Today is my friend Teresa's birthday. Teresa passed 20 days ago to begin her walk with the ancestors and I miss her deeply. She was/is my guide and mentor in so many ways, not all of them understood by others and that is okay. I know that she still stands by me and guides in a manner that only those that have passed through the veil can - with love.
She joined another friend of mine, Bill. He passed in the winter a few years ago after a long battle with multiple illnesses. Today I know that the two of them have met in passage even though they had never known each other in life. I know this because I know both of them are good kind people; wise and always looking to the future. Both of them have come into conversation in the past week and so I know that they continue to speak to me in their own silent ways.
In a way they have both been teaching me these past three weeks since Teresa's passing; teaching me to stand on my own. I always have, do not get me wrong, but I have always had a point of "fear" in doing so. What? Fear? Of course, we all have fear. If we didn't then we wouldn't be human. I think that what they have been trying to tell me is that it is okay to have fear, it is okay to be unsure, it is okay to feel weak and unable to move forward. When that happens you need to look deeply within yourself and find the core of who you really are and hold that tight. The warmth you feel is love, a love that no one can take from you and that has been built with the help of friends and family. It reminds us who we are and why we do what we do. It is the love of all those that have gone before us and understand that the work we do isn't easy.
So here is to Teresa and Bill, I miss you both. I'll see you both in journey and we can talk then. In the mean time... Bill people are fascinated by the title you gave me.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Release
This has been a difficult week for me with the passing of my friend. Teresa now walks on the other side of the veil, most likely busier than ever, watching over all of us. But now I begin to find peace in her death. I did not know how or when it would come, but I can sleep better now that we have honored her through her last rite of passage for this life.
Last night we honored her, not for the final time, but for the last time while she was with us physically. Now it is time to honor her as an ancestor. She would smile at that, not snicker or scoff, but smile and possibly giggle. She can no longer deny the titles or designations of wisdom that we will give her. She truly is an ancestor, one we are very willing to receive advice, wisdom, and solace from. She was and is my friend and it was my honor to participate in last night's ritual. It was the beginning of my healing and for that I thank her deeply.
I did not know how powerful the ritual would be, how deeply it would impact me. But it did. I know that I do not do the readers justice in giving only snippets of a ritual here, but that is all that I am willing to share, that I'm willing to give. I will only say that when a flame is snuffed out it leaves a darkness that cannot be imagined until you feel it. I felt that darkness last night and the rebirth of her soul in the flame of spirit. Her release was sweet; my release has begun.
I thank you Teresa for all you have taught me, for all you have laughed and cried over, for all you have given, and for all that you will continue to do - in this life and in the next.
Blessings.
Last night we honored her, not for the final time, but for the last time while she was with us physically. Now it is time to honor her as an ancestor. She would smile at that, not snicker or scoff, but smile and possibly giggle. She can no longer deny the titles or designations of wisdom that we will give her. She truly is an ancestor, one we are very willing to receive advice, wisdom, and solace from. She was and is my friend and it was my honor to participate in last night's ritual. It was the beginning of my healing and for that I thank her deeply.
I did not know how powerful the ritual would be, how deeply it would impact me. But it did. I know that I do not do the readers justice in giving only snippets of a ritual here, but that is all that I am willing to share, that I'm willing to give. I will only say that when a flame is snuffed out it leaves a darkness that cannot be imagined until you feel it. I felt that darkness last night and the rebirth of her soul in the flame of spirit. Her release was sweet; my release has begun.
I thank you Teresa for all you have taught me, for all you have laughed and cried over, for all you have given, and for all that you will continue to do - in this life and in the next.
Blessings.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Blessed Imbolc
I suppose that things have changed over the year to bring us back to Imbolc. The dog is sleeping by the woodstove, enjoying the warmth that it gives. The sun is trying to peak through the clouds to help warm the earth so that the flora and fauna of the farm can begin their annual awakening. And here I am, sitting on my couch listening to the quiet that can only occur in the country, wondering what to cook for dinner. It is a slow day full of activity. Subtle activity.
So what changed? Well, last year I had no dog. My old girl passed four years prior and I didn't have the heart to move another "best friend" into her place. But our new puppy is not a replacement; she is an addition to the family that is unique and original. She may have four legs and fur in common with my old dog, but beyond that they are as different as any two people.
I am also now living on a farm. I moved from the city to the country and am so happy that I did. The quiet solitude allows me time to think, time to grow, time to just be myself. There are pressures, but they are different here. Now I worry about when I should be looking to plant my garden and how far apart to plant the berry bushes. There is no more worry about the store across the street being robbed or if it alright to leave my car on the wrong side of the road for and extra hour. The quiet here is complete. It hits the soul and the mind all at once and engulfs your senses so that you understand that all is well and your world, my world, will is fine. It is okay to go slow, there is no need to rush. Time passes so quickly here, but it is measured in work accomplished rather than by the ticks on a clock. Here I feel whole.
And then I have changed. I no longer hold the same job, I left it behind me. I have rested, am resting, in the quiet solitude of winter in Central New York. The snow has blanketed me for a few months and will continue for a few more. But I do not sleep and leave all thought or activity behind. Far from it. I am working on who I am and who I am becoming. I am evolving, or as I once heard say, I am a human becoming because I am a work in progress that will never stop. To be a human being means that you have stopped evolving, stopped growing, stopped becoming. That is not what has happened at all. If anything I am doing more now that I ever have in the past.
And that brings me back to Imbolc. It is the promise of what lies under the surface of the snow. The promise of what has been waiting to be born again in the light and warmth of the spring. It is there, we are there, and now is the time to appreciate all of the potential we have at our finger tips to begin living and growing as the seasons begin to warm.
May you have a blessed Imbolc.
So what changed? Well, last year I had no dog. My old girl passed four years prior and I didn't have the heart to move another "best friend" into her place. But our new puppy is not a replacement; she is an addition to the family that is unique and original. She may have four legs and fur in common with my old dog, but beyond that they are as different as any two people.
I am also now living on a farm. I moved from the city to the country and am so happy that I did. The quiet solitude allows me time to think, time to grow, time to just be myself. There are pressures, but they are different here. Now I worry about when I should be looking to plant my garden and how far apart to plant the berry bushes. There is no more worry about the store across the street being robbed or if it alright to leave my car on the wrong side of the road for and extra hour. The quiet here is complete. It hits the soul and the mind all at once and engulfs your senses so that you understand that all is well and your world, my world, will is fine. It is okay to go slow, there is no need to rush. Time passes so quickly here, but it is measured in work accomplished rather than by the ticks on a clock. Here I feel whole.
And then I have changed. I no longer hold the same job, I left it behind me. I have rested, am resting, in the quiet solitude of winter in Central New York. The snow has blanketed me for a few months and will continue for a few more. But I do not sleep and leave all thought or activity behind. Far from it. I am working on who I am and who I am becoming. I am evolving, or as I once heard say, I am a human becoming because I am a work in progress that will never stop. To be a human being means that you have stopped evolving, stopped growing, stopped becoming. That is not what has happened at all. If anything I am doing more now that I ever have in the past.
And that brings me back to Imbolc. It is the promise of what lies under the surface of the snow. The promise of what has been waiting to be born again in the light and warmth of the spring. It is there, we are there, and now is the time to appreciate all of the potential we have at our finger tips to begin living and growing as the seasons begin to warm.
May you have a blessed Imbolc.
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