Monday, January 9, 2012
Moon of Welcome
None of us made any association to 2012. It was more about connecting to the moment and to the synchronicities. IL talked about some of the discussions; which occurred in her family between Christmas and New Year. She mentioned how many of the elders in her family were more expressive of their fears relating to death because one by one they were slowly and inevitably passing away. It brought me back to a moment in my life when I saw my father vulnerable for the first time because two of his best friends unexpectedly passed away in their mid-50’s. He was visibly afraid and brought his whole life in question. For my father it didn’t seem to be about fearing “his own demise” but more so about fearing “the passing of his loved ones.” Abruptly enough the loss of his friends triggered a retreat from life and from relationships. He expected his heart to be broken by death, and this new concept horrified him.
This morning when I took the dogs out for a walk I mentioned to GP how much we could learn from observing our pets and their sensual understanding of life. My two Beagles never feel alone. Each time they come across the urine of another dog, they are totally enlightened by the story of this other animal as if the urine alone allows them to be in touch with others. Humans seem to need so much more to feel connected. We don’t depend or trust our senses, our intuition, our instinct or our vibe of the World around us…
Humans need touch or physical presence.
When I was a child growing up with the ability to see and hear Spirit many of the adults in my life nourished my inner doubt rather than my inner knowing. I remember feeling angry a lot as if something inside told me “it was wrong to mistrust my personal experience.” Today, I look at young people who are awakening to Spirit and I see no difference between the way they are treated by society and adults to the way I was treated. I often wonder how “so little we change” from generation to generation.
Shouldn’t we learn from our ancestors? And shouldn’t we grow in sacred knowledge and wisdom?
On our Facebook group, the Medicine Wheel and Indigenous Dreaming, a discussion was started on the topic of grieving. CC told a story about a woman who shared the photo of her stillborn child on internet. According to the details the picture triggered a kind of controversy. Should we be allowed to share such gruesome images of our private loss? Where CC related the story to something she experienced in her own life and admired the woman for having the courage to express her grieving; others on internet wondered about the dangers of sensationalism. Perspective can always bring up a debate or a conflict. On our site the discussion brought up the importance of mourning.
At the Moonlodge this weekend, LG one of our circle elders shared her personal story about how she was given the same name as one of her older sisters who passed away at the age of 3 years old. LG explained how she felt she didn’t exist for the first 3 years of her life. Her mother especially kept her distance as if she expected all of her babies to die at the age of 3. Even once LG survived the death sentence her mother thought her sister had left behind, she felt no deep connection with her family.
“I called my best friend’s parents mom and dad,” LG explained, “and felt like I belonged more in her family than in my own.”
Between the birth of my son and the birth of my daughter I had a miscarriage. It wasn’t much of an issue for me because I was in close contact with the souls of my children before they were born. I knew that if KT didn’t make it the first time around, she would try and try again until she would incarnate. In other words, the miscarriage wasn’t about a loss or a death for me, it was about my body struggling through form and about me doing my best to give my daughter the opportunity to be born. One way or another I knew without a shred of a doubt she would be born…
What is special about this story is how KT knew as early on as 3 years old that “she had died and come back to us.” She literally had the memory of the experience; which has always been totally incredible to me. You can’t help but trust your belief system when it’s confirmed empirically along the way. Having been taught to doubt for the better half of my life -- trusting always takes a bit of work for me. I remember how at least six years of my journey was dedicated to reaching beyond the “doubting Thomas syndrome” (as I called it). Often KT and CT impressed us (my husband and I) with knowledge that literally came from the realm of the unknown. How did our daughter know about this story if we never told her about it? I’ve asked myself this question countless times relating to countless contexts in the last 35 years. Just yesterday, KT and her boyfriend, AE were over for supper and we ended up discussing the topic of “beliefs.”
“Do you believe in reincarnation?” I asked AE.
“NO!” he responded categorically as if it wasn’t even something to ponder.
AE glanced over to KT and with a shy smile murmured the question: “Do you?”
“It’s not about believing for me,” KT replied, “it’s a fact. I remember and the people around me remember too. How can you possibly say that a fork isn’t a fork when you’ve been using it for as long as you can remember?”
Sometimes I wonder who are the elders in our house.
There’s no doubt that perspective plays an important part in the way we live life. If we believe in loss then, there’s no doubt we’ll need to mourn loss and eventually survive it. Tonight as I look up at the Full Moon I call on my inner Wolf / Beagle / or Canine and welcome the attitude of never feeling alone or never feeling overwhelmed by loss. It’s possible to remember through our senses and to trigger experiences; which allow us to truly be ONE. If there’s anything that I’m grieving tonight it’s the collective loss of sacred knowledge.
It would great if on this Moon of Welcome we chose to “embrace life” as a continuous ribbon of never ending stories. There are so many different ways to perceive the notion of “welcoming death.” From a Medicine Wheel perspective I’d like to suggest – “to welcome an end to doubt, to disempowerment and to anything and everything that robs us of memory, medicine, and spirit.” Welcoming death may surprise you with a journey unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.
P.S. The picture was taken in our back yard. One morning the ice in our back yard showed a constellation of stars. It looked like a picture of the galaxy. Cool.