Love Letter Revealed

Is my memory failing me, or is it true, that what I stumbled upon today is something I never seen before?  It certainly feels like the latter. 

With a summer storm brewing over the lake and the cabin to myself for a few hours, I settled in for a comfortable afternoon of reading on the deck, in the company of two hummingbirds flitting about, mere inches from where I lay. After pausing to chat with them, I thought about how fulfilling it would be to write a blogpost, but I was lacking inspiration. About an hour later, I wandered inside and stopped in front the shelf which holds photos of Mike, Kelly, and the frozen lake message of "I ❤️ Kelly" (which had been created here during their last weekend together in early March 2011). As I stood there, breathing in the essence of these photos that have been prominently displayed in this spot for 12 years, I impulsively picked up the plastic frame of the lake photo and for some reason turned it around, where I noticed a small folded-up piece of paper tucked inside, with a ❤️ on the front. After sliding it out of the frame, I unfolded the paper and was shocked to see what I was holding. It was a drawing showing the outlines of their two hands overlapping, surrounded by hearts, and in the top right corner, the date 03/06/11. March 6th -  their last full day together on this earth.

The question remains - who had the honour of finding this love letter, and who had the beautiful idea of laying it to rest where I found it? Was this something I had put there for safekeeping many years ago but completely forgot about, or had someone else placed it there? In the end, it really doesn't matter, because today, regardless of how it got there, this love letter flooded me with a powerful dose of love energy, straight from their hearts to mine.                                                        

Life, Love, and Loss

     While practicing yoga in my She Shed this morning, I acknowledged the beauty of the rainy weather visible through the glass door, as I reflected on the intense ups and downs of this past week. A roller coaster of emotions to process on the mat.
     It began Monday morning, with a call informing me that my brother had been admitted to hospital due to suspected heart attack symptoms. I spent the day sending both him and his wife loving energy, knowing that whatever transpired in there, it would be without the support of any visitors at all.
     Tuesday, I received an encouraging update on his health, along with the good news that a procedure had been scheduled. Then, deciding I needed a hit of grandkids, I hopped on my bike with coffee tumbler in hand, to my older daughter's home for an outdoor visit, all of us maintaining our two metre spacing.
     Wednesday, a COVID wedding with five of us present and physically distancing, of course.  No matter how big or small, officiating wedding ceremonies always brings me joy. Then later in the day, a treasured conversation with my younger daughter, hearing about her rich metaphysical experiences.
     Thursday morning, a message from my brother that he was feeling good and going home. A huge sense of relief. Then after lunch, I walked down to the village to tie a bouquet to my mother's memorial bench so that it would be in place for the following day's anniversary of her death. 
     Friday, I enjoyed a morning forest walk with my husband, reminiscing about my mom and thinking about how much I wished she could still be part of our lives. Then after our lunch, the two of us drove out to the valley for an overdue visit with my brother and his wife, during which we chatted for over four hours, seated around their backyard fire pit. So grateful for the chance to see them in person.  
     Saturday afternoon, I had the immerse pleasure of officiating two more weddings, both outdoors under dry skies.
     And then, Sunday. With three outdoor weddings scheduled, it would be a full day. After the first one, I had a couple of hours free, so I returned a missed call from a young friend. Sadly, I was informed that Kelly's dad had died unexpectedly, on Friday evening. My heart immediately went out to his family in particular, now thrust once again into that painful state of the newly grieving. I had the honour of being the celebrant at his marriage. Now, less than four years later, he has returned to the in-between, reunited with his daughter.
     A few hours later, after returning home from the third wedding, I sat down to relax with a glass of wine. Scrolling through social media, I saw the article that I knew my husband had recently been interviewed for by the local paper. Well written, it was primarily about my husband's sense of humour as expressed on the sign mounted outside his business here in our community. However, partway through, still within the context of the story, there was reference made to Mike and Kelly's deaths. So of course, the tears started flowing.
     A week filled with deeply emotional experiences of life, love, and death. All clear reminders of what really matters.
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Image credit: Gordon Johnson, Pixabay

