chosen

Eric Scott Lane came into this world knowing he was different. His eyes where keen on the colors around him, his voice intent to tell all he knows, and his brain always working faster than his hands could operate.

He has a heart of compassion, an empathetic heart and broad shoulders too easy to shed a tear upon. He is not afraid to ask for 'somethings' and certainly does not expect 'things' to be given to him. His life's work is honest, diligent and complete with personal integrity.

Through the eyes of an artist, Eric has painted his life, traveling from corner to corner with a few crumbled dollars and Eric continues to yearn for more. Through this he has known VIP's, dignitaries from foreign soils, government officials, lawyers, beggars and bums. His hand shake is firm and steady, his smile welcoming and his 'well wishes' earnest and heart felt befitting to his eclectic friends and extended family.

Eric is unpretentious. What you see, you get.

Some say '...people come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime...' I believe, with Eric, he does all three in one relationship. He always sees to know who needs what and when. And just as bold as he makes his presence known, he has the uncanny ability to slip into the background and the way he touches you, touches me, remains. Misunderstood by too many who do not allow themselves to see beyond his boyish laughter, his 'weird' sense of humor and sarcastic quick wit they have allowed an opportunity to know Eric as Eric, slip away but never unnoticed.

I cherish his humor and his ability to laugh at death as he faces it head on; to laugh even when he is disappointed; to laugh even when he needs and wants to cry. Eric remains constant. He celebrates each day as a gift that is, complete and open to the possibilities the day, the life given and chosen has offered him. Eric Scott Lane, our Warrior...9277467.
Sue Anderson, 'soul sister', Dream Foundation Coordinator

the warrior and his 'soul sister' 04/2006

...silenced

A dream fulfilled with comrades: the writer, the artist and the job seeker as we were given time to reflect, relax and rest in San Diego. And too often time was spent on inclusion, exculsion the result and the purpose, simple in theory, complicated...silence abounds and the memory forever etched in a brief moment in time.

carole and eric

Dear FAMILY AND FRIENDS,

Eric is now preparing to leave this world we know as he continues his journey on toward the light. The time is sad, but with honor and privilege I speak to and of my 'son' , true friend and confidant, just as loved as any I have. I reflect on how we, in our materialistic world, judge another person...Is it by the way he dresses, the length of his hair, his bank account scattered with red and black and a simple shade of green or is it by what is in his heart, love? In the final reflection and when each of us views God, he may ask us, 'How well have you cared for my children?'

Measure your value through God's eyes and not your own as there are times in all of our lives when we may appear desperate, homeless, disoriented, sick in mind, body and spirit, unable to help and too self absorbed and stubborn to love. In these instances it is important to remember that God loves us and we must TRAVEL LIGHT. And this lesson I learned from Eric. It was his gift to me, the most simple and the most complicated lesson of all, love all pure, all the time.

Eric had struggles throughout his life, some financial and those most devastating and undeserved, health related. However, what ever he possessed he was willing and did share with others in need or just want. It was never an issue with him as to who could re-pay, if it was needed and he had it, IT was yours. Money and precious time, his precious time, if you demanded it, wanted it and needed it, it was yours. Eric has the ability, and I know few if any, to leave this world better than he found it. Perhaps others too could understand the depth of his generosity at ANY cost, often his own demise. I did. I experienced it, witnessed it and watched it happen like a careful quilted pattern, repeated and repeated. And this is generosity at its finest hour and this is Eric and this hour is his, deservedly so, his.

Eric has always refused to 'surrender' as he tells me to his disease process and uses his creativity, a gift yearned for and awed as 'God's gifts' to maintain his hope, his dignity and his vision. In the words of Ernest Boyer, "For the most intimate, most profoundly moving universal experience, we created a subtle, more sensitive set of symbols- a higher language we call the arts-When words are no longer adequate, when our passion is greater than we are able to express in usual manner, people turn to art-Art is perhaps humanity's most essential, most universal language." Eric and art are synonymous and I will remember Eric The Artist fondly.

