Mindful Meditation – Bee the Light

Compassionate Curiosity

I wonder what our world would look like if each individual could see all others with compassionate curiosity instead of brutal judgment. I grew up an agnostic Unitarian, and this religious foundation offered me the freedom to explore all religions and spiritual paths with a sense of mindful awareness. I could go to church with a friend and ‘try on’ being Lutheran, Baptist, or Catholic (that was the basic diversity of where I grew up). When all those things felt itchy and too tight, I chose to look into Wicca / Paganism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Metaphysics, and Native American beliefs.

Being curious opened doors that were previously blocked by my fears or disinterest. I glory in the freedom to choose the spiritual path that best suits the truth of my soul and in allowing that truth to evolve. I walk through the world with a view that has been crafted and curated with the courage not to settle for the dictates of others. I understand my privilege in doing so.

Being curious rather than judgmental also guides me to a deeper understanding of people and cultures who may be experiencing the world in ways that are different from my own experience.

I live in a State that has recently passed legislation that harms and brutalizes the safe existence of multitudes of its residents. I find it impossible to put myself in the shoes of those who have enacted such psychic, emotional, and horrifically, physical abuse upon others. I can imagine that they feel threatened for some reason, but I fail to understand. Maybe they see their lack of understanding for the individuality of others as a reflection of stupidity (for which they must stand and fight), instead of an opportunity to learn, love, and grow.

June is Pride Month, and also a painful anniversary for our beloved community. Seven years ago, on June 12, 49 sacred souls were taken from us by a single gunman. They were celebrating within a safe space. They should have felt safe anywhere, but right-wing rhetoric destroyed that possibility. So, they went where they felt wanted, appreciated, valued, and invited to be joyfully authentic. A single being, cloaked in self-loathing chose to massacre those who felt the freedom that he denied himself.

I am curious about what those who support this harmful legislation are denying themselves. Who would they be if they refused to be put inside a tiny box of someone else’s construction. Maybe their parents, their peers, or their church communities told them that they could not belong if they dressed in a way that made them feel more alive or spoke their truth about how they were feeling. I wonder if they imagine who they might become if they would choose to toss away the banner of hateful righteousness and find belonging in their authenticity. They might be surprised to realize that they can be loved for being real.

So much of today’s animosity is pointed at the LGBTQ+ Community. Transgender humans and Drag entertainers are being especially terrorized, and those who support them are being targeted, as well. I’d like to imagine a world where the haters could consider compassionate curiosity, rather than close-minded disrespect.

I am a middle-aged, white, cisgender, straight woman. Full disclosure: if I could choose, I would be a lesbian. I prefer the company of women, and I have deeply loved a specific woman, but my sexuality has a mind of its own, unfortunately. Regarding the middle-aged part of my self-definition, I did not grow up with access to the identity terms that our youth are claiming today, as are those who felt they never had the choice before. I understand the resistance that some people feel to allowing individuals the freedom to be recognized, acknowledged, and validated for the declaration of their own truth. It’s hard to learn to use childhood grammar lessons differently. It’s hard to imagine a child, an adolescent, or an adult who has never felt right or safe in their bodies. Or is it?

Compassionate curiosity led me to spend time getting to know the stories of people I’ve grown up with, in the popular culture setting. Chaz Bono and more recently Elliot Page, have courageously, and also necessarily, stepped into the bodies and lives that make them feel safe, authentic, and joyful. My ‘aha’ moment with Chaz was when his mother stated that she found understanding by considering how she would feel if she woke up tomorrow with a penis. She knew that it would feel wrong and that she would want to have it removed. But even more deeply, I felt the truth of something Elliot spoke to Oprah in an AppleTV interview.

Elliot shared the overwhelm he felt at the thought of simply leaving his house. If you think about it, the world expected him to always be seen in drag. But also, just sitting down in a chair, he was painfully aware and deeply self-conscious of all that felt wrong in his body. One’s first thought might be outrage… as ‘this’ body is considered by society to be enviable and perfect. Any young woman should delight in a body that is healthy, fit, and petite. Unless, of course, your soul does not resonate with being a woman.

But what I felt instead was affirming recognition. Not because my private parts don’t resonate with my soul, but because for most of my life, every time I sit down in a chair, I am painfully aware and deeply self-conscious of all that feels wrong in my body. I believed I was fat when I was a size 10, and as my body grew with metabolic disorder, there was no room for a sense of belonging, acceptance, or especially confidence in the body I was born with. I have fantasized for most of my life about having a different body. I have dwelled in the pit of despair with visions of hacking away the flesh of my hips, belly, and thighs. And I have literally had 80% of my stomach cut away for the dream of possibly transforming the body that would make me feel safe, accepted, and loved. Not to mention the truth of having a female body automatically deems one a higher likelihood of being sexually harassed or assaulted. It is rather confusing to want to be seen and loved, while also hoping to be invisible to those who would deliver harm.

Of course, my compassionate curiosity is still limited by my time and ability to get to know the stories of others, and Chaz and Elliot are just two sacred beings among many who are either longing for, seeking, or moving through transformation. What I know for sure is that they each deserve to feel safe and to be nurtured and celebrated for the exploration and work they’ve endured and the truth they’ve declared. There is nothing more beautiful than witnessing the joy of an individual who walks through the world unflinchingly as themselves.

My longing has always been to be loved and accepted for who I am, whether I am seen as flawed or perfect in the eyes of others. Though I cannot relate to an identity other than cisgender, I can imagine that every human longs to be loved and accepted for who they are… not who others expect them to be.

Until those who fight to limit the freedom of authenticity love themselves enough to love others, it is up to the rest of us to be the fierce allies and protectors of those whose lives fall under their hateful aim.

I know a lot is going on astrologically right now, and that a shift is happening. I have been feeling the evolution of my soul in big and small ways. This Pride season, I am flying an all-inclusive flag in my garden (well, it would be a garden if I didn’t have a brown thumb). I had not done so before because I felt it was not my own, it was not within my identity to claim that rainbow pride. But now, I realize that every one of us is represented in these vibrant stripes. Those who see a rainbow and feel outrage must be carrying so much self-hatred, to be unable to see and celebrate their own true colors. May they find peace and comfort in their own divine beauty and no longer feel the need to persecute those who have already found it for themselves.

I’m also feeling led to share a Unitarian tradition of non-violent defiance regarding the pink triangle. I’m attaching a link that tells the story, but I’ll simply acknowledge that flying my pride flag is more than informing others that I care, I am letting them know that I am standing with them. I am enormously proud of who they are, and of who I’ve allowed myself to become.

https://www.brazos-uu.org/post/the-pink-triangle-story

You are loved exactly as you are. You are worthy of safety, freedom, and authenticity and I celebrate your divine truth with gratitude for your presence in this world which is made more colorful and vibrant with you in it. So, please… stay!

Thank you for walking this path with me. I love knowing you are here.

HAPPY PRIDE, YA’LL!

There is Magick All Around You

I wonder how often the dreams of others actually come true. I don’t mean the random kind, like a young girl dreams of her distant future wedding day, but the kind that was so specific that it seemed impossible. I am not referring to the kind of dream that one manifests through hard work, like saving money to take a trip or buy a car. I mean the kind of thing imagined in youth, but never even contemplating placing on a manifestation board because it seems so unlikely that you’ve decided to dream of things more feasible.

Last week, it happened to me! I’m still processing it all, and my gratitude to those involved is impossible to express.

The dream was planted in 1986. I was in my final year of high school. I discovered the second recording of a concert. The first Stevie Nicks concert I saw was in 1982 on HBO. I was 14 and immediately fell in love. The next big event was Stevie Nicks – Live at Red Rocks four years later. I can’t recall if it aired on television or if we rented it from our local Video Village on VHS (pre-Blockbuster). What I can tell you is that I eventually owned it on VHS and later on DVD. It was THAT important.

I’m really not a crazy fan girl (well… maybe I am. I’ve seen her with and without Fleetwood Mac several times). But this woman does play a significant role in the spiritual journey of my life. I had heard the rumor in high school that Stevie was a witch. When I asked my brother about it, he said that she was a witch to Wicca as a Catholic is to Christianity. At the time, the only thing I could find in the library on the subject was in an encyclopedia. I made a copy of the pages and tucked it away. What I found in those pages didn’t draw me in, but I remained curious and open. My mom was paying attention (as always).

In February 1992, my mom signed us up for a women’s workshop at the Unitarian Church for a weekend emersion in neo-paganism with Margot Adler. A few weeks later, she signed us up for a 6-month class on Wicca (mom moved on when she knew I was not getting involved with a cult). Whether or not this was indeed her spiritual path, Stevie had influenced my life in a significant way. In that workshop and in the class that followed, I found my people. My life was forever changed for the better. There’s more synchronicity to unveil, but I think I’ll keep my visions to myself. (wink)

At the end of 1993, I called together a group of new friends, and we birthed our goddess group. Each of us at the beginning of a new path, we dedicated ourselves to exploring devotion, mindfulness, meditation, and spiritual growth, and to nurturing and celebrating the rites of passage through which we would each pass. Over time, my goddesses moved away or moved on, but we have never lost the deep connection that we chose to weave with one another. There is a deep, abiding love between this Tribe of beautiful beings. The magick circles we cast in our youth remain in the ether, and when anyone is in need – we simply step in and place them at center.

On April 29, I woke up before being ready to climb out of bed. I scrolled through Facebook and was reminded of my Tribe Sister’s birthday. Moments later, the phone rang to reveal her voice. “Happy birthday, birthday girl!”, I said. She laughed, the way she does which ignites my heart. She then proceeded to tell me that her husband gave her a birthday gift that she wanted to share with me. Can you guess what it was? Here’s a hint. My Tribe Sister lives in Colorado.

Prior to this call, I had been working on a plan with my favorite tomboy (my buddy since kindergarten) to take a road trip. It was slightly complicated by the difficulty of leaving my mom on her own for several days. But everything had finally fallen into place with our plan for escape. We would drive up to Georgia for a surprise birthday party for her mother-in-law, then stay a couple of nights with the boss who raised me, spend a day in our favorite art city, Savannah, spend one night on the beach with a friend and former colleague, then head home.