Precious Birthday Connections

     Early January marks three significant birthdays of people very dear to me (two now in pure spirit form and one here on Earth) - my mother's on the 4th, my son's on the 8th and a close friend's is on the 9th. Last year's incredible display of spirit energy related to these birthdays will be hard to beat. 
     On the morning of January 5th, 2019, I tied a bouquet of flowers to my mother's memorial bench in Edgemont Village as a belated acknowledgement of her birthday. I then strolled over to one of my favourite home decor shops, a fixture in this community for 30 years, run by a mother/daughter team. While driving by the shop the previous day, I had decided I would buy my close friend a gift card from here which I would pop in the mail for her birthday. As the daughter (who happened to attend high school with Michael) rang in my purchase, her mother asked me for the name of the recipient so that she could personalize the card with calligraphy. While she was putting the finishing touches on the present with cello wrap and ribbons, I began telling her that the gift was for my friend of over 40 years. Midway through, something caused her to freeze. A moment later, she proceeded to tell me what had happened to her shortly before leaving home that morning. She had been standing near her husband's computer area, looking up at the huge bookshelf filled to the brim with books. All of a sudden one of the books fell off the shelf and landed right in her hands. She immediately recognized it as my book, Diary of an Intuitive, wrapped in its protective cello sleeve. She mentioned that she hadn't looked at it for a few years and couldn't figure out why it had fallen. Then, as she continued telling me the story, she put two and two together and told me it had been my son. Being intuitive and sensitive to spirit energy, she realized why that particular book and why that morning.
      Then it was my turn to share details with her that would flesh out the entire experience. I explained that I had just come from my mother's memorial bench whose birthday was the day before, that Michael's birthday would be in three days time, and that my good friend, who was extremely close to Michael and celebrating her birthday the day after his, would for the very first time be missing our family birthday celebration at The Old Spaghetti Factory in Michael's honour. She had also edited my book. For the shopkeeper to share her experience with me made my day, filling my heart to near bursting, and gave me something precious to reflect upon for years to come.
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Photo credit: Bruno Glaetsch

Finding Comfort Within a Dream

     

     And so it begins ... emotionally, the most challenging few weeks of the year with regards to Michael's absence, from the beginning of December until his birthday early January. Plans for the Christmas season being made, decorations unpacked, seasonal music playing - all things, that for the most part, bring me joy. However, it's hard to ignore the huge spotlight that shines on all that is family, resulting in his absence holding an even larger space in my life.
     During this past weekend, I felt the sadness and tension building in my body, despite having spent a joy-filled afternoon up Grouse Mountain with my grandchildren the day before. While readying for bed Sunday night, I gazed into the bathroom mirror and from deep within my heart, beseeched Michael to please come through in a dream. I needed to connect with him, communicate with him, be with him.  It had been a few years since he had appeared in a dream.
     After waking the next morning, I poured myself a cup of coffee and wandered into the living room, surprised to see my husband sitting there, as he's often left for work by 7am. Settling into the comfy lounge chair across from him, I suddenly remembered that I did have a dream about Michael, but before I could even start sharing it with my husband, I began to cry - releasing some of the tension that had been building, along with the surprise that it had actually happened.  
     In the dream, I was walking down the narrow hallway of a house (not my own), when I came to a small room off to the right, its door half way open. Looking in, I noticed a single bed - no other furniture or decor. Lying on his back on top of the bedcover was a young male wearing sweat pants and a black hoodie. As I stepped closer, I saw that he was awake and guessed him to be about 14 years old. My first thought was that he looked very similar to Michael but I knew he was dead and had been an adult when he died, so I was confused. However, when I reached the bed, I knew it was him. I sat down beside him, in awe. With his eyes meeting mine, I took in his radiant round face and sweet smile. My heart melted. As I bent down to hug him, I asked how this was possible, how he was able to appear to me as a boy, fully alive. He explained that it was not easy but that he had chosen to squeeze into this shape so that I would easily recognize him and find comfort. Finding comfort, that I did. Understanding how this all works, no idea at all. Just so glad that it does.
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PS - I went into the storage room to find a photo of Michael to add to this post and the first album I pulled out held this one, Christmas 2000 aged 14 wearing his black hoodie 💗 

Love, Love, Love...

