Love is Viral – An Anniversary

One year ago today, I flew to Texas for a wedding. It was right at the beginning of the transition, from our former reality to the current (sur)reality of life in pandemic. This special occasion had been on my radar for quite some time. I did not know the couple well, at all, but I was invited by one of the great loves of my life… the boss who loved me.

Travel plans had been arranged in January, at which time, I was certain the concerns being raised about Covid-19 were overstated. Surely our leadership would make every effort to keep us safe. But days before departure, with an indication that our world would be shutting down after that weekend, the decision NOT to cancel overpowered the anxiety that affected my breathing. That empathetic symptom would rise, but not stay, over the next few months, as I questioned: Is this Covid, or is this anxiety? Is this Covid, or is this my annual allergy to oak pollen? Is this Covid, or am I just afraid that I will be responsible for infecting and killing my parents?

I flew in on Thursday night, and no one was wearing masks, but some were wiping down seats with disinfectant wipes. By my return on Sunday, there were several people in surgical masks for the flight home. The stress of travel in numbers was palpable. Gratefully, I had become conscious of touching my face twenty years ago, when I had lasik surgery and was warned about rubbing my eyes. So, I knew to be mindful of the transfer of germs from hands to eyes and nose, as a culprit for illness. Many trips through the subways in New York, holding onto poles and railings for support, helped nurture hyper-vigilance.

I arrived in darkness, and drove my rental Prius to the AirB&B. This was my first adventure with renting a room inside a house, as opposed to renting a whole house. I pulled up to the house, and received instructions via text message with a code for entrance, and how to find my room. There was no one around, but motion lights activated as I progressed through the foyer and up the stairway. I was quite pleased with my room with en suite bathroom. Though I never did meet my hosts, I felt safe and kind of appreciated the solitary nature of my stay. It felt like pilgrimage to me.

Because I was in a different time zone, I woke before the sun. I did some writing, googled nearby restaurants, and walked through darkness a few blocks to reach the one I chose. I was taken by the overwhelming cacophony of birdsong. I’d never heard anything like it. My friend told me later that they were migrating north from Mexico. I guess we don’t get that in Florida on the same scale. It was a glorious noise. There was one bird call that sounded to me like a slide whistle. It was dark, and they were in the trees, so I couldn’t see them. Later in the weekend, I figured out that they were Great Tailed Grackles… my new favorite.

Pre-Dawn Breakfast at
La Gardenia Restaurant, San Antonio, TX

I wasn’t going to meet up with the family until the traditional Chinese rehearsal dinner, so I had a full day for exploring the area. I’d heard a great deal about the Riverwalk area of San Antonio, and I’d hoped to find some good art galleries to devour. So, I started toward one end of the walk, thinking I would meander for a while and hit several along the way. Since I had such an early start to my day, I was apparently out too early for the art community, so I grabbed a latte at Halcyon Southtown, then walked along the river until Blue Star Contemporary opened. It was a beautiful day. I passed a few people on the trail, but it was clear that the world was starting to grow quiet.

My favorite exhibit was called Common Threads by Candace Hicks. She hand stitched 18 journals on canvas, each filled with synchronicities from stories she’d read and conversations she’d had. I read every single one, wearing white gloves and laughing or gasping at the brilliance of each piece. By the time I was done, I was ready for a nap… and then I would be off to start the family celebration. As I slipped into my private suite in a stranger’s house, my thoughts were on the words and letters that are stitched into the sturdy, canvas pages of my life with the boss who loved me, and how her beloved son’s marriage would be the beginning of a new journal for them.

From Candace Hicks’ Common Threads at BlueStar Contemporary

When I arrived at the restaurant, my heart was already reaching. The last time I had seen her, we dialed up the boss who needed me (who hired us both), and as we got caught up on each other’s lives, I shared that I was considering not returning to the corporate world. I remember worrying about what they might think of me, for considering such a choice, when they had both worked so hard and given up so much of their personal lives until they each retired near age 60. I don’t know why I would be surprised, there was no judgment, only love. As I am for them, they will always be delighted for my authentic happiness.

You will probably think this sounds goofy, but when I walked into the restaurant, and saw my tiny sacred being for the first time in two years, my whole body lit up. It was much like the moment in a movie, when two loved ones are reunited after multiple obstacles have kept them apart. My spirit released a heavy sigh, and said: “Finally… it’s you.” There might have been an orchestra playing, I can’t really say. It may have only been heard inside my head.

Sadly, the boss who needed me was advised not to travel, so upon arrival, I only knew two people gathered for the wedding weekend, having met the groom and the sister of the groom only once or twice over the years. The parents of the groom, I knew well. I was seated at a large round table with other loved ones… and despite my difference (the only white girl at the table), I felt accepted and embraced by the people who had gone to college with the boss who loved me, or who had been treasured neighbors where she lived before she started the last phase of her career.

The neat thing about a destination wedding, is that there are multiple gatherings over the weekend, which allows one time to get to know the other important people in the lives of those for whom you are standing witness. The weekend included a traditional Chinese rehearsal dinner with 12 courses on the first night, including a roasted suckling pig – a symbol of the purity of the relationship being honored. The second day brought the blessings of not only a wedding, but also, a traditional Tea Ceremony honoring both sets of parents and the newlywed couple, before the reception. The final event was a brunch at the same Chinese restaurant, to send-off the guests departing for home.

Each event offered a series of traditions that were honored. Always the teacher, the boss who loved me and her husband explained every step… in English and in Cantonese. I wish I had taken notes. After the extensive meal, there was a comb ceremony, where the bride’s hair and the groom’s hair was combed by their parents. Again, the traditional blessings were spoken in two languages by the Groom’s parents:

May your marriage last a lifetime
May you be blessed with a happy and harmonious marriage until old age
May you be blessed with an abundance of children and grandchildren
May you be blessed with longevity

The wedding ceremony was a ‘marriage’ of Western and Eastern traditions. The happy couple walked down the aisle in tuxedo and white dress, then changed briefly into traditional dress for the tea ceremony, then reappeared as before. The symbolism of the tea ceremony was of the children honoring the parents and their elders, while the parents and elders / ancestors offered blessings to the children. And then… there was food, wine, and dancing.

It was a pleasure to get to know the couple through their own eyes, as they spoke of their own love story, and to see in the groom the influence of his loving parents, whom I know so well.

Gathering for Sunday brunch before heading home was bitter sweet. These were now my people… those who threw the party and those who joined me in attendance. I felt accepted and embraced in this sacred collection of souls, and I was painfully aware that this kind of gathering would be the last, for a while.

I could have floated home, after a bookend afternoon alone on the Riverwalk, but for the heaviness in my heart. With a racist in the White House, xenophobia was already on the rise. I knew that my privilege was to travel while pasty white, while the person in the highest position in government was referring to Covid-19 as the China Virus.

I would be enormously cautious on my way home, and I would wear a mask for two weeks afterwards to ensure my parents’ safety (seems silly now that I didn’t do it the other way around, and wear a mask while traveling… the world was different in that moment). But I knew there was a very real concern for the safety of those from whom I had just parted. I worried for them, and I still do, as xenophobic attacks on Asians continue to rise. Those who enflamed, enacted, and enabled these actions are unforgivable and complicit in the harm that has come to our Asian American community, either physically or emotionally.

I would like to declare to the universe that LOVE, not hate, is viral. Let it be known throughout the world and for all time that we are all the same. We are all worthy of respect and caring, love and devotion, equity and fairness. We have all we need and plenty to share, so lets spread that love around. No one can be a threat to the love you have when you are inviting love to grow within and sharing it freely.

Finally, at this one year mark, many of us have or will soon receive a vaccine for our individual and communal protection. May the lessons we’ve learned stay with us long after the world has reopened. May we take not for granted the sheer joy of gathering in celebrations of love – new love, long love, family love, community love, earth love, lost love (especially poignant, as funerals and memorials have been delayed for so many), and every incarnation of love made manifest. May we hold onto what has been found in silence and solitude, as we have gathered up the beauty of our true selves formerly hidden in perpetual activity and distraction. May we find more ways to live fully, as we are no longer defined by the work we do, but by the love we give. And may all of the inequities and disparities revealed by this pandemic be permanently brought to light and find healing and grace for the change that is long overdue.

Happy Anniversary to the Happy Couple, and to those of us who made it safely through an extraordinary year. There is hope on the horizon and love lights our way. Thank you for walking this path with me. I love knowing you are here.
MAY YOU BE BLESSED WITH LONGEVITY.