The problem was that the gracious invitation I had just received fell into that timeline. Now, I have responsibility in my top five strengths, so when I make a commitment, I keep it! My favorite tomboy knows this. So, I texted her to tell her about the call I’d received, and I was working through my mind a way to do both. When I told her that I was being given the once in a lifetime, dream-come-true opportunity to see Stevie Nicks, Live at Red Rocks, her reply was… that I must go.

At this point, my heart was already overwhelmed. My immediate thought about receiving this much goodness all at once was to wonder if I had done enough to deserve it. Could this really be happening? One dear friend had offered me a gift, and another dear friend offered me forgiveness, encouragement, and support. Meanwhile, as I began to figure out how to get there, a third dear friend arrived to make it happen. She is a flight attendant who just so happened to be flying to Denver two days before the big event (only 12 days away, at this point). She booked my flights and would hold my hand (figuratively) there and back again.

Now, the reason my lifelong friend and I were planning that road trip was that her husband was too stubborn to go (one of them would need to stay home to care for their pets and he tends to feel he is the better choice). When she told him she would be going alone, he changed his mind. He didn’t want her to drive that far, so he would go instead. This, my friends, was the big arrival of another gift. We knew that the Universe had conspired to, not only make my dream come true but to do the same for one momma whose only birthday wish was to see both of her sons. Don’t you just love the way magick happens?

I don’t think I immediately realized the power of this moment. It slowly dawned on me as I was processing the overwhelming sense of being loved and held by those who were rising up to make it possible for me, that I had held onto this impossible dream for 36 years. I was afraid to share it with others, because so much could go wrong, and loved ones would be forced to witness my disappointment. But those with whom I did share, each celebrated with me. There’s nothing like that feeling of genuine joy expressed by others as they witness your own dreams coming to fruition. Even my mom, who had seemed a little hesitant about my absence for our planned road trip, was delighted by seeing me get to have time with a Tribe Sister I rarely see and for the two of us to share this experience. This time, she worried that I wasn’t going to stay longer.

I had this strange sense of what that love coming at me felt like. I pictured a door. It was open, but there was a brick – not propping it open, but keeping it from flying all the way open. You know, intending to keep too much from entering. I’ve had this sense recently that when we protect ourselves from being disappointed or betrayed, we are not only keeping harm out, but also love.

When I experienced that sense of love flowing toward me, I wondered what it might feel like if I tossed that brick away and threw the door wide open. I still don’t know what receiving that much love all at once would feel like, but I’m open to the possibility. I challenged myself and my Sacred Gardeners to experiment with that visualization – and I hope you’ll join us!

Each morning, picture a door that is pleasing to your senses. Is it a wooden garden gate, or a door similar to your own front door? Feel the skeleton key in your hand and see yourself place that key into the keyhole of that door. Then turn the key, the knob, and finally throw that door wide open. Don’t be hesitant with worry about what may be found on the other side. Just push it with all of your strength and stand with your arms wide open to say, “Here I am love! Come and get me! I am open to receive.”

This was the first time I would travel by air since the beginning of the pandemic. The number of people lined up for the TSA security check at the airport was kind of terrifying. There were so many unmasked people, I hoped that being quadruple vaxxed and double-masked would keep me safe. After all, my body looks like those who end up on ventilators. I thought about calling my brother with instructions on caring for mom, should I not make it back.

But all went well. I was reminded of the way I chose to travel overseas many years ago, not as a tourist but as a pilgrim. When on pilgrimage, it is about the journey and what magick is allowed to happen along the way. It is never about hurried timelines or holding onto rigid plans. So, when my dear one informed me the flight was oversold and I may not have a seat, I repeated my little prayer, “Thank you in advance, dear angels, for getting me there and back again with grace and ease.” When I was handed my seat assignment, I said three ‘thank yous’, to the gate attendant, to my sweet friend, and to that unseen force that always wants the very best for us.

It was so cool to witness my lifelong friend on the job and to experience a moment in the life of a flight attendant. I stayed the night in her hotel room, where my Tribe Sister fetched me the next morning. One of the things that never ceases to amaze me about these deep soul connections, is how easily we fall back into one another’s lives as if no time has passed at all. We may go years without being together in person, and yet, here we are in this moment feeling as if we have never been apart. I’m certain that is because the distance in geography is nothing compared to the closeness of the heart. When you hold a piece of someone’s soul inside of you, you are always together.

A major bonus of our three days together was getting to have a little time with her two kids, my goddess babies, now grown. As the women in my Tribe brought their children into the world, I always felt it a blessing to bear witness in one way or another. Being childless and single for most of my life with a soul-purpose of being of service, has left me feeling more like an observer in life. I have watched friends fall in love, get married, have children, and live fully committed lives while holding space from a distance. When the legacy of my loved ones seem to hold me close, I guess it makes me feel included. It surprises me every time. I will never take it for granted.

On May 11, we woke with anticipation of the day ahead. We headed through the mountains to Golden, where we had lunch and enjoyed popping in and out of shops (something I’ve not done for as long as I’ve not flown). Before we got back into the car to drive to Red Rocks, we stopped for a couple of iced beverages to keep us refreshed for the three hours we would wait in the parking lot. Being a Florida girl, I grabbed napkins for the inevitable condensation and was shocked when my Tribe Sister declined. She said that condensation doesn’t exist in Colorado. Nope! Unbelievable. I could not comprehend this idea. I kept my napkins close. I did not need them! I’m still a little WOWed by that discovery. I never imagined it to be a thing – no condensation on an icy cup! I wonder what other wonders await.

I’d been to Red Rocks Amphitheater as a tourist many years before. It was in the afternoon and there were no events happening at the time. I had imagined at that point what it might feel like to experience a musical performance while seated within this glorious lap of Mother Nature. As I ascended and descended the earthy red structure, I heard in my mind and spoke aloud the words from that well-watched video from 1986 – “Thank you, Red Rocks, Colorado!” This danced through my memories as we sat in camp chairs within the shade of the car to watch people lining up to ascend a long and winding ramp to the entry point. I sipped from my amazingly dry cup of iced chai, and enjoyed the view.

When the invitation first arrived, the weather forecast was cold and rainy. By the time my flights were reserved, things had changed and 90 degree weather was expected. On the day of the event, however, everything was perfect. It was a cool and sunny day with a delightful breeze. I carried a sweater for when the sun went down, but it was never needed. It turned out to be a perfect day.

We decided to take the shuttle up to the entry point. I would call it the top, but it was actually the stage level with 38 rows to climb, for us. That may not sound like a grand challenge, but when you live at sea level, already being a mile high means that your lungs are extra challenged by even a few steps upward. I could feel the lack of oxygen in my lungs for a while after we settled into our seats.

I recognized immediately our good fortune. The 38th row may not sound like a big win at a concert of someone you adore, but in the case of this venue, a great deal would be lost to be closer to the stage. From our center of the row location, we could see the stage clearly, but also everything that surrounds it and that which lay beyond it. As darkness fell, the lights of the city on the horizon danced above the stage like an intentional light show. It was stunning.

Stevie had asked her friend and mentee, Vanessa Carlton, to open for her. They had both been in serious lockdown throughout the pandemic, and this was the beginning of stepping back into the world they each loved after the extended exile. As Vanessa performed “A Thousand Miles” at the close of her set, we could see her facial expression change as she searched for the words of a forgotten verse. Later, as Stevie twirled into her third or fourth song, she paused. She said that the next song was a surprise… even to her… as her team sorted out the setlist. I had not previously considered the consequence of a performer’s return to the world they were forced to leave behind. It was a joy to see them find their way back to this sacred space.

When Stevie’s opening tune began, my Tribe Sister and I looked at each other through tears. We hugged one another with gratitude for all of it. That we were in this sacred space, on this perfect evening, manifesting-dreams formerly believed impossible, and most of all, that we were together. As overwhelmed as I was by the invitation, she felt the same about my willingness and ability to be there on such short notice. I think that may be one of the most beautiful things in life. To feel so deeply a sense of love and connection with a sacred soul, and to be met with reciprocity – to know without a doubt that someone else holds you in the same beautiful light. Stevie Nicks was amazing, but the light in the eyes of my beloved friend was what made this whole adventure priceless.

Getting to behold an evening of live music with my favorite, favorite of all favorite artists, while being held by the elements of earth, wind, and sky, next to one of my most sacred beings was enormously soul-filling. I hope my swiss-cheese memory never lets a single moment fall through the holes.

Stevie closed the evening with an apology to her audience that her set may not have been as long as it once was, acknowledging she is nearly 74, after all. She also wanted us to know there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

As I sit here in my living room, I imagine myself at 74. I definitely won’t be dancing on a stage in front of nearly 10,000 people. However, if I manage to live that long, I know that I will be deliriously happy to find myself sitting next to any and all of the beings in my life who either helped to make my dream come true or who loved me enough to celebrate this moment in my life as if it were their own triumphant glory. I hope you have friends like mine.

Thank you for walking this path with me. I love knowing you are here. I hope that you are considering the position of the door to your heart and are inspired to throw it wide, while opening to receive the flood of love that is coming for you. May your wildest dreams, even those previously thought impossible, be made manifest with grace, ease, and delightful surprise. What I wish for you most of all, is that you are blessed to have friends who show up for you in that moment to assure you that you deserve this.

Welcome to the Light – A Rebirth

To me, today is a holy day. Not because of something that may have happened thousands of years ago, but because it marks an important, life altering anniversary. Nine months ago today (April 17), this small family gathered around a white haired and bearded sacred being of earth and sky, and witnessed his final breath and heartbeat. None of us got to see him come into this world, but we were so honored to hold space for his grand departure.

Symbolism is powerful in my life. You could say it is my second language. In the metaphysical world of intuitive gifts, I fall somewhere in the range of empath and claircognizant. I’m a feeler and a knower. Since I have asked the Universe to speak to me in ways that I can understand, I have found that if I pay attention, that line of communication is always open.

Four years ago, I saw the signs and followed the synchronicities. It was nine months after I danced out of the role that had long sustained me in the corporate world. The symbolism of that timeframe is obvious. It is a gestation period for human birth. In February of 2018, a courageous friend shared in brave space his diagnosis and prognosis. Brian opened a portal for me at that moment, and I picked up my torch and mindfully stepped through the door.