     With my husband away doing chores up at the cabin last weekend, I spent numerous hours sorting through everything in our storage room, deciding what to keep, donate, recycle or toss. Much of the work was fairly easy since we've only lived in this home for 6 1/2 years.  

     A bag containing knitting needles and wool, along with the abandoned notion of ever becoming a decent knitter - donate to a friend. The contents of a binder filled with training information for my volunteer position during the 2010 Olympics - recycle. Cake platter, vases, picture frames, artificial flowers, dishes, and numerous knickknacks - donate to charity. Broken stemware  - toss. My mother's Danish-designed casserole dishes, gravy boat and coffee cups, all in mint condition, along with my Oma's soup tureen - relocate to kitchen for daily use.

     When I reached the bottom shelf, I pulled out the box labelled 'Michael's stuff', along with his black 'The Orchard on Bowen' satchel. I carried both inside the house with the intention of revisiting them later that evening, not wanting to distract myself from the task at hand. However, my curiosity soon won out so I opened up the satchel and began flipping through the handouts and scanning the notes he had made during his time in rehab. After a few minutes, I remembered that I had read all of this shortly after he died. It was difficult to reread and I knew I needed to set it aside for now, otherwise I would get pulled too deeply into the sadness.  

     Returning to the storage room, the next box I tackled was filled with decorative items I had collected over many, many years but no longer displayed or used.  Among other things, I found a genie lamp, miniature red book with each page containing the words I love you in  more than 30 languages, quartz crystals, red glass heart, as well as a green stone one. What a beautiful surprise. I vaguely recognized some of the items but have no recollection where any of them came from. It was as if the universe was taking this moment to show me some tangible representations of love that has been, and continues to be, present in my life. I gifted the genie lamp to my granddaughter, a crystal to my grandson, and placed the remaining  items into the dedicated silver bowl in my den, alongside the many other love tokens already there. 

     The following morning, I took advantage of the beautiful weather and walked along seawall in West Vancouver. Midway along the route, I glanced over at the tiny park tucked in off the  path and stopped in my tracks. Someone had taken the time to rake the fall leaves into the shape of a gorgeous heart.  Love, love, love ...

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Communication Received, Loud and Clear

     

     On Friday evening, my brother and his wife arrived at our cabin for a family weekend  that would include fishing, golfing, arts and crafts, along with water play, meals on the beach and late evening campfire stories. For the first time ever, they would sleep in our little trailer (we bought about seven years ago) since all our cabin bedrooms were full, and they had decided against bringing up their trailer.  My husband and I had arrived Thursday, and our oldest daughter and her family had already been up here for a week.
     Saturday morning, my sister-in-law received the shocking news from Spain that her youngest sister (one of eight siblings, all living in Spain) had died of a heart attack, in her sleep. It was of course devastating news, and communicating with her siblings to find out more about the situation was made even more difficult due to the different time zones.
     This morning, I found out that my brother and his wife had been awakened around 5am today by a persistent beeping alarm in the trailer. After much searching, my brother finally found the source of the noise - a CO2/propane alarm located under the bed. After checking the trailer inside and out, he realized there wasn’t a propane tank to be found and no furnace or gas stove was in use so he couldn’t figure out what was causing the beeping. He was eventually able to reach far enough underneath the bed to push the reset button on the alarm which shut off the beeping noise, allowing them to both to doze off again for a couple of hours. My sister-in-law noticed that the beeping had occurred the same time that her sibling were at the tanatorio (funeral parlour) to say their last goodbyes before the funeral which had been arranged for the following day.
     Later this morning, after we all said our goodbyes with big hugs near the top of the stairs, my brother and his wife drove off. Our oldest daughter and her family then got into their truck and as I walked over to them for a last goodbye, I noticed a small, green, plastic heart lying in the grass in the precise spot where we had all just gathered. I could hardly believe that it had not been spotted before now. Each one of us had walked over this exact area many, many times over the course of the weekend.
     While I began cleaning up the cabin, my husband pulled out some trailer information to try and figure out what had caused the alarm’s beeping sound to go off in the first place. After reading it through, he announced, “It looks like it’s an end of life situation”.  What??  He showed me the particular paragraph he was reading - its heading: “End of Life Mode”.  Communication received with love, loud and clear.
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Signs of Support

