Newest and Most Precious Piece of Art

    The newest, and now most precious, piece of art to adorn my walls was recently gifted to me by my 13-year-old granddaughter when she arrived here for a summer visit with her family. It had been safeguarded in a cardboard tube for her flight from Spain. When she pulled it out and unrolled it before me, I was awestruck. She had drawn this beach scene using pastel and explained that from left to right, in birth order, the figures represented my three children: her mother, Auntie Kate, and Uncle Mike. And yes, those are wings on the back of his shirt. I knew that she had a talent for creating art and loved attending after-school classes but nothing could have prepared me for this incredible image. She captured so much in this scene - family, connection, nature, and love.

     A week later, she and I visited a local art shop to choose the mat and frame. When I picked up the completed piece a few days ago, I explained the significance of the picture to the staff member helping me, including the reason for the wings. Less than a minute later, while returning to my car parked right outside the shop, I noticed one beautiful, white feather lying directly in my path! It is now affixed to the glass, acting as another reminder of how strong this symbol of connection continues to be.

Perfect Gift of Flowers

 

     Another timely gift from the universe ... last year chocolates, this year flowers.  A few days ago, while still on vacation, I was notified that I had won a gift certificate for a bouquet from a florist located in Lonsdale Quay.  I have won many, many prizes over the years but never flowers. Knowing that I would be stopping by the Quay on the anniversary of Michael's death to purchase our fajita dinner fixings, I decided I'd pick up the flowers as well, to add a burst of colour to our evening.

     So there I was, home from our holiday, admiring all the gorgeous bouquets this morning. Glancing over, I noticed the owner leaning on the counter of her small shop, reading the back of a postcard. I finally chose the bouquet shown above because of the vibrant yellows and oranges, as well as the fact that it included some light orange blossoms that looked airy and delicate, as if they were floating. When I approached her with it, she stopped reading and mentioned that she had just received a beautiful message. I could see that she was moved by it and glancing down, noticed the writer had included a hand drawn heart. I told her I was not in any hurry and suggested she read it aloud if she felt comfortable with that. She did and it was a loving note of gratitude from a young woman who had stopped in a few weeks earlier. The shopkeeper explained that the woman had wanted to purchase one rose.  She went on to say that she had wrapped it up, handed it to her and told her it would be a gift, no charge. The young woman expressed her gratitude and explained it was the six month anniversary of the death of her baby boy. 

     After listening to the story, I thanked her for sharing and then went on to explain how extremely grateful I was for this bouquet, especially today, because I was marking the anniversary of my son's death. She nodded, then pointed to the light orange blossoms and told me they were called Butterfly Ranunculus.  I had not mentioned my attraction to these flowers but somehow, she knew.  It wasn't lost on me that the analogy of a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly is often referenced in a eulogy. In fact, my long time friend who had written Mike's, included this - "We are like caterpillars who cry over the empty cocoon of their brother. Confused and afraid, they call out his name because they cannot see him in his new magnificence."  

     A short but deeply moving interaction in a tiny floral shop that lifted my spirits and provided me with another powerful hit of heartfelt connection to my community. Synchronicity at its finest. 

www.diaryofanintuitive.com

Multi-Layered Spiritual Connection

      Seated in the living room lounge chair last Saturday morning, with my back to the floor-to-ceiling window, I was rereading notes I had made during the summer of 2015, after meeting up with a young person at their request. This individual had never met Michael but learned about the death of our son through a business connection. They contacted me thinking I might be interested to hear about an experience they had had involving Michael, and of course, I was. During our visit, the person described a vivid dream in which Michael had shared an incredible amount of very accurate information.
     The reason I now wanted to refresh my memory about the details the person had relayed to me was because I was planning to stop in at the Orchard Recovery Centre that afternoon. In the dream, Michael had referred to a "cool circle bench in a quiet space on the island" and the individual knew it was a connection to the Orchard. They subsequently found out that names of deceased clients were memorialized there as well. I had never heard of the bench nor the honouring of Orchard participants who had died. Curious to learn more, I had vowed to follow up the next time I visited Bowen Island with a car. Today would be my first visit back to the recovery centre since attending the weekly family education sessions during Michael's six week stay there in the spring of 2010.
     Now, after closing my notebook, my husband, who had been looking out the window while sitting on the sofa across from me said that while I had been reading, a hummingbird had approached my back, hovered behind me for a few moments, just over my shoulder, then flown off.  Simply perfect, because midway through those notes were the words, "Nocturnal hummingbirds much louder, bigger and more playful than usual. One hovered and seemed to stare at him for a while. Like a friend of his. Then flew away."
    After arriving at the Orchard early Saturday afternoon, I spoke to one of the counsellors who had worked with our family and found out that staff had likely added Michael's name to the memorial garden in 2011, but she strongly encouraged me to create a tag of my own. I was led to the outdoor space, then left there to experience it alone. The circle bench, unlike anything I have ever seen, was indeed located in a quiet space, designed with an elongated, low-angled back rest, allowing one's entire body to relax into it. When seated, one's gaze is drawn upwards, beyond the tops of the towering trees, into the sky beyond. A meditative memorial space in the woods. While writing a short message on the thin copper tag I had been handed, I noticed that there were two stuck together and that the pen was actually pressing the message onto both tags. So, as an added bonus, I was able to take one home, with the same engraved wording that now hangs in a majestic cedar.  A gift to remind me of this deeply meaningful, multi-layered experience of connection to Michael's spirit.

