Death's Passage through Night - Solstice On

I heard my mother's voice telling me that "there would be a softening in the wind." It was one of her signature expressions for when she felt that times had gotten too tough. It gave me courage for I knew that she was referring to Cairn. I had become too agitated to tune into the battle with any real clarity. So I called on my faith.

I knew that Storm had labeled the Beltaine ritual as pagan even as he sacrificed virgins and young female animals to the fierce god that he had served. Such was the path of political might. The voices that rang with the loudest condemnation were often the same ones that committed the most heinous transgressions. The rumors said that Storm was born with a terrible physical defect that a witch had caused by cursing his pregnant mother. Others said that his mother had serviced influential men in their small Roman village, and that he hated women ever after. Who knows what forms the heart of a demon to beat within flesh and blood? But demon he was. Vampire demon.

The magical fires burned like bleeding torches and surrounded the cottage in a fiery womb. I no longer feared for my safety. If Cairn were taken from me I wanted to join him and my mother in realms beyond this earthly template.

Dawn began to spread across the sky like rose petals scattered on a bridal bed.  I didn't think that I'd see any bridal bed today or any other day.  Not without my partner.  I closed my eyes to see if any of the images had cleared.  I fell to my knees when I felt Cairn's energy.  It was weakened but steady.  I felt Reiki's energetic heat leap in my hands.  I knew that he yet lived.  I ran to the window and noted that the fires were banked.  I searched the awakening distance for his form.  My vision had begun to blur when I saw a flickering movement.  I tore out of the cottage oblivious to my safety or anything other than Cairn.  Perhaps I was running to Storm's arms.  Either way, this hideous night spent at death's altar was ending.  I was ready to face the outcome.

Hail Mary - Blessed Be all Mothers and the Divine Mother Energy

Saint or sinner? Visionary or madman? Gift or burden? I say saint, visionary and gift to the experiences that I've had with my mom since she died.  I prefer to say transitioned for it doesn't bite with the final sting of death.  Transitioning implies continuation.  Death connotes the end.  I don't believe that love ends.  Nor do I feel that the energy, love and spirit of the deceased person ceases to exist.

I've had many experiences with my mother since she left.  I had told her that I would meet her every night through Reiki, just as I had done when she was alive and laying half paralyzed in a nursing home bed.  How can I explain the relief, joy and utter freedom that she communicated on the day that she traveled to other heavens?  She had sent me a message and shared that message with other healer friends.  She wanted me to know that she was joyous and free. And then there was the Reiki.  As I lay wrapped in the pearl crocheted blanket that covered her during her final phase, I felt the Reiki energy leap like fire in my hands.  The energy laughed and played as we once did together.  It moved and danced with my mother's gentle grace.  I felt the energy more powerfully than when she lay comatose, straddling disparate realities.  I heard her lyrical laughter, and felt her loving presence.  She was more real to me than the flesh that had lain crippled and twisted in the hospital bed. There has been a living presence to her energy that had been dampened and distant while she yet lived.

She told me that my precious cat who had been diagnosed with cancer the same time that she suffered her last and most severe stroke, would be healed.  Mom said that she had to go but that he would be healed as a gift.  She spoke of her devotion to myself and my sisters and said that our time would not be long on this earth, relatively speaking.  She said that it was her choice to remain close until we once again embraced each other and laughed with abandon.  I was humbled and gratified when she said that I shouldn't presume that our work was finished because she no longer walked the earth.  She said that we yet had spiritual work to do and that our love was real and constant.

These are my experiences which can be denied or refuted.  But they are my truth.  Just as she is my light.  As we approach Mother's Day, I honor the dignity, love and gratitude that characterized her last years.  I honor the mother goddess energy that resides in each of us whether we have nurtured babies in our wombs or our hearts. I am humbled by the divine and universal mother energy.  Some call her Virgin Mary, Guru Amma, the Indian "hugging saint", some call her mother earth.  I call her blessed and call out Hail Mary (my mother's name) in the middle of the night, certain that she can hear me with an acuity that surpasses human hearing.  I know that she can sense me with a precision that surpasses human touch.  I know that she can love me with a purity that transcends earthly imperfections.

