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.

Feeding the Soul

Wow, what an over-the-top week this is turning out to be.  Numerous exciting experiences, only one of which was on my radar last week.  Took in the local Modern Home Tour on the weekend, which showcased creative examples of architecture and gardens, fueling my imagination.  Won tickets to attend the upcoming Pink Martini outdoor concert at an Okanagan winery, bound to be spectacular.  Invited to an event on Grouse Mountain this evening, complete with jazz and appies. Heading out with the trailer and bikes to Whistler for a weekend of outdoor adventures.  All of this occurring whilst the days are flooded with sunshine.  Does a week like this ensure that the heart does not ache, that the tears do not fall, that the deep sadness of missing my son stays at bay?  Of course not.  However, I am fortunate to have such lively and uplifting opportunities to feed my soul.  I fully appreciate each and every one. 

Erratic Times

It appears that many people are in the midst of experiencing erratic times.  During the past few weeks, unpredictable and disruptive energies seem to be present in larger than normal doses, and I see them reflected in several ways.  Many routine transactions going sideways. Numerous freak accidents occurring to people engaged in ordinary activities.  Lives lost in most peculiar ways.  Another shakedown taking place.  It will be interesting to see where this leads, to find out what we are being prepared for.  I am curious, not fearful, for these are not preventable outcomes - they are all happening for a reason.  Living each and every day to the best of our ability is, and always has been, our first order of business.  And perhaps, all this is simply happening to serve as a reminder of that.

Precious Days

Exhausted and content, I reflect on another precious day spent with my fourteen month old granddaughter.  Once a week, she and I enjoy an entire day together - just us two.  We have the luxury of being in the moment - no schedule, nothing that must get done.  We observe the birds descending onto the backyard feeders, attempting to mimic their songs.  We stroll to the park for a ride on the swing, stopping to smell flowers and touch leaves on the trees along the way.  We visit Boal Memorial, blowing kisses to Uncle Mike and Kelly.  We pick salmonberries, huckleberries, and strawberries, delighting in them all.  We snuggle up on the couch, reading books from her special cupboard in the den.  We get soaked during water play, with cups and a filled tub on the grass, pausing to watch the occasional helicopter fly overhead.  We wander down to the suspension bridge, crossing it hand in hand, 70 metres above the river - she, at times, stopping to dance.  So sweet, so lovable, so alive - my heart nearly bursting in her presence.

Carrying Their Love Forward

This afternoon, on behalf of everyone who helped make the third annual MGMG tournament such a great success, my husband and I had the privilege of presenting a cheque to Canuck Place Children's Hospice.  On June 8th, our group raised $4,289 for this very worthwhile cause.  Then last week, a friend who had kindly offered to take some of Michael's old hockey equipment to a consignment store earlier this year, mentioned that the items had finally sold, then dropped off a cheque for $100, which bumped up our total donation to $4,389.  This year's goal was to hit the $10,000 mark for funds raised to date - I am thrilled to say that in Michael and Kelly's memories we beat that goal and have contributed $11,018 since June 2011!  Yet another way we, as a group, carry their love forward. 

A Special Rose

One of the many fabulous aspects of the garden at our new home is a large and plentiful strawberry patch.  Whether I am popping out barefoot in my housecoat to pick berries for breakfast or going out later in the day to gather some for a salad, I feel gratitude for these tasty gifts of nature.  An odd feature of this space, however, is that in the centre of this dense strawberry patch grows one large, lone, red rose.  This vibrant, large-petalled blossom stands elegantly poised above its small, red neighbours.  When I first noticed this rose, I imagined more would follow, but it remains the one and only.  Gazing upon this scene, I am reminded of Antoine de Saint Exupéry's The Little Prince story wherein the only large flower blooming on the prince's small planet is a single red rose.  He tends to this flower faithfully, all the while believing it to be the only one in existence.  Then, while visiting Earth, he is shocked to realize this is not the case when he sees thousands of roses in just one garden.  However, evetually he recognizes that it is because of his deep friendship with that one red rose on his planet that makes her so special, and he appreciates her even more.  And so it is here in this garden - each and every time I pick berries from that strawberry patch, my heart smiles at this special rose, the only one in this entire garden. 

Reflections

Last night, I sat out on the deck breathing in the beauty of the sun setting behind the hill.  While the scattered clouds reflected orange hues onto the lake, I reflected on yet another magnificent MGMG event. From rookie beginners to seasoned golfers they had arrived, understanding that the level of proficiency out on the course was irrelevant to the degree of enjoyment they would experience over the course of the weekend.  Ranging from their early twenties to mid sixties, scores of friends and family members participated, with two toddlers taking it all in as well.  And then there were those who were with us in spirit, unable to attend this time around and much missed.  A few new faces were drawn into the fold as well, friends of friends - people who had never met Mike or Kelly but had accepted the invitation to join this special community.  The weekend was a resounding success with great conversation, plenty of laughter, heartfelt hugs, and fundraising for Canuck Place.

When I awoke at 7am this morning, my husband was already gone - he had left the cabin around 5am to make the four hour drive to work.  My plans were to finish cleaning, then leave for home later this afternoon. When I received a call from him around 8:30am, I assumed he was almost there.  Instead, he was calling to tell me that he was still in Princeton.  He had hit a deer an hour into his trip.  The bad news was that the car was likely going to be a write-off.  The good news was that he was perfectly fine - thank heaven.  However, when he filled me in on the details of the accident, my thinking went from "these things happen" to "what the hell?"  On the way home from this special weekend, my husband had hit that deer within a stone's throw of the memorial cross - mere metres from Mike and Kelly's accident site.  The car had then been towed to the auto wrecker up the hill, the same place Mike's car had lingered for months after that accident just over two years ago.  What??  When I finally picked my husband up a few hours later, we stopped at the wrecker's lot to retrieve some belongings - an extremely surreal experience.  Now, sitting here in my living room as dusk falls, I am still shaking my head in disbelief and reflecting on the mysteries of life.     

Cheeky Kid

I attended an inspiring drop-in at the ISA this week, long overdue.  It was not because of a burning desire to hear from anyone in particular that I went - it was because I knew that even listening to messages meant for others always leaves me feeling enheartened, particularly in that space.

There were five mediums ready to work with spirit but before they began, we did something a little different - each member of the audience was asked to write down the name of someone in spirit that we were hoping to connect with that evening.  No surprise that I wrote down "Michael" because obviously it is always wonderful to hear from him.  After we all placed our folded papers in a basket, the mediums each took turns pulling names and relaying the messages.  The energy was excellent, resulting in detailed and meaningful readings.  

As the two hour session drew to a close, one of the mediums stood up and announced that rather than drawing a name, she would work with the spirit who had shown himself to her while she was awaiting her turn.  She described his personality, his age group, and the accident.  Once I determined it was Michael, she went on to say that he was feeling responsible for the added emotional challenges I have had these past few weeks and that he felt sad while watching me cope.  The medium then reiterated something I already knew - that Michael was coming into his own more fully now, and helping others.  All of this was comforting to hear.

