I was feeling agitated yesterday that I’ve had to go through all of this, losing my son, losing my only child, losing the opportunity to see him further flourish in life, and dealing with the grief and all the emotions and energy that come with all of it (with a sprained ankle thrown on top of the pile). I was tired, after working so hard to prepare for some major projects and travel; I haven’t been sleeping well, I’ve been missing Jason over the holiday break, and I was feeling very sensitive. I was complaining that I want my full energy back, I want to “move on”, and I still hurt sometimes.
It didn’t feel good to be agitated.
I reminded myself of all of the messages I’ve received and all of the affirmations I’ve used.
That felt much better.
I reminded myself that I can decide how I want to experience my reality. I let myself feel the agitation and watch it dissolve. I decided collecting affirmations for my grieving journey into one place might assist me. Here they are for now:
*I accept Jason’s death; it was his soul’s choice on his soul’s path. The higher plan may not be completely known to me, and I trust in his evolution and in what he is offering from the other side. I celebrate Jason’s life and spirit.
*I accept my soul path, and I am grateful for all I have received and trust in my evolution going forward. I celebrate my life and spirit.
*I see myself and others as spirit, as divine essence; the spirit is everlasting, as is the love and what we learn from each other.
*I am confident in my awareness and my abilities to release the old and create and allow the new.
*I know how to take care of myself. I work on maintaining balance and I tune in to what I need, ask for it, and trust I will get it. I attract the right support at the right time.
*I connect with Jason on the other side and know his energy is always with me.
*I connect with the oneness of everyone and everything; I am never alone.
*I ride the waves of grief with ease and calm, knowing I am healing, and trusting in the process. I believe that grief is a reminder of the deep love and connection Jason and I share.
*I experience every challenge in life as an opportunity to evolve and gain even more happiness. Every loss brings gifts. This is confirmed in retrospect.
*I connect with the other side, with the Divine, with Spirit, with my guides, in many ways, at any time. Love and gratitude bring me there easily.
*I am Being in the beauty of each moment.
Happy Loving New Year,
Michelle
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Message 34 - Be an Avatar
Jason is an Avatar; he knew how to travel to other worlds in life, and he is travelling to this world from the other side. I am an Avatar, and I am travelling to Jason’s world when I connect with him, and other “worlds” of realities I choose to create.
Jason believes we can all be Avatars.
There is no coincidence that the movie Avatar came out after Jason’s passing and as I am preparing to take an advanced Avatar course. The Avatar movie and the Avatar training are unrelated and yet they are so much the same. The movie carries profound messages about realities and how we connect with our physical world, how we expand our consciousness, how we connect with the spiritual realms (and the universal God), and how we can create what we choose. It confirms my hope in the future of our earth when I see movies like this appeal to the mainstream. The Avatar training (www.avatarepc.com) Kule and I did last year prepared me to deal with Jason’s passing, and to understand more about the unseen energies we connect with.
I enjoyed the creativity and special effects of the movie tremendously and the story touched me deeply in many ways. I was also sad at the end, wishing Jason could have seen this movie, he would have loved it. Then I realized – he is the movie. He could have made this movie, it is that level of artistry he always appreciated, and the messages he always believed in.
Connecting with a loved on the other side is training to be an Avatar. Jason is helping me to understand how this works and to teach it.
We choose our reality by choosing which “world” we want to be in. There are so many possibilities. When we believe that we have only what we have in this current field of awareness, then we are limiting ourselves. Our energetic capacity goes way beyond our physical limitations. Those of us who have studied the healing arts know and feel this, and some can see the auric fields. Thoughts are energy. What we believe creates our current experience, our “reality”, what feels real to us.