On new years eve, at the portal between 2021 and 2022, I shared on Facebook the final words that my father left for me in his “Memoirs for Melissa”. It felt like closure of some sort, to come to the end of his written page in the year that he died. I said to the Universe and my father’s energetic being, “Daddy, thank you for these stories. Thank you for showing up and for bringing other sacred beings to join you. Thank you for taking those painful lessons and difficult challenges of your youth and becoming a kind, compassionate, patient, loving, beautiful being. Now that I have heard your story through your words, I wish to tell our story through my words. It will be a book about making friends with death, about eldercare and self care, about the power of sacred ceremony to transform sorrow, about respecting the autonomy of those we love as they journey toward transition, and about giving the love that heals.”

Since I had been writing for the last four years, it didn’t take long to build my manuscript. I found the very best publisher with whom to partner by following the signs and synchronicities. A doula assists with transition and transformation. I had been my father’s end-of-life doula, and Sharon Lund at Sacred Life Publishers became my book doula. She helped bring my book to birth. I had already reached out to her because she had published another book on this topic, but I knew she was the one when she called me and the first three digits of her phone number were also one of my angel numbers, 808. I see these numbers frequently. They are in the email address of the Boss Who Loved Me, and I associate a sighting as a strong reminder that I am loved.

Sharon and I discussed the process and determined this project would take about three months to complete. An astrologer I follow (Annie Botticelli) had stated that the days between March 3 and April 27 would be ideal for the launch or birth of creative endeavors, as all planets are direct for this brief period of time. I may be a skeptical believer, but when messages arrive in actual words that don’t require symbolic interpretation, it seems prudent to follow. As we completed multiple edits and my dear friend crafted the cover from a beloved artwork gifted from my Tribe-brother, I considered the timing. April 17 would be the nine month anniversary of my father’s death. What are the chances that this exact date, with this symbolic meaning, would be remotely possible? According to Sharon, the chance was slim.

The final version went to the printer on April 14. Experience informed my book doula that it could be three weeks before it appeared for sale on Amazon. I knew it was going to be impossible to have my book officially published and available at Dad’s anniversary, but hoped it would at least occur before the planetary deadline on the 27th.

Because the seasons are shifting in Florida with the arrival of higher temperatures, I went ahead and secured the memorial tree I wanted to plant in my front yard. It would be dedicated to filling, somehow, the absence of my father and of my beloved ailing oak. So on the morning of April 15, the landscape professionals arrived, and were so patient and kind that they allowed me to read aloud my words and intentions, while also sprinkling some of my father’s ashes into the open womb of earth that would receive the tree I’d chosen.

“Hail to thee, sacred Traveler:

Nearly nine months have passed since your beautiful soul crossed through the veil of starlight. Your physical presence is terribly missed. Your spiritual presence is deeply felt with enormous gratitude.

When you left, our sacred oak, too, fell. The loss of you both has left a punishing light and sorrowful emptiness to fill the chasm of your absence.

May this tree be a symbol of rebirth. May these branches hold space to nurture and nourish the birds that bear your loving messages in a language I can understand. And may she grow taller, fuller, and more colorful throughout the years, providing shade and serenity for all to behold.

May the flowers that surround this keeper of your memory be a blessing to all you’ve cherished in life. May they blossom and bloom for your delight, with sweet memories of your grandfather’s garden.

May the sacred earth of my father’s former vessel bless these roots and hold them close, feeding beloved tendrils with the healing light of love.

Blessed be beloved beings. Your presence upon this sacred land will be a blessing for all my days that remain. Thank you for being healers, protectors, nurturers, and sentinels of peace, love, hope, and rebirth. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

As I poured the ash into the earth, I looked to find they had fallen first into the shape of a crescent moon, and with the final toss to empty the vessel, a straight line. My father’s remains had fallen perfectly into my own personal sigil (a magickal symbol I may use instead of my name) and also in the form of a handheld crossbow. This was something Pop had said to me after he broke his hip. He thought I should have one, and I figured it was the pain medication. But maybe . . . just maybe it was a portent.

Later that evening, I was having dinner with a friend inside a restaurant (a rare thing since the start of the pandemic), and I heard someone say my name. It was the Boss Who Needed Me and his wife. I can’t tell you how mushy I get when I see them, it is so rare. But he is such a significant part of my story, that my heart just melts in his presence. Though he was addressing my friend, I took what he said to heart. “I want you to be sure that when Melissa’s book is available, I will be informed. I want to be the first to buy it!”

So, last night (April 16) while hanging out with my Mom, I popped over to Amazon and typed the words that had only been mine for the past nine months. Mommy’s little secret until her arrival. And much to my surprise . . . she was there! Sharon says that Pop made magick happen for me, and I know without a doubt that this is true. I texted the Boss Who Needed Me to let him know that if he really meant it, this was his chance. He texted me back and said, “Melissa, we ordered it this evening.” So now… I am free to share the news with you.

Exactly nine months from the day my sweet Pop became one with the light of truth, he is being symbolically reborn in the form of a book that shall ever be his memorial. That this date also falls on the Christian celebration of rebirth could be a coincidence, but who would ever believe that? Dad sent the signs and I followed his guidance. He has always shown up for me when I needed him most.

Dear Universe, thank you in advance for allowing this work of love and light to be a blessing to others. The journey itself has already been a great blessing to me.

Welcome to the light, Persephone’s Passage! I’m so glad you are here.

PREFACE
“I once asked myself why I write and discovered that as much as I wish for my words to offer light and healing, I write for myself. I’ve determined that what I call a Swiss cheese memory allows me to live in the now. Accessing memories for me is a challenge, so when I read what I’ve written, it gives me the access I crave. Seriously, I have Googled things I’ve written to be sure they are mine.

The reason I’ve published these words is to give birth to something of myself that will remain when I am gone. It is a memorial to my father, and a tribute to the same care I intend to offer my mother, as I walk with her into the underworld (may it be a long, long journey).

Though I have loved and cherished many children and goddess babies, I have no children of my own. As I offer Persephone’s Passage to the light, I do so with reverence for its perfection. When I think of what ideal parenting might look like, it is to keep it safe, feed it well, and provide a firm and balanced foundation from which it may launch itself into the world. Once it is out in the world, my only expectation is that it exists in authentic truth and joy. I will not judge it by its number of pages, by its popularity and how many people call it friend, or by its income. I will not weigh it down with expectations of any kind. I will simply be grateful that I was blessed to have this creation of pure love move through me. I love it without condition.

May those who find it feel the depth of the love that resides within, and know that they, too, are cherished, valued, and sacred. Namaste. Blessed be. Amen. So mote it be. Aho. It is done.”

Thank you for walking this path with me, dear ones. Many have been extremely supportive of this endeavor over the last few months. Some have been more than supportive, and I am overwhelmed to the point of lacking words to describe how completely loved they have made me feel.

A mantra that I have engaged to help with feeling worthy of receiving, is this: “May I be a blessing to others; I am open to receive.” I am open and grateful!

When Dad died, I realized I would once again have to shift my self-identity. I am no longer his full-time caregiver. I am forever his daughter and also . . .
I am Melissa Baker, Author of Persephone’s Passage: Walking My Father into the Underworld – The Spiritual Journey of an End-of-Life Doula.

Persephone’s Passage may be found on Amazon, and soon will be available through other online sellers and even possibly in bookstores as Ingram distributors update their catalog.

Floating in the Light of Love

It has been quite a while since I’ve written in this sacred space. One reason is that I’ve been nurturing a project that will soon come to birth. Another reason is that in a world of chaos it is difficult to find clarity through which words may rise. My writing moves through me, and begins with fingers on the keyboard with a request to the Universe for the gift of words that might bring light. Today, the image and words that arrived were related to the familiar phrase–sink or swim. My logical mind immediately chimed in with the awareness of another option. . . to float. It’s my favorite!

At Imbolc this year, I planted my seeds of intention. One seed which has already taken root is the intention of togetherness. Physical togetherness has been a rare joy since the start of the pandemic in early 2020. Though I have maintained connectedness with phone calls, zoom meetings, and letter writing during this time, seeing loved ones in person has been at a minimum. Since planting that seed, however, I have been blessed to have face-to-face time with many of my loved ones. It feels like such a blessing! To be clear, I never took these opportunities for granted. My soul sings with gratitude for each greeting.

Many of these gatherings have revealed a similar sentiment. We are all feeling overwhelmed by world news and local awareness of discouraging trends. It seems that the schoolyard bully archetype is looming large over the entire world these days. They are rising up to conquer a peaceful nation, to squash the hard-won rights and freedom to be authentic and safe for those who have had to spend their lives pretending, and to ensure that the promise of autonomy, equity, and equality for all beings gets ripped out of their walled gardens of self-servitude.

Feeling and witnessing this oppressive energy daily is soul-crushing. It is difficult to find the light in such darkness, let alone knowing how to BEE the light. (See what I did there?) For me, the best way to cope with looking forward is to reach into the past.

In the early 90s, a friend shared her understanding of our astrological move from the Age of Pisces into the Age of Aquarius. I know, we’ve been singing about it since the 60s, but if Mercury Retrograde lasts three weeks and has a two week shadow period. . . imagine how long the shadow period is for an approximate 2,000 year cycle. Feels like forever! The wisdom shared was that we are moving out of the patriarchal, war-mongering, money-obsessed era into one that feels more nurturing and inclusive. In this time, those who feel their perceived power slipping away are doing everything they can to prevent the arrival of such peace and balance. They are like rats in a toilet bowl, trying to lift the closing lid. They are terrified and THEIR fear is what we are feeling.

There were two big moments in my life that I identify as important lessons for my soul’s journey. I’ve written about them before. The first was in 2001 when a new boss arrived to end my 10-year career in a company where I’d been valued, appreciated, and fiercely loyal. The day I chose to leave was after a period of feeling unsafe, paranoid, and downright miserable. My Tribe and I had just celebrated Ganesha’s birthday and asked him to remove our obstacles. I never would have dreamed that my job was what held me back. But it was all of that discomfort that pushed me forward and into that next place, that better space for the growth of my soul, my income, and my future.

The next big moment was spectacularly similar to the first. In 2017, with the arrival of a new boss, darkness returned. I felt every portent of dread that I had felt before. It was a gift from an intuitive guide that informed me that as an empath, one can read the way our bodies feel to interpret messages from the Universe. I was feeling anxious, uncomfortable, paranoid, and miserable. There were moments when I feared I might suffer a stroke as I felt my blood pressure rise with shock and disbelief in what was happening.