Later, while driving home, it dawned on me that the most poignant part of his communication was not the message itself but rather how he had chosen to come through. The folded paper with his name on it would not physically get picked from the basket - that was for the masses, not for him.  He would come through on his own terms rather than follow the format set out for the group.  This had been one of Michael's strong personality traits on this side and he was now showing it to me from over there.  Recognizing this inside joke, I had a good laugh and was reminded that he is still my cheeky kid!

Exquisite Experience

One of my daughters recently sent me a photo of a hummingbird perched on her shoe.  Yes, her shoe.  When we spoke the following day, she filled me in.  Since then, I have thought about her incredible story daily.  She and her husband were up at their cabin when suddenly, a hummingbird flew in through the open sliding door, way up into the vaulted ceiling.  Flying around up there, it came into contact with dust and cobwebs, before eventually returning to ground level, coming to rest upon one of my daughter's unoccupied shoes.  Moments later, her husband carried that shoe with the bird out to the deck.  Surprisingly, the hummingbird went along for the ride.  That was the image captured in the picture.  However, the truly amazing part of the story was yet to come.  While the bird remained on the shoe, my daughter reached over and with her fingers carefully began removing one tiny particle of debris at a time.  The hummingbird stayed put.  After the cleaning, it lingered for another few minutes, then off it flew.  When my daughter described this scene to me, I was astonished.  I have had many close encounters with hummingbirds, those messengers of healing, love, hope and joy, but I have never even heard of anything like this.  Feeling its heartbeat and being in such close proximity to those brilliant iridescent feathers - I can only imagine.  I continue to marvel at what is possible. 

Letting the Light Shine In

Experiencing another week on the roller-coaster of intense highs and lows.  Continuing to work with the graphic designer, readying my book for print -  necessitating combing through each page repeatedly, resulting in understandably heightened emotions.  Marking another Mother's Day - visiting with my daughters and extended family, four generations of mothers and their children gathered together. Organizing the upcoming memorial golf tournament, resulting in daily opportunities to reconnect with community and friends.  At times, I feel weighed down by the more difficult aspects of these endeavours.  Then, as I began writing this post, out in the sunshine this afternoon, I recognized that woven under, over and around all the challenges are the nourishing elements of support, love, and gratitude.  All those involved are mutually giving and receiving these life-sustaining energies.  Support. Love.  Gratitude.  All opening the door to let the light shine in.

Smiling Faces

We could not have asked for more perfect weather for the year's first visit to the cabin -  just shy of midway through spring, we enjoyed a taste of summer.  My husband and I appreciated the three glorious days of bathing suit weather and meals on the beach.  A lovely mix of outdoor work and play - attending opening day at the farmer's market, cycling along the channel, rowing around the lake, and yoga on the dock, interspersed with tending to maintenance chores and general cleanup of the property.  Within this perfection, grief continued to be my constant companion throughout each day - it does not take a vacation. The daily challenge of ensuring that sadness does not gain a strong foothold is always present but being up at the cabin continues to be more difficult than being at home - I hope this will not always be the case because it is so beautiful there.  Out for a run on the back roads this morning, through acres of wild flowers, amid a symphony of bird songs, I was having trouble shaking off the sadness which was threatening to prevail.  Then, halfway along the route, Michael and Kelly's larger than life smiling faces appeared, side by side.  Their sparkling eyes met mine, sending me encouragement and cheering me on.  I could feel the love and support emanating from them.  My sadness lifted and joy filtered in as I happily returned their smiles.     

First Birthday

Dearest Granddaughter,
Later today we will be celebrating your first birthday, which falls tomorrow.  I have baked you a carrot cake; I cannot remember the last time I made one.  What I do know is that it was an obvious choice given that I had baked this same kind for your mother on her first birthday too.
What you have shown me about yourself thus far:
You give freely of your kisses - to stuffed animals, pictures in books, friends and family.
Your entertaining facial expressions are an ongoing source of joy and laughter.
You enjoy eating, moving your body to music, and reading "Pat the Bunny".
You are not keen on cats nor the feel of grass under your feet.
You are confident and curious, partnered with a healthy dose of cautiousness.
You have a wonderful sense of humour.
You are beautiful.

As you grow older, there may be times when you forget how fabulous you are.  I hope not.  However, if you do, you can read this birthday letter to help remind you of your inherent beauty and worth.  During this first year you have brought a great gift to our entire family, just by being you.

Thank you for being born.

Love and kisses,
Oma

A Wonderful World

I had not attended a yoga class for some time, opting to practice poses at home instead.  Finally, this afternoon, I got myself to a Yin class, and I am so glad I did.  Another cold and dreary week had taken its toll on me, both physically and emotionally, and I knew that getting out to a studio would help improve my energy level and disposition - it always does.  Midway through the class, while lying in a meditative state in the deep hip-opening Swan pose, I began sending pink energy out into the room.  Moments later, in my mind's eye, I saw yellow and orange energy waves join in.  The three colours formed a mini rainbow, which was pulsating this beautiful loving energy throughout the space.  The background music thus far had been made up of the soothing instrumentals and calm melodic chantings typically heard during such classes.  Suddenly, while still holding this difficult and uncomfortable pose, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World" began playing over the speakers. It took but a second to put two and two together.  This song, referencing colours of the rainbow and the beauty in the world, was one of the three that played during Michael's memorial service.  Now, love and gratitude washed through me and infused my entire being.  I am fairly certain that during the thirty plus years of attending yoga classes in various studios, I have not once heard this song play.  When the song ended, the music reverted to instrumentals and chanting, but for the balance of the class, then into the evening, the deep feelings of love and gratitude remained.  What a wonderful world.

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.

Simply Perfect

My older daughter stopped by this morning and just before she left, we briefly discussed another overnight babysitting stint for later this month when she and her husband will be attending a wedding to be held in an outdoor venue just down the road from my home.  A few minutes after my daughter left, I was driving down the street and as I passed the venue, I happened to notice a woman standing beside a parked car. Imagine my surprise when I realized it was the bride-to-be, with her fiancé emerging from the car as well.  Are you kidding?  I may see this young couple at a social gathering two or three times a year but not once have I seen them just in passing, or run into them in the community. Another "coincidence".  Nothing earth-shattering, simply perfect.  Love it.

A Small World Indeed

My best friend, a local high school teacher, just returned from chaperoning students to Italy.  When I called her to find out how the trip had gone, she told me about a remarkable experience.  

One evening during her stay, as dusk was falling, she and three other Vancouver school teachers were walking through the centre of Florence when they passed a Tiffany & Co. store.  One of the women commented that this company was like McDonald's, with locations everywhere.  My friend asked if she'd like to hear a story, then began by telling the group about the car accident of March 7th, 2011.  She was giving them the background for the incident that followed a few months later when that jewellery company and I connected in a most amazing way over the story of Michael and Kelly.