Yesterday as I was driving at night I entered a dark mysterious forest. I could feel Jason’s presence. He always loved driving; it was a way to move through different worlds in this reality. If he had been there we would have made up some horror movie scene where some wild thing came out of the darkness and approached our car, as we narrowly escaped in laughter. As I moved through this holodeck of possibilities, it felt I was driving through Jason’s energy field. It was a new way of connecting with him, driving through consciousness. I’m guessing he was showing me how he experienced his reality while we were driving. Jason’s creative mind was always alert and creating new realities.
When I completed my first course in Avatar in July 2008, I called Jason in tears telling him this was perhaps the most profound experience in my life. I wanted him to take the course, too. He at first was open to this, and then resisted, as he entered a challenging year of illness and a new level of independence. I was sad at first that he would not benefit from this training; he could perhaps help his body heal. It gradually got very clear to me that Jason was already an Avatar, so I didn’t push him to take the course. He already knew how to create what he wanted with his art, his music, his social life, his home life. He didn’t buy into limitations like many of us do. At some level he couldn’t comprehend how that even happened, but he listened compassionately to his friends who were suffering with their limitations, and they in turn felt released with Jason’s presence and sense of freedom.
Jason’s confident smile always gave me that sense of freedom, of soaring to other worlds of possibilities and creating what he wanted. Every time I look at his picture I get that same feeling, and I know he is there. I can be wherever I want to be, and I can create what I want.
Jason –
I see you.
P.S. Go see the movie. The digital 3D version is great, and I hear the Imax 3D effects add physical vibrations that make for a more intense experience.
Jason believes we can all be Avatars.
There is no coincidence that the movie Avatar came out after Jason’s passing and as I am preparing to take an advanced Avatar course. The Avatar movie and the Avatar training are unrelated and yet they are so much the same. The movie carries profound messages about realities and how we connect with our physical world, how we expand our consciousness, how we connect with the spiritual realms (and the universal God), and how we can create what we choose. It confirms my hope in the future of our earth when I see movies like this appeal to the mainstream. The Avatar training (www.avatarepc.com) Kule and I did last year prepared me to deal with Jason’s passing, and to understand more about the unseen energies we connect with.
I enjoyed the creativity and special effects of the movie tremendously and the story touched me deeply in many ways. I was also sad at the end, wishing Jason could have seen this movie, he would have loved it. Then I realized – he is the movie. He could have made this movie, it is that level of artistry he always appreciated, and the messages he always believed in.
Connecting with a loved on the other side is training to be an Avatar. Jason is helping me to understand how this works and to teach it.
We choose our reality by choosing which “world” we want to be in. There are so many possibilities. When we believe that we have only what we have in this current field of awareness, then we are limiting ourselves. Our energetic capacity goes way beyond our physical limitations. Those of us who have studied the healing arts know and feel this, and some can see the auric fields. Thoughts are energy. What we believe creates our current experience, our “reality”, what feels real to us.
Yesterday as I was driving at night I entered a dark mysterious forest. I could feel Jason’s presence. He always loved driving; it was a way to move through different worlds in this reality. If he had been there we would have made up some horror movie scene where some wild thing came out of the darkness and approached our car, as we narrowly escaped in laughter. As I moved through this holodeck of possibilities, it felt I was driving through Jason’s energy field. It was a new way of connecting with him, driving through consciousness. I’m guessing he was showing me how he experienced his reality while we were driving. Jason’s creative mind was always alert and creating new realities.
When I completed my first course in Avatar in July 2008, I called Jason in tears telling him this was perhaps the most profound experience in my life. I wanted him to take the course, too. He at first was open to this, and then resisted, as he entered a challenging year of illness and a new level of independence. I was sad at first that he would not benefit from this training; he could perhaps help his body heal. It gradually got very clear to me that Jason was already an Avatar, so I didn’t push him to take the course. He already knew how to create what he wanted with his art, his music, his social life, his home life. He didn’t buy into limitations like many of us do. At some level he couldn’t comprehend how that even happened, but he listened compassionately to his friends who were suffering with their limitations, and they in turn felt released with Jason’s presence and sense of freedom.