     Tomorrow marks the 8th anniversary of Michael's death. Rather than taking flowers to Boal Memorial on the actual date, as I have in the past, this year I decided ahead of time that I would go this morning - a mental health choice that I felt would make tomorrow a little easier and more uplifting.
     A few weeks ago, a friend of mine invited me to participate in a community fundraiser - an afternoon Scrabble Tournament taking place on March 7th to raise money for grandmothers in Africa. My husband and I play Scrabble most evenings so I knew it could be an enjoyable event and said "yes", grateful for the distraction, the opportunity to support a good cause, and knowing I would have the support of this friend on a trigger day, another mother who lives with the loss of a child. Later this month will mark seven years since her adult daughter's accidental death.
     This morning, my plan was to walk my younger daughter's chocolate lab Barrett (related to Diesel and born four days before the fatal accident involving Mike, Kelly and Diesel), along the river for about an hour, then take him with me to Boal, which would be his first time there.  After getting into my car (which was parked in the carport), I reached over to close my door when I noticed one small feather lying on the ground nearby. Smiling to myself, I reached down and picked it up, then placed it on the seat beside me - thankful for this little sign.
     After fetching Barrett, I drove to Bridgeman Park, located beside Lynn Creek. Due to the ongoing construction in the area, I had not been there since last spring but today, it felt like the right place to go. I parked the car, leashed up the dog and let him out. He instantly beelined it to a fence post about 30 metres away, to take a pee. As I stood there waiting for him, I looked up at the post and could hardly believe my eyes -  a small, pink heart resting near the top! Obviously, the perfect spot for our walk together today.
     After our river walk, we visited Boal, then after dropping him off, I headed home. Later, I picked up my granddaughter after school and brought her back to my house. She immediately noticed the feather I had now placed on my kitchen counter and told me she had found one that looked exactly the same. Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out a twin feather. When I asked her about it, she told me she had found it while walking along Mosquito Creek during her class field trip this morning, put it into her pocket until she got back to school, then into her knapsack for safekeeping! The signs and loving energy of the day filled my well, placing me in good stead for tomorrow.
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Magical Day

     

     With this glorious summer weather of blue skies and hot temperatures, my grandchildren and I headed over to Granville Island Wednesday morning. After playing at the water park for a couple of hours, we ventured over to the Magic Shop in the Kids Only Market - a place my granddaughter had been keen to revisit, due to her fascination with the tricks she had been shown there last fall.
      After much deliberation, the kids finally decided on which tricks to purchase - he, a squishy gel egg and she, a magic dragon box. We then returned to my place for a low key, lazy afternoon. After refueling with some snacks and cold drinks in the shade out back, my grandson and I lay down on the picnic blanket, gazing into the sky, while my granddaughter sat beside us perfecting her new magic trick. My grandson wanted to look for animals and other objects in cloud formations, but since we had a clear blue sky, we observed various birds in our surroundings instead - an eagle soaring high above us, a hummingbird zooming in to the feeder, blue jays and a woodpecker coming by to perch on our water feature for a drink, chickadees flitting from branch to branch behind us, and crows perching on the fence nearby. At one point during this magnificent bird show, I suggested we invite some clouds to present themselves in the sky so that we could play the game, so we did.
     Two rounds of Go Fish and a couple of Story Cubes storytelling sessions later, I happened to glance up and realized that at least half the sky was covered in clouds! No clouds had been forecast at all for the entire day, nor for the days on either side. I pointed them out to the kids and the three of us shared in the marvel that had occurred. An hour or so later, after dropping the kids off at their home, where they had eagerly showed their parents the newly acquired magic skills, I returned to my backyard and realized that the sky was completely clear again - not a single cloud in sight. I just shook my head and smiled at the heavens, heart bursting with gratitude for another beautiful, magically infused day.
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Stopped In my Tracks

