CHAPTER ELEVEN: "Springtime in the Rockies!"

A day or so ago, my mother -- who passed away in 2015 -- whispered something in my ear.

At first, I wasn’t sure I was hearing correctly.

What I thought I heard her say to me was:

“What do you think this is, 'Springtime in the Rockies?'”

But wait, was I imagining that she said this? Did she really used to pose this question to me when I was a child? I couldn't be sure.

It occurred to me that maybe Mom had heard this phrase somewhere. So I googled Springtime in the Rockies, and lo and behold, I found out that there was a musical released in 1942 by that name!

The movie is still on YouTube. And there was the song from the musical, sung by Gene Autry and others through the years.

Still, I wasn’t certain. Had Mom really said this to me? And why was I having this memory now?

The memory is this: I remember her saying it to me whenever I wanted to wear a T shirt or shorts or some other inappropriate clothing and she thought it was too cold outdoors.

I decided to email my older brother to ask him if he recalled Mom saying this. He confirmed it:

“I definitely recall mom saying that phrase on numerous occasions," Rich wrote back. "Makes sense as she was 16 years old when the movie came out...and most likely she saw the movie at the Cameo theater in Bristol!!!”

OK, but still, why was I thinking about this phrase now?

And this morning, it hit me. Obviously, it has something to do with the fact that I’ve been living in Colorado for the past two months. I love living here.

I told my husband a few days ago that I feel younger than I did a few years back. Living here has helped. Having so much sunshine (Denver has 300 sunny days a year, on average) has been exhilarating. And I have become addicted to hiking, especially in beautiful places. I'm also addicted to being outdoors. Just this past week, we went hiking three times.

Just saying "the Rockies" suggests great power, a place that figures large in our American imagination because of the whole pioneer experience. As the nation pushed West, the pioneers and explorers headed over flat terrain for at least 1500 miles. And then, all of a sudden, this gigantic mountain range rose up on the horizon, mammoth rocks soaring into the sky. It was gorgeous and frightening and awe-inspiring all at once. It is a magical place, too.

So mom was asking me: do you really think you're in the Rockies, a place that borders on being mythic? A place that is huge and faraway? A place where you seem to enjoy yourself so much?

There is another reason my mom's question came to me now: I have been taking a fascinating on-line class on shamanic healing, with medical anthropologist Dr. Alberto Villoldo. In this class, he emphasizes strongly that we need to revise the stories that we heard from our parents as we were growing up.

He talks repeatedly about the Luminous Energy Field,

which is called the "wiracocha" by the Andean shamans; the term means the “sacred source.”

Otherwise known as the soul, this energy field – which we can actually touch, as I described in Chapter Ten – “organizes the body’s health,” Dr. Villoldo says.

“Your Luminous Energy Field is a reservoir of living energy that is in constant flux and motion. It is who you were before you were born and who you will be after you die." It contains all of your stories and experiences, your good and bad genes and your diseases -- imprints which are then passed from one generation to the next. It is only by clearing the negative stories from your energy field that you can begin writing an original story for yourself.”

The shamans were able to see the wiracocha, and they can also use their consciousness to manipulate how the energy field affects the body, Villoldo says. When the energy field is marred by bad experiences, or negative stories, or anger or feelings of loss, hatred, betrayal or resentment, disease can occur. In our class, Villoldo challenges us to step out of time, into our wiracocha, to let go of negative emotions, and to revise the stories we grew up hearing.

OK, so now I am beginning to see the significance of that “story” my mother used to tell me! "What do you think this is, ‘Springtime in the Rockies?’" was a core message from my Mom. Remember how I had pneumonia three times before I was seven years old? Remember, too, how sick mom was with asthma?

Well, naturally, it would follow that Mom didn't want to risk her or me going outdoors without plenty of warm clothing!

But it goes beyond clothing. Implicit in the question she used to ask is whose authority was going to reign? In other words, who was going to be the boss? Was I going to challenge her authority? Moreover, the question raises the issue, who is going to decide when it's "springtime," i.e., when the weather has warmed enough for scanty clothing. Even thinking about wearing the scanty clothing was a challenge to my mom's worldview!

Further, mom asking me the question, "what do you think this is, "Springtime in the Rockies?" suggests that I was in danger of being too big for my britches! In my family, especially in my mother's family, it wasn't "good" or "right" to act in a way that was boastful or showy. By all means, it wasn't right to brag or to be, in her words, a "big shot!"

Like so many people in her situation, Mom was taught to feel ashamed of herself as she grew up, as if she really didn't count. The message that came through was that she wasn't good or deserving enough. And indeed, Mom always tended to be very meek when she was around other people. I recall her saying how friends of hers would often brag about their children. She knew full well that she too had plenty to brag about when it came to her own kids, but it just wasn't in her nature to do it. Nor was it in her mother's, my grandma Mish's, nature, nor my grandfather's, my grandpa Claude's, either.

If you were superstitious, which my ancestors tended to be, you were tempting fate if you were too boastful or too cocksure of yourself. In effect, you were asking for trouble. Like my mother, and her mother, and her mother’s mother, I was raised in a climate of constant fear and worry that something bad was going to happen.

It's understandable that my ancestors felt fearful.

The world that my immigrant ancestors lived in was in fact rather dangerous. Money was very scarce, and you had to toe the line, working hard and keeping your nose to the grindstone, to ensure that you would have security now and in the future.

From Villoldo's point of view, this fear is really just a leftover of our ancient mammalian (or limbic) brains. The limbic brain is the seat of the emotions, “developed in the time of the Neanderthals,” he says.

Trained as a brain scientist, Villoldo explains that the limbic brain is the brain of the four F’s: fear, feeding, fighting and fornication. It is also that section of the brain that leads us into the fight or flight emotions. It makes us feel anger and scarcity, and a host of other negative and “non-forgiving” feelings. From the point of view of Villoldo, who counts himself among the shamans,

these emotions are “outdated,” and we need to be rid of them in order to live happy and healthy lives, lives devoted to raising our consciousness.

I have been frequently a fearful person in the past. Like my mother, I grew up worrying, a lot! Unfortunately, I know I passed some of that fear along to my children.

Living here in the Rockies feels like it is challenging me to let go of some of the fears that I grew up with!

Have I gotten over worrying? In certain respects, yes. But it is definitely a work in progress.

This morning, March 3, 2024, we are days away from the spring equinox. It is 44 degrees and sunny out. What shall I wear????

Shall I put on my long grey winter coat? (I left my green parka back in Massachusetts!) Or shall I step outside in simply my thin yoga clothes and a vest?

I grab my husband's navy blue Patagonia fleece. And my running shoes. And the cap I bought at Red Rocks,

the breathtaking rock formation that sits only about 20 minutes from Denver where Rich and I live. We walk there as often as we can.

Maybe later, when I get back from my walk, I will write more about how living here – far away from the family hub back east – is helping me see how family fears have shaped and controlled me through the years.

Meanwhile, the nice thing about "Springtime in the Rockies" is that it has unlocked Mom in my heart. She is really here with me today, and because she is no longer an earthbound creature controlled by primitive fears and worries, she is saying exactly what I want to hear: "OK, Claudia, you wear whatever you want to wear -- you'll be fine!"