Crystal Clear

Last night, I had the pleasure of attending an uplifting crystal bowl group mediation.  It took place, after hours, inside a shop carrying gifts, accessories, clothing and more, items designed to add joy and serenity to people's lives.  I had stopped in once when it first opened late last spring, but had not been there since.  After we dozen or so participants settled ourselves in a circle, the facilitator opened the session with a prayer from George Harrison, then explained that the vibrations we would hear while he played the bowl would address the throat chakra, associated with communication and the colour blue.  With eyes closed, we relaxed into ourselves as he continually moved his mallet around the rim.  He played the huge, crystal bowl for thirty to forty minutes, then let the sound fade away.  After opening my eyes and allowing myself to fully return to my body, I looked across the room, and that is when I saw it.  My book displayed upright with full cover view, on a shelf behind the facilitator. I was unaware that this particular shop carried Diary of an Intuitive.  More to the point, I had not noticed the book while passing back and forth in front of it numerous times while arranging chairs for the group, nor had I noticed it during the circle introduction.  While I was processing the magic of this moment, the facilitator invited us to share any experiences we had had with regards to the meditation and he answered individual's questions.  He told a joke involving Sitting Bull, reminding us of the importance of humour, spoke about love being the ongoing connection between life and death, and referred to signs by which people often identify the presence of a loved one who has passed.  After a few minutes of reflection, I began telling the group about what had just occurred to me.  Most of them were unable to see the book from where they were sitting, so I described it to them: a heart containing the words love and gratitude positioned on the blue cover of a book communicating experiences about life and death, and some of the in between.  Almost as an afterthought, I began explaining the story behind the two feathers positioned beside the heart.  No sooner had I  spoken the words "two feathers", when the facilitator's wife, who had been writing notes, lifted her head, and with a nod towards her husband, told me, "That's his name".  Seeing the confusion on my face, her husband, who had introduced himself to us using his French name, explained that he had some native ancestry consisting of two warring tribes, thus the name Two Feathers. Oh my. So many overlapping themes: blue, communication, love, death, feathers. Never a dull moment on this spiritual journey. It's not a stretch to imagine that Michael's spirit guide Geronimo was infused into this magical evening, as well. 

Accidental Connection

Woke up to another magnificent sunny day on Sunday.  Leisurely start with morning paper and coffee, followed by checking email, then Facebook.  Scrolling down, I noticed a post from a prominent biologist whom I follow, and as I read the copy accompanying a photo taken at a recent film screening, I was quickly transported from serenity to a heightened state, complete with increased heart rate.  The caption named a Grand Chief and his wife who were both seated beside her.  My intuition kicked in and I had a strong sense that this was the woman who had had the misfortune of driving northbound through Princeton on the early morning of March 7, 2011, approaching a corner to find a car skidding across the ice, directly into her path, then colliding.  To date, the minimal information I had regarding that driver's identity was due to a bizarre coincidence one of my neighbours had shared with me a few months after the accident.  While awaiting dinner service at a conference up in the Okanagan, he had taken his assigned seat, when a fellow attendee, using a cane, approached the table and sat down beside him in her designated seat.  During their conversation, it was revealed that the woman had been in a car accident, thus the cane, and after further discussion, these two realized that the accident was one and the same. When my neighbour returned home, he had told me about the crazy connection but did not mention her by name, only that her husband was an Okanagan band chief and the number of children they had.  Back to the photo.  It took a mere few minutes of online research to realize that indeed this was the right person and to get her contact information.  After some thought, I felt compelled to send her an email, explaining who I was, wishing her well, and assuring her that after Michael and Kelly's deaths, it had never crossed my mind to ask,"Why him, why her, why me?"  This morning, I received a lovely reply resulting in two mother's hearts soothed after this accidental connection.

Grandparents' Day

While checking the calendar last week, I noticed that today, the second Sunday in September, is national Grandparents' Day.  I had no idea that we had an official day designated in their honour.  As someone who loves celebrations, I wonder how I missed this since it's been around for almost twenty years.  I also noticed that this year, the holiday would fall on the 7th of the month, coinciding with my monthly Boal Memorial visit.  Connecting the two threads, my thoughts turned from celebrating, to perhaps marking the occasion slightly differently - it would be a fitting day to take my mother-in-law along to visit the setting of Michael's remains, as she had once expressed an interest, but never been.  That thought led me to once again consider the trials of a grieving grandparent.  In addition to having to process the pain of losing a grandchild, there is the added difficulty of bearing witness to their child's pain of grieving the death of their child.  For the most part, the grandparent's experience is endured with very little support.  So for me, this Grandparents' Day will embrace honouring the challenges as well as experiencing the joys of being a grandparent, because "coincidentally", it turns out that I will be spending time with my two little blessings this evening. 

Worth It

In March of this year, exactly three years after my son died, a letter addressed to Michael from Consumer Protection BC, arrived at my home.  They were advising him that he had been charged illegal fees on some of his Instaloan transactions and could apply for a refund. Well, obviously that was not possible.  The amount of the claim was a modest $35.98, but on principle, I applied on his behalf.  After filling out and mailing in the paperwork, then following up with a couple of phone calls, and numerous emails, I finally received the cheque today, a few days shy of the three-and-a-half year anniversary of his passing. These out-of-the-blue reminders of his death are always emotionally challenging.  And ironically, given his nature, it is doubtful that Michael would have pursued the matter, were he still alive.  However, now I imagine him smiling supportively, those big blue eyes looking down at me, head angled and eyebrows raised, as he sees Canuck Place benefit from this process.