     
     Out for a jog on the back roads behind the cabin this morning. Running under mostly sunny skies and temperature in the low 20s, made it that much more special - a beautiful time for daydreaming.  About fifteen minutes in, the mark of a perfect heart upon the asphalt stopped me in my tracks. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that more specifically, it resembled a heart-shaped balloon, complete with string. Reminding me of the one I saw in my mind’s eye a few days after Michael died. Random hearts showing up always make me smile but this was the first time one showed up in this form. Oil stain, roadkill imprint or something more agreeable? Who knows how it was created? What I do know is that regardless of how it got there, the result was immense gratitude for seeing it.
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Sun, Sand and Signs

     Home again, after a fabulous family vacation, where three generations were fortunate enough to play in the sun and sand. Much of the time, we were all hanging out together, but some mornings, my husband and I would head out for a long beach walk, just the two of us. During one such outing, three heartwarming signs appeared back-to-back, reminding us that Michael was with us on this family vacation, as well. 
     The first sign happened about an hour in. Walking a short distance behind my husband, I spotted a small, perfectly heart-shaped shell lying in the wet sand. As I picked it up, I noticed it was about the size of a dime, just as thin, and smooth to the touch. Polished by the waves, as precious as a jewel.
     With shell in hand, I rejoined my husband and after showing him my treasure, we continued on. A short distance later, I impulsively stopped and turned to face the ocean. Instantly, I noticed a tiny, white feather drifting down over the water. Soon, I spotted a second one, floating near the first. It was mesmerizing to watch these two feathers dance in the sunshine. I assumed I would see them fall into the ocean, but instead, they disappeared from my sight, into the backdrop of the bright blue sky. They became invisible to me. My husband, who had witnessed the scene as well, turned to me and asked what had prompted me to stop. I explained that I had simply stopped, for no particular reason. Lucky for me that I did.
     Then, carrying on with our walk, it wasn't long before we came upon a huge message written in the sand. It read: "I LOVE YOU DAD!" In case there had been any doubt, and that perhaps the first two signs had not been enough.
     All of our beach walks nourished our souls with the healing combination of bare feet in the sand, lapped by the waves, and warmed by the sun. However, the bonus of seeing these three signs during this particular walk boosted our souls into the stratosphere. Clearly, our entire family was present during this marvelous vacation.
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Chocolate Heart

   

     "Could you please bring me home a little box of chocolates from Thomas Haas on your way home?", I had texted my husband. Anyone who knows me knows I love chocolate, but I had never put out this request. It would be a small treat to help get me through this very challenging day - the anniversary of the death of our son.      

     Thankfully, he was only going in to work for a few hours today, and I was happy to see him arrive home mid-afternoon. When he presented me with the box of four chocolates, I instantly noticed the one 💖shaped one . When I asked him if he had chosen these particular four, he answered that he had not, he had just picked up a prepacked box. Heart-shaped chocolates are not listed on the package insert nor included among the twenty-eight described on their website. Immense gratitude for this sweet gift of love energy.

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Priceless Plastic Heart

     And so, the Christmas festivities begin. Just as dusk was falling late yesterday afternoon, our family met up in the forest at Boal Memorial. Decorating the little tree in front of Mike and Kelly's plaques is always a poignant event. The half-moon shining down onto the snow-covered ground added an element of magic to the setting. Gazing upon the faces of my young grandchildren, both mesmerized by the glowing candles and sing-along, my heart was simultaneously filled with a profound love for these two, along with a deep aching for my son. For me, Christmas without him has not become any easier. 
     Our family then made our way back to our younger daughter's home, for a delicious home-cooked meal, where she had laid out a novelty Christmas cracker at each place setting. Crackers were never part of our traditional German festivities, but it certainly was a fun addition to this dinner. After the eight crackers were popped, colourful paper crowns were donned, and tiny gifts discovered, including puzzles, jokes, and decorations. My heart skipped a beat when I realized that my prize was a small, plastic, heart-shaped frame. The only one in our group. An incredibly precious sign of the season.
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Pink Feather

   

     Last week, Kelly came to me in a short, but beautiful, vivid dream. With a carefree and happy demeanour, she playfully ran across a grass field, exuding love. It had been years since I dreamt of her - it felt wonderful to feel her presence again. 