Just as the sun was setting, the four women reached the Ponte alla Carraia bridge, where they stood admiring the view of the nearby Ponte Vecchio, the city's most famous bridge.  My friend continued with her story, telling the group about a similar trip she had chaperoned exactly two years ago.  She had committed to undertaking that trip months before the accident, causing her to miss Michael's service.  During those difficult days abroad, she would make the daily trip across the exact bridge the women were now standing on, each time stopping for a few moments mid span to dig deep and in her words,  "man it up for Michael".  She had had a special relationship with him and knew that he would not want her to be under a grey cloud during the entire trip, but rather, he would want her to have some fun because what she knew for sure was that Michael was all about having fun.    
    
When my friend finally finished this lengthy narrative, one of the teachers turned to her to remark how incredible that story was and that she would never forget it as long as she lived.  The woman then paused and added, "I feel like I've heard parts of this story before."  She then asked, "Where did you say the accident happened?"  My friend told her - just outside of Princeton.  The woman instantly realized why that part of the story sounded familiar and told my friend that her son was the ambulance driver in that small town!

Wow.  Halfway around the world, this random connection is made, bringing the entire story full circle, all because of one chance remark about a store.  A small world, indeed.     

All Will be Revealed

I am grateful for the gift of consecutive sunny days, warmer temperatures, and the new growth bursting forth around me.  It is magical to be experiencing spring within a garden entirely new to me, one that has been lovingly tended to over the years.  As the fresh green shoots from various bulbs emerge here and there, I consider what kinds of flowers might appear.  When I walk by the tightly closed rhododendron buds, I speculate on the colour that will eventually be revealed.  As I lean in to take a closer look at the dark pink blossoms showing up on some of the bushes, I wonder what they are called.  And then, within minutes of sitting down to write this post, a hummingbird arrived to nourish itself at the feeder we brought with us - the first one I have seen here since we moved in, adding an exclamation mark to all of this magnificence.  Exquisite timing.

Lighter Days

Yet another storm blew in yesterday, with high winds, cold temperatures, and torrential rains - a dismal welcome for Spring's long awaited arrival.  Now this morning, as I gaze out one of our home's full glass walls, I am overjoyed to see the sun shining upon the towering cedars of the nearby forest and am reassured that the lighter days are indeed on their way.  And not a moment too soon.

Timeless Truths

As the rain continues to fall, I am curled up indoors with the spiritual writings of Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet, a timeless collection of poetic essays infused with love and mysticism.  I find comfort in these timeless words of wisdom, particularly in those poems I included when honouring significant life events.  On Children, a passage that was read aloud during each child's dedication ceremony.  On Death, a poem I delivered at my mother's funeral.  On Marriage, a passage I shared during both daughters' wedding celebrations.  In a rich and gentle manner, Gibran expresses profound truths that my heart and soul recognize, just as countless other hearts and souls have for generations. Heavenly. 

Holding the Pieces Together

Over the past few weeks, as I occasionally considered the approaching second anniversary of Michael's death, I noticed that my feelings of dread were not as overwhelming as they were last year, and for that I was grateful.  Then suddenly, this morning, I hit the emotional wall.  I had set aside time to unpack a few more boxes and clean the house in preparation for our family dinner tomorrow.  I was missing him terribly, so during the housework, I decided to blast the music that had played at his service.  I had not heard this CD for the better part of a year.  A few songs in, over the noisy vacuum cleaner, I was startled by a shattering noise.  When I looked over to where the sound had come from, I saw one of the glass candle holders from the top shelf lying broken on the floor, reduced to shattered fragments.  It had been one of a matching pair given to me a few months after the tragedy - one honouring Michael and the other for Kelly.  I picked up the remains of the base, and even before I turned it over to check the initial on the bottom, I knew it would be an M.  That is when the floodgates opened. When I tried to make sense of what had happened, I realized that the music speaker was on a lower shelf and the vibration must have shaken the one candle holder off.  Was it an accident or something more?  It was definitely a reflection of the shattered feelings I was experiencing. Tomorrow I plan on going to yoga, then babysitting my granddaughter, followed by spending time with my family.  This will all contribute in helping to hold my pieces together.

Having Resolve

Having resolve means deciding firmly on a course of action, making the best of a challenging situation.  It requires digging deep to draw on one's inner strength, which leads to becoming even stronger.
Having resolve is what my newly separated, fifty-something friend is choosing as she creates a new life for herself after being informed by her husband of almost thirty years that he no longer wants to be married.   
Having resolve is what my recently married, twenty-eight-year-old acquaintance is demonstrating as she courageously undergoes surgery, chemo, and radiation for her recent breast cancer diagnosis.
Having resolve is what I choose every morning, then repeatedly employ over the course of the day in order to not go under from the grief.  The reward is personal growth, and opportunity for personal growth is what our life challenges are all about.

Realizing a Dream

Tomorrow, my husband and I will move into our mid-century modern home.  It's a jewel.  For years it has been his dream to live in this style of architecture, and last fall, after seeing this particular house, I was finally ready to embrace that dream with him.  With great sincerity, I then began asking the Universe for assistance to help make this a reality.  Financially, it seemed so far beyond our reach, but in early December, we committed to going for the dream even though we knew it would be a long shot.  From that moment on, there were frequent signs that the spirit world was assisting us in our endeavour.

There was the last minute, out of the blue, offer of two tickets to the sold out screening of the Coast Modern documentary (showcasing homes with this particular architecture), which we had unsuccessfully tried to get tickets for a week earlier -  seeing this movie prompted us to get serious and go for it.  There was the surprise of seeing March 7th indicated as the completion date on the contract our buyers initially presented to us when we sold our home (mirroring another "completion" date of great significance).  However, my favourite sign occurred when my husband did an Internet search on the address of the new home and noticed a link entitled North Vancouver-canyon-heights-Mike Gibson.  What??  When we clicked on that, we discovered a realtor named Michael Gibson in Vancouver who, at some point in the past, had linked this property to his website, even though it was not his listing.  These are just three of the dozens and dozens of crazy "coincidences" we experienced.  This dream was realized through much effort by numerous individuals, visible and invisible, all working together.  We could not have done it without them.

Another Precious Penny

On Monday February 11th, my husband and I began preparing for our upcoming move.  It was no surprise that the area I found the most difficult to pack up was Michael's room.  Thankfully, only a few of his personal items remained (most of them had been dealt within weeks of his passing), but pulling his books off the shelf and removing his suit from the predominantly empty armoire was not easy.  Tackling this room on our province's first ever "Family Day" holiday did not help. That emotionally loaded label served to intensify my melancholy state. Once the packing of the room was done, my husband began disassembling the armoire, which was situated in a corner, directly against the wall.  With only a couple of inches of clearance between the ceiling and the top of that cabinet, dismantling was required in order to fit through the door.  When he was almost finished, he called me over to help.  As I picked up the base of the armoire, I could not believe my eyes. Lying on the floor was a lone penny.  There was nothing else to be found under, behind, or beside the armoire - no old socks, garbage, or even other coins.  Just one penny.  The back of the armoire was solid wood, as were the top, bottom and side panels - nothing could have accidentally fallen through from the drawers or shelves inside.  So, how did that penny get there?  I have no idea, but based on previous penny encounters, I know who was involved.  Sensing how difficult the day was for me, Michael's spirit made sure to send a sign of support.  After I relayed the incident to my younger daughter, I chuckled as she half-jokingly wondered aloud if the occurrence of future episodes such as this might be affected -  as of Monday February 4th, Canadian pennies are no longer officially in circulation.  We'll see.