Somewhere along the San Antonio Riverwalk, March 2020

Gratefully Exhausted

I cried… first thing this morning as I saw images of his departure. My whole being relieved with a sigh, a shudder, a sob. I was bullied as a child, and the last four years have felt like being on high alert, awaiting the final, fatal blow from an abuser.

That 73 Million countrymen and neighbors would have brought such a beast back into my home, after witnessing the bruises and scars of the last four years, gleefully handing him a bat to finish the job, remains something to be dealt with. Forgiveness must come, for we know it will only ooze beneath the surface – and look what happens when disrespect and loathing is left to fester – January 6, 2021 – another day of infamy. But still… accountability is necessary for forgiveness, and healing comes as words meet action. Trust has been diminished, but hope has been rekindled.

A woman who was once a boss, recently died. She remains an important part of my life’s story, despite having been one of those bullies and abusers. Her behavior and actions led to my departure from a workplace I thrived in for a decade. As time passed, I could see the beauty of that blessing. Her tyranny pushed me forward. What started as defiance to make a point to her, became the open door through which I walked into a new and better life. So, I have said a prayer of gratitude to her departed soul. Thank you for revealing to me that life can be so much better.

I feel that these last four years have been that sort of lesson for this beloved nation of ours. Pulling back the veil of denial and darkness. No longer willing to sit idle in apathy while our fellow Americans are brutalized, bullied, and abandoned – we are invited to ‘rise by lifting others’ [R. Ingersoll]. As we witnessed in our pandemic stillness that which we could not turn away from, it was up to those of us in privileged (if unintentional) ignorance to educate ourselves, to be vulnerable with our truth, to seek the forgiveness of those whom our lack of consciousness may have harmed, and to do everything in our power to make it right.

Those first tears of the morning were a release and a relief. My body informed me of the tension she has held these four long years. The abuser has left the building. Thank you for revealing to us that we can be so much better.

Millions will surely write of today’s Inauguration. I feel that my words could never do it justice. I felt a sense of pride and gratitude to see that though it was far from normal, sacred ceremony continues to be a balm for healing… even when masked and physically distanced.

Every choice was made with intention and purpose, and every element delivered hope and glory. I cried… a lot.

Our country should have celebrated our first female president in January 2017. I am certain it will be revealed that the popular vote would not have been her only win, as more and more truths are revealed in the years ahead. But without the chaos of the last four years, I’m not sure that we would have progressed as much as we are about to. So many of us would have missed the opportunity for enlightenment. Gotta love that pendulum swing!

There’s so much more to say and to consider. We now have a President who is responsible and compassionate, and our first (but not our last) female Vice President, who is brilliant and strong. I will not pretend that they will always be the perfect leaders, but I am certain they will lead with mindful compassion for people and the planet, with truth and integrity at the core of each decision.

I believe the world is slayed by the poetic perfection of Ms. Amanda Gorman, whose words carry the weight and the hope for where we’ve been and where we wish to be. I am physically and emotionally spent from four years of fight or flight survival. We all deserve a hot bath and a nap today!

So, here’s to the end of an error, and to the light of new beginnings. May there be accountability and justice, woven with healing and growth. May we continue the hard work of creating a more perfect union bolstered by equality AND equity. Let this new decade finally begin, and let respect and caring help bring this pandemic to a close, as we grieve those we’ve lost, and lift those who continue to fight for the lives of those they took an oath to serve and save.

Thank you for walking this path with me. Please stay safe and well, for you are sacred. I love you!

Faith in Foundation

My parents were watching the news when I stopped by to prepare a late lunch for them today. As I was stepping back out to run an errand, my mother asked: “Don’t you want to watch the death of our country?” My reply: “No! We are witnessing our rebirth.”

I cannot tell you why, as we watched domestic terrorists attacking and entering our sacred halls of Congress, mingled with horror and disbelief was a sensation between my heart and stomach that felt like… well, excitement.

The truth is, anyone with an ounce of intuition and an ear for actual news, rather than the faux-kind, could see this event coming. So, even though a seditious mob ransacked the halls that house our laws, the fact is, there were already a number of seditious traitors inside. So, one can hardly be surprised that the behavior of those within felt like an invitation to those who left the rally at the White House to follow their leader’s instructions.

That’s how I see it from where I sit, anyway. I keep hoping Randy Rainbow will do a song about GOP sedition to the tune of “Tradition” from Fiddler on the Roof.

As the news was unfolding, I could not shake that odd feeling of anticipation. I had this overwhelming sense that this was it. We are witnessing the final death knell of the GOP. Maybe even the beginning of the end of the patriarchy. As friends expressed disgust and dismay, fear of civil war, and the likelihood of things going badly, I did not lose my sense of awe.

So many images have come to mind today. One is of the Hindu Goddess of Destruction, Kali. Another is the Celtic Goddess of Rebirth, Cerridwen. Both archetypes inform us of the beauty and necessity of destruction. One cannot rebuild on a cracked and broken foundation. It will not hold.

In order to rebuild a bathroom, you don’t just remove the wallpaper, you take it down to the studs to see what might be cracked or rotten beneath the facade. That mold that festers can make you sick down the road, so it must be revealed and then sealed.

Other images that have risen for me today are from film favorites. I could visualize the invasion of our democratic process today in clips and photos, and it was met with a scene from Lord of the Rings. I saw the Ents arriving to liberate Isengard. That scene matched the feeling in my body. When that scene arrives, it is the beginning of the end. There is still darkness ahead, and many orcs to be vanquished, but even though the work remains difficult, one can tell that perseverance will be rewarded. The light returns and chases away the shadows. It always does.

The other day, a friend of mine was doing a tarot reading for herself, and into her future fell the Tower. (It is an image that seems unsettling, with a lightning strike and people falling as the building crumbles.) I squealed with excitement, which was counter to her sigh of dread. I reminded her that the most important moments of my life were ‘Tower’ moments. They were occasions when the rug was pulled from beneath me, but revealed a stunning hard wood floor.

To be sure, there is darkness ahead for our country (at least one person was killed in today’s terrorist attack, and it feels as if justice failed to remove her blindfold, not to mention that a lack of leadership has cost us hundreds of thousands of lives to Covid-19), but there is also light. The dark tower is falling. The gift of this nightmare presidency will surely be that the facade of our beloved country has been peeled away, and every crack and spot of mold has been revealed. There will be new foundations poured, and stronger supports installed.

Last year’s word for me was TRUST. I wanted not only to be surrounded by those I can trust, but I intended to be trustworthy, and above all else, I wanted to learn to trust myself. So, I have to say… this odd excitement that is rising within me on a very dark day in American history… I trust what she is telling me. She is teaching me about FAITH. She is informing me that the word for 2021 is TRUTH, and that we shall indeed… build back better. Bring it on, 46!

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.

A Song for Summer

The cicadas have finally returned to the embrace of my sacred oak trees, which stand sentinel at the edges of my yard. Their chatter makes me giddy. They have always represented the sound of summer to me. The return of afternoon thunderstorms adds to the joy that rises through every cell of my being. I love these evenings, as I walk to and from my parents’ home for our evening tuck-in ritual.

There is a gentle breeze that brings the wind chimes into song, and I wave to neighbors who are on their porches or chatting with others in a driveway, as I go by. I left my folks watching a new series of short films on Netflix called Homemade, which were created by people around the world while in Covid Quarantine. Each episode reminds me of the importance of community. I am grateful for the art that is coming to birth during these difficult days.

Speaking of birth… one of my dearest friends is expanding his family. His beautiful wife is expecting their daughter by early August, so their precious new being won’t technically be a quarantine baby, but virus related layoffs and pregnancy-related health concerns certainly complicate this new beginning. I would give anything to be nearby in order to offer support and help boost morale, but we are distant by geography. So, I aimed to pull us closer energetically.

Because my friend lives over 800 miles away, I have not yet been blessed to meet the woman who stole his heart several years back, other than through social media. But I have been witness to their love, to the birth and growth of their children, and so she is already planted firmly in my heart as sacred.

