The Long Walk Home

“Change with heart!” These three words were the only thing I remembered as a noise pulled me out of my dream. Yet the clarity and meaning of them stood in astonishing contrast to the grogginess I felt from being pulled out of my sleep. Strangely even though I couldn’t remember a thing other than these words, the meaning was as clear as the raindrops gently falling from the sky: inner and outer change needs to come from the heart!

It also reminded me of the experience of finding a beautiful black and white feather beside my plate one morning a couple of summers ago when my mother was visiting. I still remember the feeling of sweet surprise as I sat down at the table set for breakfast holding the woodpecker feather gently in my hand.

My love for rocks and feathers was never quite understood by my parents. It was usually made fun of, so it was extra special when I found this treasure by my plate. So strange how a feather can feel like one of the greatest gifts I have ever received from my mother and she has given me so much including my life.

Now looking back at that moment I clearly see that this gesture was her way to acknowledge and honour my love for these offerings from nature despite her seeing them so differently. In that instance the lifelong belief of not feeling understood or seen by her vanished. Instead another memory brought a smile and tears to my eyes: The Spring after my oldest son Magnus was born, my mother and I were taking turns pushing the baby buggy over impossible rough, recently logged, terrain and carrying a magnificent big white rock I had found that I just had to bring home. We still often laugh and remember that long walk home and how much strength it took to bring both the rock and the baby safely home.

 

That special stone has moved with me from my cabin in the mountains to the ocean and many other homes in between. It holds a very special place in my heart. It reminds me of that powerful time in my life raising my boys in the wilderness and my parents coming every year to help out with so many projects like building a woodshed, or helping me cut the six chords of firewood needed to get us through the winter and the many other amazing things they did for us. My mother who loves the city put aside her own beliefs, fears and comfort, venturing up that “crazy” mountain road where you prayed that you wouldn’t meet a logging truck coming down around each corner especially in the winter.

A woodpecker flies by with its bright red cap announcing its presence and bringing me back into the present moment. I think he agrees it is time lay to rest the old false beliefs and hurt feelings carried from childhood and I thank my dream and my heart for letting me see so clearly how loved I am.

 

 

 

 

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In The Garden Of Now

Leaves are fluttering softly in the ocean breeze singing a song I haven’t heard before with birds adding their own melodies here on the south side of Cortes Island. I am slowly settling into my new very temporary home where I am housesitting, allowing its incredible beauty and expansive ocean views to touch and open me.

My two very affectionate canine companions that I am looking after for six days, have finally settled down beside me. Each is lying curled up on either side of my chair, waiting patiently and often not so patiently for the opportunity to receive more attention, a meal or another outing. I have to admit the sunshine glistening on the ocean and the sandy beach getting more and more exposed as the tide goes out is hard to resist. This invitation to fully experience the dramatic beauty offered here so freely beckons every time I lift my head and look outside.

Since arriving here on Friday I have noticed myself taking in my new surrounding more slowly and carefully than I usually do, but certainly with as much wonder and delight. It almost feels like I have stepped into a beautiful dream, which I don’t want to wake up from.

The many flowers, the sacred feel of the garden as well as the beauty of the spirit of this land bring me gently but deeply into the moment. I notice an inner response, a feeling of something lifting and finally once again letting go of needing to know how life is going to unfold. What a sweet relief to keep surrendering!

The exquisite scent of roses, honeysuckle and other sweet smelling plants absolutely captivate me, stopping me in my tracks. There is no way that I can walk by and ignore this heavenly calling to breathe in these potent and yet delicate aromas.

As the clouds come and go, flowers in all stages of blooming and decay declare their place in life, reminding me of something I read recently in a book called “Caves of Power”. The author Sergio Magana Ocelocoyotl  describes how in the Toltec and Mexihca oral traditions “the lines of your face show everything you’ve ever experienced, but above all the way you’ve lived your life on Mother Earth.” It makes me look at the lines in my own face in a whole new way and makes me appreciate each part of the journey.

I am so grateful that the sun keeps surprising me, despite the forecast which has been anything but encouraging. Yet the artistry of the moving clouds is undeniable as the view shifts and changes from moment to moment. Noticing that as I keep opening to the precious now, the encouragement that I feel to carefully select and plant seeds of what I want my life to look and feel like, while at the same time honouring the dream and love that brought me here and appreciate and be present to what is here now.

As I explore more of this garden of Now, I get to learn and see what needs to be nourished, weeded and let go of, as well as allow myself to receive the gift of the giant bouquet of flowers that life is offering me with wide open arms and heart and so much gratitude.

 

 

 

 

The Journey Home

Photo by Dancing Wolf

Owl was calling softly the other night as I stepped outside with a dishpan full of dirty water for the thirsty flowers and trees. Listening to the haunting call for a while, I stood there with the now empty dishpan in my hand. I had asked owl to come the night my dog Frodo died. Here she was now a week later on the other side of the bay hooting loudly and persistently. I wondered what she was trying to tell me. Perhaps that he had made it home alright. As soon as I had that thought, owl fell silent. It felt like a confirmation, she had delivered her message.

He left in the night before the Lunar Eclipse full moon. Even though we knew it was his time, it was still not easy to let him go. I am so grateful he died at home and I was able to be by his side as he made that transition. It felt like he was labouring, birthing himself into another world. Day and night blurred together as I sat with him, holding him. No, it was not easy to see him struggle, part of him perhaps wanting to stay for me, the other ready to leave. Exhausted I feel asleep beside him in the early hours after the moon had risen and woke up with a start. I knew instantly that he had gone.