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.  

Gifts from Spirit

Last Wednesday, while seated in the audience awaiting an evening of ISA mediumship demonstrations, I silently asked the spirits of my loved ones to draw close.  My younger daughter had a strong desire to attend this event in order to absorb some of that lovely supportive energy, and perhaps receive a message as well, so here we were.  We listened as various people were given detailed and loving guidance from spirit. Near the end of the two hour session, the medium (who had no personal knowledge of my daughter, me, or my son) came to me and began describing a spirit that sounded like my son, but it was when she said, "He's like a big kid," that it was confirmed.  The message Michael communicated was that he admired my ability to thoroughly prepare for, then commit to activities, which was in direct contrast to what had been his approach - that of enthusiastically trying new things, with little or no preparation.  This usually resulted in giving up within a week because invariably, the situation failed to play out the way he imagined it would. He recommended I try finding a balance between our two approaches by easing up a little on the planning aspects of projects, and incorporating a little more risk and sense of adventure into my life, not always concerning myself with having all my "ducks in a row" (his words).  He suggested that this might add more fun to my life.  Before leaving, Michael sent both my daughter and me a huge, joyful hug.  After thanking the medium for the much appreciated message, I left feeling that often the bigger gift from an evening such as this is the comfort I receive experiencing further confirmation of spirit's eternal existence.

Behind the Scenes

One of the best things about those experiences commonly referred to as "coincidences" is that they never get old - I continue to marvel at each one that occurs.  My husband and I were out on a date in the city a couple of nights ago.  After parking the car, we strolled over to an Indian restaurant for dinner, then checked out a few shops before walking over to the community theatre to take in a local playwright's show.  Upon opening the program I realized that I had lost my favourite pair of reading glasses, purchased in Italy a few years ago.  Disappointed, I mentally retraced my steps and concluded that I had likely left them on the counter in a drugstore, located a few blocks away.  During intermission, my husband kindly offered to go back and look.  While waiting for him to return, I began chatting with a mother and her young daughter seated beside me ( who were incidentally in the seats assigned to my husband and me since they had not checked their tickets accurately, and we were sitting in theirs).  A few minutes into our conversation, I mentioned what my husband was doing.  The woman looked a little puzzled and asked, "Were they designer ones?"  "Yes, ....... why?" I asked.  "I found a pair lying on the sidewalk about a block away and placed them on the retaining wall by the Seniors Home," she replied.  What?  Really?  Still shaking my head, I hurried out into the rain, and sure enough, there they were, exactly where the woman had described leaving them.  I returned to the theatre astonished, and thanked the woman profusely.  Out of the one hundred and twenty patrons in attendance that night, this mother and daughter were the only two that I spoke to, outside of my husband.  I was still trying to process this "coincidence", when in a matter-of-fact tone, the twelve-year-old girl remarked, "Oh, these kinds of things happen to us all the time."  Indeed.  I smiled, then sat down to enjoy the second half of the play.

Expanding Perceptions

It had been months since I last took part in an ISA evening, and was therefore keen to go earlier this week.  The thirteen of us in attendance placed our chairs in a circle, and participated in a group meditation. Familiar images and concepts appeared in my mind's eye, including: the infinity symbol; vibrant pink and gold energy; the inescapable link between love and pain.  An entirely new experience also awaited me, related to all of the above.   I noticed an androgynous energy-being, appearing as an opaque white light with elongated head and limbs, standing behind me. After resting its hands on my shoulders for a while, it moved around to face me.  Soon, I became aware that my gold locket, containing photos of Michael and Kelly, was gently swinging back and forth.  At first, I felt confused, but that confusion quickly turned to astonishment when I realized that the light-being was physically moving my piece of jewellery!  I acknowledged this act with gratitude, thanking the being for enabling me to have  another magnificent spiritual experience.  By staying open to possibilities, my perceptions of existence continue to expand.

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.   

Still 25

Tomorrow will be the second time I observe, rather than celebrate, the day of my youngest child's birth.  For the past week or so, I have occasionally found myself thinking about how old Michael would have been this year.  I would consider the number 27, and toss it around in my mind, trying to make some sense of it.  Then, while swimming lengths a couple of days ago, I became curious about this line of thinking.  How old he would be is no longer relevant, since he is no longer here.  So why does my imagination want to play with this notion?  Is it perhaps a desire to hold onto what was?  My children's ages were always two years apart, and it remained that way for twenty-five years: a very simple pattern: 2, 4, 6 or 11, 13, 15.   The last time the numbers fit was two years ago.  It is a confusing process trying to adjust to the idea that such a fact can change, and that counting by twos is no longer accurate.  My children are now 31, almost 29, and still 25.  Both the pattern and I have had to adapt.  Happy Birthday son. 

Taking a Chance in 2013

2013 - a year containing the numerals zero, one, two and three, in scrambled order.  While walking along the ocean on this sunny afternoon, an image appeared - that of taking those four digits, tossing them up into the air, then watching them fall where they may.  With each subsequent throw, the resulting pattern of the numerals would change.  This is one of those rare years in which there is a possibility of all digits landing in a perfect sequence, 0123 or 3210.  A great year for taking a chance and shaking things up a little, creating opportunities for amazing outcomes.  Let the fun begin!

Labyrinth Insights

Located in a dark gym, last week's solstice labyrinth was erected using seven hundred small paper bags, each containing a candle, placed about a foot apart on the floor.  I entered the complex, winding route with one simple intention: to be open to receive.  Proceeding with clear mind, soft gaze and measured steps, the poignant insights and appreciated reminders arrived.   
✪ There are many lights in my life including my husband, daughters, son-in-laws, granddaughter, brother, good friends, and extended family. 
✪  Michael's light and mine both shine brightly enough to touch each other, and in this way, we are never apart. 
✪ Passing by the people walking towards me along this path full of twists and turns, I was reminded that we are all proceeding towards enlightenment at our own pace, in our own way.
✪ One light is of great value and able to make a huge difference, however, many lights functioning together have the potential to create something greater than the sum of its parts. 
Halfway through this walking meditation I intuitively brought my hands together in prayer, and held them thus 'til the end, symbolizing connection to all, visible and invisible - to the others in the room, to those who had gone before me, to those yet to come.  Our lights were all shining together, producing one bigger and brighter light. Upon leaving, I felt gratitude for the numerous volunteers who had conceived, produced, and administered this labyrinth.  The vibrational rates of the hundreds and hundreds of people wandering this path were raised, helping to elevate humanity as a whole.  Returning outdoors, I felt connected to all that is, and today, I hold this experience in my soul as I prepare to step into the new year. 