When I sat down to write a letter to a woman whom I’ve never met and who is earlier on her life path compared to my position, further ahead… I started with an introduction, but was delighted by what rose to my fingertips, when I asked the gift of words to flow. She gave me permission to share. I’m changing their names for privacy. I googled ‘mythical good husband and father’, so that’s where I’ll start… Hector and Andromache (don’t read anything into the choice beyond that, because nobody in mythology that I’ve studied had an ideal ending… [maybe I should have gone with Harry and Ginny]. Anyhoo…

Dear Andromache :

Hello love! Mother Goddess, sacred vessel of new life, beloved of my beloved. You’ve been on my mind and in my heart. I wish geography would allow us a kinder distance. Alas, we are forced to get to know one another and care deeply, from afar.

You probably know that your Hector and I met when we were young. Our lockers were nearby in high school… and we shared a class, but our friendship grew after he graduated, a year ahead of me. Here’s what I can tell you about that younger version of the man you love: He has always been authentic. He has always been the kindest, most caring being you could ever meet. He has always been compassionate, considerate, supportive, smart, talented, and loving. Another thing? Vulnerable. He was always courageous enough to speak his truth. Yes, I know you realize that you have captured a rare jewel of a man… and I know that he treasures you, Andromache.

So far, I’ve been witness to your glowing and growing family only through social media. I know that you are a devoted partner, a loving mother, and a gifted artist through the medium of photography. I asked Hector to tell me more, and he shared that you have both been walking a spiritual path that is earth-based. So, here’s where I tell you a little about me.

I grew up Unitarian Agnostic, but discovered an earth-based spiritual path when I was 23. I attended a women’s conference hosted by Margot Adler (one of the movement’s American foremothers) and then took a 6-month class on feminine spirituality. In 1993, I called together a group of beloved beings, and together we birthed a goddess group. We met weekly for 20 years, in varying numbers- as loved ones moved away.

Those early years, though, were blessed with focused intention, as young women transitioned from maiden to mother and older women from mother to crone. We celebrated rites of passage as Tribe sisters married, got pregnant, gave birth, as tribe legacy reached the one-year mark there were blessings for our babies, and when blood stopped flowing and wisdom kept growing, we celebrated the transformation of our sacred crone.

During those years, I often wished that every woman could have what we had. We were learning about ourselves and the goddess archetypes that we embodied, and we were honored and celebrated by other women for all of our similarities and all of our differences. It was glorious!

I know that you have been facing some complications with your current pregnancy, and I wish that I could call upon a circle of sacred souls to surround you and to hold you close. And since my spiritual understanding has grown through these many years, formerly a skeptic in all things until proven, I realize that I actually can.

When my Tribe sisters were full-bellied, we had a birth blessing ritual that included an art project. We would follow the guidance found by our Crone, words would be spoken, and then our sacred vessel would get naked and we would slather her with Vaseline and plaster. Once well-dried, we would have another gathering to paint and decorate the belly-cast. When our last local tribe-legacy was born, I actually arrived at the hospital before Mom & Dad, and the staff let me enter the birthing room to wait. I was able to cast a circle and invite the elements and Artemis to guide and support this final journey, as my friend had decided this would be her last daughter.

Artemis had come into our lives in 1999, in a really big way, and She is the goddess of childbirth – protector of women and children. If you welcome it, I would call upon Her to do the same for you.

I thought I would also share the words of The Blessingway Ritual that we would do before each birth. I’m afraid I cannot tell you from where the original guidance came {I will add here when I find it!}, or even which words are ours and which words were found in another source, for we have made them our own. In the time of pandemic, your health and safety is paramount. I wish you could have a circle of friends gathered for this rite. Perhaps Hector can read these words to you, as you sit with eyes closed, envisioning the circle I am calling to surround you.

Andromache’s Blessingway

The Beginning

The most holy one created the world like an embryo, as an embryo grows from the navel, so she began to create the world by the navel, and from there it spread, grew, multiplied in all directions… she was both seed and flower, both primordial and final. The first vibrations of the egg of the world, which unfold to the edges of the universe, are both expanding and contracting, emerging from the source and pulsing outward to disappear into a spherical vortex. The still center (the heart) is the axis of creation – universal continuum perpetually unfolds, pulses outward, contracts – perpetually spinning through its own center.

The Meditation

Three cleansing breaths, release and relax.
See the egg divide, become the fetus, and grow inside the womb.
The fetus develops and becomes a child.
She is born, grows into yourself, grown up.
The cycle starts again with a child in the womb of Andromache.
Ask the child for a message.
Send her blessings and love.
Wish her well in her beginnings and come back to now.

Take time to share and write the messages you receive from your daughter.

The Blessing

We are here to honor Andromache, who will become mother to a new being. She is the Mother Goddess, and we kneel before her in reverence. We are here at the edge of the waxing moon to invoke the gifts of Artemis with Her blessings of protection for a safe birth, guidance for a strong, healthy child, strength and wisdom for happiness and fulfillment in motherhood.

The maiden lays a green cord across Andromache’s womb and says:  I am Maiden. I was the secret you carried inside you in the beginning, when you belonged only to yourself. Long before you could feel life inside your womb, and long before others would look upon you and know, it was I who danced lightly in your heart. When you dreamed your dreams of youth and renewal, it was I who was there to dream with you. Though I have changed, I have never left you.

The mother lays the red cord across Andromache’s womb and says: I am Mother. When the life inside you was growing, and you began to feel it stir, I was there. As all the world watched and tried to feel with you the mystery of new life, I whispered in your ears and helped to comfort your deepest fears. My kiss placed a gentle blush on your cheeks, and my hand held yours when the child within cried out. Time has passed, and now you know me in yet another form. I have never left you.

The crone lays the gold cord across Andromache’s womb and says: I am Crone. As your time approached, it was I who helped to prepare you. My strength sustained you as the wheel turned on. In order for you to understand the beginning, I taught you about the ending. As your grandmothers before have always been midwives to their daughters and granddaughters, I stood by you. Slowly you came to understand that for your child to be born, a child inside of you must give way. I allowed you to cut your own cords to your past, as your inner child’s cord was cut when new life began. Though I have done my job, I wait for you in dreams. I have never left you.

The Tribe (maiden, mother, crone) places their hands upon Andromache’s womb and speak words of commitment: “We have never left you. We have been with you from the beginning, and will be within you always.

A symbol of gentle birth is charged with healing, protective energy and placed upon the altar. (I’ve enclosed a malachite rubbing stone that is already charged with my energy. Consider having the girls and Hector add theirs, as well.) And loving symbols are painted on the belly in essential oils or henna. Then celebrate with milk and cookies.

The Closing

We offer our gratitude to the element of air, which will deliver our daughter’s first breath upon the light of new beginnings; to the element of fire, which will warm her perfect body and rise through cries of the announcement – “I am here!”; to the element of water, which has enveloped her and kept her safe from the very beginning; to the element of earth, which aches to feel her feet and hold her close for all of her days. We are grateful to Artemis, who guides and protects mother and child as they transform from one being who holds a sacred seed, to two beautiful beings, each Her own unique magnificence. Ever be with us on our spiritual journey. WE bid thee Hail and Farewell.

So, now you’ve been initiated as an honorary member of my Tribe. You can call upon this sacred circle, which resides in the ether, whenever you are seeking warrior strength and support through overcoming any obstacle. Oh! And here’s my favorite factoid, learned while my people were having babies… when your milk comes in and your breasts feel engorged, you can place a cabbage leaf in your bra to reduce the pressure. I’ve never been pregnant, but I’ve heard it works. I love to share that sweet morsel of wisdom. [Seriously, this fascinates me!] I hope you don’t need it, for the flow that your daughter calls shall always come with grace and ease.

Andromache, I know you don’t know me, but I hope you feel cherished and loved. I am grateful for the joy and unconditional love you have delivered (figuratively and literally) into the life of my sweet friend. He deserves this kind of love, and I’m so glad he gets to share his remarkable goodness with you.

I am also enclosing a book from my own library. Our babies are all grown now, and it would only remain as a resource to offer others, so I’d like you to have it. I hope you can get good use of it with your own tribe of little women. Circle Round by Starhawk offers music, activities, sacred ceremony, and wisdom for raising children on an earth-based path. There is also a poem that we would read to our babies upon arrival and at a one-year ceremony, which would offer our dedication to their emotional wellness for this lifetime.

Know that you are always surrounded by the energy of those we cannot see with our eyes, but feel with our hearts. I look forward to watching the evolution of your family from afar, and I hope that we will one day be able to safely gather for a celebration of rites of passage, either for you and Hector, or for your girls.