Jason’s confident smile always gave me that sense of freedom, of soaring to other worlds of possibilities and creating what he wanted. Every time I look at his picture I get that same feeling, and I know he is there. I can be wherever I want to be, and I can create what I want.
Jason –
I see you.
P.S. Go see the movie. The digital 3D version is great, and I hear the Imax 3D effects add physical vibrations that make for a more intense experience.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Soul Contract
Jason and I made a soul contract before we both came in to this world. In Soul Story I wrote about Jason’s contract with himself, but I wasn’t focusing about my own at the time.
I’ve written about this in several writings – about how I’ve learned so much from Jason in life and in his passing. How I appreciate so much having had him in my life, even if it were just to be 17 years. I’ve written about our long soul history together, our past lives.
It’s helped to confirm this soul agreement. This belief got further confirmed reading a book that Marie-Anne recommended – Your Soul’s Plan – Discovering the Real Meaning of the Life You Planned Before You Were Born, by Robert Schwartz. When she told me she couldn’t put the book down I figured I had to get it. One chapter is about a mother who lost a fiancé and then her 19 year old son. The story about the son of course resonated with me. Interviews with mediums and psychics brought to surface the story of their soul agreement together, and how she learned compassion from having two big losses in her life. Her son also had a soul contract with the drug dealer who gave him the drugs that caused his death. Jason had a soul contract with the driver of the car; his love for her confirms this.
I didn’t need to hire a medium to get the big pieces of my story with Jason, I’ve been fortunate to get it direct from him. There may be more pieces, and I’m content to get the information at the right time. Unlike the mother in the book, I didn’t need to learn about compassion in a big way from Jason’s death; I think I already had that one down in this lifetime, I learned a huge amount being Jason’s mother in life. What I did learn in a big way is Being (see http://jasonmichellefoster.blogspot.com/2009/11/message-30-being-10109.html ).
I also learned that we have a partnership that is everlasting, and that has evolved in each lifetime.
Jason and I made an agreement to be spiritual teachers together. We were doing it when he was alive – we were stealthily teaching each other to be healers in ways that we could each relate to and share with others. Jason was a healer in his own way, and targeted his peer age group and those who would resonate with his nonverbal messages through his mystical art and music, in the ways he brought us each to moments of magic and love. I was already identified as a healer, but my role as a spiritual teacher was not clear to me until Jason passed. In his passing, I have come to understand more fully the continuity of the soul’s spirit, and how we are always connected, in life and in death. It is becoming clear that I will be sharing these understandings more and more with others, who will benefit from what I have gained in my soul partnership with Jason.
As I am writing this, I am feeling so incredibly honored to have been chosen by Jason’s wise soul to do this work with him. At the same time, I am getting some glimpses of the human-limited thoughts, such as “How can I possibly do this justice?” Jason died so we could do this work more fully, and I feel some pressure; I want to honor Jason fully. Luckily, I also feel the patience Jason passed on to me when he passed. (BTW, that’s why they call it a “passing” – so much does pass from the spirit to others – I wrote about this in writing Tsunami). I know I have acknowledged this gift often, since patience has (and still is) not my strength, but it’s a heck of a lot “better” now.
Often when I think of Jason I feel him merged with me. He is not separate. This is the unity consciousness I have always strived to be in, and he did it with ease.
So – duh (as Jason and I would say) I would not see him as a separate being, because he is not. We are also a partnership, and he can do some of his work through me. I guess that’s my new “mother” role. It used to be that I was teaching him to be independent. Well, that’s truly manifested at some level, but now that he doesn’t have a body (an earth-plane medium in which to connect with others on their plane), he is depending on me for that. He is also ready to work through others who connect with him through the belief we are not separate – his father, and many relatives and friends.