Love and Gratitude

Two stockings now hang by the fireplace, my husband's and mine.  After some discussion, we decided to reinstate this tradition, having given it a pass last year.  There is some ambivalence here for me;  I am glad that we are brave enough to try this out, but experience a pang in my heart each time I notice the one that is not here.  Much of today will be spent lovingly preparing Christmas Eve dinner for the sixteen of us celebrating here tonight.  However, there is also time set aside for meditation this afternoon, ensuring that I connect on that deeper level with my son.  Later, two special candles will be lit -  ones standing sentry beside a photo of Michael and Kelly.  And as these emotionally charged days unfold,  I will continue to focus on gratitude and the abundance of love.  This is what nourishes me and enables joy to shine through.

Winter's Light

Winter has blown in with the promise of longer days, and shorter nights.  Tonight will find me in the city, wandering through a winter solstice labyrinth, created with over 700 candles.  A perfect way to celebrate the light within, as well as illuminate all the joy and love that surrounds me.   

Loving Support

Trimming the little tree with my family at Boal Memorial yesterday morning, experiencing the intense highs and lows of love.  Ever grateful for traditions such as this, which serve to anchor me.  Mindfully breathing deeply into my heart to balance what is here, and what is not. Lighting the candles and cuddling the baby.  Six of us singing an enthusiastic rendition of "O Tannenbaum."  Laughing as we stumbled through the lyrics.  In my mind's eye, through all of this, seeing Michael and Kelly working hard in the unseen, offering comfort to the newest little angels who have just arrived.  Embracing them with loving arms, helping them settle into that space where souls meet.  Together, all of us supporting one another with love.

Gift of Happiness

Taking advantage of the dry weather yesterday afternoon, my daughters, granddaughter, and I, headed over to the outdoor German Christmas Market.  Bundled up against the cold, warm beverages in hand, we wandered from stall to stall, appreciating the European wares, festive decorations, and delicious fare.  While holding the baby, I watched my daughters conferring with each other over possible stocking stuffers for their husbands, and felt deeply connected to my maternal lineage, both present and past.  Many years ago, as a young mother, I had visited a similar market in Germany, with my mother and her sister.  Here, as the Oma, out with my daughters and granddaughter, I recognized that the cultural and hereditary connections of women in my family were very much alive.  After saying our goodbyes, I arrived home, and while unpacking the white dove I had purchased for my tree, I was aware that every cell in my body felt fully activated.  It had been quite some time since I felt this way, and as I searched for the word to best describe this state, it eventually dawned on me: Happiness.  A simple outing, resulting in a cherished gift, that serves to sustain me today.    

A Hummingbird's Gifts

December 6th.  This date eliciting happy childhood memories of annual Nikolaus celebrations, together with other German speaking families. Today, unpacking Christmas boxes, while holding my granddaughter in my arms.  Sorting through countless ornaments and decorations.  Coming across my son's stocking.  Wondering what I might do with it. Something or nothing?  Trying to keep the anxiety at bay.  Focusing on the beauty in my life.  Then, glancing out the kitchen window.  Noticing a precious hummingbird landing on the nearby feeder.  These exquisite birds symbolizing so much.  Incorporated into legends and myths throughout the Americas.  When in flight, wingtips tracing out the infinity sign.  Messengers between worlds, representing immortality. Bringing uplifting energies of hope, joy, healing, and love.  This tiny creature filling my heart, and nourishing my spirit.   Sharing treasured gifts by its mere presence.

Undoing Moments

Back home.  Upon awakening, planning to commit this entire day to working on my book.  Optimistically anticipating finishing the edits of the final entries, then sending them off for proofing.  Moments after rereading my original post of the one year anniversary, the phone rings.  It is a collection agency asking for Michael Gibson.  I explain that my son died over a year and a half ago.  The woman expresses her condolences and requests the obituary or death certificate for confirmation.  I agree, hang up, and take care of it immediately.  Tears falling.  Will these undoing moments ever end?  Minutes later, it occurs to me that this is an agency I have never heard of, and has likely been given an old file from one of the initial organizations I dealt with last year.  I want to minimize these out-of-the-blue, heart wrenching incidents.  I call the agency back, and get a different representative.  I tell her that a few weeks after Michael died,  I received invoices addressed to him, regarding money he owed.  At the time, I called the companies involved, then sent copies of his death certificate.  I ask this agent where this particular file has come from.  I want to understand why they do not have the information that he is dead.  In a very aggressive tone, she informs me that she is not able to discuss those details.  She goes on to say that it is all protected by third-party federal regulations, blah, blah, blah.  These last three words, not hers, but rather, what I hear.  I try rephrasing my question.  In an unkind manner, she interrupts to inform me she cannot help.  Then, hangs up on me.  Hopefully, she never has to deal with the death of her child.  Perhaps she will find an alternate path to gaining some compassion. 

Grave Secret

While awaiting a recent flight home.  Standing in line at airport security, after snaking back and forth between the numerous banded posts.  Noticing three men wind their way towards me.  Two in their late eighties, along with one of middle age.  Overhearing snippets of their conversation, as they pass by.  Learning two are father and son. Gleaning all three to be churchgoers.  The younger one mentioning how wonderful it is that he lives so close to his place of worship.  They then moving away from me, along the length of the line, only to return again. This time, in a grave voice, one of the older men revealing, "I kept it a secret until he died."  Arriving at the front of the line, I get waved up to place personal items on the conveyor belt.  Leaving the men behind, my mind does somersaults.  Who was it?  What was their relationship?  Was it church related?  Why did he feel it needed to be kept secret?  Were there unintended consequences?  What price did he pay?  I will never know the circumstances of this particular situation. My heart hoping he is at peace with it now.

Thanksgiving Trailer Style

Spending the final week of our trailer trip here in sunny Palm Springs.  My husband choosing this deluxe RV resort for us to stay in, before heading home.  Manicured gardens, hundreds of palm trees, numerous birds, and gracious staff.  Enjoying a run this morning, followed by a long swim in one of the two outdoor pools after lunch.  Looking forward to a complimentary turkey meal with all the trimmings, at the clubhouse later on.  Celebrating American Thanksgiving.  How easy it is to be thankful in such opulence.  And yet, while relaxing in a lounge chair on the patio, overhearing complaints from some fellow guests nonetheless.  Most of them travelling in large, luxurious units.  Usually pulling an additional vehicle.  One commenting on how dreadful the next four years will be, referring to the political situation.  Another holding court in the hot tub, with his hard luck story of a having a flat tire.  A third seriously annoyed by the flies.   Leaving me tempted to work in that classic line of,  "My diamond slippers are getting too small,"  during dinner conversation, between the stuffing and the pie.              