Love and brightest blessings…

And the poem…

Thank you for walking this path with me. If you are feeling isolated or alone during this challenging time, may you find yourself surrounded by loving community that holds you close… even from a distance. You are so loved.

Mother Goddess Belly Cast and Emu Egg

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.

We Are Grey

 I’m about to share a quote from a tv show that aired a quarter of a century ago, but I hope you’ll bear with me. I’ve been hearing it in my head for some time now, so I know there must be a reason. I mean… I can’t remember what I watched or heard yesterday, and yet… these words remain etched in memory.

“I am Grey. I stand between the candle and the star. We are GreyWe stand between the darkness and the light.” ~ J Michael Straczynski (1994)

This line has been rising into my mind with growing frequency. It is from the SciFi series from the mid-1990s, called “Babylon 5”. Joe Straczynski has said that the entire five-year story arch manifested in his mind one day, while taking a shower.

There is so much goodness to be gathered from this series, but what feels especially poignant at this moment in history is when darkness threatened to swallow the Universe, an alliance was forged to nurture a path of peace that would lead them all back into the light.

The character of Ambassador Delenn was always my favorite. She is seen in the video above, breaking the Grey Council, which was made up of representatives from each caste from her planet. She will later, after enormous sacrifice, rebuild the council with greater fairness. But long before this scene, at the end of the first season, without understanding what was to come, Delenn goes into a Chrysalis and in Season 2 emerges transformed. Ultimately, she becomes a bridge between the human race and her own. She changes in appearance, and she also endeavors to gain an understanding of who humans are and to teach humans more about her own race.

It may be difficult to figure out where I’m going with this… but there is a bridge. I have been learning how to become an antiracist. When I reached out to my friend, when the protests began to insist on justice for the murder of George Floyd, she asked me not to be silent. She and I had been together a couple of years earlier, when I was confronted with my own white privilege, as a woman threatened to call the police because my friend would not give her her designer purse. I wrote about it in my blog post called The Light That Pierces Shadow. I had been so nervous about getting it wrong. I knew that I had a lot to learn about being an ally, and the last thing I wanted was to cause more harm. But she trusted me to get it right.

I’ve only just begun to read Ibram X. Kendi’s book How To Be An Antiracist, and already I can feel the importance and the truth of it. He opens by sharing a speech he gave in his youth, and then unpacks it from his current vantage point. He acknowledges that his words at that time were colored by “internalized racism”.

I recently learned the term ‘internalized patriarchy’ during Heather Plett’s Holding Space course, as we explored holding space for ourselves. And it felt like being struck by lightning to understand that my own self-limiting beliefs and self-loathing (which I’ve spent most of my life trying to overcome) were symptoms of societal indoctrination. We have been taught, unknowingly (or not) the patriarchal view of what girls and women, boys and men should be, and how they should behave, and how they should serve… none of which have anything to do with nurturing and celebrating their unique strengths and authenticity. Realizing that women have a numbers advantage on men in the world, and yet there are so few women in American government leadership roles became a punch in the gut, because of course that means that women are not voting for women. This must mean that there are a lot of women out there who believe themselves and other women to be inferior to men.

So, when Dr. Kendi, confesses to feeling pain and shame around his own beliefs expressed in his high school speech, having been tarnished by systemic racism, it eases my own guilt and shame when I ask myself why it has taken me so long to do this important work. When I realize that by internalizing patriarchal dogma, I have oppressed myself, it allows me to relate to those whose lives are directly impacted by white supremacy (even though I can never know how it feels to be black or brown). What I can know and understand is that it is never too late for any of us to rise into the light of truth, and change our programming.

When my friend asked me not to be silent, she also asked me, “Why do they hate us?” The answer that arrived was basic psychology. What bothers us about others is often a reflection of ourselves.

How heartbreaking it is to witness such hatred and to realize that those capable of such belief and behavior must truly loathe themselves in order to view any being in such a dehumanized way. The malignant system that has been in place since my friend’s ancestors were stolen from their homeland, has programmed people to fear what they imagine to be different. I have no doubt that the true fear is based in the belief that if white people become the minority (which will happen), they might be treated the way they have treated others.

In my eyes, the best way to avoid that outcome would be to start treating others with equity, fairness, and loving kindness. We don’t have to believe and behave the way our ancestors did. They were lied to, as well. If we feel defensive when we are confronted with these difficult questions about how we are affected by racism and how our words and behaviors affect others, that is likely the rise of shame within. Shame is the most destructive emotion there is, so the best way to face it when it appears, is not to shake a finger at it, but to hold it close and to love it back into a place of forgiveness and compassion. Then, keep going.

Maybe these immortal words of a beloved Science Fiction writer have surfaced to invite me to stand with the discomfort of this evolutionary and revolutionary moment – in the in-between of our unbecoming and our becoming. If the black crayon and the white crayon make the color grey when combined, perhaps the message and metaphor is that we are all ‘grey’ on the inside. As Jane Elliott says, “There is only one race – the human race.”

I am Grey. I stand before the racist structure to which I have been ignorant and complicit, and aim my intentions toward supporting the creation of a foundation for justice and equity. We are Grey. We stand before false beliefs about ourselves and others and reveal the truth of our oneness. I am Grey. I shed the shame and insecurity that once kept me in silence. We are Grey. We don the robes of forgiveness, understanding, and new beginnings.

Now is the time to break the scepter of white supremacy, take the time to unpack everything within us that was planted with poison and toss it onto the burn pile, and then reconvene to form a more perfect Union.

I saw this statement on a sign at one of the Black Lives Matter protests, and it moved me deeply. “I’m sorry I’m late. I had a lot to learn.” I am still learning, and really, I suppose I am actually UNLEARNING. I am unpacking everything this society has taught me, and I am deciding what needs to go.

If I got anything wrong in this post, I hope you will forgive me. I promise not to be silent. I promise not to give up on myself, for I know I can do better… and change must begin with each of us going into our own chrysalis of reflection, so that we may be transformed.

When we emerge into the light of love, our new perspective will deliver us into a new world. Thank you for walking this path with me. I love you more.

Solar Salutations

Today is the Summer Solstice. Opposite that which marks midwinter in the southern hemisphere… it is the longest day.  It is also referred to as midsummer – think Shakespeare and a playful band of faeries.  When we look at the wheel of the year from a symbolic perspective, from where we started to where we are headed… this is the halfway point of our manifestation.  We planted our seeds at Imbolc in February, saw the early sprouting of our desires in March at the Spring Equinox, consecrated our passion in May at Beltaine, and now we are seeing our intentions beginning to bear fruit.

Well… this is a rather unusual year, as you know. My Sacred Gardeners and I gathered to plant our seeds of intention in February. We would have met again to nurture those intentions in March, but alas… the world went into quarantine. So, we adjusted the light and shade to nurture our seeds in a virtual setting, instead.

The sun is at its height on this day, so it is a great time for healing.  Be sure to take a walk in nature and soak up some vitamin D.  Goodness knows that the road ahead is long and bumpy, and our best defense against this virus is to build our immune systems for better health and if infected, a better chance of full recovery.

From this day forward, the days will begin to grow shorter, as we slowly turn toward the Autumn Equinox.  The energy of the sun is expansive, so consider in what areas of your life you’d like to shed a bit more light.  Does your soul require a bit of rest while reading a good book at the edge of the ocean, or would it be best served by playfully flying a kite in a grassy, green field of freedom and delight? The sun reminds us to shine brightly!  If you’ve been taking care of everyone else throughout the first half of the year, remember to care for the caregiver, and practice extreme self-care.  You deserve your own love more than anyone! 

Speaking of A Midsummer Night’s Dream… I am reminded of the year that my Tribe (goddess group) decided to celebrate the day with the faeries in a local park we call the ravine.  It is a lovely surprise near downtown that you can walk down into, and find yourself surrounded by azalea bushes and oak trees.  We figured that we would gather there at twilight to leave offerings, and see if anyone would come out to play with us.  Alas, it was only the local police that showed up, but they were not playful AT ALL!  Ha!  So… we left behind our offerings of flowers and berries, and had to wait for the faeries to find us in our dreams.

The following is a meditation that came through me when I put my fingers to the keyboard and asked for a vision of Midsummer to go with an image that crossed my screen from an art page on social media. The words just flowed through me and onto the page without much thought or direction. At one point, when the purpose of the journey was revealed to me, I literally gasped aloud. It was a moment of pure magick I hope I will never forget.