So join me in saying Hail Mother to all of the mother's we've had whether friend, teacher, lover, pet, or God.  Someone has nurtured us at one time or another or we would surely have died.

Blessed be every mother on this Mother's Day

Hail Mary - Blessed Be all Mothers and the Divine Mother Energy

Saint or sinner? Visionary or madman?  Gift or burden?  I say saint, visionary and gift to the experiences that I've had with my mom since she died.  I prefer to say transitioned for it doesn't bite with the final sting of death.  Transitioning implies continuation.  Death connotes the end.  I don't believe that love ends.  Nor do I feel that the energy, love and spirit of the deceased person ceases to exist.

I've had many experiences with my mother since she left.  I had told her that I would meet her every night through Reiki, just as I had done when she was alive and laying half paralyzed in a nursing home bed.  How can I explain the relief, joy and utter freedom that she communicated on the day that she traveled to other heavens?  She had sent me a message and shared that message with other healer friends.  She wanted me to know that she was joyous and free. And then there was the Reiki.  As I lay wrapped in the pearl crocheted blanket that covered her during her final phase, I felt the Reiki energy leap like fire in my hands.  The energy laughed and played as we once did together.  It moved and danced with my mother's gentle grace.  I felt the energy more powerfully than when she lay comatose, straddling disparate realities.  I heard her lyrical laughter, and felt her loving presence.  She was more real to me than the flesh that had lain crippled and twisted in the hospital bed.  Their was a living presence to her energy that had been dampened and distant while she yet lived.

She told me that my precious cat who had been diagnosed with cancer the same time that she suffered her last and most severe stroke, would be healed.  Mom said that she had to go but that he would be healed as a gift.  She spoke of her devotion to myself and my sisters and said that our time would not be long on this earth, relatively speaking.  She said that it was her choice to remain close until we once again embraced each other and laughed with abandon.  I was humbled and gratified when she said that I shouldn't presume that our work was finished because she no longer walked the earth.  She said that we yet had spiritual work to do and that our love was real and constant.

These are my experiences which can be denied or refuted.  But they are my truth.  Just as she is my light.  As we approach Mother's Day, I honor the dignity, love and gratitude that characterized her last years.  I honor the mother goddess energy that resides in each of us whether we have nurtured babies in our wombs or our hearts. I am humbled by the divine and universal mother energy.  Some call her Virgin Mary, Guru Amma, the Indian "hugging saint", some call her mother earth.  I call her blessed and call out Hail Mary (my mother's name) in the middle of the night, certain that she can hear me with an acuity that surpasses human hearing.  I know that she can sense me with a precision that surpasses human touch.  I know that she can love me with a purity that transcends earthly imperfections.

So join me in saying Hail Mother to all of the mother's we've had whether friend, teacher, lover, pet, or God.  Someone has nurtured us at one time or another or we would surely have died.

Blessed be every mother on this Mother's Day.

Beltaine's Revenge - Fight to the Death

Beltaine's fire rose deeply into the sky and seemed to engulf the stars and all within it's hot grasp.  I hadn't seen Cairn for three days and was not sure if I would see him again.  He would face StormRider this evening and either defeat him or leave Morgana and myself prey to his twisted Vampire's revenge.

It was on this evening centuries ago that Storm rampaged through the Celtic town on the night of the feast, intent upon destroying the pagan ritual and slaughtering all in his path, specifically, but not limited to Cairn.

I shuddered at the hour that they lit the fire.  Cairn had sealed me in our cottage with magical fires that could not be crossed by another supernatural such as Storm.  Even though my safety was assured, I longed to hold Cairn within the fiery circle and keep him safe with me until the killing night had passed.  I cradled a tapestry pillow from the fern green couch and cried to my mother that I missed her and wanted her advice and comfort.  I prayed to God to protect Cairn, a supernatural.  The worn hand woven rug was almost tattered due to my pacing.