I got the message from Jason the night before the ceremony (Message 4 – Lighten Up) to share with those at the ceremony that Jason is embedded in my heart, and if you hug me (or anyone else who believes that Jason is embedded in their heart) then they can feel Jason’s hug. Jason was talking through me at the ceremony – how else could a grieving mother deliver a confident and humorous 10-minute speech? He was there so clearly, hugging the hour-long line of well-wishers at the reception, many of them young friends of Jason who wanted to feel that hug. He was there drumming with us. He was smiling with me, feeling the incredible love that soared from the great transformed sadness.
This is why people die. It’s not a loss, it’s just a passage. We come to this temporary world from another world that is our true home. We come to learn, to grow, and to share. We often wonder what our purpose in life is. I think that’s a healthy curiousity, but the trick is not to be attached to having to know everything, or we can suffer from disappoint or expectations.
I like wonderful surprises. Before Jason was born I didn’t want to know the sex of my baby. My acupuncturist was convinced it was a girl from the pulse, but I sensed it was a boy – one who had great feminine as well as masculine energy. I was right. There was a lot more that I didn’t know…
Life is full of surprises, some not so nice. However, if we truly believe that each challenge in life is there to teach us something on a much larger scale, then we receive the gifts. I know I am being showered with gifts, and that will continue. I miss Jason enormously on the physical plane, and that is very painful. I also understand that I have chosen this path at a soul level, and I am reminded of how rich my relationship with Jason is on the spirit level. If I over-focus on the loss at the physical level, I temporarily lose sight of our abundant connection at the spirit level. When I am connected on the spirit level, which is easy for me to do, having been so connected with the Divine for a very long time, then I am at home, in peace. I feel that every time I look at Jason’s photo. He reminds me of that peace, and it takes me over and calms me during my painful grieving moments. He is here. He is doing great healing work from the other side.
I believe that the death of a loved one creates a clear channel for connection to the other world, to the world of spirit that is there with us all the time but it is not in our awareness. I believe anyone can increase their connection to the world of spirit through the love of their dear departed. I believe Jason and I can assist others with this. We already are.
So many have asked me “How are you getting through this?”, it can be such a devastating experience. I reply that I am so grateful for my spiritual beliefs, that I have always been connected to the Divine (God, the Great Spirit – this has so many names), and Jason and I connected strongly with each others’ spirit when he was alive. When he dropped his body the connection was already there. Being able to communicate with him this way, in a way that I was already used to, has been such a gift. I know he is here and he will always be here for me. His first message to me the night he died was that he is not limited by his body, and he can do so much more. Our spirit is infinite, and timeless. If we do move on to another life, our spirit can still be available to anyone. This is a belief that is confirmed for myself, and I am fascinated by this.
Imagine how less limited we can all be in life if we know that we have this limitless spirit?
I was pleased to hear a sermon at an Episcopal church (the same church where we had Jason’s ceremony) Christmas eve talk about the two worlds. He talked about how in the movie Avatar a man is able to extend his consciousness into another world, a metaphor for how we can all connect with the other world of spirit, of God. He spoke about how we aren’t aware of the richness of the other world, when we are in this one, and he eloquently reminded us of this. I’m curious to have a metaphysics conversation with this man of the cloth. It’s clear he wants others to get what he gets. It was a joy to experience his sharing.
We are all connected. When we all know this there will be world peace.
I feel like I’m getting that world peace within myself. I’m at peace with being in this world, and knowing the other world is there for me right now. I don’t have to wait to die to get there. We already have Heaven on Earth (crediting Maharishi). The earth plane serves a purpose in our spiritual evolution - the raising of personal and collective consciousness.
Jason was with me on this earth plane for a relatively short time (by human standards), but he has been with me and will be with me for eternity on that higher plane, the one that really counts for me!
Love,
Michelle and Jason
I’ve written about this in several writings – about how I’ve learned so much from Jason in life and in his passing. How I appreciate so much having had him in my life, even if it were just to be 17 years. I’ve written about our long soul history together, our past lives.