It is printed below, and you can also listen to it by clicking on the YouTube link. Keep in mind that I am self taught in all things technical.
https://youtu.be/Jf9z1xL6hgs

MIDSUMMER MEDITATION

Close your eyes, adjust to your comfort, and breathe deeply. 

Find yourself in an open field of the softest green grass on the edge of twilight.  The air is warm, and filled with the scent of sweet grass, and fireflies hover and dance.  It’s as if the stars that will later shine in the night sky, are temporarily twinkling upon the earth.  A gentle breeze caresses your skin and plays with your hair.  In the distance, you can see a stand of old trees, and you feel called to seek their shelter.  

As you leisurely stroll through field and green, take notice of what you see here.  Someone may appear to join you on your stroll… maybe a spirit animal, or guide.  Each step brings you closer to the wooded edge of the field.  As you come into close proximity, an opening or archway created by the bend and limbs of trees informs you of the entrance, and dancing in the middle of that arch is a glowing light. 

You assume it is a firefly, though its glow has a slightly different hue. It beckons you to follow, and you comply.  You step into the woods, and find the light here to be dim, but plenty for navigating safely.  The tiny ball of light is ahead of you, dancing and bobbing, guiding you forward.  There is nothing to fear here, as you feel guided and protected on this mysterious journey.

Now, you begin to see a brighter glow ahead.  The light is drawing you to a giant, ancient tree in the center of the wood.  It is illuminated from within, as if there are windows along every level of its height, emanating a blue-white luminescence.  You are led to the base of this magickal tree, and onto the staircase that spirals upward around its trunk. 

Following the orb, with grace and ease, you move up one flight of stairs, turning clockwise around the trunk… you move up a second flight of stairs, around the luscious curve of sparkly bark… you move up a third flight of stairs, catching hints of lavender and jasmine on your breath… you move up a fourth flight of stairs, feeling a sense of longing in your solar plexus… you move up a fifth flight of stairs. 

Though there is still more tree above and steps to climb, this is where the guiding light has stopped.  From here, you have an incredible vantage for viewing the mystical wood that surrounds, and you can see all sorts of woodland creatures.  On the ground there are deer and 7-tined stags, rabbits and hedgehogs.  In the branches of the surrounding trees there are raccoons, birds of many colors and songs, and squirrels. 

As you turn back to face your glowing guide, you gasp in wonder to see that the tiny ball of light has transformed into a stunningly beautiful woman with wings.  Take a moment to gather her features, for the Queen of the Faeries looks different to each of us.  Breathe in the radiance of her skin, the shimmering colors of her dress, the shape and sheen of her wings, and the warmth of love on her face… as she gazes adoringly into your eyes.

She brought you here to offer you words you’ve been longing to hear, a message of comfort, reassurance, healing, and hope.  Listen for the words she is gifting you, as she leans in to whisper, like a lullaby, into your ears and open mind.  (long pause)

Message received, you look up into her eyes, and find that her words were so loving, so sincere, that a single tear is sliding down her cheek.  It sparkles with the same luminescence that surrounds, and she plucks it from her cheek… the crystalline gem the size of a seed. 

Reaching out to you, she takes this faery seed, now glowing green, and plants it inside your heart chakra.  The glow radiates from your chest, and slowly turns from a deep shade of emerald green to a lighter shade, and then… into a pale pink, the color of rose quartz.  The glow of this gift, now deeply planted inside your being, expands to light and warm your entire body.  You are filled and overflowing with a sense of love that you once knew, but had forgotten.  This is divine love, complete love, unconditional love… and it is ALL yours.  It is ALL YOU! 

You ARE divine love.  You were never separate from it, the mundane world just got in the way and disconnected it from your knowing.  But now it is back, and no one can take it from you.  You did this work, you followed your intuition and your guides, you climbed the steps with focus and determination, and you stood with reverence and awe as your own light was reflected back at you. 

Yes, that’s right… the light you followed was your own north star.  The image that looked back at you was the embodiment of your own heart.  The wisdom you received was from your own higher self.  You were never alone, and you have never… not for one moment… been unworthy of love.  YOU. ARE. LOVE! 

Knowing that your purpose here in this magickal place has been fulfilled, you hug your heart… your own true faery queen, and turn to descend.  Though the sky above is now only lit by stars, you have no need for a guiding light, for you are illuminated by the pink glow of your own self-love. 

It is so radiant and infectious that the woodland creatures that witness your journey downward watch with fascination and awe.  Slowly you make your way down the fifth flight of stairs… counter-clockwise you spiral – down the fourth flight of stairs… extending your own light as a glowing egg of protection – down the third flight of stairs… remembering the message you received – down the second flight of stairs… knowing that this sacred light you carry will heal and lighten the hearts of those you love – you descend the first flight of stairs to forest floor. 

Feeling joyful and lighter than ever, you practically float out of the ancient wood… glancing back at the iridescent faery tree, you carry forth gratitude – knowing that anytime your light feels dim, you can return to this sacred place to be refilled.  Feeling clarity like never before, you step into the open field and bathe in milky white light of the moon and one last time, breathe in the sparkly white light of the stars.  Every cell of your body is filled with this sparkly white light, and you feel amazing… as you… open your eyes.

Thank you for walking this path with me.
I am grateful for your warmth and light.

Revealing the Light

I have a morning ritual of looking at my ‘today in history’ posts on facebook, as a kind of gratitude review. Today, I found a post from 2014, that seemed to rise up to speak to me in the current era. I was going to share it, with my thoughts on fb, but it started to feel like a blogpost, so here I am. Let’s see what comes up.

February 20, 2014
“If it feels like cracks are forming in your life, those cracks may be what is needed for the light within to reveal itself.” ~Heidi DuPree


I have found inspiration to be elusive lately, during a time of unsettling uncertainty. I don’t think I’m alone, by any means. So, today I want to reach out my heart and hands to touch your spirit to remind you that I do see your light, and that mine is still here, too, shining brightly through the fog. We will get through all difficulty together, with the courage to keep smiling and to believe that ALL SHALL BE WELL. With our combined light… everything is illuminated. I love you! 

I wrote this in 2014, when life at work had become less joyful. Sitting in an executive suite when you’re an empath means that you can feel even what isn’t being spoken. At that point in time, very little was being shared with the administrative staff. My boss was very mindful of my caring heart, and she protected me from much of what was happening. It didn’t stop the post-event suffering, but I suppose it did keep me from suffering in silence longer than necessary (should I run into a friend in the cafe whose name might be on a list). But even when I didn’t know what was going on… I could feel an energy that was enormously stressful and somewhat heartbreaking. And the hardest part was that I was in a role that prohibited discussing it with anyone. Hence the ‘vague-booking’ post above.

We had been through the company’s first layoff months before, and I’m not sure if they were discussing the sale of a flagship company openly at the time, but by July, that sale would be complete and by October of that year – we would see the hostile takeover of our board of directors.

Before that first ‘staff adjustment’, as they call it in some corporations, I would wake with inspiration and share a positive quote with loving words of my own to put a little light into the universe, but afterwards… it felt disrespectful to those we’d lost to even suggest there was any light out there. And frankly, as one who values authenticity, it felt fake to force positivity. I understood the depth of their bitterness and sense of betrayal, for a place to which they’d offered many years of service and loyalty. (Imagining myself in the shoes of others is my number one strength, after all.) For those who had to leave and to those who got to stay, what once felt like the security of ‘family’, suddenly felt unsafe, and it was very difficult to find hope or joy.

The truth is, things were painfully difficult for a while. We saw the sale of the company that enabled the birth of all the rest, and our fellow employees were split into groups of must go / can’t stay and stay here / rebuild. I know that those who had to go felt abandoned and expelled. In a place where we all felt like family, it was excruciating. The sense of betrayal was a physical beast covered in barbed wire, that walked the halls. Whether you were staying or going, you couldn’t help but bump into it and be left bloodied and sore.

A great deal of change occurred over the next 3.5 years until my own departure, and the arrival of a new board dictated the departure of the executive team. Which also wiped out much of the beautiful diversity in leadership that had been nurtured over the previous decade.

I can’t help but see some parallels between the transformation of that beloved company and our beloved nation, and the internalized turmoil I am experiencing now. It certainly feels as if Russia is the ‘activist investor’ placing their own CEO at the head of OUR corporation.The guy who bought the role of Chairman for a time (by purchasing enough shares of company stock to tip the balance), ousted the African American CEO who had effectively changed the face of the company, bringing it into the 21st century. He may not have been perfect, but he was certainly a man of integrity.