How many people do you know that are described as caring, patient, giving, kind, warm, creative, intelligent, wise, inspiring, athletic, witty, loyal, charming and loving at once? I know one, Eric. He is an excellent listener with broad shoulders to lean on and a loyal and trusted friend deeply concerned with the feelings of others. He is a ray of sunshine to those that know him well and for others to think different, shameful. He is a person of strength internally and externally toward others and the above form his character. And I witness joy when I hear and watch Eric give of himself to make a difference in the life of another.

Eric is fulfilling to God's standards, his purpose and path in life. Eric is a teacher of high order, one to be respected and listened to and I feel the significance of his presence. I am forever grateful for the kindness and love he shown my biological son, Stephen, before during and after he surrendered his spirit to God. No parent is ever equipped to deal with the loss of a child, but Eric softened the blow and help to fill that empty place in my heart, through his unending sympathy and hour of listening to my grief and sadness. And as I write today, Eric continues to teach me about enduring debilitating loss. And I am certain with out his guidance, I would not heal and now prepare myself for Eric's surrender, using his taught tools with confidence and a somewhat calming emotion as I remain numb.

So as you, my son, my Eric, prepare yourself for flight and a new journey toward the light I am confident YOU will learn why things have to be the way they are and you will wonder at the craziness and uselessness of worry, guilt and denial. God speed Eric, today and always and know you will forever remain in my heart, a part of my soul. We will meet again, of this I am positive.

I thank you for everything. I wish you only love and peace and more love.

Momma Carole
Carole A. Schramm

the lama and me

lama Dudjon Dorjee met with my brother david, momma carole and me on 13, February, 2006,
per my request. We were honored in presence to ask questions about his teachings and lifestyle, personal and otherwise. He blessed me with a traditional 'KATA' having two principles of thought: 1. No worry and no regret. 2. Embrace my illness and become one, in the here and now to fulfill the role(s) set into motion in lives past for all sentient beings...

lama Dorjee is one of five lamas brought to the 'western world' to teach and practice buddhist philosophy and meditation and prayer.

reflections

dream request 2006 and the 'dream team'

Throughout my journey, the day to day struggles on might call life, I am fulfilled. One time this fulfillment might spark a range of anger, another denial, pure exhaustion, a case of frustration, love in a true form and the fear of the unknown.

I have spent my times beyond the what ifs and into the arena of acceptance and have learned that through acceptance I have been able to be a teacher, a mentor, a friend, a lover, a confident and an advocate for many different persons and to many different causes. And having had the thought 'no one said life was going to be easy' instilled through maturation, I have reveled in my experiences, never to shy away from the path with the greatest of hardship and resistance.

I have been told that my mother knew she had her hands full when at the age of two, while living in Rochester, NY, I offered my winter coat to a homeless man passing us by. A starving artist and black sheep who cares for others. Now, having just turned 40, I have given away many coats. I was brought up in a loving family, one unlike the Waltons but more like a DR. Phil show waiting to air, but it still remains my family with all its dysfunction and recently I moved home after 22 years as medical issues force me to return to the nest. No significant other, no wife, no kids, a support animal, dirty laundry and a little social security disability money and a terminal illness: end stage organ failure from a complete auto immune system dysfunction.

People tell me I am a different kind of soul that often attracts a dark cloud. I disagree, knowing that I attract those in need and whether it be mentoring or helping an acquaintance through a bad day, I have focused on listening, compassion and patience. I fight for the rights of the disabled, research issues, form opinions and believe in a cause and if this can further the development of someone else, I have met my goal and been successful. I have worked through personal disability, loss and great love to empower my spirit more. And throughout this path, I often only asked for simplicity in return, nothing, a smile can warm the heart just fine.