When those words of wisdom were shared with me, it was a revelation! My whole body shifted out of fear and into peace. I understood in that moment that the Universe was telling me it was time to go. Something better is on the way. . .just like before. I instantly let go of the fear that was harming my mind, body and soul, and when that departure opportunity arrived, I joyfully danced out of the building.

Of course, something better did arrive with the unexpected discovery of the ability to retire from the corporate world. I never would have dreamed of it or sought it, because I was stuck in that old belief of what living (and surviving) looks like. Both of those life lessons taught me that when I feel uncomfortable, change is coming–and it will be for the better.

In these places of panic, when it feels like our world is falling apart, we often move into that sink or swim mentality. Either we violently scrape at the edges of a slippery slope with the hope of climbing out so that we can remain in that place where we’ve always been or we can let go and sink to the bottom because life is not worth living if it can’t be the same as it was. I say, screw that!

I don’t know about you, but I am quite buoyant and I intend to float through this current chaos. Surrounded by atrocities throughout the world, and right here at home with hateful and harmful legislation and rampant gun violence, I feel extremely uncomfortable. It feels impossible to find comfort and peace within when there are so many sacred beings who suffer at the arrogant and hateful hands of others.

If we are to understand that everything is made of energy (including us), then it feels far more helpful to reach out with love instead of fear. The Buddhist Art of Tonglen would have us breathe in their suffering and breathe out deep peace. Let me take in your fear and give you my comfort.

I am choosing to believe that what we are experiencing right now is the discomfort that informs us that change is coming. . . and it is going to be good. We are about to be liberated from working for an ungrateful boss so that we can learn to better serve ourselves and those we love.

The aftermath of the rise and fall of historical monsters was a renaissance of accountability and peace for the generations that followed the tyrannical downfall. The hard part is reconciling the devastating loss and destruction that came first. It is especially difficult when we are watching it unfold on every screen within our view.

So we focus on what we can do to nurture the source of light. We exercise our freedom to vote. We honor courage and heroism. We lift up the sweet songs of children finding safe harbor. And we float down this river of light with the vision of the stories of peaceful endings, joyful liberation, grateful celebration, and mindful rebuilding. We see this for countries at war and in our own country at war with itself.

We ignite that radiant green heart light from within and allow it to expand beyond the reach of our physical bodies, to encompass our neighborhoods, our communities, our cities and states, our countries and continents, our planet, our galaxy, and our universe. Everything is illuminated by the light of our love. See the face of the one who has made you feel most treasured, safe, valued and loved in this lifetime reflected in the faces of every being you meet. Know that you are safe and loved in this moment and that all is well and all shall be well.

Wherever you are in the world, and however you are feeling in this moment. . .if you are struggling to swim and feeling like you are about to sink, I hope you will choose to lean back and float, instead. May you feel yourself filled with and surrounded by the healing light of love. Everything will be okay. I promise.

Thank you for walking this path with me. I love knowing you are here.

Deep Grief and the Ailing Oak

For nearly 25 years, I have dwelled within the shade of two oak trees that stand sentinel at the front edges of my yard. Neither are the healthiest of trees; likely accidental volunteers that were permitted to take root and reach for the sky. The one that sits mostly in my neighbor’s yard is particularly special to me. Its branches reach nearly across the entire breadth of my house.

It is a squirrel super highway leading to the neighboring oak, and a diverse bird haven. The branch I spy directly out of my living room window is a perfect perch for our local hawk, and its leaves dance with the grasp of tiny tufted titmice, who grab seeds from the feeder before returning to a loving embrace. There is so much life happening in and around this beautiful being. I celebrate it daily.

Having recently purchased the house next door, my neighbor has had a number of people over to assist with projects required for a new beginning, and each has mentioned a concern for the wellness of the tree that also stretches limbs over her roof. This is a considerable worry in the land of annual hurricane season. To be honest, this beloved tree has been dropping bits of rotted limbs for many years. The Water Oak, we were told, tends to rot out in the middle, becoming a split risk.

So, I informed her that I would grieve deeply, but that I would offer my blessing for her to do the thing I could not do… tree removal.

Yesterday, grief settled into my core. I started researching sacred ceremony for the loss of a tree. I found a beautiful offering from another wordpress blogger, Druid’s Garden (link below). I stepped into the morning air, and spoke words of adoration to this glorious being, and took photos from every angle. I cannot fathom the emptiness that will be left behind. I cried for our pending parting, for the home and shelter that will be taken from so many creatures, and for the horror of chainsaws approaching to tear into diseased and struggling flesh. The thought of it haunts me.

https://druidgarden.wordpress.com/2015/08/24/druid-tree-workings-holding-space-and-helping-tree-spirits-pass/amp/

To come to terms with this inevitable departure, I’ve been considering how we help our pets to move on, when their bodies are no longer serving their spirits. It is an act of compassion. I have regretted waiting too long, to make that impossible call to the vet. Extra hours of suffering that I might have prevented would be that thing… if I could do one thing differently… it would be releasing my selfish hold to allow the arrival of peace.

The most memorable wisdom from studying the End of Life Doula path was Stephen Jenkinson’s chilling words about palliative care prolonging death. Much of his book, Die Wise was sometimes shocking to me, but I took to heart that I would not choose to prolong death, when that time comes for me. My neighbor and I discussed with the tree expert possible plans for making her house safer, but I realize now that anything other than complete removal would be doing what I would not choose for myself. But still… I grieve. Further, I reflect on the five statements of letting go from Ira Byok’s book, Dying Well. “Please forgive me. I forgive you. Thank you. I love you. Good bye.”

This song was playing on Pandora when I entered the house following my tear-filled reverie. Spiral Dance, my favorite Australian band, sing about The Oak and its many gifts to us. “For shelter and shade has the oak tree grown. The ship, the cradle, the hearth and home. Arms so strong they hold the sky. Stood so long that the heart can’t die.” My heart is singing a dirge, but The Druid’s Garden suggests something different… music that eases suffering, and I feel this song will be on my personal playlist. Our playlist; for the tree and me.

I don’t know how much time we have left together, but I have started tying cords, ribbons, and bells to branches within my reach. They represent adornments of my gratitude. When the time is right, I will scatter offerings of dried rose petals and white sage at the base of its trunk, sending my love into deep roots, which have kept us safe through many storms. I will scatter stone beads of Morganite, which will bring healing of trauma to the land which will have lost so much.

When I binge watched Marie Condo’s series on Tidying Up, I was inspired to write a love letter to my home, based on her tradition of greeting a home with gratitude upon entering. I would also offer this gesture to my beloved oak.
https://beethelight.blog/2019/01/04/ode-to-sanctuary/

Beloved, sacred, holy being of earth and sky,
Thank you for loving us. Thank you for extending your beautiful branches into my life. You have long stood sentinel near my home, offering shade and shelter for myself and many. Every summer, you host the return of our screaming cicadas and I am transported to childhood with memories of freedom. As years have passed, you have lost limbs and branches, and I have feared the day when your leaves would drop in the spring, and not return. And yet, you have continued to bloom… thriving through adversity… a body dis-eased but stubborn.
Every day, you remind me to thrive. You validate my own choice to nurture and support the lives and well-being of others. My own scars, bulges, and flaws are held in the light of love, because I have learned to love myself as I have loved you, even when gravity pulls you downward.
In this moment, I cannot fathom your absence. When you are gone, I will feel empty. Many will become temporarily homeless and afraid. Cicadas will rise from slumber and discover the lack of you. The view from my window will be naked and bright, and my heart will be curtained no longer with branches and leaves, but with sorrow and longing. I hope you will forgive me for being powerless to save you. I forgive you for not being strong enough to ensure your safety. I love you for the roots that have broken concrete, reminding me that Mother Nature is more powerful than anything man can do to limit Her progress. I love you for the trunk and branches of holding, which have been the playground of squirrels that have long entertained the cats who live here. I love you for your leaves of change that remind me that everything is temporary – as old leaves fall away to reveal fresh new growth each February.
Everything is temporary. Everything is temporary. And so, I must also say goodbye. I have to let go. Thank you for loving me and for inviting me to love you back. I will miss you when you are gone… every. single. day. But I will also remember you with gratitude and great pleasure, for the memories you have provided. New growth will come again, you have shown me that truth. And just as you have embraced my home and property with your kindness, love and protection… I will be open to receive.
Because of your love, I have no choice but to love again. I love you. Thank you. Hail and Farewell.

Thank you for walking this path with me. I love knowing you are here.

Read This To Me When I’ve Forgotten Who I Am

Every Saturday, since the Spring Equinox of 2020, I have hosted a weekly online gathering of my Sacred Gardeners. These beloved beings joined me for mindful workshops every eight weeks in 2019, and when we couldn’t continue the tradition due to Covid-19, we adjusted. During uncertain times, we found comfort in our togetherness, as we virtually gathered to find reassurance that those we loved were safe and well. We reminded each other that everything would be okay.

When we reached our one year anniversary of weekly meetings, and as we began to celebrate each vaccination, we affirmed how meaningful this connection has become in each of our lives, and how we wish to continue checking-in weekly, even when we are free to safely return to the former gathering schedule.

Following the Holding Space format of checking-in, which I learned from Heather Plett (in the nick of time – finishing up the 6 month course about the time that the world went into lockdown), we would take turns sharing what we’d been doing and how we were feeling over the past week, and then we’d check-out by sharing the plans we have for the week ahead, inviting support and encouragement, as needed.

A recurring theme, as I asked my sacred gardeners to hold space for me over the past year, has been about what I call my swiss-cheese memory… the way that things fall through the holes. I have mostly found comfort in my concern by realizing that I am forced to live more fully in the present, because I am not holding onto whatever may have occurred in the past. Though forgetting something important, like giving my Dad his morning pills, or locking their back door before heading home for the night, especially worries me.

Swiss-cheese memory isn’t new for me. Even as a teenager, my Mom would ask about what might be happening in the life of a friend, with whom I’d spent the day, and I could recall that we had deep conversation, but very little specifics (i.e., she got a new job, but I can’t remember where or doing what). I’ve joked that your secrets are safe with me, because I may not even remember that we ever chatted at all. I will sometimes start telling a story about a memory, only to be reminded that the person I am telling was with me at the time.