The funny thing was, conversations with members of the new board informed us that what they found once they got in to review how things were being managed, they really didn’t find anything wrong. A year or two later, the bully Chairman moved on to bully someone else, and life started to normalize. And it turned out, there were some things that did improve when he was gone. Mainly, the stock price. But also, it woke some of us into reality, to recognize that we could finally let go of the illusion of ‘once upon a time’, as that chapter had closed. The company we started working for, was not the same company we were working for now.

I remember hearing people say that they thought having a ‘business man’ as president of our country would be a good thing. As someone who was in a front row seat for the growth and expansion of a large corporation, I knew better.

I’ll tell you what was lost in efforts to please the shareholder. The creator of the corporation believed that the employees were the most important advantage of the business, next to the community being served. As a consequence, a sense of loyalty and familial bliss among employees and community was most evident. But as times changed, and Wall Street became more important, the support and care for employees and community were diminished. That is what tragedy has befallen our beloved country. People no longer matter, benefits shrink for the one struggling while they grow for those who could easily pay their own way. Only the bank accounts of those who are not living paycheck to paycheck and have money to invest in the stock market will find any benefit in this world order.

So… as we, as a country, are drowning in darkness, with criminal activity being openly supported by the GOP, how on Earth can we find any light?

Perhaps we are being awakened to the truth that what we once believed we had was never really there, at all. And with this information, we must light our own torches, and step up to the task of rebuilding, now that it has all been torn down. Maybe we can forge a new nation, not one where, as the founders dictated that all ‘men’ are equal (which really meant white men who came to this continent from other places), but one where all BEINGS are created equal.

And while we’re in the process of tearing down the walls of illusion and false belief, we can certainly reach out to those who have been struck by the rubble and offer them a little more love and compassion.

So, today I want to reach out my heart and hands to touch your spirit to remind you that I do see your light, and that mine is still here, too, shining brightly through the fog. We will get through all difficulty together, with the courage to keep smiling and to believe that ALL SHALL BE WELL. With our combined light… everything is illuminated. I love you! 

Decade in Reflection

So much can change in a year. New Year’s Eve is often the prompt for such a review. Considering what we were doing this time last year, for our family, it seems we have a decent year to celebrate. After seeing a movie with the entire family, I rushed my father to the emergency room on the eve of 2019. It was then that a problem we’d dealt with since October was finally diagnosed and in the months that followed a urethral stricture would find repair.

In 2019, unlike the year before, Pop has been at home, rather than in the hospital or rehab (save for the stricture recovery). He also had a procedure to repair the entropion in his left eye, which started while in rehab the year before. This was my first full year as a parental caregiver. It pays very little (I’m living on a tiny fraction of my retirement savings), but offers great reward. I know that my parents are safe, cared for, and that they both feel loved.

There’s much more to review for the year, but I’ve been reminded that we are not just at year’s end, but at decade’s end, so I’ll take a moment to journey through time. This time, ten years ago, I packed up the office of the boss who needed me, and watched him drive away from the office for the last time. 8.5 years earlier, he hired me to be his assistant, and that partnership changed both of our lives for the better. That’s really a story for the previous decade, but I can reflect on how different my life would be now, had the universe failed to align in our favor for a fruitful partnership. This early retirement to care for my parents would have been impossible, had he NOT chosen me in the early part of the decade that came before. I am eternally grateful for the way my life fell apart and came back together.

In my personal life, the beginning of this decade saw the end of an important friendship and a crack in the foundation of my Tribe. Trust was lost and never rediscovered. I’m certain that this soulmate life lesson was about learning why we don’t put people on pedestals, about the destructive nature of shame, and understanding how betrayal can make one feel like they have lost their mind (very useful experience for learning to hold space for others without judgment). Also affirmed, when someone leaves our lives, though it feels catastrophic for the loss of a future we once imagined, in time, our hearts do heal, and we fill that void with different experiences. Not better, not worse, just… different.

In 2012, I made a decision that brought a new group of people into my life, whom I adore. Having struggled with self-loathing and metabolic disorder since my early 20’s, I chose to have weight loss surgery. A woman I met in the support group I joined, became one of my best friends. We have held space for one another through difficult days, which is an important chapter in each of our healing journeys (read my blogpost “Witness to Healing”). The surgery may have been a temporary fix, since my metabolism remains broken, but the purpose of that path was clearly to bring us together. I wouldn’t change a thing.

2013 was a difficult year. It marked the first layoff in the corporate history of the workplace many of us loved. I witnessed so much heartbreak as people who would have chosen to stay forever had to leave. Then 2014 came along and I had a front row seat for the hostile takeover of the board of directors. I do not recommend any of this level of drama for an empathic soul. At the core of these two years was the heavy emotion of feeling helpless and unsafe. This was a period when I felt lost in darkness and could not find my inner light.

In 2015, I realized that sometimes things don’t go the way we planned, but it doesn’t mean they won’t go well. It was up to me to plan and execute more executive retirement events that year than I care to count. There are two positives to note with these changes delivered by so called ‘activist investors’. One is that every executive that I’ve run into since saying farewell at the event I organized on their behalf has reported that they are enormously happy. One I ran into last year said to me, “Melissa, I had no idea what I was missing!” And of course, my greatest loss in 2015 was the boss who loved me. I texted her on her birthday ten days ago, and she replied with photos from the travel adventure she and her husband were returning from with news of the one they were about to leave for with their adult children. Her migraines, a weekly if not daily occurrence while working, are a thing of the past. The other positive is that the company stock performance exceeded the lofty expectations of the guy who felt more like a terrorist in those early days of the takeover. (Again… a boon to my early retirement.)

The next two years swim with memories of tolerance, really. The place I once loved to work felt foreign in energy and culture… but still I couldn’t imagine that life could be better elsewhere. Then, in 2017… a new boss delivered liberation. Her former assistant who now sits at my desk of 16 years, told another she was told just to wait 90 days. I nearly danced out of the building that day, walked out by one of the leaders I supported, the way so many others departed in 2013. I did not feel unsafe, though. I was a little surprised by the sense of relief I felt. Instead of my world collapsing, it was falling into place.

The next year confirmed the sense that I could never return to that corporate world. I started writing and learning and growing, and have not stopped. I spent a year studying death and dying – and learned how live more mindfully. I spent time learning to write and edit for a popular online journal, and decided I prefer to write in my own style, for myself, knowing that comfort or inspiration may be found for those who bless my words with their valuable time and attention. I no longer wish to bend myself to fit the expectations of others.

This year, I planted metaphoric seeds which have grown into a glorious garden of lush connectedness, colorful healing, and bountiful beauty for myself and the sacred gardeners who have traveled this path with me. Eight seasonally evolving workshops and one mountain retreat brought together a new community of remarkable beings who care deeply for the wellness of one another, as they cultivate greater authenticity and joy in their own lives. To me, it feels like the birth of a new Tribe.

In this decade, I have lost friends to cancer, I have celebrated with some the news of remission, and with others, who continue the path of metastasis, facing challenges and overcoming them, I am committed to holding space, either bearing light or sitting in the darkness, with hope they will at least not feel alone. They are great warriors who continue to teach me about surrendering to grace, resting when the body commands, and opening to receive the kindness of others.

As I’ve focused on recreating myself and my world, I have walked with others whose lives have also changed through the death of a loved one or a former career, through aging – either of self, partners, children, or parents, and a host of other types of transformation induced by the unavoidable and unexpected. What has been fortified on this pilgrimage is that we are stronger together, and that we are never alone. Though we are nurturing different dreams for ourselves, we still glory in the manifestation of peace and comfort in the lives of those we love.

I’ve reflected on a decade of loss, but there has also been great adventure. Since 2010, I have been blessed to travel. Many adventures were with my life-long friend, and best travel companion (see my blogpost: “My Favorite Tomboy”). We started the decade with a trip to England, and birthed an annual Art-Cation tradition. Wherever we go, be it in driving distance or via flight, to see family or friends, or to touch the mysteries of history, we seek and find the local artists whose gifts reach through canvas to touch the hearts of others. In 2011, a trip to Scotland with anther friend delivered more magick and new friends. (European travel, for me, was a luxury that a few years without a car payment allowed.) I cannot fathom a life firmly planted. I am grateful for the wanderlust my mother seeded in me.