     Today, midway through boot camp, our group headed outside for an activity on the back parking lot and while running over to the equipment, I noticed a small, neon pink feather lying on the pavement. I picked it up and looked around to see if there was an obvious source or if there were any others ... no and no. Then, my thoughts turned to Kelly. I could not help but think this feather was linked to the dream, since they were both filled with the same kind of love energy. That fun, free and easy kind of love. Smiling all the way into my heart, I turned the feather this way and that before tucking it into my pocket for safe keeping.  

     I am grateful for both these exquisite events, for heaven knows, one can never experience too much love!

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Michael Comes Through Loud and Clear

     

     My spontaneous decision to stop by the grand opening of a new metaphysical shop resulted in receiving a most magnificent reading. It had been years since I last had a card reading, and rather than ask for guidance on a specific issue, I opted for being open to hearing whatever came through.  
     There was no doubt that the woman I chose to sit down with had excellent abilities when she began the session with, "I see a young man ... he's in his early twenties ... he's your son." Michael came through loud and clear, reassuring me with, "Wherever you are, there I am," as well as wrapping me in a white ribbon of protection. He also communicated that we will never lose our heart connection. Michael then showed the reader some miniature trains, a reference which I instantly understood. I have strong memories of him as a child amusing himself with his Brio train set - as young as three years old, he would play with it alone in his bedroom for hours upon hours. This set is one of the few playthings I kept for my grandchildren, and last week, when my three-year-old granddaughter was over, she asked to play with the trains, so we did. At some point during that afternoon I explained to her that these had been Uncle Mike's. Now in this reading, the reader explained that Michael was telling her that he had been right there beside us, chuckling while we played.
     For forty-five minutes, she brought forth all this valuable information, as well as tidbits about other aspects of my life. I left feeling connected, supported, and inspired - extremely grateful for further evidence of the everlasting connection between life and death.
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Healing Energy for All

     

     Outside of my native Vancouver, the city of Paris lies closest to my heart. I have never lived there but have treasured memories of visiting over the decades. I have always felt a strong connection to everything French, perhaps due, in part, to previous incarnations. The sights, sounds and smells of Paris resonate deeply. Its lively neighbourhoods, magnificent museums, striking architecture, incredible food and lovely public spaces, to say nothing of the beautiful language and passionate people, all contribute to the vibrant pulse of this beloved city.
     So when the tragic news of malicious attacks in Paris erupted on Friday, my heart broke. It broke for the innocent victims. It broke for my beloved city of love and lights. It broke for humanity.
     And later, upon learning that many of the dead had been young people in their twenties and thirties, an added layer of sadness descended over me while thinking of all the mothers and fathers who will have to endure the added grief of losing their child.
     The card I wrote, the flowers I placed, the love I send will not undo the damage done, but with millions of people around the world doing the same, collectively we imprint healing energy on everyone affected, including ourselves. 
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Generosity Abounds

               

    










      The incredible support in response to donation requests for the MGMG tourney continues to impress. Most of the businesses and organizations I approach are ones my family and I frequent in our community. I am grateful for their positive responses and thoughtful contributions. Sprinkled on top of these heartwarming experiences, is the occasional spontaneous act of generosity ... the cherry on top. 
     Speaking with the local baker about the possibility of him donating buns again this year for the BBQ portion of the event, hearing he is keen to do so, and then, after rereading the info sheet, adds that he wants to do more, and offers gift certificates for our raffle. 
     Stopping in at a shop across town, one I have not been to before, to find out what a custom MGMG flag might cost. While chatting with a staff member about various options, the president of the company walks over and introduces herself to me. Turns out that she has overheard some of our conversation and offers to absorb the entire cost! The MGMG tourney feather flag will be a fabulous addition to this annual event.
     So many wonderful connections made when speaking from the heart, and so many generous people recognizing a perfect opportunity to pitch in. Thank you all so much!
Image: Bluebell 33
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Child's Play

     While up at the cabin this weekend, the urge struck to paint a birdhouse. It had been years since I last decorated one, but I had the desire to play with colour, so I sorted through the box of various shaped houses, finally settling on a fairly traditional one. While my husband barbecued dinner, I considered some possible design ideas. I knew that I wanted to keep the project simple, and eventually I came up with two options - it would be either a heart or a rainbow theme. I would mull it over and begin painting after dinner.