I was referred to a Neurologist a couple of years ago, and his assessment was that my memory wasn’t bad, but that I had trouble accessing it. He prescribed Topamax to see if it would help, but after a week of a constant headache and other discomfort (that I can’t quite recall), I let go of the dream of finding resolution.

This week, I actually forgot it was Saturday. Seriously. I failed to set the reminder for the call, and forgot to head to my parents’ place a little early to get Dad out of bed and fed to get home before the start time of my call. I forgot all about this event that I’ve hosted for 58 Saturdays in a row, until the alarm on my phone reminded me that I had 15 minutes before my Sacred Gardeners would arrive in our virtual circle.

Many of us speak of lapses in memory, and fears of being unable to learn and retain new things, but my biggest fear is that someone I care about will feel that something I’ve forgotten might mean that I do not care, that I was not listening when they were speaking, or that I have failed them in our friendship. I have only ever wanted to be remembered as a good friend, and someone who cared about the well-being of others. I hope that translates, somehow… even when I’ve forgotten your name.

I have often been inspired to sit down and write, but by the time I’ve gotten from the point of inspiration to my laptop, the reason has been lost. So, when I finish a piece and post it, there is a level of gratitude and celebration for the act of completion. When I started writing a couple of years ago, if someone asked me what I’d been up to, I would read them my latest blog post, because frankly, my answer would have been quite brief, unless I could also look at my calendar to be reminded that I did something fun last weekend. I thought that I was writing to touch the hearts of others, to inspire, to deliver hope, or to connect with my higher self to nurture self-healing. I figured this was my way of feeling seen and heard, after a lifetime of feeling invisible, in my own self-limiting belief.

But what I know now, is that I am writing for myself. I am writing to capture the memories I’ve been able to access. I am writing to share parts of myself that are faulty and vulnerable. And more than anything, I am writing so that one day, when I’ve forgotten who I am, you might read this to me, revealing the enormous love, bountiful blessings, and glorious magick that has manifested throughout my lifetime. You will remind me that I have been grateful for every little thing in my life, for the way that they turned out to be the important things, not so little at all.

So… in case I forget to say it later… Thank you for walking this path with me. I’m so happy you are here.

The Awareness of Joy

Last week, one of my Thursday circle-mates posed a question for our weekly conversation. It was based on a graphic she had shared earlier in the week, which found resonance. It was based on the idea of how we tend to be painfully aware of what triggers our anger, our fear, our trauma-based emotional and bodily responses to something in any given moment… and asking us to ponder what might be our HAPPINESS triggers.

*Graphic that sparked our conversation / from mombrain.therapist, shared by*
*Women Veteran Social Justice Network*

When I saw this, I immediately thought of a recent sensation I had while standing in my kitchen, after a friend had left for home, following our first visit in more than a year… now that we are both fully vaccinated. So… here’s the funny thing about this thought (see my post about my swiss-cheese memory: https://beethelight.blog/2018/08/14/a-blessing-or-a-curse/), I couldn’t remember exactly what it was. Ha!

I swear, it was profound… that thought and that sensation in that moment! I should have written it down. Sigh… What I decided to do, was to write down whatever came to mind on a list of Happiness Triggers. I am now keeping this running list open on my desktop, so that I can add to it when things come up.

(What that feeling might have been, I decided, was this: Not only the one-on-one time I get to share with someone I love, but the time that follows when I can reflect on our togetherness with equal gratitude for the time I now have to spend with myself.)

Walking home from morning ritual at my parents’ house up the street today, I was being triggered left and right, literally (magick happening in neighbors’ yards, as I passed). So, I came home to write it all down.

*Asterisk marks a happiness trigger

It all started when I *woke up in my own bed, *in my own home of 25 years, with *plenty of time for my morning coffee ritual before it was time to be responsible to others. I shook off sleep with *the sound of a favorite book being read to me through Audible. Making my morning pour over coffee has become a form of prayer. As I pour hot water over the grounds of my *favorite coffee, I start with a counter clockwise drizzle to release the oils, and I offer gratitude for the aches and pains I feel, which remind me I am human, and I ask for the release and resolution of it, too. Then, in a clockwise motion, I pour hot water over the grounds with my daily gratitudes to the elements. *I am grateful for the eastern element of air which fills my lungs with the breath of life. *I am grateful for the southern fire which inspires me to action. *I am grateful for the western water that cleanses and heals as waves of loving emotion flow over me. *I am grateful for the northern earth that holds and sustains me, keeping me grounded.

I continue the coffee ritual as I pour cream into my cup, using techniques inspired by Kyle Grey and Jennifer Weigel suggestions for manifesting magick throughout the day. *Thank you in advance, dear Universe, for revealing your magick to me today in ways that I can understand. Thank you for inviting me to be mindful and aware of the messages you are sending, and may I receive them with clarity.

I enjoyed the time I had to myself, with coffee, and reading updates from friends on social media, and then got dressed to start the ‘responsible to others’ part of my day. I stepped out into the beauty of the day, *warm sun and a cool breeze, under a blue sky with puffy white clouds, surrounded by lush greenery on lawns and treetops. As I ventured up the street, a *large dragonfly floated far above me, as I crossed paths with *a flock of young Ibis. I delight in their presence on my block, and always eagerly greet them with, “HI-bis!” They went about their business of bug plucking, and scooted around the *squirrels at play. A *butterfly fluttered by as I turned up my parents’ driveway (*just 7 doors up from my own).

Though I do quite a lot during morning ritual with my folks, there are more days than not, when happiness is triggered for the sheer fact that *all I do is in service to their love and care, which enables a flow that comes with grace and ease. These days, *when I come to the end and tuck them in for the night, and return to my home at the end of the street, I feel enormous gratitude and peace for the blessings we have to be able to live this lifestyle, and for my strength and ability to manage all three of our lives relatively well. I am grateful that on most days… *this feels pretty easy, even though it is quite a lot.

After getting Pop changed and out of bed and into his chair, giving him and one of the dogs their meds, cooking breakfast, cleaning the kitchen, and ensuring everyone had what they needed for a peaceful day, I headed back out into this glorious Florida day. I passed by the flock of Ibis (HI-bis! Say hello to Isis for me!), still doing their part to aerate our lawns, remembering that it was this yard through which I *witnessed an opossum crossing last night (Hi Possum!). Then, in the next yard down, I stopped to *watch a black snake slithering its way through green grass (Oh! Hello!)

As I watched the snake and waved fare-the-well, my neighbor drove up in his little red Moke, I remembered the *bunch of bananas he left on my porch last week, and hoped he enjoyed the Hummingbird cupcakes I baked and shared thanks to his gift of inspiration. Then *another neighbor passed, as I stood in my own yard, *chatting with a blue jay who was singing in my oak tree, and we spoke of the blessing of this beautiful day.

I entered my sanctuary with a mind to *love on my kitties, and to *write all of this down. Next on my agenda is to *indulge in a good nap, and maybe even *a hot bath with epsom salt and essential oil. The bright red *cardinal in the tree outside my window shows up to remind me that my love language is ‘showing up’. So, thank you for showing up, dear ones. I love you more.

By the way, my eyes roll back in my head at *the smell of sweetgrass when I drive through the mountains of North Carolina, and pretty much the sound of *anything performed by Stevie Nicks or Fleetwood Mac starts a bonfire of joy for me. I would love to know what you have noticed triggers happiness for you!

Thank you for walking this path with me, and thank you in advance, dear Universe for making this a magickal day.

*Messages from the Universe
Dragonfly: self realization; emotional maturity and understanding the deeper meaning of life
Ibis: great wisdom and the ability to work magic
Squirrel: preparedness, abundance, multi-tasking, new-life, rest, better days, and laying groundwork
Snake: fertility or a creative life force, transformation
Butterfly: change, renewal, hope, endurance, and courage to embrace the transformation to make life better
Opossum: expect the unexpected
Blue Jay: truth, faithfulness, and solidarity because they are vigilant in their tasks
Cardinal: devotion, loving relationships, good fortune (for me – love is here)

The Empty Calendar

Today, I pulled down the 2020 calendar to be replaced.

It was a gift from my financial advisor, featuring paintings from The Saturday Evening Post. Once upon a time, I would have passed on such a gift, seeking something more me… with artwork from a Pre-Raphaelite artist or Mary Engelbreit, but since I owe my current lifestyle, in part, to the compassionate insight of my financial advisor, I liked the idea of holding him close. (Thanks Tony!)

What a strange thing… to flip through the pages of a bygone calendar year like the one we’ve just narrowly escaped. To be honest, the world I manage resides mostly on google, but the big things would usually go on the wall calendar. Like a visit from my brother and his family, a trip that might take me out of town, or a workshop I designed to share with others.

In this case, January reminded me of a friend’s knee surgery, Second Sunday Supper, Book Group, and my 51st birthday. February boasted my second annual Seeds of Intention Workshop (where we would assess the different areas of our lives to determine where we wanted to focus our intentions for… the year ahead), filing my taxes, and what would be the last time we would get to see my brother and his wife, who had come up from South Florida.

Then, I flip to March. It’s kind of eerie to look at. There’s a trip to San Antonio for a wedding, followed by a countdown. 14 days to wear a mask each time I entered my parents’ home. Somewhere in this wordpress account, is an unfinished post about the beautiful wedding I attended. It remains unfinished… much like the calendar.

Page after page of 2020 is blank. Void of significant pronouncements. Right up until October 20, which reads: “Dad Broke Hip”. Then, “Pop to Rehab”. In November… there was one weekend marked with something completely different – a two-day escape with a friend to Merritt Island. Then the day before Thanksgiving, “Dad Discharge”. December, again, is blank.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I did nothing with my days. They were filled with enormous care, and loads of love. I have no regrets for the extreme caution we have chosen, in order to keep ourselves and those we love safe and well (not to mention those we don’t know, but care for just the same). Many of those days were filled with learning and growing, with spiritual deepening, with virtual connectedness, and the acquisition of new tools and new skills in the art of eldercare. We miss our people, but so far… though physically distant, we are still all present and accounted for.

But so many are not as lucky as we. Those blank calendar pages remind me of all the lives that were brimming with to-dos and check marks of accomplishment, with no more pages to be flipped. My heart aches for those who have lost loved ones this year, whether to this virus, to dis-ease, despair, or the horrors of brutality. I grieve not only for those who were unable to have the hand of a loved one holding theirs at departure, but for those they have left behind, without the opportunity to be surrounded and held by those who love them, each longing to ease suffering in the smallest, but most meaningful way.