A decade of reflection could probably go on for just as long. So I’ll come back home to current gratitudes. My parents and I are closer than we have ever been, and not just because they bought a house up the street five years ago. My involvement in my father’s daily care since the last quarter of 2018 has nurtured an intimacy we never had before. And my mother and I have talked through old wounds and healing has been found. I laughed on my way home from setting Dad up with breakfast, to realize that instead of commenting on my weight, my mother complemented my butt. This feels like a good omen for the future. Ha!

Finally, in this decade I have welcomed four cats into my life. One died two years after his arrival, a freak tragedy that he probably thought might be a small adventure, and the other died in my arms in September. It was difficult to give words to the love and affection each of these magickal beings offered me (see my blogposts: “The Love of a Good Cat, Parts 2 and 3”). And last month, the other two beings of fluff and light came into my life and home. We are all still getting to know each other, but I predict a grand love affair in the decade to come.

To bring this reflection to conclusion, acknowledging a million other important things that occurred which I’ve failed to list, I would be remiss not to mention this blog. For many years, I was told by others that I had a gift for writing, and that I should do something with it. I once could not imagine how that might manifest. What on earth would I write about, and who would want to read it? But here we are.

A year and a half of writing about life has taught me a great deal about the power of introspection and sharing – about vulnerability and authenticity. I have been blessed to receive from others the acknowledgment that they found resonance in my words, they have sometimes been introduced to a new way of looking at things, and best of all, they have at times seen themselves on these pages, and found comfort in the reminder that we are all one.

As this decade comes to a close and you move through your own review, I hope that you have found balance. If there has been great change and loss, I hope there has also been great discovery and joy. If your health has been a primary focus, I hope that you have received the love and resources that support your path to acceptance, healing and wellness. I hope that the hardships can be seen as lessons, and that you can see clearly the beauty of your own evolution. I hope that you have found compassion and kindness for nurturing yourself, as well as others. I hope you have found forgiveness… for those who have harmed you, if possible, but more importantly, for yourself, be it for poor choices or for never having made a choice.

With this old decade, I am choosing to leave behind the ‘tradition’ of measuring my worth by how much weight I’ve lost, and my value by the size of my income. Three decades of not-enough-ness is quite enough, thank you!

Into this new decade, I shall only measure my goodness by the love that I give, and my fortune by the love that I receive.

Happy New Year, dear ones. Thank you for walking this path with me. Wishing you an abundance of blessings in the decade to come. May you have all you need and want all you have. You are so loved!

Winter Solstice & The Becoming

In October, I committed to an 8-month course on Holding Space Leadership. The first module was on the basics of Holding Space, and yesterday marked its conclusion.

As I reflect on this introduction and the pending Celtic Holy Day, which marks another turn of the wheel of the year in the ever changing cycle of seasons, I can’t help but contemplate Heather Plett’s notes on Liminal Space. It feels like the Winter Solstice (now happening in the northern hemisphere) is a perfect example of this concept.

She uses the caterpillar to butterfly metaphor in great detail, which makes it so easy to understand the middle ground of a transition cycle. I hadn’t realized the process of transformation of these magickal creatures until I read Martha Beck’s Steering by Starlight in 2018, when I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, since my past life felt finished. That’s where I learned that the caterpillar doesn’t just sprout longer legs and wings while cloaked in mystery… it actually ceases to exist in its previous form. It becomes a liquid before becoming solid again, in a brand new way.

From this course, I have learned that when we are in the process of un-becoming – casting off a former self, while not yet stepping into a new, final form… we are in liminal space. There is no time limit on transformation. We can be in this space for a year or a decade. It takes however long it takes. No pressure. No judgment. No shame.

What I took from Martha’s notes on this transition, is that if someone were to try to help (or force) the butterfly out of its safe place, it would ooze out and cease to exist… never to emerge in that glorious form. So, we come to understand that when we are in liminal space, it is our gift and responsibility to do the work of transformation. No one can do it for us. And from Heather’s notes on this process, I realized that as one who is holding space for someone in transition, it is not our responsibility to force their becoming, but to provide the safe place for this transformation to occur in their own time and on their own terms.

Now that I’ve been given language for it, I realize that this time of year, between one holiday and another, and another, and another… is like being in liminal space.

When I was in the corporate world, everything shifted the week before Thanksgiving. There was a sense of limbo to living, as everyone moved into some kind of chaotic survival mode. Either coming alive with anticipation of time with family, vacation, decorations, gifts, etc… or conversely, killing themselves to get it all done, or wanting to – for the stress of it all, with the enormous discomfort and despair it might bring for a host of reasons. This feeling of clouded disconnection would take root and hold on until the second week of the new year.

This is my third holiday season without co-workers, so I’m no longer witness to the excitement or tension. My family and I have moved away from the stress and chaos of holidays dictated by expectations. I didn’t put up a tree or purchase presents this year. It’s funny how simplifying one’s life can feel so liberating.

Even without all of the trappings of the holiday season, this time of year still feels like liminal space… a time of reflection and transformation.

This year, we are not only facing the end of another year, but the end of a decade. In reflection, we may review this time to see where we’ve been and what has changed. In 2010, the boss who needed me had just retired, and the boss who loved me was growing nicely into her new role. I loved my job, I loved my workplace, and I loved the people. I was still learning how to love myself. I hoped I would always get to be there, in that job. But the universe had other plans. Thank goodness.

I think I moved into liminal space when the boss who loved me retired in 2015, and the rest of the decade has been spent in peeling away all of the layers that had turned into something ‘unbecoming’ to me. My soul took flight when I realized that I didn’t have to stay in that form that always felt a little false. I looked and felt completely out of place in the corporate world, where making money for shareholders was more important than nurturing and stoking the light of love in every individual. Yet, I don’t regret the work of the caterpillar that delivered the abundance of savings that became the chrysalis of transformation. In fact, I am grateful for that former self in that past life.

I remember when I started writing in 2018, how I would refer to that former life, wondering where I might go next and what I might do with the time remaining. I simply decided to follow inspiration and my IGS (internal guidance system) to see where it would lead. In the last two years, I have studied End of Life wisdom, writing and editing, and have started on the path of Holding Space Leadership (something I already do, but don’t know what I don’t know). My favorite exploration has been crafting and facilitating workshops and retreats focused on mindfulness, creative expression, sacred ceremony, and joy manifestation in the form of self-awareness and intentional living.

I am not the same person I was before the universe wrapped me in a cloak of transformation. I am no longer the caterpillar, but I am not yet the butterfly, either. I’m somewhere in the goo, tossing out what doesn’t belong, picking out colors and textures that will suit my new wings, when I am ready to take flight.

I challenge you, dear reader, to determine where you are in your own sacred cycle. If you feel as if you are in liminal space, even if it feels like years have passed while you’ve been here, embrace your beautiful gooey self and keep doing the work of transformation. Don’t be afraid to let go of what no longer serves you. Just chuck it! You’re going to need that extra space to build your wings.

I wrote a meditation for my goddess group Solstice gathering that was inspired by this work, and I recorded it for sharing. Keep in mind that I’m not a professional – I am exploring tools that I’m figuring out as I go, and it is far from perfect. I guess it is liminal, too. Also, it was written for a specific gathering, so please forgive the gender reference at the end.

A Meditation Inspired by Rebirth at Winter Solstice, Liminal Space, and Chakra Alignment

So, tomorrow the sun will set and we will experience the longest night of the year. It is the perfect time for reflection and introspection. Move into that glorious darkness and give your gooey self a good swirl. Glory in your blessed opportunity to recreate yourself as the days begin to grow longer, when your divine spirit is reborn along with the radiant sun.

For those who find this time of year to be difficult or painful, know that I am holding space for you in my heart. Wishing you sweet memories to be cherished of the past and new memories to be made and revered in the future.

HAPPY SOLSTICE!