     We prepared our burgers in the kitchen, then carried them down to the beach on plastic plates. As I took my first bite, I looked down at the plate and realized that it was the one Michael had created at preschool, when he was five. Glancing over the happy scene he had drawn, my eye landed on the colourful rainbow at the top. I was about to tell my husband about the connection to my project when I looked over at the plate he was using and noticed five pink hearts. One of our daughters had designed this plate while attending that same preschool. I began with, "You're not going to believe this ...," but of course, he did. While explaining what had happened, I was shaking my head from side to side, grinning from ear to ear. It really does happen this often, this perfectly. Child's play as far as the universe is concerned. In the end, I went with the heart theme and the Love Shack is now ready for occupancy. 
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Candles Lighting the Way

This morning, I pulled out the mini Christmas tree and ornaments in preparation for tomorrow's family visit to Boal. It wasn't until I was out walking in the canyon, a short time later, that the emotions started swirling. I am thankful for this tradition we originally created to honour my mother at the cemetery, then moved to Boal after Michael and Kelly died. I know there will be some tears, that's a given, but there will also be a few laughs. And of course, there will be candles. Tiny, white ones clipped to the branches. Anyone who knows me well, knows this - I love candles. Surrounding myself with them is one of my favourite aspects of this season. There is something so pure and uplifting about candlelight. Earlier this week, while wandering through a spectacular garden light display, my husband and I paused to light two candles for Michael and Kelly, infuse them with good wishes, and place them side by side on a ledge in the rock grotto.  This Sunday evening, we'll be observing Winter Solstice with candles during the Lantern Festival in our city's classical Chinese Garden.  And over these next few days, when I recognize the need for additional grounding, a simple candle meditation will be in order.  Sitting cross-legged before a candle and with soft gaze, focussing on the flame. Visualizing the light making its way into my third eye and seeing the beam flow directly into my heart. Appreciating all the candles lighting the way, inside and out.

Photo credit: Two Wings

Encouraging Messages

Working with the invisible continues to impress. After a long absence, I have stepped back into offering professional tarot card readings. By choice, I had not ventured into this arena since the accident, but I recently decided that it would be great to get out there again, so after making some enquiries, I committed to doing readings in a friend's store one day a week.  As it had been over three and a half years, I was a little anxious about how it would go, so I meditated on two themes of great importance when seeking connection with the invisible for the benefit of others - faith and trust. Also, in the early morning of my first day back, while walking in the forest, I humbly requested assistance from those in spirit to please draw near and bring their support to the readings.     
Well, it was a stellar day. Interestingly, none of the clients were from the area, none had ever stepped into the store, and to my knowledge, none had ever experienced tarot readings. However, all of them expressed feelings of being drawn in without having a clear idea of why they were there. During the sessions, numerous amazing connections were made, but the one that resonated most deeply with me involved the heart theme. When my last client of the day sat down across from me to begin our session, she complemented me on the tunic I was wearing and asked if I had, by any chance, purchased it from a shop located a short distance away. She referred to it as Get Blessed. I answered that I had, and with a smile, gave her the correct name, Get Dressed. We both chuckled at this Freudian slip. She said that on her way here, she had stopped in that shop and had considered purchasing the same tunic for herself, but in the end, decided not to. We then proceeded with the reading which turned out to have a strong love component. When we were done, she returned to the retail area and purchased a large decorative heart for herself. Before leaving the store, however, she walked towards me and presented me with a richly enamelled, metal heart, which she had purchased as a gift for me. Bright red, it fit perfectly into the palm of my hand, with just the right amount of weight. Hollow, this exquisite heart contained a tiny bell which rang sweetly when shaken. Across the centre, in white lettering, was the ♥ symbol along with the word YOU. What this woman could not have known was less than an hour before she arrived, I had picked up this exact piece and had felt a very strong connection. I shared this with her and added that I had considered buying it for myself but after some thought, had returned it to the basket instead.
I send a huge bouquet of love and gratitude to the invisible for the incredible messages of encouragement.  Clearly, I am on the right path.

Crystal Clear

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