I remember feeling so lucky that Dad had remained relatively well all year, because I couldn’t imagine him being in a hospital or rehab facility, should there be covid restrictions prohibiting visitors. When that fifth fall in a week broke his upper femur, I was relieved to know that he could at least have one visitor each day.

My parents and I have stopped doing the whole gift thing for Christmas. So, this year I bought us the box-set of the 90’s TV series, Northern Exposure. We’ve been watching two episodes each evening. It is a delightful way to end each day. A gift that keeps on giving.

One of the episodes we watched tonight was an old favorite. I think of it each year around the solstice, as the town gathers to celebrate the birth of the Sun, through the indigenous tale of the Raven. The episode takes us through the lives of our beloved community, each unique and fantastic… valued for their individuality and authenticity. Each honors the season of light in their own way, and their community holds space for all of it.

I could weep to remember that this world my parents and I are diving into, with intense longing, is fictional… but frankly, it reminds me of what it means to be Unitarian. I was blessed to grow up, not in a dogmatic religion that excludes the ideas of others, but in a loving community that honors all traditions, and has space at the table for everyone, including Mother Earth, herself.

In a year that has made consumerism feel rather foolish, I was struck by a quote from the town DJ and philosopher, Chris in the Morning: “Happiness doesn’t come from having things… it comes from being a part of things.”

Being a part of several sacred circles this year has delivered great light and joy, in the darkest of times. The big events on the 2020 calendar were few, but commitments to weekly or monthly gatherings on Zoom were consistent and sustaining. We all long to gather again, in safe spaces that are free from shields and obstacles, but what I know for sure is that we can do hard things. We can love others enough to keep them safe for a few more months… or several, if necessary.

As I hung the new calendar where the old one used to be, I opened it to a blank January. So far, it is marked for Inauguration Day and my 52nd Birthday. These pages are holding space for hope. One day, I will get to mark a square with ‘Vaccines’ for the three of us. And then, maybe… at some point… my brother and his family will get a few squares. That will be something to celebrate, indeed.

Thank you for walking this path with me. I am grateful for your presence in my life. Please know that if you are walking through your own darkness, or living with the ache of longing due to a loss that cannot be whispered or spoken, you are held firmly in the light of love. May the Raven soon carry the light of the Sun to brighten your heart and sky. I love you.

Beloved October

This morning I woke with a sense of joy. My favorite month has finally arrived. I greet it with enthusiasm, as I do my cats (GOOD MORNING FLEUR AND NEVILLE!), my sanctuary (GOOD MORNING HOUSE!), and the lizards on the porch, as I step outside to check the weather (GOOD MORNING LIZARDS!). GOOD MORNING OCTOBER! To all of them and to you, I say: I’m so glad you are here!

Living so close to the equator in the state of Florida, October isn’t really so different from September. Really, it is just the idea of it that brings my spirit to a glorious new vibration. I mean, we don’t even get to enjoy the striking color display of states just north of us. We pretty much experience different shades of green throughout the year, until the dull green oak leaves get pushed out by the vibrant green leaves in February, when the world seems coated in yellow-green pollen, and no one can breathe for the code-red pollen count.

Still, I know change is happening somewhere. I can feel it in my bones. For example, the high today is expected to be only 82 degrees. We’re actually having a cold-front! It makes me want to step out of the air conditioning and twirl as I burst into song.

I think the animals are doing the same. I’m in a suburb, so wildlife sightings are limited, but today I was delighted by it. As I walked to my parents’ home to help my father with his morning routine, I happened upon a grand celebration. No less than nine squirrels were dashing around the trunk and branches of their neighbor’s tree. I tried counting them several times, but then three would dash up and to the left, while three more went up and to the right, and a few more came down the trunk and into the yard… and back up again. I stood there, as witness to an abundance of joyful activity and I laughed until I cried.

Since I pay attention to synchronicity and seek messages from the universe, I am taking from Squirrel spirit that I am prepared for the future, I am abundantly blessed, and now it is time to manifest more joy in my life. I mean… NINE SQUIRRELS! One cannot ignore Mother Nature when she is trying to get your attention in such a remarkable way.

Thank you, dear universe, for the abundance of joy in my life, for providing all I need with plenty to share, and for the blessings of beauty that surround me every day. I am grateful.

To be sure, I have struggled with despair in recent weeks. I live in a state where Covid-19 restrictions are being lifted, while thousands of people are testing positive, and more than 100 people die each day. It is painful to understand that life is so meaningless to so many. I have felt oppressed by the realization that in order to keep my parents safe, we will all have to continue living in exile for the foreseeable future. I miss my people. I miss hugging them. I miss seeing their smiles, in real life… unmasked and radiant in the reflection of mutual affection.

Oh, and then there’s the awareness that there are people trying to get rid of the best healthcare coverage I’ve had in 50 years. I cannot, for the life of me, understand how anyone could believe this is a caring thing to do. Why don’t people care about the safety and wellness of others?

But today… today is the beginning of October! And even if I can’t see it… I can feel that change is coming. The things in life that no longer serve us are beginning to shrivel on the vine, and soon it will all fall away. There will be a time of naked awareness as the pile at our feet exposes the truth of what wickedness once grew unhindered and fed by poison.

Then… one day soon, we will bear witness to new growth and vibrant blossoming of new beginnings. This life thing, on the earthly plane, is comprised of a series of cycles, and all things must end. I, for one, value the darkness, and I do not fear endings. In my life, every ending has delivered clarity and greater understanding of where I’ve been and how I’d like to pave my path forward. It shall not be an easy task, but imagine where it will take us!

Thank you for walking this path with me.
May October bring you an abundance of blessings and endless moments of joy. I love you more.

Joy and Woe Entwined

Each week in my world, an international circle of friends gathers to discuss a random topic. This week’s discussion was inspired by a portion of William Blake’s 1863 (published then, written earlier) poem, The Auguries of Innocence. The piece of the much longer poem that initiated conversation was this…

What happens in circle stays in circle, but I can tell you what rose to mind for me, and some of what I shared… at least, what has not yet fallen through the holes of my swiss-cheese-memory, as we discussed what brings us joy, and what the words of this portion of the poem unearthed.

The thread for which my mind first reached was that JOY is surely woven with SORROW. It brings to mind a tapestry upon a cold castle wall that not only warms the corridor, but seeks to tell a story.

Empathy is one of 34 inherent strengths that comes most naturally to me, and I am also an Aquarian extrovert, so when I think of what brings me joy, the first images to come to mind are, at once – spending time with those I love, and bearing witness to the joy of others. Because I feel the emotions of others, I simply relish the opportunity to know that loved ones are happy, safe, and well.

The most recent example was a friend who called for my support. Facing a change of ‘home’ in her 80s, the uncertainty and the financial challenges felt overwhelming. She’s engaged me as her End of Life Doula, and I confirmed I would be her ‘person’, should there be an -in case of emergency- situation. But I also reminded her that, as she looked at the many options for shelter in the year ahead, that above all, she should remove from her concerns that she would ever be homeless. She is well-loved by many with guest rooms, so her worse-case scenario would never include being abandoned and destitute. With that reminder, her entire being began to relax. She called the next day to tell me that I was right, that everything would be okay, and that she already has solutions. And just like that, her sense of peace, became my JOY.

I sometimes get the sense that when WOE is winning – pressed tightly to the chest – encased in fear, we may fail to see that JOY is right there, too, holding space, and awaiting our notice. When we do, everything relaxes, and as we breathe more deeply, we are able to witness everything falling into place, exactly as it should.

The last blog post I shared, was a plea for your assistance to enhance healing energy for someone in need. And this… is what next came to mind about the entanglement of JOY and WOE. A friend and former colleague had recently come back into my life through social media. She was sharing the joy of her work life and personal life – in a pandemic paradigm, along with the woes of friends who struggled with the deadly virus that took some and spared some. I thought of the blanket of comfort she is weaving now, with a special page dedicated to her beloved’s unexpected and all-consuming battle with lung cancer.

The walls of her castle are warmed with photographs of past adventures, the loving memories of devoted friends, online-gatherings to walk a healing labyrinth on her beloved’s behalf, with prayers spoken, songs enchanted, and the very real terror of the limitations of the body and medicine. Connectedness through community is their lifeline, and joy comes to greet the sorrow with the arrival of bucket list gifts, and friends wearing masks to carry the wounded warrior out of the house and into the car to return to the hospital for more chemotherapy. I am agog with the vulnerability and courage they are each expressing to the universe. They are showing us all how to strengthen the weave.

If you are willing and able to read my last post and wish to add your healing energy to the intention of his wellness, please click here (when you finish this):

https://beethelight.blog/2020/08/22/circle-up-for-love-that-heals/

The third thing that came to mind, was the JOY of building deeper bonds of commitment and connection during the WOES of social injustice and global pandemic. I don’t know about you, but I have a minimum of four online gatherings each week, some of which have been occurring since the Spring Equinox. As the Autumn Equinox approaches, only 15 days away, what started as a way to know that dear ones were safe and well through the early weeks of uncertainty and skyrocketing death rates, has become a comforting salve for our longing.

We long to gather safely in one sacred space, with beautiful smiling faces unburdened by the veil of a mask. We ache for the hugs that remind us we are not alone, and that this is not all a dream, we are real and tangible, and lovable, and necessary in the lives of those who love us. We are grateful for the JOY of this technology, which enables us to, at the same time, sit in the living rooms of those we love, to show them that we are safe and well, and through the light of our eyes, exhibit the sorrows of our seclusion and the commitment to doing whatever it takes to get to the other side of this challenging banishment… for HUGS AWAIT!

I hope my circle-mate won’t mind me sharing this one item that resonated from our conversation that night. She said (far more eloquently) that her grandmother taught her that when she goes about selecting pieces of fabric for making a quilt, she must ensure there are many muted squares – so that the favorite fabrics can be savored all the more.

From afar, I witness the mingled vines of JOY and WOE through what is happening around the country and the globe. Friends in the west are facing the specter of a dry scorched earth as wild fires rage, and the Gulf Coast endures yet another destructive hurricane, and little earthquakes are happening in unexpected places. In other countries, communities are reopening and reconnecting to the lives they once knew… with some caution, but some freedom, too.