www.diaryofanintuitive.com

Still Very Much Here

     

     Listening to a family member eloquently describe her recent encounter with Mike's spirit was incredible. He touched on aspects of his recent life here, then shared some of his current experiences, including interactions with spirit relatives. Starting out on a serious note, he referred to some regrets, as well as new insights, regarding his family, then lightened the mood with his charisma and sense of humour. The underlying message was I am always with you.

     Whether I enjoy a personal experience with spirit, or hear about it secondhand, the impact is always powerful. Proof of what I know to be true of spirit connection, what many of us know to be true: Our loved ones are always right here. 

     Sitting in my garden, contemplating the hummingbird feeder, all I see in the dish is what appears to be just water. But what I know is that it has added sugar, creating nectar for the birds. Even though the crystals dissolved, the sugar is still very much there. And so it is with spirit. 

www.diaryofanintuitive.com

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.

Ouija Connection and Consequences

While walking the seawall with one of my daughters recently, she recounted the lingering, uncomfortable consequences a friend of a friend was living with after using a Ouija board.  She described the unsettled energy this person was still experiencing weeks after "playing" with the board.  Since my daughter knew I had had a similar experience (I was in my early thirties, the same age as the person in question), she mentioned it with the hopes that I might be able to offer some support. Partway through this unusual conversation, we ran into an acquaintance of mine, a woman I see, maybe twice a year.  Our children had attended the same preschool over twenty-five years ago, but they had then gone on to attend separate schools.  After reintroducing this woman to my daughter and chitchatting for a couple minutes, we said our goodbyes. As my daughter and I resumed our walk, it suddenly occurred to me that this particular acquaintance was the one who had brought her Ouija board to our women's weekend away, which led to my profound experience with this questionable tool. Talk about uncanny timing!  All those years ago, we had thought it was just a game, but later realized it was nothing of the kind.  It had taken a couple of months of investigation and various remedies for me to finally feel like myself again.  Thankfully, today I was able to put the young woman in touch with a highly regarded healer who will help restore her to a positive state.  Fun and games, the Ouija board is not.      

Soul Connection

Today, I consider an elderly relative, one I have been close to most of my life.  Sadly, she does not believe that love exists.  When she first made a point of telling me so, many years ago, I was unable to understand her perspective. It was quite some time before I realized that her difficult, formative years were likely instrumental in creating this mindset.  The concept of love was subsequently at the core of an enormous disagreement between us, occurring just days before my son's death. Then a few months ago, she abruptly cut off all communication with me, without explanation.  I do not understand.  What I do know is that regardless of how our earthly relationship plays out this time around, we have a deep soul connection, and eventually, all will be revealed. In the meantime, one aha moment of mine was making this association: if one's mind is closed to the possibility of love's existence, it would be nearly impossible to recognize its presence. I continue to send her loving energy. Undoubtedly, her soul recognizes and embraces it.

Lucky in Love

The web of interconnection between the visible and invisible continues to amaze me.  Those magical links between thought, spirit, and manifestation.  Thankfully, I do not need to understand the mysterious ways of the universe in order to appreciate them.  Between storms yesterday, my husband and I headed over to the Stanley Park seawall. The winds had died down and the rains were taking a short break, so we embarked on that 9 km walk.  Around the midway mark, the memory of the precious image we had seen exactly two years ago, while walking another seawall in the city, flashed through my mind. On that particular winter's day, we had noticed large stones displaying K ♡ M on the beach.  Now, I imagined how magnificent it would be to see another powerful sign such as that.  Well, I did not have to wait long at all.  Within ten minutes of having that thought, I looked down onto the sand below to see a hefty ship's rope spelling out the word love in cursive script.  The letters measured a metre high.  I stopped in my tracks, nudged my husband to take a look, then filled him in on what had crossed my mind minutes earlier.  On its own, that image would have been heartwarming enough.  Making the connection to the thought I had had ramped it up to the extraordinary.  I must be one of the luckiest people alive.     