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.

Día de los Muertos

Exactly a year after writing about Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) festivities, I happened upon these celebrations in a Mexican area of Sedona, Arizona this week.  With its powerful underlying spiritual energies, this town is an excellent place to experience such a heartfelt event.  Trees adorned with colourful ribbons and flags.  Hundreds of decorative skulls and skeletons prominently displayed.  A number of individuals dressed in ornate costumes wandering amidst musicians and dancers.  Everyone given the opportunity to honour deceased loved ones by placing candles and photos on altars strewn with marigolds and rose petals.  The public invited to paint on a collaborative community mural.  Together creating a vibrant atmosphere filled with love and uplifting energy for all to absorb.  Not without a few tears of course, but rewarded with hearts revived.

Champagne Birthday

My official 'Champagne Birthday' occurred when I turned two, well before I knew of such a thing.  Not wanting to miss an opportunity to imbibe this exquisite beverage, I decided to celebrate another version of this event, based on the year, rather than the day.  Even going so far as to pack two flutes in the trailer before we left.  Born in '56, I am raising a glass of bubbly to turning 56 today.  A virtual toast to my family and friends - thank you for being the best gifts in my life!

What's in a Name?

Many of my younger friends and acquaintances are welcoming little ones into the world.  Such an exciting time.  Early on, one of the big decisions is choosing a suitable name.  When our baby boy was born, all those years ago, we settled on Michael James Gibson, ten days later.  As he grew older, most of his family and friends began using the shorter form, Mike.  However, I made a point of calling him Michael.  When he was in his mid-teens, I explained why.  The two versions of the name each have their own unique energies, and consequently, affect personality and character differently.  Going by Mike potentially means having a harder time of it, versus answering to Michael.  Obviously, there are many factors outside of a person's first name, impacting one's life path.  Nonetheless, when I discovered this information, I decided it couldn’t hurt.  When recently flipping through the book describing all this in detail, I noticed the name Kelly listed in the same classification as Mike.  Out of a possible 81 distinct categories, including 1058 culturally diverse names, these two were in a group of a dozen monikers, sharing identical energetic influences.  Another curious coincidence in the lives of those two. 

Pure and Precious Moments

After spending a few hours playing with Kennedy, as well as cuddling her, feeding her, bathing her, and kissing her a thousand times over, here I sit, writing in my daughter's home.  Happily babysitting. The only sounds, other than the clicking of the keyboard, are ones of breathing.  Here in the family room, mine, and those of the two dogs curled up on their cushions before me.  Via the baby monitor, those my granddaughter makes while sleeping upstairs in her crib.  Feeling blessed to be passing my Saturday night this way.  With a full heart, experiencing life's most pure and precious moments.  Smiling as I consider how amusing it would be trying to explain this to my younger self.  

Divine Illumination

Waking with lingering impressions of a particularly clear and poignant dream.  In it, travelling with the trailer, just as we currently are.  However, in this scenario, stopping en route for a short layover at our cabin.  Running into one of Michael's friends who actually lives in that area.  Asking me if he and a buddy could spend the night with us, in our cottage.  Explaining that it is a little too hectic at his family's home right now.  Replying, "Of course, anytime."  Sensing this young man's compassionate nature, while receiving his  big bear hug from behind.  He wanting to know how I was doing.  Assuring him that I was well, and thanking him for inquiring.  A short time later, all of us relaxing around the fire outdoors.  Soon after,  his sister unexpectedly stopping by with a gift.  Extending her hand, and offering me a ring.  Mentioning that when first spotting it, she had instantly known it was meant for me.  A perfect, round stone, mounted upon a smooth gold band.  Somewhat pearl-like in appearance.  Its lower half, slate grey in colour.  The upper portion, glowing brilliant white.  Immediately understanding the powerful symbolism.  Even with, or possibly due to, underlying darkness, there exists in life an equal measure of beauty and light.  This dream casting divine illumination on the day ahead. 

Integrating Ideas and Choices

Off on an extended road trip.  My husband and I leaving to explore southwestern regions of the USA.  Bob's Idea; the impetus behind this adventure, as well as the name of our newly acquired trailer. Happy to go along for the ride.  With the understanding that I will be flying home without him a couple of times during this journey, in order to visit my granddaughter.  Before departing, mentioning this aspect of the expedition to others.  Unexpectedly, meeting up with bewilderment on occasion.  Some friends, even close relatives, unable to fathom this personal requirement.  Knowing me to be someone who has loved extensive travel in the past.  However, I am currently finding long trips away unappealing.  Open to the possibility that this may change in the future.  Confidently making the choice that makes sense in the present. 

Exquisite Encounter

Sitting cross-legged on the outdoor sofa, composing a passage for my book.  Inching closer towards publication; the twin energies of passion and heartbreak my constant companions.  While running in the canyon earlier in the day, reiterating to Michael my desire that he stay close.  To bolster my spirit, and continue assisting me with this work.  Now, fleshing out a piece regarding the shared floral arrangement on display at both his and Kelly's services.  Taking me back to those two very difficult days.  Ten minutes into this process, noticing a hummingbird approaching the nearby feeder.  Then, watching in amazement as it continued flying straight past the feeder, making its way under the glass roof, towards the French doors.  Following a direct path, there and back, in a stop-and-start fashion.  Parallel to the couch, within arm's reach, the entire time.  Before leaving the enclosed space, turning towards me, and hovering close to my face.  Pausing there for quite some time, indulging me in a tête-à-tête.  Then, returning to the trees.  Leaving me filled with awe and gratitude.  Over the course of the afternoon, repeatedly returning to check on me.  Each time, stopping in close proximity for several moments, before flying away.  Another unique experience reassuring me of the universe's support.  This exquisite one-to-one encounter a magical response to my original request.

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.

The Power of Intention

Thankful for this week's occurrence of receiving nocturnal wisdom. Gaining understanding by way of clear, concise information.  Not dreaming.  No interpretation required.  Rather, having a sense of tapping into the universe's vault of knowledge.  Regarding my relationship with a loved one.  Where frustration had been building. Feeling confused on how to deal with it.  Deciding to take time for meditation.  Specifically, asking for clarity on achieving resolution. While sleeping later that night, fully experiencing the information, not just seeing it.  Finding myself placed in a frustrating situation.  Actually walking the path to unhappiness and dismay.  Then, being repositioned to the beginning of exactly the same scene.  However, this time taking steps along an alternate route.  Resulting in contentment and acceptance.  Immediately aware that the variable responsible for determining the outcome was the intention I was holding within.  In the first scenario, acting on the assumption that the outcome would be unsatisfactory and disappointing.  In the second, feeling optimistic that it was unfolding in a hopeful and loving way.  A powerful and timely reminder that how I experience something is simply up to me. 
  