It’s helped to confirm this soul agreement. This belief got further confirmed reading a book that Marie-Anne recommended – Your Soul’s Plan – Discovering the Real Meaning of the Life You Planned Before You Were Born, by Robert Schwartz. When she told me she couldn’t put the book down I figured I had to get it. One chapter is about a mother who lost a fiancé and then her 19 year old son. The story about the son of course resonated with me. Interviews with mediums and psychics brought to surface the story of their soul agreement together, and how she learned compassion from having two big losses in her life. Her son also had a soul contract with the drug dealer who gave him the drugs that caused his death. Jason had a soul contract with the driver of the car; his love for her confirms this.
I didn’t need to hire a medium to get the big pieces of my story with Jason, I’ve been fortunate to get it direct from him. There may be more pieces, and I’m content to get the information at the right time. Unlike the mother in the book, I didn’t need to learn about compassion in a big way from Jason’s death; I think I already had that one down in this lifetime, I learned a huge amount being Jason’s mother in life. What I did learn in a big way is Being (see http://jasonmichellefoster.blogspot.com/2009/11/message-30-being-10109.html ).
I also learned that we have a partnership that is everlasting, and that has evolved in each lifetime.
Jason and I made an agreement to be spiritual teachers together. We were doing it when he was alive – we were stealthily teaching each other to be healers in ways that we could each relate to and share with others. Jason was a healer in his own way, and targeted his peer age group and those who would resonate with his nonverbal messages through his mystical art and music, in the ways he brought us each to moments of magic and love. I was already identified as a healer, but my role as a spiritual teacher was not clear to me until Jason passed. In his passing, I have come to understand more fully the continuity of the soul’s spirit, and how we are always connected, in life and in death. It is becoming clear that I will be sharing these understandings more and more with others, who will benefit from what I have gained in my soul partnership with Jason.
As I am writing this, I am feeling so incredibly honored to have been chosen by Jason’s wise soul to do this work with him. At the same time, I am getting some glimpses of the human-limited thoughts, such as “How can I possibly do this justice?” Jason died so we could do this work more fully, and I feel some pressure; I want to honor Jason fully. Luckily, I also feel the patience Jason passed on to me when he passed. (BTW, that’s why they call it a “passing” – so much does pass from the spirit to others – I wrote about this in writing Tsunami). I know I have acknowledged this gift often, since patience has (and still is) not my strength, but it’s a heck of a lot “better” now.
Often when I think of Jason I feel him merged with me. He is not separate. This is the unity consciousness I have always strived to be in, and he did it with ease.
So – duh (as Jason and I would say) I would not see him as a separate being, because he is not. We are also a partnership, and he can do some of his work through me. I guess that’s my new “mother” role. It used to be that I was teaching him to be independent. Well, that’s truly manifested at some level, but now that he doesn’t have a body (an earth-plane medium in which to connect with others on their plane), he is depending on me for that. He is also ready to work through others who connect with him through the belief we are not separate – his father, and many relatives and friends.
I got the message from Jason the night before the ceremony (Message 4 – Lighten Up) to share with those at the ceremony that Jason is embedded in my heart, and if you hug me (or anyone else who believes that Jason is embedded in their heart) then they can feel Jason’s hug. Jason was talking through me at the ceremony – how else could a grieving mother deliver a confident and humorous 10-minute speech? He was there so clearly, hugging the hour-long line of well-wishers at the reception, many of them young friends of Jason who wanted to feel that hug. He was there drumming with us. He was smiling with me, feeling the incredible love that soared from the great transformed sadness.
This is why people die. It’s not a loss, it’s just a passage. We come to this temporary world from another world that is our true home. We come to learn, to grow, and to share. We often wonder what our purpose in life is. I think that’s a healthy curiousity, but the trick is not to be attached to having to know everything, or we can suffer from disappoint or expectations.