It will take a while to get used to him not being here. Fifteen years is a long time and I am so very grateful for every moment. There is an emptiness in the house and inside me, that is not easy to describe. But most people know what that emptiness feels like after losing a beloved pet or person in their lives.

There have been so many beautiful signs from beyond since then, that even though there is sadness and grieving, there is also a knowing that he is well and free wherever he is now.

I want to mention some of these signs, because for me it is one of the most comforting things at this time and also one of the greatest gifts.

These little messages from beyond included the many heart rocks I found while digging his grave, to let me know this is the perfect spot for my friend. We were guided to bury many meaningful objects with him and this made the ceremony we held for him extra special.  Then there were the two eagle wing feathers I found while walking on two different days and paths, both within a week of his passing. One is from a left wing and one from a right wing and both are the same size. These were the first eagle feathers I have found here on Cortes and it felt so perfect to have one from each wing. Another deeply moving experience was a dream I had a few days after Frodo left. In the dream he and I were going for our last walk together, crossing over a large bridge. Frodo ran ahead of me and into traffic. As a young woman was holding him, I watched myself walk towards them knowing he was gone. I felt strangely comforted by this dream and grateful for that last walk together. On another day I spontaneously decided to go for a hike after work. So many memories came up for me during that hike of the many adventures Frodo and I had shared over the years. It felt so strange to be hiking without him, when suddenly this beautiful lit up dead leaf caught my attention. As I took a closer look, I instantly felt his golden presence.

Today when I sat down to write this, I noticed a little bird sitting on the big heart rock outside my window chirping away while hopping exuberantly. It made me laugh like Frodo used to do, when he did his crazy runs through the forest running in circles and figure eights around the trees as fast as he could for the sheer joy of it. I thanked my little messenger for her sweet and potent encouragement to write again. It may not be a coincidence that the heavy rain that fell while writing this match the tears that are falling on my fingers.

Farewell, my friend!

Photo by Dancing Wolf

Death is not extinguishing the light,
it is only putting out the lamp
because the dawn has come.

     ~Rabindranath Tagore

 

Weekly Photo Challenge: shiny

 

Sacred Dreaming

Sweet sunlight touches my fingers as they glide across the keyboard feeling light and weightless. Today is a new day and it holds so much promise.

Plans of washing clothes, vacuuming, and cleaning up, are all flying out the window as I bask in the warmth of the light coming through the glass…thoughts of different possibilities drift by gently as I consider how to honour the gift of this day.

Nature is beckoning as light fairies are dancing across the water. I know I will be going outside soon with my camera to capture some of the magic.

It is fun to allow the words to weave themselves as Grandmother Spider is sending out a barely seen thread into the world on a slight breeze on this winter morning.

It is even more fun to allow myself to dream again. This day feels like it was made just for that.

Yesterday I started a new collage. I used to make one almost every year. They help me focus on what I want to manifest in my life. Their images remind me of what is important to me and keep me aligned with my dreams. Many of them have come true. I just have to look around and see what is here: living in one of the most beautiful places I could ever imagine, a sweet home with a wood stove and many windows and a beautiful view, a partner who appreciates and loves me, living in nature with a bountiful garden, fruit trees and berry bushes….the list goes on and on. There is so much to be grateful for and many dreams are now my reality.

Working on this collage brings up memories of dreams I am still longing for, some old ones and some I only recently allowed myself to have. It is a delight to see this new collage unfold as I carefully choose and position each image. In this process a memory of my father speaking about the fulfillment of one of his big dreams arises. He had a dream for many, many years to one day own a brand new Mercedes Benz. I was so happy when I heard around the time of his retirement that he was finally able to fulfill this dream. The next time my parents came for their yearly visit, I asked him how he liked his brand new car and his answer surprised me very much. He said: “The car is great, but the dream was even greater!” For him the joy of having and holding the dream and the connection to the mystery of its unfolding was more dear than the real thing.

My father passed away a few years ago, but still visits me occasionally in my night time dreams. He was instrumental to my partner and I moving to this beautiful place. I had a dream in which my father gave me the greatest gift. The problem was, when I woke up I couldn’t remember what it was. It was too big to bring back into this reality. I remember wondering all day what the gift had been. That evening I talked to a friend of mine who had known my father and who also knows me well. I told him about my dilemma of not remembering the dream fully. My friend asked me: “What is the biggest thing your father could give you?” Automatically I replied: “His Love!”. “No, bigger than that!” my friend said. I was shocked. This surprising answer from my friend prompted me to enter deeply into the question: “What could be a bigger gift than my father’s love?”  The answer came slowly to the surface with deep emotion. Tears were spilling from my eyes as I replied: “He gave me my life! …And then the memory of the gift came back: “In the dream he gave me permission to live my life the way I want to live it, not the way others expected me to or how I had been conditioned.” Tears are running down my cheeks again as I write this. He could not have given me a greater gift. The day after I had that dream and out of the blue my partner found this beautiful home on Cortes Island. We made the decision right then and there to let go of our lives in Victoria and move here. Less than two months after the dream my life had completely changed. I am not sure if I could have taken the step and given myself the permission to live my dream without the message and encouragement from my father.

The thread that Grandmother Spider has sent out is now anchored firmly to the big Fir tree in front of my window with the light and wind playfully changing it’s colour in the most magical way. I feel grateful to the power and sacredness of dreams and dreaming and hold a vision in my heart that our collective dreaming will weave a web of love, connection and a growing consciousness that celebrates the sacredness of all of life.