Opposite Sides of the Same Coin

Eighteen months in and still, most moments in my day are filtered through the lens of losing my son.  Thankfully, a little less frequently, and for the most part, with reduced intensity.  Two recent experiences in particular come to mind.  Both nonevents to an outsider, yet milestones for me.  Firstly, the entire twenty-four hours of August 7th passed without registering the significance of that date at all.  The first time, since March 7th, when I did not reflect upon a one month marker. Largely due to being out of the country and in a completely different time zone.  While observing this the following morning, I was enheartened. Pleasantly surprised.  Secondly, later that month, after an evening of exploring Zurich with a Swiss friend, I returned to my hotel room.  It was only then when I realized that not once had I thought of the loss during that entire six hour excursion.  The longest stretch by far during this year and a half.  In both cases, it was recognizing the absence of something that left me feeling encouraged.  Seeing what was not there. Experiencing opposite sides of the same coin.  This coin most definitely a penny.

Spirited Balloon

On this gorgeous sunny morning, picturing a fully inflated, brightly coloured, helium balloon.  Imagining myself tying a message to its string before releasing it into the sky.  Limiting it to just one sentence. Taking a few moments to consider what that might be.  The perfect words showing up soon after.  "I am grateful for the set of attributes that I have come into this life with, and for all the experiences I have had to date, which together enable me to continue gaining wisdom and achieving growth in this lifetime."  Feeling confident in this spirited balloon's ability to carry my weighted words despite its seemingly delicate appearance. 

Silent Screams

Experiencing total relaxation.  For mind, body, and soul.  Upon waking, allowing each day to comfortably unfold.  Choosing to make only minimal plans in advance.  Savouring an espresso on the deck. Practicing yoga outdoors.  Meditating in the warm breeze.  Hiking in the shade of the woods, or in the full sun along the alpine trails. Devouring simple picnics or elaborate restaurant offerings.  Falling asleep under a feather duvet, to the soothing sounds of the mountain stream nearby.  And yet, still hearing the silent screams in my mind. Accompanying me on this journey across the ocean.  Loud and clear. My psyche continuing to process the loss in minuscule pieces.  On that deepest level, wisely accepting only tiny fragments of the situation at a time.  Just as nature intended.  Leading me to consider Edvard Munch's famous painting The Scream.  The artist creating a visual representation of the weather and surrounding landscape of that specific moment.  He sensing something deeper in this expression of nature.  He hearing a silent scream too.

Beautiful Butterflies

Before leaving for this trip, dropping off the rough draft of my book at a friend's.  A talented graphic designer and artist offering to help with layout and illustration.  Arranging to leave it with her to brainstorm various possibilities.  Sitting beside each other at her kitchen table.  Explaining the material I had gathered thus far.  Discussing potential themes and images.  Turning to the photo of a shelf in my living room.  One dedicated entirely to Michael and Kelly.  The display including photos, candles, feathers and other tokens.  Explaining the significance of each item aloud.  Then intentionally choosing to skip over one.  Thinking it was less important than the rest.  Seconds later, watching a yellow butterfly enter the room.  Coming in from outside through a small opening on the left side of the main window.  Located quite a distance from where we were working.  Flying closer, then circling around the back of my friend's head, continuing behind mine.  Then returning to the outdoors via the narrow opening on the far right side of that same picture window.  Again through a space no wider than my hand.  Executing a perfect C shaped flight.  Shaking my head in disbelief while witnessing this once in a lifetime experience.  Exclaiming my utter surprise to my friend.  Pointing out the one item on the shelf in the photo I had not bothered to mention.  A yellow fabric butterfly mounted upon a smooth stone.  A decoration that had originally been placed in the pot of an orchid plant.  Receiving this sympathy gift three weeks after the accident.  From the owner of a small shop I occasionally frequent.  Holding onto the ornament.  That plant long gone.  This trinket obviously just as valuable as all the others up there on that shelf.  That beautiful butterfly coming to show me just that. 

Gift of Wellness

Ensconced in a traditional Swiss house in the charming village of Klosters, high up in the alps.  An ongoing symphony of cow bells playing in the background.  Awakening to children from an adjoining apartment singing their scales.  Good friends generously offering us this opportunity to enjoy a few weeks of wellness.  Expansive meadows, cool mountain streams, colourful wild flowers, and stunning views right outside the door.  The slow pace here holding space to just be.  Grateful to be able to enjoy such a glorious gift.              

Fish Out of Water

At times, verbalizing the loss leaves me struggling to breathe.  Straining to fill my lungs with oxygen.  Imagining a fish would feel this way, if plucked from the sea, then tossed ashore.  Undergoing this sense of insufficient intake of life sustaining fuel.  Experiencing it particularly when speaking to a very close friend or loved one about the impact of his death.  When acknowledging aloud that the space he held in our family has lost its density.  My reaction indicating there is still much left to release from within.  Even after spending hundreds upon hundreds of hours writing about it.  Thinking about it.  Talking about it. Connecting with spirit about it.  The journey continues.  There is no shortcut.    

Colourful Confirmation

I am one of the fortunate.  Able to avail myself of the healthful benefits associated with massage therapy.  Luxuriating in the stress release and deep relaxation of this self care treatment.  My latest session leaving me feeling even more grateful than usual.  After completing an hour of hands-on treatment, the therapist spontaneously deciding to spend extra time engaging in energy work.  Gently moving her hands around my head, without physically touching me.  With my eyes closed, soon noticing a rectangular, round-cornered gemstone hovering in the vicinity of my third eye.  Appearing in the palest shade of blue possible, just shy of being white.  It eventually fading, only to be replaced with a jewel of equal size and shape, but tinted rich ruby red.  Thereafter, in smooth succession, each gem disappearing, with a new one emerging in yet another spectacular colour.  From deepest orange through brilliant yellow, vivid emerald green, cool sapphire, vibrant indigo, and lastly, to peaceful violet.  An extraordinary display.  After dressing, eagerly describing this magical experience to the practitioner.  While speaking, suddenly recognizing all the traditional chakra colours.  The first image containing all the colours, appearing almost white.  Then the seven representing root to crown, following sequentially.  She now explaining the silent intention she had set for the additional healing work.  That of concentrating specifically on the chakras.  Choosing this theme for a client only once or twice before in all these years.  This unexpected result pleasantly surprising the two of us.  Both in awe of receiving such colourful confirmation of predominantly unseen energy.

Feathery Appearance

Late afternoon.  Feeling an unexpected urge to begin jotting down the rough draft for this post.  Going with it even though I would be heading out shortly.  Positioning myself in the centre of the sofa, out on the back deck.  That entire area covered by a glass roof.  With a wall to my back and another to the right, this space open to the elements on only two sides.  Mere minutes into the process, noticing something drifting down beside me, then landing on this couch.  Directly to my right. Gazing down at a small, delicate, light grey feather.  No recollection of ever seeing one like this here before.  Immediately looking skyward to determine its origin.  Trying to make sense of a seemingly impossible occurrence.  Seconds later, putting two and two together.  At least an aspect of it.  Recalling my discovery of tiny white feathers on the morning of Michael and Kelly's accident.  Those, the same size as this one, just fuller.  Two of them lying there on the mat, just steps from this sofa.  This time around, recognizing it to be a sign from another young man.  One I did not know.  Dear to a close friend of mine.  She emailing me earlier in the day after having been informed of his accidental death due to being hit by a car.  Occurring two days prior to this correspondence.  Leaving her feeling overwhelming sadness and shock, at the ostensibly senseless nature of this event.  Now, while staring at this feather, suddenly remembering this same friend of mine sitting here with me earlier in the week.  On this very couch, on the very day that young man died.  Me on the left, she on the right.  Exactly where this tiny grey feather now lay.  Definitely not an accident. 