Mountain Angel

The wide open Powerline trail along the base of Grouse Mountain is a favourite of mine.  While walking in the sunshine with my husband there this morning, I made a startling connection.  Last Sunday morning, he and I had walked along this same popular trail.  That day, we had ventured a little further than usual, and then, my husband suggested we return to the car via a narrow, less travelled route through the forest, one we had never taken.  Since we were without any safety provisions, I replied I wasn't interested in taking the chance of getting lost without any gear.  I then announced, "That's all we need is for Tim Jones to have to come and find us." Tim Jones, North Shore Search and Rescue leader, as well as high school classmate of ours.  Well, we turned around and headed back along the main trail.  Later, we found out that Tim had died that evening while walking down the trail of a neighbouring mountain.  Within hours of me pronouncing those words, ones I had never before spoken, Tim, a hero in the truest sense of the word, was gone.  Uncanny.  RIP Tim, our mountain angel.

Loving Message Received

While lying on a mat, stretching out after boot camp this morning, I considered my next stop - visiting Boal Memorial, to place flowers and a balloon in honour of Michael's birthday.  Gazing at the ceiling, I was drawn to one of the pot lights mounted up there.  As I continued staring at it, I felt my connection with the bright light building.  I sensed the strong beam that existed between the light fixture and I.  Soon, the energy filled my entire being.  Underlying that sensation was the awareness that my son was using this moment to show me that our energetic connection remains unbroken.  Such a loving message received on a sweat-stained gym floor.

Uncanny Connection

New Year's Day ... what a wonderful start to the year.  My husband and I made the leisurely hour's drive to Squamish to view the multitude of eagles wintering there.  To be in the presence of these majestic beings is always awe-inspiring.  During our riverside walk, we witnessed dozens of eagles soaring, preening, squawking, and feasting.  Upon our return to the car, I took a chance and made an impromptu call to an old friend. It had been over a decade since we had last spoken, having lost touch after his divorce and subsequent move to another province. I had heard that he was remarried and now living here.  Well, he generously invited us over and ten minutes later, we were in his home.  Our relationship quickly picked up where it had left off all those years ago.  His wife was very welcoming and easy to talk to.  After a short time, I realized that she and I have many shared interests, including some of the same obscure book titles on our shelves. During the course of the afternoon, our friend revealed that his wife had also lost a son due to accidental death.  He too, twenty-five years old.  Uncanny that this woman and I also share the experience of dealing with this particular life-changing event.  So glad I made the call.  So glad they were home.  So glad to have renewed one friendship and opened the door to the beginning of another.

In and Out of the Woods

While jogging in the woods, the phrase out of the woods came to mind.  I smiled when I recognized the significance of this thought with regards to where I was.  Not only in the woods, but specifically on the same trail where I had seen that pink heart-shaped balloon containing Michael and Diesel a couple of days after they died.  Now, I played with these two words - in and out.  In the woods is where I experience deep connection to all that is, here and beyond.  I regain clarity about life. While I was certain about being in the woods, I was less certain about being out of them.  I further considered this idiom's meaning; no longer in danger or difficulty, the most difficult part of the journey has passed. Was I in danger?  No, I never was.  Am I having difficulty?  At times, of course.  Has the most difficult part of this journey passed?  That I cannot answer since my journey is not over.  And if it never gets any easier, so be it.  Being in the woods will remain my salve. 

Give and Take

Yesterday, I was fortunate to have numerous meaningful experiences with individuals willing to genuinely engage, resulting in powerful flows of give and take.  First off, a morning meeting with a fellow book club member to discuss minor changes to my book.  That was followed by coffee and a heart-to-heart with a young friend going through a very difficult time.  Later, an appointment with a business acquaintance to enquire about his product.  That led to further conversation wherein we discovered several shared connections and similarities, including both of us losing a son.  Stopping in for an impromptu playtime with my granddaughter before returning home for a three hour phone session with my best friend to go over final edits.  Thankfully, none of these experiences were rushed or shoehorned in, allowing adequate time for total immersion in each and every moment.  Rather than merely showing up, each one of us brought our best self to the experience, resulting in deeper connection.  Truly magnificent.