I like wonderful surprises. Before Jason was born I didn’t want to know the sex of my baby. My acupuncturist was convinced it was a girl from the pulse, but I sensed it was a boy – one who had great feminine as well as masculine energy. I was right. There was a lot more that I didn’t know…
Life is full of surprises, some not so nice. However, if we truly believe that each challenge in life is there to teach us something on a much larger scale, then we receive the gifts. I know I am being showered with gifts, and that will continue. I miss Jason enormously on the physical plane, and that is very painful. I also understand that I have chosen this path at a soul level, and I am reminded of how rich my relationship with Jason is on the spirit level. If I over-focus on the loss at the physical level, I temporarily lose sight of our abundant connection at the spirit level. When I am connected on the spirit level, which is easy for me to do, having been so connected with the Divine for a very long time, then I am at home, in peace. I feel that every time I look at Jason’s photo. He reminds me of that peace, and it takes me over and calms me during my painful grieving moments. He is here. He is doing great healing work from the other side.
I believe that the death of a loved one creates a clear channel for connection to the other world, to the world of spirit that is there with us all the time but it is not in our awareness. I believe anyone can increase their connection to the world of spirit through the love of their dear departed. I believe Jason and I can assist others with this. We already are.
So many have asked me “How are you getting through this?”, it can be such a devastating experience. I reply that I am so grateful for my spiritual beliefs, that I have always been connected to the Divine (God, the Great Spirit – this has so many names), and Jason and I connected strongly with each others’ spirit when he was alive. When he dropped his body the connection was already there. Being able to communicate with him this way, in a way that I was already used to, has been such a gift. I know he is here and he will always be here for me. His first message to me the night he died was that he is not limited by his body, and he can do so much more. Our spirit is infinite, and timeless. If we do move on to another life, our spirit can still be available to anyone. This is a belief that is confirmed for myself, and I am fascinated by this.
Imagine how less limited we can all be in life if we know that we have this limitless spirit?
I was pleased to hear a sermon at an Episcopal church (the same church where we had Jason’s ceremony) Christmas eve talk about the two worlds. He talked about how in the movie Avatar a man is able to extend his consciousness into another world, a metaphor for how we can all connect with the other world of spirit, of God. He spoke about how we aren’t aware of the richness of the other world, when we are in this one, and he eloquently reminded us of this. I’m curious to have a metaphysics conversation with this man of the cloth. It’s clear he wants others to get what he gets. It was a joy to experience his sharing.
We are all connected. When we all know this there will be world peace.
I feel like I’m getting that world peace within myself. I’m at peace with being in this world, and knowing the other world is there for me right now. I don’t have to wait to die to get there. We already have Heaven on Earth (crediting Maharishi). The earth plane serves a purpose in our spiritual evolution - the raising of personal and collective consciousness.
Jason was with me on this earth plane for a relatively short time (by human standards), but he has been with me and will be with me for eternity on that higher plane, the one that really counts for me!
Love,
Michelle and Jason
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Losing a Child
Losing a child is unimaginable. I still can’t imagine it. I’m just living it.
Losing a child devastates parents. It’s not right; children shouldn’t die before their parents. Children should have a chance to grow up and live a full life. So many shoulds….I’ve worked hard to process them to lessen the pain of loss, but they still come up in waves of grief, and I ride them and continue to process.
Losing a child is an experience than can only be truly understood by parents who have lost a child. It’s a club. It feels good to know there are others who will always understand when the pain arises. We’re called “bereaved parents”; my friend Henry who lost his son wants to see a new name coined just for us, like there are names for “widow” or “widower” or “orphan”. No one wants to give it a name because it is unthinkable.