Precious Painted Rocks

A close friend of Kelly's calling to share a beautiful love story. Regarding an incident occurring at her recent outdoor wedding.  Held on the property of a lakeside summer camp for teen girls.  This bride-to-be having to adjust to the fact that Kelly would not be there as her maid of honour.  Something they had previously agreed upon.  Instead, incorporating little touches throughout the day to represent her friend as best she could.  Including the best man carrying a single rose during the ceremony.  Later, while mingling with her guests, being asked about the significance of the rose by someone unaware of the history. The bride briefly explaining the situation.  Moments later, her young niece, the flower girl, joining the group.  Wanting to show her aunt the treasure she had just found.  Discovering a hand painted rock lying on a pile of dirt, away from the crowds.  Golden in colour, with spots of blue, green and yellow paint scattered around the circumference.  The name Kelly spelled out in bold, black letters on the top!  What a gift.  An unmistakable sign.  Reassuring the bride of Kelly's presence on this very significant day.  Following our conversation, me recalling another special painted rock in existence personalized with Kelly's name.  From my oldest daughter's wedding, less than two years ago.  Stephanie and her friends decorating stones with glitter paint.  One for each guest, with both first and last name.  Using them as place settings at the dinner.  Kelly, like most of us, taking hers home as a keepsake. Precious painted rocks.  Symbolizing love, friendship, and  family connection. 

Heartfelt Request

Preparing for morning meditation.  Focusing on the breath.  Taking longer than usual to get settled.  Once there, asking Michael's spirit to please continue staying close.  Visualizing our energies interweaving while sitting in this stillness.  Breathing the essence of him into my heart.  Very much needing his daily help while navigating this journey. Strongly believing in the existence of a spiritual law providing the availability of long term support in circumstances such as this.  Part of the contract when engaging in the experience of a parent losing a child. The bond between these spirits remaining especially strong and deeply attached.  Continuing to put out this heartfelt request nevertheless. Knowing the onus is on us to invite this help in.  They not wanting to overstep their parameters.  Waiting for our expression of free will instead. 

Summer Storm

Wakening to a hot and sunny Okanagan morning yesterday.  Feeling the weight of the building thunderstorm.  Likely the reason behind the previous night's restless sleep.  Getting out for a long swim.  The first of the year.  After lunch, settling in on the mat, overlooking the lake. Practicing yin yoga.  The atmospheric pressure finally releasing in the form of thunder, lightening and heavy rain.  This summer storm playing out all around me.  Breathing in that cooler, moist, sweet summer air.  Simultaneously releasing deep internal tension while holding those long poses.  Soon after, witnessing a magnificent rainbow.  Reflecting the very colours of the chakras.  Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.  Grateful for such a rich and vibrant day.

I ♡ U

Immersing myself in the creative process of producing the book.  Based on that first year.  With such great support.  Currently collecting images to consider including therein.  Flipping through photos taken from Michael's camera.  All printed off a few weeks after he died.  Coming across one I had completely forgotten about.  Having first seen it long before the ongoing penny theme became evident.  This picture capturing a loving message.  Spelled out with these copper coloured coins upon a tabletop.  I ♡ U.  Feeling the love behind it.  Adding a layer of understanding.  Shedding light on this theme.  Now recognizing that it began long before the end.  

Moving On?

Moving on.  Well-meaning individuals tossing versions of this phrase into conversations.  With regards to grieving the death of my son.  "I'm glad to see you're moving on."  Implying leaving something behind.  As if putting it somewhere in the past is the answer.  Not relating to that concept at all.  Not moving anywhere.  Living with it.  Choosing to be in the present as much as possible.  Experiencing what is, right now. Extremely sad that Michael is gone.  Beyond description.  Living with that reality.  This not something that can change.  At the same time, loving the presence of my granddaughter.  Lucky enough to be kissing and holding her often.  Appreciating that immensely.  Grief and joy co-existing daily.  One not precluding the other.  Moving on?  Not part of the equation.

Comforting Communication

Enjoying a glass of wine in these waning moments of this summer solstice evening.  Alone with lights dimmed.  Cherishing the warm glow of a beautifully decorated candle.  One covered in a delicate swirling pattern of sage and coral.  Sitting here reflecting on the moving events at the ISA tonight.  Receiving a message from my son.  Him describing a forest scene with sun shining through the trees.  Exactly where I had been running this morning.  Making reference to our communication there.  Something we always engage in.  Expressing his joy in being able to stay connected.  Passing on encouragement.   Knowing I need it.  My mother coming through as well.  Later, taking my turn up on the platform.  Practising mediumship.  Bringing a message through for someone else in the audience.  Thankful to be learning to serve in this way.  Then upon leaving, speaking to a woman whom I had never met.  Learning she is also living with the experience of losing a child.  Finding great comfort in our conversation.  Both of us wondering aloud what this journey would look like without the spiritual awareness.  Agreeing it would likely be very grim indeed.  Instead, so grateful to know what we know.

Impressive Shot

Another amazing unexplainable occurrence.  Out on the golf course for the MGMG tournament last weekend.  Playing a Texas Scramble format.  In a foursome including one of Mike's friends, a cabin neighbour.  The two of them spending much time together over the years.  Including occasionally golfing together on this same course. This young man, a passable golfer, now teeing off at #7, our final hole. Taking his drive with a Nike brand ball.  Pulling the shot, causing the ball to veer off to the left.  Assuming to find it less than a third of the way down this 435 yard fairway, somewhere in the rough.  All four of us searching for quite some time, without any luck.  Finally leaving it, and finishing out that hole.  Then both carts making their way back to the clubhouse to meet up with all the others who had already completed the course.  His sister and I leading the way along the #8 fairway.  Spotting a ball up ahead.  Lying out in plain view.  Driving closer to investigate. Realizing it was a Nike ball!  Doing the math.  Coming up short.  What we were looking at seemed impossible.  Well over 5o0 yards to this spot. At least 150 yards further than a pro would make.  The second cart soon joining us.  The young man confirming it was his ball.  All of us looking at each other, completely dumbfounded.  A sign from Mike to his friend?  One currently going through some personal challenges. The four of us returning to the parking lot.  Sharing our story with fellow golfers.  Trying to comprehend the experience.  Laughing at the playfulness and impressive nature of that event.