The Mysterious Realm of Communication

My most recent evening at the ISA included a relaxing guided meditation, as well as a heartfelt message from my paternal grandfather, in German, of course.  About family, about love.  He spoke directly to me, no medium required, about the parent-child relationship and the various ways it has played out within our family over these past four generations.  Even though this man had died long before I was born, I instantly recognized his spirit and felt a deep connection as he shared his observations.  The ISA evening ended about a half-hour later than usual, and when I got in my car, the clock read 9:55.  After these sessions, I am usually home around 10 o'clock, and since it's about a thirty minute drive, I contemplated calling my husband to tell him not to wait up.  Then I thought about how exhausted he was and the strong possibly of him being asleep, so I decided against it.  When I arrived home, he was surprisingly still awake, and before I had a chance to tell him about my evening he told me about a strange incident that had occurred.  He had been watching TV in the den when he heard a beeping sound coming from elsewhere in the house.  As he approached the living room, he realized that the alarm was ringing on the clock in there.  We don't use the alarm feature and it had never spontaneously gone off - it had not even been touched recently.  He went on to say that it had happened at 9:55.  Obviously that had no significance for him until I explained what I had been doing at exactly that time.  For me, this was yet another new experience in the mysterious realm of communication.  Fascinating, for sure.

Growing Together

     Yesterday, I met up for lunch with my brother, my sole sibling.  It made my day.  We live an hour's drive apart and even though we see each other when our families get together a couple of times a year, meeting up for lunch is something my brother and I do every few months as well.  Just the two of us.  It was not always so.   

     In the early years we were close, sharing a bedroom and playing together most of the time.  We grew apart in our teens as we developed contrasting interests and hobbies -  not uncommon for a sister and brother.  As young adults busy raising families, we rarely saw each other outside of familial obligations such as Christmas and birthday dinners.  Misunderstandings, as well as taxing birth family dynamics, contributed to keeping us from wanting to connect outside of these events.  
     Then, life began throwing us opportunities to turn our relationship around.  The first noticeable shift began a decade ago, after our mother's death, when we occasionally began spending time together outside of the expected family get-togethers.  During that time, my teen-aged son began developing a deep bond with his adored uncle, which led to my brother and I connecting more often.  Four years ago, our relationship was further strengthened when we simultaneously became estranged from our father.  That was when our lunch dates became more regular.  We finally understood how much we mattered to each other.  Then, Michael's death occurred, which subsequently deepened the connection between my brother and me, to the point where we now check in with each other every couple of weeks.      
     My brother and I still have very different interests and hobbies.  Our lifestyles do not have much in common, either.  However, through facing our shared family challenges together, we have now arrived in a place where we do not take each other for granted, support each other in everything we do, and are fully aware that the other has our back - valuable gifts we have gained from our losses.  

Friend to Friend

Other than going out for an invigorating run through the canyon this morning, I spent most of the day working on my book, a rewarding, yet emotionally challenging project.  Again today, I thought about how grateful I am that my best friend is dedicating hours upon hours of her free time to edit this book.  Even though there is still much to do before it gets published, thanks to her, I can see light at the end of the tunnel.  Then late this afternoon, I received a surprise message from a young woman I have never met.  This friend of Kelly's, now living in the Okanagan, had communicated with me only once before, via Facebook last year.  She was now contacting me to share her delight in recently finding out that one of her new co-workers happened to be a good friend of Mike's.  These two discovered their astonishing connection after the young man explained where he lived - across the street from our family's cabin.  My heart soared as I read about this crazy, wonderful association, and I can well imagine the comfort and stories they will share.  Support can come from those we have known for years, as well as from those we hardly know, and all of it is greatly appreciated.   

