living my life fully here.