Centering Our Souls at Samhain

Part Four of a Manifestation Story

At the heart of this retreat was the myth of Persephone. When I started studying death last year, as a part of the End of Life Doula studies, I dedicated my learning to Her in the role of Goddess of the Underworld. But here’s the thing… I have chosen a version of the myth which is not tied to patriarchal brutality. I am not interested in perpetuating or celebrating a relationship based on abduction, rape, and entrapment. There is another telling that I prefer. It was one I learned from another, so I cannot verify the source – but I suspect it comes from Dr. Pinkola Estes or another goddess-mother of feminine spirituality. The version that my swiss-cheese memory recalls goes something like this…

Persephone was in a field collecting flowers to make a circlet for her mother’s hair, when she came upon a lost soul who could not find the doorway to the underworld. She returned to her mother, the Goddess Demeter, and told her that she must go into the underworld to guide these lost souls and offer them initiation. Though She did not want to let her go (the plight of most mothers), Demeter watched Persephone’s descent and immediately longed for her return. As she mourned the absence of her daughter, the world fell into a stark, quiet version of itself as a blanket of snow fell and the flowers receded into the earth.

Meanwhile, Persephone took Her place at the crystal doorway to offer seeds of transformation to those who no longer walked upon the earth. Initiation involved consumption of a pomegranate seed, and these garnet seeds would light the inner flame of those moving into a new way of being. When Persephone returned from the underworld to visit her mother, Demeter felt such joy that the earth burst forth in blossoms of celebration, as life and color bloomed once more.

Here we have a story of creation and of changing seasons, mothers and daughters, of love and loss, of passion and responsibility, of transformation, death and renewal. This is a version of an ancient tale I can relate to.

My current belief (current – because I am ever evolving based on my own life experience) about the transformation that death brings is that we are all energetic beings, and in human incarnation we are able to learn and grow through emotions that are not experienced beyond the confines of the body. So, once we have gathered these lessons and intentions, we are free to leave the body behind, as we return to energetic form. Those we love and have lost in body to death, remain ever present in energetic form. My intention for connecting with our lost loves at Samhain, was to use the tool of creative visualization or meditation to sit with them once more.

And so it was Persephone who manifested within the cave of sacred memory to offer us initiation and safe passage. When we reached the central chamber, which was warmed by firelight, with walls donned with portraits of our ancestors and dear ones lost, we sat upon a crimson couch and welcomed whomever chose to step through the doorway veiled in magickal moonlight.

The results of meditation differ, based on experience. Someone who is well-practiced may have honed the ability to get out of their own way to let vision come and judgment or expectation fall away. But one should never negate the vision or experience they find in the sacred space of the powerful mind.

JK Rowling, I feel, captured it perfectly in The Deathly Hallows, when Harry asks the ghostly image of Professor Dumbledore:

“Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?”
“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

Some of us had very clear, even life-altering conversations with one or more people on that comfy couch. Some of us saw ourselves surrounded by smiling loved ones who were present, without words. As for me, I found an opportunity to seek forgiveness and receive acceptance at the edge of the underworld.

I had no expectation of my own personal journey, since I had written the meditation, led the visualization, and was ultimately holding space for the experience of others. However, as I provided the silent pause for those on this journey to find connection, someone came through the veil for me.

In January of 1993, I volunteered in the buddy program for Hope & Help, a local resource for people living with HIV. I was introduced to my first and only buddy somewhere around my 24th birthday. I was the first ‘stranger’ his parents left him with, so that they could go to church together. When they left, he told me that he was being punished by God. This broke my heart and made me angry, all at once. I am not a fan of religions that lead people to believe they are worthy of abandonment and abuse from a supposed all-powerful being. He was a young and passionate choir leader for his gospel church. He had a blood transfusion during a surgery after his appendix burst. He died in November of that same year, a week before his 28th birthday.

It was Kirby who came through the veil for me. He was smiling and happy to see me, and the feeling was mutual. A part of my guidance was to consider the conversations we never got to have… the ones where we have the opportunity to say to our loved ones: Please forgive me. I forgive you. Thank you. I love you. 26 years have passed since Kirby left this earthly realm, and he came through so that I could tell him something I needed to say.

When I was 24, I had not yet learned about life, let alone death. I had minimal access to my gift for words. When I sat with him, whether in his home or in the hospital, I felt a complete lack. I did not know what to say or how to say it. I sat and held his hand and looked into his eyes, but I always felt that I provided little comfort. But here’s the thing I’ve carried… shame. When I held his hand as he lay in his hospital bed, lung capacity too weak to push out words, I was not fully present. As I held his hand, I thought about the fear I carried for a disease on which I had been well-educated. I knew that holding his hand was zero risk for my wellness, and yet I can recall leaving the room and washing my hands with urgency. The only real threat was to him… my germs could compromise his health, and not the other way around. I would give anything to be able to sit with him again with the presence, compassion, and understanding I now possess.

I asked Kirby for his forgiveness, and even now, I can almost hear his voice. “Oh, Melissa. There is nothing to forgive!” As he tilts his head, glances at me with compassion, and offers me that gorgeous grin… tears flow, and I know that this is happening inside my head, and also that this is real.

When I lead a meditation, my main worry is whether the silence I offer is long enough for a message to be received, or so long that I lose the mindful attention of those I’m hoping to lead. When Kirby faded into the veil, I ended the silence with these words…

We know that time moves differently in the Underworld, and that though we long to be with our loved ones, we know that now is not that time. Tonight is a moment when time stands still, and here we were blessed to connect between the worlds.

But time will move on and we shall go with it. Much like when we connect in the realm of the living, it feels as if no time has passed… so will be the day when they come to greet us and take us from the temporary realm to the eternal.

Until then… we honor them by choosing to live in joy and happiness. It would be an insult to their sacrifice not to.

We made our way out of sacred space the same way we came in, and we shared the stories of our experience. We cried together, and we amazed one another with knowledge of healing offered and received between the worlds.

The next day, a meditation informed everyone of a gift from Persephone. We were all given a garnet pomegranate seed, in the form of a teardrop bead attached to a small silver ring. The symbolism was that we would be offered safe passage any time we wished to connect with our loved ones, and when our time comes, we, too, will be received and initiated by Her love.

We then took the gift we were given, and selected a series of other beads to encircle our wrists in the form of a bracelet that would forever remind us of this time we’ve shared at the edge of the underworld.

The final piece of the remembrance portion of the retreat was to write the names of those we had invoked onto gathered autumn leaves. We drove to a nearby river, walked to the center of the bridge, and blew kisses into the wind, as our leaves floated down and around, returning our beloveds to the eternal flow of the river that separates us.

When we returned to the mountain house we now recognized as home, some of us stepped into the kitchen, and continued the preparation of a true Thanks-Giving meal. When my hosts suggested a full turkey dinner with all the sides, I thought it sounded great, but I hadn’t really considered the symbolism.

We were at the end of our time together. We twelve had chosen to be vulnerable and authentic. We supported and celebrated transition and transformation. We cried together, and we built a bond that transcends time and space. We agreed that we wanted to do this again. And we gave thanks for all of it.

The day before these gorgeous beings gathered, I started a seven month course on Holding Space Leadership, and our course creator and guide, Heather Plett, shared with us a poem. As she read these words, I understood that I would share them, too. They are perfection. So, before we sat down to our final full-togetherness, I read these words to my courageous and wonderful guests, and now… I offer them to you.

Blessing for a New Beginning by John O’Donohue

In out of the way places of the heart
Where your thoughts never think to wander
This beginning has been quietly forming
Waiting until you were ready to emerge.
For a long time it has watched your desire
Feeling the emptiness grow inside you
Noticing how you willed yourself on
Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.
It watched you play with the seduction of safety
And the grey promises that sameness whispered
Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent
Wondered would you always live like this.
Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And out you stepped onto new ground,
Your eyes young again with energy and dream
A path of plenitude opening before you.
Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is at one with your life’s desire.
Awaken your spirit to adventure
Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk
Soon you will be home in a new rhythm
For your soul senses the world that awaits you.

Each farewell the next morning took away a little piece of my heart, in the form of longing and protection. And by noon, we were three again. We set to the task of breaking the set, and packing it up. Our journey down the mountain would come the next morning, and there was much to do.

Gratefully, the universe rewarded me with a little more time with my dear hosts, who drove over from their daughter’s home. I was pleased to share my gratitude for the remarkable journey we had all shared in this beautiful space that held us all in warmth and love. And because it is what sacred gardeners do, I planted seeds of intention for two retreats in 2020. My life-long friend took notes during our eleven hour drive home, on our ideas for how to manifest more self-love at Beltaine next May. I can’t wait to light that candle and dedicate that hearth to bless, once again, the journey we will share.

Thank you for walking this path with me. I’m so happy to be here with you for this brief moment in time. May the season of light bring you an abundance of blessings.