I sat to calm myself and practice Reiki.  Cairn needed the loving healing light now.  It was all that I could do.

"Please God protect him.  He is one of yours, half man - half angel.  He is working his way back to you,  please preserve him for my sake and your greater glory."

Then I slipped into a trance and saw visions that assaulted then reassured me.  I saw Storm's enormous body cast a shadow over Beltaine's fire, but then just as quickly, it was blotted out.
He could not approach the light, but I knew that Cairn would come to face him.  I saw Cairn move stealthily from within the shadows and launch himself onto Storm's back.  Cairn tore at his own flesh and held his bleeding arm to Storm's mouth, twisted in a grimace.  I understood that Cairn's blood was poison for Storm and that Cairn struck a fierce initial blow that would tax Storm's enormous strength.

Storm spat the blood into the sand and staggered as he reeled, pivoted and caught Cairn at his knee.  Cairn lost his balance and fell to the ground when Storm rode him like an unruly bull and sought to tear his flesh with his fangs. Blood flowed in patterns, swirling, spilling, the vision ended and I was in agony.

I will Live Again - Through Love - In Spirit - In Joy

Today millions celebrated the death and resurrection of a man.  An extraordinary man.  Some call him God.  Others pray to him.  Still some deny that he ever existed or walked the dusty streets in the turbulent Middle East.

Nonetheless many would agree that he was more than human, more than compassionate, more than we can aspire to in our human forms.  Can we still hold ourselves aloof in the face of such passionate devotion to a man who is said to have risen from his grave to walk the earth and once again embrace those whom he loved?  What if it is possible?  For a moment, imagine the joy and relief that most of us would experience.

What of Elizabeth Kubler Ross's husband, Manny, a non believer in life after death.  After frustrating arguments about her certainty that life continues after our mortal death, and many years after their divorce, Manny died.  But they had agreed that there would be roses on the first snowfall after his death.  His concession was spoken as such:

"Okay, if what your mother says it true, then the first snowfall after I die, there'll be red roses blooming in the snow."


What do you think framed Manny's white snow-laden gravesite?  Red roses.  Neither Elizabeth nor her daughter, nor any of the mourners bought the roses.  They rose like red hope from the wintery blanket.  It was Manny's confirmation.

To those who don't believe no explanation is possible.  To those who do believe, no explanation is necessary.

So it was with Cairn and I.  We'd come from different countries to connect across the world.  He was a Vampayre who had lived five-hundred years, and I a mortal 42 year-old woman.  We connected through the medium of love in which I no longer believed.  But there it was.

I'd had several messages from my mother since her death.  Even though I missed her terribly, I knew that she was with me still.  Several healer friends confirmed the messages that she has been sending to me, by describing the same images and words that I'd received.

We are all pretty confident in what we don't believe is possible.  But have you ever paused, fully present in a moment, and asked yourself, what if?

Sing me Songs of Love and Strew Palms Before Me -

The palm that I wove today symbolized transformation, survival, celebration, humility and victory.  I had left my mother's beloved earthly vessel resting atop my father's in a grave site in Staten Island, New York.  But I understood, as I understood the message of Palm Sunday, that triumph craddles tragedy and vice versa.

I had been a channel to aid my mother's transition even though I wept with Cairn in a village church in Dublin. My small family's transformative journey began four years ago on Palm Sunday as we sang hymns and danced on the eve of my step father's entering a nursing home. Our lives were about to change in ways that we could not imagine.  But we understood that hope, strength and faith would lighten our paths on those dark days when the sun could not penetrate the darkness or illumine the new terrian that we, like everyone else, were forced to travel.