Spirit Connection

So heartening to hear more and more people relaying personal experiences regarding connection with spirit.  Including some from folks who have had very little, if any, previous contact of this sort.  From individuals close to me, as well as from some I have never met.  Without prompting, feeling motivated to tell their stories to friends and acquaintances.  This week, learning of three episodes in just one day.
The first, during a phone conversation with a friend.  She explaining the scenario that just occurred while fretting over a hefty strata levy on her apartment.  One slated to coincide with her imminent retirement. While contemplating the implications of this, she clearly hearing Michael's voice announcing, "It's just money."  Something he would definitely say.
The second, while stopping by a local business.  A friend on staff there telling me about witnessing an incident in New York.  She and her running buddy travelling there for the recent marathon, only to have it cancelled due to the severe storm.  The two making the best of it, by going for a run through Central Park.   En route, my friend noticing her companion's tears.  The running partner explaining that during this jog, she had just engaged in a very real conversation with her mother, a woman who passed many years ago.  During the dialogue, mom was seated in her favourite chair, with her daughter kneeling before her, sharing photos of New York.  This companion previously closed to the possibilities of such communication.  Now, more open to receiving this message likely due to the natural disaster, and devastating circumstances in her environment.  Her mother's spirit taking the opportunity of a slight crack in the armour.  
The third, via the internet, from a young woman writing about her powerful interactions with Mike and Kelly's spirits.  Two people she had not met before their passing.  Seeing and hearing them clearly now. Wanting to spread the messages of everlasting love and connection to all.
I am joyfully noting these encouraging signs of stronger and more frequent spirit contact.  Firmly believing they add to our collective sense of peace and contentment. 

Supportive Energy

Our time in Sedona was coming to an end, and we had yet to explore the most photographed landscape in the region, that of Red Rock Crossing, adjacent to Cathedral Rock.  So, after parking the car, we followed the path along Oak Creek to Buddha Beach, where we came across hundreds of rock cairns -  on the forest floor, atop tree branches, on fallen logs, and out in the creek bed.  Red, beige, grey, and orange stones, in varying shapes and sizes, artfully balancing upon each other.  Wandering among them, I was inspired to try my hand at it.  Initially, I considered the idea of creating representations of my three children.  However, after picking up a round, grey rock, I realized I was forming a mother figure instead.  Complete with a heart-shaped stone balancing in her centre.  Then, leaving this gallery of love behind, we made our way over to the huge, red rock slab.  For my husband and I, this was the final one of the four Sedona vortexes left to experience.  Sites that are said to contain concentrated spiritual energy, each with specific energetic attributes described as masculine, feminine, or a combination of both.  After enjoying a simple picnic there, we decided it was time to open the sealed envelope we had been carrying around in our knapsack.  It had been given to me by one of Michael's friends the last time I was home.  She explained that she had hosted a New Year's Eve party in 1999 for a group of her thirteen-year-old friends.  They had each completed, then sealed, their own time capsule questionnaire, then left them at her home, to be opened together during their 2004 graduation year.  However, this project lay dormant until the envelopes were discovered this fall.  Now, in this peaceful space, my husband and I tugged open the flap of the one our son had signed, Mike G's.  Both of us silently reading the contents, beginning with the instruction at the top: Answer truthfully....no one will read this but you.  Going on to discover the words he chose to describe his life in that moment, as well as predictions of what may be.  Another priceless connection, thanks to the thoughtfulness of this friend.  After returning to our vehicle, I was curious about the nature of this particular vortex.  I was not surprised to read it was the only one with solely feminine energy.  Of course it was.

Diluted Experiences

Sharing a meal with family.  Sipping coffee with a friend.  Walking the dog.  Spending time at the playground with a child.  Out on a date with a lover.  Various scenarios offering invaluable possibilities for meaningful connection and engagement.  In the course of a day, observing individuals in each of these situations opting to dilute the experiences.  Choosing to direct energy and attention to lengthy cell phone communication with others instead.  Distracting them from the gift of the here and now.  Leaving me to wonder if they would consider taking up the challenge of being fully present.  Putting down the phone during those precious moments.  Embracing the opportunity to pick up their life instead.

Bird on a Wire

As the saying goes, it is often the little things.  Walking along the mountainside power line trail.  Tail wagging Gulliver eagerly accompanying me.  Light rain with cool temperatures.  Definitely not uplifting weather.  With each step, carrying the emotional weight of preparing for the upcoming golf tournament.  Appreciating how wonderful it will be to all spend time together.  Simultaneously acknowledging the complex feelings it brings to the fore.  Midway along the journey, slowing down to send a message to the universe. Gazing skyward while humbly requesting dry weather for the weekend. Seconds later noticing a tiny bird perched high above.  On one of the electrical wires.  Suspended more than fifteen metres above the earth. Recognizing it to be an exquisite hummingbird.  Fluffing its feathers. Putting on quite a show.  Instantly sensing a shift in my disposition. Welcoming this reoccurring symbol of connection.  So grateful to be noticing it.  Very much appreciating its presence.  This small being making a huge impact.  With a lighter heart and bounce in my step, sending a smile of thanks for this magnificent moment.