And in my own tiny world… amid the WOE of missing hugs and mountain adventures, from this sanctuary I JOYfully embrace the comfort and safety of a home surrounded by oak trees, beloved tiny lizards, and wonderful neighbors. I am writing to you from a peaceful living room that is filled with a great deal of art that I love, and two kitties at rest. We are surrounded by the WOEful heat of this sunshine state, but are blessed by the JOY of air conditioning, while my parents, just seven houses up the street, are doing the same with their three dogs.

We are all safe and well, and continue to find JOY in the small things. That we have each other is not taken for granted, and without a doubt, we know it to be no small thing, at all.

Thank you for walking this path with me. I love you more.

Circle Up for Love That Heals

A couple of years ago, I learned about the loved one of a dear friend who was facing an overwhelming future based on a diagnosis and prognosis she’d received. The ache I could feel with my empathic heart was extreme. I crafted a meditation to invoke healing with the help of others, and today that ache has returned.

A former colleague and respected friend has been reaching out for support from her beloved community, as her most sacred being and life-partner has been given an overwhelming diagnosis. Once again, I do not know him personally, but I know the heart of my friend, and I can feel her ache, her fear, and the weight of her burden. My intention is to send Reiki and ThetaHealing to assist with the battle our patient is facing, as well as to bolster the strength of my friend as she holds space for the one she loves.

Once again, I’d like to engage your support. I promise that it will not cost you more than a moment of thought, and what I know for sure is that the light produced by your mindful awareness will add to the light of mine, and together… we may just permeate the darkness descending upon a sacred soul. Now, the soul of whom I write is specific, but together – our reach may be expansive. Each of us may be just a drop of quenching rain, but together we can be a monsoon of healing light, a tsunami of love.

With so much suffering and loss in the world, I am often strengthened by the thought of touching the heart of one being, that they may touch the heart of another, with the ripple effect causing eternal waves of love that heals. You can help. We can help. Somehow, in a place beyond our understanding… we shall gather, heal, and overcome.

The sacred being of whom I speak is a gentle, loving soul who went to the doctor about an imagined rib fracture, and came out with a diagnosis of lung cancer. His partner, my friend, has spent a good part of this year rallying around friends who either did or did not win a battle with Covid-19. She is already exhausted, and has asked for support. Darlings, this is called surrender. This is what we all must do to survive during extraordinary times. We are all living in such times, and we must understand that we are not alone, for we are all one. Please reach for the support that will nurture you through the most difficult days. I promise that your hand will be met with a circle of loving kindness.

Whether you are ready to surrender, or have empathy and energy to offer, we are all grateful for your stunning, radiant inner light. The love from one heart is great and enveloping, but the love of many? It is all consuming… a cloak of comfort on a cold dark night. Please take my hand and share your light and consider opening to receive the light of others… I can see it growing brighter as you approach, and it is sweetness to behold – this love made manifest.

Further, I hope you would not consider it greedy to ask that you share this intention with others. Imagine the power of our light when it is passed from one sacred soul to another! We are each torchbearers… passing our light from one to another, until the whole world is aglow with a radiance more powerful than the sun.

I value and respect privacy, so for the purposes of our focused connection, I am going to refer to our sacred vessel as B. Know that time is not linear, and your light will make a difference even if we are all focusing at different times or on different days. Also understand that if you are in need of healing light, or wish to offer it to someone you care about, you may pull it from this cosmic gathering and place that being at the center of the circle right next to B. Love is infinite. We have access to an endless supply. Remember, when you offer your own healing energy, you are never depleted, for this is a divine force that moves through you… you cannot help but receive through the giving.

Great Spirit, Mother / Father God, Universal Force of Creation, Powers that Be, Elements of Air, Fire, Water and Earth which surround us and flow through us, Light of Truth, Unconditional Love, All That Is: Allow this sacred circle of beautiful beings to become a combined vessel of your love, filling up and spilling forth with an abundance of healing light energy. Allow the light of love to flow freely, without obstacle, and let it drip down the healers’ hands, washing away our sorrows, our fears, our hunger and thirst, our aches and pains, self-doubt and false limitations. As we are made of celestial matter, we contain the healing power of a thousand suns, and the distant light of a billion stars is ever present in the combustive force that warms us from within. Let this divine energy rise up through Earth’s core and crust, through saline ocean, and forest floor, through the soles of our feet, rising up through the roots that are our legs, lighting up our energetic being as it is filled – (red) root, (orange) sacral, (yellow) solar, and into our (green) hearts contained by strong and resilient trunks, and let this molten, healing light flow through arms to hands that are our branches, through (blue) throat, (purple) mind’s eye that sees what is not visible, and (white) crown through which we connect easily with all that is… rising up and out to deliver exactly what is required, be it for the good of all. Amen, So Be It, Blessed Be.

If it is difficult to connect with the soul of someone you do not yet know, think of someone you do know who has made you feel completely loved. Hold that beloved being in your heart and radiate and reflect that love back to her or him. As you feel that radiance shared between the two of you, allow that light to expand to encapsulate others in your circle – such as family and friends for whom you feel a sense of affection. Now, expand that light even further, beyond those you know well and out to acquaintances, and then to people you don’t know in your community, in your city, in your state. Let your light of loving compassion grow and spread beyond the boundaries of country, continent, planet. Let your love reach and grow into the darkness of space, surrounding the galaxy, and then every galaxy – known and unknown. Know that your light is expansive and boundless. You are one with the universe and all that is.

Now, bring your focus back into your center. Visualize this place that is in a realm that is not limited by what we know in this world. In this place, there is plenty of room for all of us to gather. We are each standing in our own strength, prepared to share it freely with one another. If you once felt alone in this space, feel the arrival of other light beings, as the palms of your hands are filled with the palms of two others. As each of us arrive in this sacred circle, a pale blue light radiates from each being, and as hands are linked, the light begins to pulsate and grow stronger as it flows gently in a clockwise motion, from heart to heart and hand to hand.

As the circle is made complete, you look before you and see B seated at the center, enveloped in the pale blue light of your loving presence. Let B be represented by that being who has made you feel most loved and cherished, and let that love be reflected back to him. He is surrounded by Universal light delivered through sacred souls from all over the planet. You may be holding hands with someone from America, from Canada or Ireland, from India, Japan, Australia, or from Africa… your light is mingling with the light of people from countries whose names have never crossed your lips. We are all one, and there are no barriers here. We are all here for one purpose… to bring divine healing light to the soul of another, in whatever form is needed. When we offer our healing energy, Reiki, Theta, our thoughts and prayers, it must be unattached to outcome, for we cannot know the destined journey of one’s soul. We can only trust that exactly what is needed to bring healing to that sacred soul, in any form, will be delivered by our care.

As the light surrounding B grows and pulsates, it is like a magnet that is pulling from his body any residue of past harm, be it betrayal, fear-based thought, denial of personal worthiness, resentment, guilt, or environmental impurity. As all remnants of negativity and dis-ease (mentioned and unnamed) are removed from his body, his energetic being, his DNA, and his beautiful soul, all areas of exit are filled and sealed with golden light. The pale blue light, which has grown in strength as each new soul enters the circle, becomes a beautiful emerald green. As B has been emptied of what no longer serves him, he has become an open vessel to receive the light that we offer, as well as the sparkly white light of creation that flows from above. We are grateful witness to the arrival of this light, and are awed by the beauty that illuminates B’s own strength and beauty as he is filled with this light that is like the golden light from a holiday sparkler, or a downpour of luminous glitter.

This light fills every cell of his body with divine healing energy, as it delivers strength and fortitude for the road ahead. B is receiving through his open heart, the wisdom of the universe, the strength of earthly ancient mountains, the air to fill his lungs and speak his truth, the fire to move his muscles and accomplish every task he seeks to fulfill, the water to wash his spirit clean of fear, anger, bitterness, and regret. What remains is love, joy, and with full forgiveness of the past, complete self-acceptance and approval.

B is filled with divine light and soothed by the love that surrounds him. Whatever is required for his peace, comfort, and transformation in the form that his soul has chosen will be provided with grace and ease. He is one with all of us and we are all one with the Universe. Together we transcend the limitations beholden to the confines of the human body, through the power of the mind, which is greater than our understanding. Once again, we place our trust within this truth… that assistance is given to those who reach. Together we reach beyond what we can see, feel, understand, and know that this mystery is received and freely given through the love that resides within each of us.

Finally, in this sacred place where we have gathered, we raise our hands toward B, and send golden light energy from heart to palm and into his being, so that he may carry the love of this circle within through all of his days upon the earth and into the mystery of what comes next, many years from now. And when you feel that you have given what he needs, place your hands upon your own heart, and receive that same energy that flows through you and each sacred being within this circle. Allow your own body and energetic being to be filled with this Universal Light Energy. Feel the light and love of this vast community surround you and enter your heart. Know that you carry this love within you, and that it seeps through every pore with a radiant light that brings healing to old wounds, and attracts an abundance of goodness to your life.

When you are ready to return to the place where you are sitting, I hope that you hold onto my gratitude and my love for the light that you have offered, and for the healing it has provided. You are loved and valued beyond your previous imagining. Hold onto that and let it grow in your awareness. Your light will illuminate your path, and beauty surrounds you, every step of the way.

Now allow the white light of cleansing and separation wash over you as you start to wiggle your fingers and toes, allowing the light to gently find your eyes. And finally, send your energy deep into mother earth, pull that golden, molten core energy up into your being, and when you are grounded, cut the cord of this connection and seal your energetic being like closing a zipper.

Thank you for walking this path with me! I love you! It is done!

An Unusual Harvest

Today is Lughnasadh, or Lammas, in the northern hemisphere. On the Celtic calendar, it is the cross quarter holiday that marks the midpoint between the summer solstice and the autumn equinox. When we lived in farming communities, it was considered the first harvest.

Since some of us were born with brown thumbs and outside of farming communities, as many do in the current era, we can still find value in these calendar pages through the power of metaphor. And so, once again, I ask… What’s in your harvest?

My Sacred Gardeners and I met in February for the annual workshop on intention setting. At Imbolc, we planted our figurative seeds of intention. Even with a brown thumb, intentions can grow when nurtured with mindfulness and attention.