My step dad, Bob's voice, rang the loudest, even though his life was about to irrevocably change. We locked hands in loving devotion and committed to facing the future with courage and integrity, as Cairn and I were committed to facing StormRider now.

The palms that were strewn before Christ as he entered Jerusalem on an ass, represented the  revolution and renaissance that people had hoped he would usher in.  But it was a different revolution that he fought.  And I realized that my family and I had also fought a different battle. One where winning was dubious for the outcome was certain death.  We fought for our love even as we knew that the earthly trappings and underpinnings were about to fall away.  So we praised what had been and we prayed for the understanding to hold that love in the center of our hearts even though our days together were rapidly expiring.

Perhaps I would give a fortune had I had one to return to that day four years ago - to once again clasp the hands of those that I love.  But I know that it was a battle well fought and that metaphorically we are clasping hands still.

Will I have the courage to face a deadly outcome with Cairn?  Could I say good-bye if StormRider has the magic and the power to destroy him?  But I won't entertain that for I know that we have a powerful weapon in love.  Storm will try to destroy us through fear.  But I have learned how to diminish that particular demon.  And we will face him together.

Love and Spiritual Transitioning

The time had come.  I had to go home, even though my heart and future, I'd hoped, were with Cairn.  My heart was also with my mother and she was transitioning.  I would not allow her to take that unknown journey alone.  So I embarked on the last journey that I would take to a heart that had been my home.  Cairn wanted to come with me, and even if he could, it was between myself and my precious mother.  I did not want the distraction.  All of my attention and focus would be trained on her.  That was the way that it had to be, for me, and for her.

"I can't be here and protect you completely from Storm."
"I know, but I can't protect myself from the regrets and pain that I'll feel if I'm not with her now."
"Understand that I can surround you with love and place you in a shield of protection, if you will. The less enlightened entities can't tolerate love and light." He said as he touched his fingertips to my neck as would a concert pianist caressing his instrument.
"But I am filled with love, for her, for the life that we shared as mother and daughter.  That will protect me." And then, in response to the emerald ache in his eyes, "I have to do this if I am to live with myself."
"And that is one of the reasons why I love you as I do."

Cairn understood that I could not be dissuaded and I understood that I was placing myself in danger.  But love is dangerous business and often takes us where we'd rather not go.  So we parted at the at Dublin airport with the knowledge that my all too mortal life might also be ending.

"Go with the power of love." Cairn said gently.  A part of me longed to linger and to hold him within myself again spiritually and physically.  But he was already deeply embedded in my being and a part of myself had become his, so I knew that we could never truly be separated, not really.

I raced into my mother's room at the hospice filled with the desire to see her luminous eyes alight with blue intelligence and humor. But they remained closed and she breathed laboriously floating in realms that I could only imagine but not yet visit.  I held her well known hand and spoke to her of going home.

"I'm fine," I assured her through the tears that clogged my throat and obscured my vision.
"Go see the heather in Scotland.  Slip into God's arms and let Him carry you home."

I read poetry.  I went to the bathroom to vent my anguish so that my selfish grief would not disturb the relentless trajectory of her journey.  I talked of her compassion and love.  Her service and sacrifice in the maternal role and of how I cherished the love for spirituality, the arts, poetry, beauty, that she imparted.  After all, she was an angel who was too delicate for this earthly comedy.  Her wings had been singed by her passage here but now it was time to go home.  I saw her radiant, youthful beauty in my mind's eye and held that image, that reality for her.

Honestly I wept for what hadn't been and for what could never be as much as I wept for what we'd shared.  I mourned our imperfect personalities that were often not in sync and I was humbled by the loyalty and love that painstakingly built a bond that would transcend time and separation.  I longed to hear her voice once more but the time for that had also passed.  I'd wished that I'd videotaped her, as i'd often promised myself that I would do.  But the tomorrows that we always feel are assured had been spent. So I did what was left for me to do, I loved her and spoke gently of my gratitude and love.  I waited.