Now I am asking for something. I am asking that my dream to hot air balloon next to the Grand Teton or fly fish in Montana be fulfilled for me and a caregiver. I want to awake and taste the dew on my brow, feel the blow wind with my hand, smell the purity of the unseen colors, hear what birds and fish hear and see nature, the creation of wonderment from an abstraction. I want to slowly soar above and free my soul, if only for a short time, from the constant battle I now call life. I want to awe in the color, the texture and question the beauty and be mind struck and baffled in a single breath. I want to feel the exhilaration, the fear of the unknown and the excitement of dreaming all at once. Most important, I want to relax for a few days and kick my feet up, knowing I have done more than fulfilled and blessed others, I have fulfilled and blessed myself. I am dying and I am afraid. I also am resolute, mind body and spirit to the nearing afterlife. I want to leave this earth complete and with your help I shall.

an explanation of sorts...

eric

it is with joy and wisdom and pure love that I invite you to share my vision with me as 'we' walk down my life path. I am resolute that purpose is more than a word, heaven more than a dream and energy remains constant, only changes form. It is with great thought and intention I allow you and yours to view my mantras... some chapters closed, some just beginning and others left incomplete as I face the inevitable fate before me, and prepare, too soon I think and accepted just the same, my afterlife, chosen before I arrived, agreed upon by the one who, in this world, is called eric, enrique, son, brother, friend, mentor, gifted and other words I choose not to share out of self-respect and personal dignity. I have embraced my illness, fought a worthy opponent and finally surrendered to that which I could not control, my own destiny. To those who have shared their hopes and dreams, their time, the comradary and their friendship I thank you. For those who 'knew', I say nothing, but embrace you with love and for those of you that tried and failed, I forgive you as I forgive myself for having the greatest of intentions, but knowing I could not be all things to all people all the time...

monday 17.04

This afternoon I met with Claudia from Parker College of Medicine, having donated my body to her, her school, her service as a mortician now trained to preserving cadavers for medical study. I met with her alone and she was not what I expected to be greeting me and I was not what she expected to be greeted by. I filled out the paperwork and joked as she watched and looked at my, wanting to laugh, but almost asking for a silent approval to do so, and I gave it.

I probed deep into her thought process to learn more about the program, my pre-chosen fate and her. And what I did not realize, but came to respect, she was seeing me as a soul, a person and not a piece of future medical science. This thought troubling, caused me to ask and receive answers to questions that I had not planned to ask, but wanted and more importantly, needed answers to. Some where pressing and others where hysterical, just me trying to put death in perspective. I learned I would become a number as Eric would no longer exist, to the students who might name me I gave suggestions: I did not want to be a Tom by a Thomas, not a Jeff but a Jeffrey, not a Steve but a Stephen and not a Joe or Joey, a Joseph. We laughed, and she glanced once toward my eyes and I saw the tears and she, the tears and she looked away and stretched. I wanted to know what every man wanted to know, why my penis was not 11.5 inches in length, realizing I could not know. I would be dead.

I wanted to know what my number would be and she could not give me one. I would receive one when I was dead.


And in thought and as we conversed I knew the next time she saw me, I would be a shell. I would be dead.

But to her, a different shell as she now had a face and a voice and a thought to remember. And she promised to care of my shell and acknowledge the pain and hurt so many were feeling as they watched my illness progress and she, as only she could, hugged me.

And I held her tight and listened as she cried, my father watching from his chair, his mainstay and I whispered in her ear, 'it is time to go my chief. And call me the warrior. I am the warrior and you, a warrior chief. It will all be okay, the plan is divine and I am a part of it and I just am.' She left without the proper greeting of farewell. It simply no longer fit. In that hour, I had affected her and she had affected me and only she, through her soul, could help my piece complete and the answers to the questions, remain and linger and not to be answered.
No body viewing, records sealed.

I told her I will watch and hope, only hope, that my wish to be the warrior is literal and the piece of paper she wrote it on, explained to her colleagues with pride and conviction, and a piece completed.

counting all the colors on my color wheel,

the visitors...