We anticipated gathering again at the end of March, for the Spring Equinox, and even had a Beltaine retreat planned in my beloved Blue Ridge Mountains. It was to be a weekend dedicated to falling in love with ourselves, right down to a commitment ceremony with rings and circlets of flowers for our heads.

But sometimes, something happens in life that takes our attention away from the garden. A loved one dies, a job is lost, the path forward becomes less clear and uncertainty enters like a thick fog. 2020 has certainly been that kind of a year, ten-fold.

But every eight weeks, the wheel of the year turns to remind us to come back to the cycles of nature. Everything changes. All life is temporary. We remember that though these days are challenging, frustrating, disappointing, sad… they, too, are temporary. This pandemic will come to an end. This physical distancing from those we love will come to an end. This financial insecurity and horrific failure of leadership will come to an end. In the meantime, we are free to set our fears and worries aside, to come back to our gardens of intention.

So… this would be the time of year, the midpoint Imbolc and Winter Solstice, to assess the status of our intentions. What is ready to be harvested and stored to sustain us through the long winter? When I look back at my own lifechart completed with my gardeners, I can reflect on the key words I chose to adorn my candle of intention.

I realize that what I might have pictured to be a result of these intentions may not have manifested in the ways I had intended, but I can usually see that the Universe conspired to bring them to fruition in glorious and unexpected ways. The beauty of the garden is always found in the eyes of the beholder. One gardener may prefer something tediously manicured, while another may delight in allowing Mother Nature to do Her own thing.

What I have found is that my word for the year is RECIPROCITY. and I have found it in the ways that love is offered and returned, as friends and community respect and care for one another. We wear masks, we connect by phone, text, and Zoom. We don’t take personally the necessity of our distancing. We do what we can to deliver kindness, compassion, and togetherness in new and innovative ways.

I wanted to EMBODY TRUST. Which was not just to be the friend and daughter that those I love could depend on to hold their truth with gentle reverence, but that I would do the same for myself. That I would trust myself completely. That I would hear the sacred voice of my own intuition, and never doubt it.

I intended to continue to HEAL AND GROW this year, and I certainly have. Gratefully, much of this work can be done out in the world, but is even more succinct when done in solitude or isolation. In silence and without distractions of others, we can hear the cries of the oppressed, and ask ourselves what we don’t know. How is my silence harmful? How might I do better and be better as a trusted friend and ally? Oh, yes! I have learned so much… and I am still learning.

To CULTIVATE JOY was an intention, and I can see the many ways this has grown. Right before our world shut down, I was reunited with the boss who loved me, at the occasion of her son’s wedding. When he later wrote me, he said that it was so obvious to him how much she and I loved and cared for each other. And even though that was the last time I’ve gathered in a room with others… I have continued to find joy in the beautiful moments of each and every day… in a brief chat with a neighbor, having a giggle with my parents, witnessing the bats fly over my head as I walk home from tucking them in. So much delight can be found in living a small and simple life.

I wanted my year to be GROUNDED IN LOVE, and though there are many days when anger and outrage rise to greet the news of the day, it is always love that grounds me. Primarily, self-love. Each time I enter my home, after caring for my parents or doing the bi-weekly grocery run, I greet my kitties, and I walk through a mist of homemade balancing spray. As I do, I feel my shoulders drop, and my whole body relaxes. I can feel my roots reconnect to the earth through my sanctuary of home, and all is right with the world.

The final word on my candle of intention makes me laugh. Ganesha, the remover of obstacles, always reminds me to be careful what you wish for. The word is RETREAT. Well… my intention was to host TWO retreats this year, in those sacred mountains. At first, we thought we would just lose the opportunity in May, but now… as my home state has skyrocketing Covid cases, it is clear that none of us will be traveling in October, either. But still… this intention surely did manifest. Just… not as imagined.

We have retreated into our homes, to keep our loved ones safe. I am in a daily retreat, really, as each day when I return from caring for my parents, I enter my home, and come back into myself… each day a little deeper. I can remember hearing about silent retreats or going on retreat alone, and thinking it had no appeal. And yet, I have found myself here over and over again, not just this year, but in the two years prior, as I endeavored to create a life beyond the corporate world I’d always known.

What I’ve found here, is that though I may be alone, I love the one I’m with. There is no one I’d rather be secluded with when the world is plagued with a potential plague. That’s kind of a pleasant surprise, for the girl who searched long and hard for a love she deserved… to have found it within herself.

Finally, all of these intentions manifested in the form of a new kind of togetherness. With our worlds becoming so small, during self-isolation and continued extreme caution until a vaccine can be discovered and broadly shared, some of us have chosen to see more of each other. Since March, I have been virtually meeting weekly with a Thursday night group of International friends from a course we took together, a weekly Friday night group of intuitive friends, a Saturday morning group with my Sacred Gardeners, and a Sunday night group with my goddesses.

So, I no longer meet people for lunch, but I do take an occasional masked-walk with a friend, with a hip-bump greeting instead of a hug. I write random letters and send them the old fashioned way, in the mail. My friend, who lives on the opposite corner of the country, and I have become pen pals, and last week she sent me sealing wax and a spoon for melting – so our letters are both sealed with more than just love.

I don’t know what I thought I’d find when I decided to walk through my garden of intentions, but I have to say, I’m pretty darned pleased with what I’ve found here. I allowed Mother Nature to do her thing, and as always, she has WOWed me beyond belief.

I hope that you and yours are safe and well. I hope that despite the unexpected twists and turns of an unusual and extraordinary year, it has been kinder to you than realized. I hope that your personal harvest is filled with light, love, and laughter that nourishes, nurtures, and sustains you throughout the coming seasons. Thank you for walking this path with me. I love you more.

The Great Unbecoming

I feel as if the world is in a state of transformation. Global pandemic feels like a symptom of the rising perception of separateness over the past many years. Countries (including my own) that I once admired for what I imagined to be inclusiveness, being so called melting pots of many beautiful and rich cultures, somehow accepted exclusion. They allowed fear and greed to close their borders to people of certain religions or skin tones, and locked children in cages. They voted everyone off the island, so they could have it to themselves. With every news story over the last four years, many of us have asked, “What have we become?”

When forced to go within, as we have all been asked to shelter-in-place for the mercy of our healthcare workers and community members who are at greatest risk, life has become quiet enough to hear the cries of the oppressed. That’s why the world showed up for the murder of George Floyd. They were less distracted by the incessant busy-ness of the world. We have all heard the reports of black people dying in police custody for decades and brown people being caged at our borders, but it was too easy to look away, toward board meetings and soccer matches, and the mind-numbing endeavor to do more, have more, be more. It makes me wonder if this is when we get to ask, “What are we unbecoming?”

I have such curiosity about the emptiness one must feel to insist on spending their lives working so hard to ensure they can buy more things, at the detriment of others, who would be grateful just to have enough food to fill their bellies. Hoarding newspapers and hoarding dollars are really no different, they are both symbolic of filling a hole. When people who don’t pay their fair share of taxes have more money than one can spend in a lifetime (or many lifetimes), while other humans are becoming homeless because they cannot pay their medical bills, we are witnessing crimes against humanity.

To be honest, I can relate to a time in my life when my rising income felt like an affirmation of my worth. It actually wasn’t that long ago. When I left the corporate world and chose to live more simply and care for my aging parents, it took some time to move through the fear of less. This choice has made my life look very small from the outside. I am more mindful of how I spend my savings, and I no longer live beyond my means.

In the process of unbecoming who I thought the world expected me to be, I discovered the rich beauty of who I already am. My income does not define my worthiness of love, it is the actions of my heart that does so. From the inside, my life looks vast and expansive.

When the shutdown for Covid-19 started, I felt a sense of excitement alongside feelings of dread. I imagined that when other people had the opportunity (even when not by choice) to make their worlds small, they might choose to go within. I hoped that they would find the beauty of simplicity, and that even without the ability to dine out daily, and to show the world how worthy they are to be loved, by the cost of the car they drive or the overpriced iProducts they carry, they might realize that life is incredibly beautiful and that being in caring community is an enormous blessing. (This lesson did not arrive for me, until the pandemic insisted that my neighbors stay at home. Most of us have been on this block for 20 years or more, and we are just now learning each others’ names.)

And I do believe that is happening for some, at least in my virtual circles. But what is also happening, as I live in a state that opened too soon and is now seeing a distressing rise in Covid infections, is that living simply and making life small was too uncomfortable for many. The truth had become impossible to believe, and so they imagined themselves immune without regard for those who might not survive their contamination.

I’ve heard some of those people say that they refuse to live in fear, and therefore will not wear a mask, and they will not stop living the life to which they feel entitled. But I wonder what is lost in that inability to place the concern for others above their own perceived pleasure.

I would argue, based on my own life experience, that fear enters our lives to alert us that it is time for change. When I have felt most unsafe and most fearful, or rather when I was on the other side of fear – looking back, I realized that the fear was announcing that great, life-altering transformation was near. I learned that I could see the fear rise, and hold it close, then comfort it and wait patiently for new beginnings to arrive.

It reminds me of being present for the births of three of my goddess daughters. Each time, when their courageous mother, who had chosen natural childbirth, announced in panic that she “could not do this”, her body was telling us that the girls were about to leave the darkness of the womb to be welcomed into the light. I know that those moments felt frightening, but there was no going back, it was too late for numbing medication, and there was untold, remarkable beauty about to be birthed. That beauty, born through fear, made our lives and the world a better and brighter place to live.

We do have a sense that things will get harder and that darkness will grow. Covid-19 continues to surge in America, and it is rising elsewhere. The toll on world economy will surely be overwhelming and deeply unsettling. I have no doubt that fear will be seeded in the hearts of many.

But what I hope will also happen is that the light of truth will rise even higher and shine even brighter. As sacred souls go within for reflection, they will discover what is truly important (that things are not among them) – their health and wellness is important, as is the health and wellness of every being upon the earth, as is Mother Earth Herself.

I hope we can all see that it is not what we’ve accomplished, or what we drive, or where we live, or how we travel that makes us worthy of being loved, but our very existence that makes us so.

I hope that on the other side of fear, a new world is brought to birth, and that we will look back on this pandemic and social justice uprising as labor pains that brought into the world the beauty of humanity, humility, equity, and peace.

May we hold space for this better future without expectation of timing.
Let us commit to doing the labor without looking away or going numb.

May it be so. So mote it be. Blessed be. Amen.
Thank you for walking this path with me. I love you more.