It’s lonely losing a child. I’m grateful that my support has far outweighed anything I’ll mention in this paragraph. I know there are many who didn’t contact me because they didn’t know what to say, or because their fear of losing their own children was triggered. It’s not a disease, and it’s not contagious. (I remember some people avoided me when I was going through a divorce and a miscarriage, too. They weren’t contagious, either!) There are also some who see me or talk to me on the phone and don’t ask how I am doing. I usually don’t mind (because of all the support I do get), but it is very curious to me why anyone wouldn’t understand that this kind of loss is a pain that is felt daily for a long time, and it feels good to be asked how I’m doing. If I have to, I can share a quick cry and then move on to enjoy life; acknowledging the pain does wonders. I’m manifesting just the right amount of people who check in with me at just the right times when I need it. Most of the time I’m just fine, and I’m grateful for the once-in-a-while check-in.
As much as I’d like to create a painless future, I’m convinced that the pain of losing Jason will never go away. It will diminish and it will transform, and it will always remind me of what an awesome person he was in my life, how much love we shared, and how much I enjoyed being a mother. I do miss that. I really miss that. I still identify with being a mother. In fact, I asked Jason today if I could still be his mother and he said “of course, mom, you’ll always be my mother, you were an awesome mom.” That’s so true – why would I ever doubt that?
I miss holding him. Jason will always be my baby. He was my baby when he was going through his “give me space” teen phase, but I wasn’t attached to cuddling him like when he was younger. I just imagined it. I still do. He sure liked my massages at any age (except as a baby – he was too ticklish and he cried), and I miss giving them. I liked taking care of Jason on the physical plane. I admit it wasn’t always fun, but I treasured my role. I also enjoyed helping him learn how to take care of himself; he was growing up so fast, and I was so blessed to have such a mature young adult.
I don’t plan on being attached to seeing Jason grow up, wondering what he would have been doing at each stage of life. But I probably will wonder. It’s a curiosity, one that I hope won’t bring up an unhealthy level of pain – that’s something I believe I can manage.
I see kids his age or a bit older and wish I could still see Jason coming home from school, or hear his voice on the phone from college. This holiday season wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, but I have been triggered when parents talk about their kids coming home for the holidays, or planning their family holiday vacation. I won’t have that experience with Jason coming home from college, or from some new travel adventure. I’ll never experience his physical presence again, but I’m blessed to have his presence with me always, in other ways. And I really do celebrate other parents being able to enjoy being with their children; I know how special that is.
I’ve been intrigued by all the stories I’ve heard of parents who have lost a child, and the years of grieving they experienced. I’m not devastated, as many people predicted – “Oh, you will be devastated, you will be grieving for a very very long time.” The latter will probably be true. However, I’m finding I’m enjoying life at a steadier state with intermittent waves of grief that dissipate more and more quickly, and come less and less frequently. Some of them are big, like the one I had yesterday when I cashed in Jason’s college account. Wow! That hit me like a ton of bricks. I worked hard to save that money, envisioning supporting his dream to be a successful artist and musician. Well, that money is for my life college now. Jason moved on to a different college that doesn’t take earth currency, and I’m guessing he’s still getting A’s; he was always proud of his achievements, on whatever plane of existence.
Losing a child is not like any other loss. No loss should ever be compared to any other loss, but I can confidently say that losing a child is a unique kind of loss. I’ve heard several accounts of people who have lost a sibling, and they refer to the pain of their parents that was so much greater than their own. I’ve done deep grieving when I lost close friends and relatives, but that didn’t come close to even a very small fraction of the grief I have felt losing Jason.
Losing a child sucks. I met someone at a funeral gathering last weekend and mentioned I had just lost my son. She said with great compassion “wow, that really sucks.” I felt so much appreciation for that statement, as crass as it sounded. It’s so true. I’ll never pretend it isn’t.
I was going to end on that note, but I do love life, so I’ll end on this note. It’s a B flat, sing along! Love is all there is….
Losing a child devastates parents. It’s not right; children shouldn’t die before their parents. Children should have a chance to grow up and live a full life. So many shoulds….I’ve worked hard to process them to lessen the pain of loss, but they still come up in waves of grief, and I ride them and continue to process.
Losing a child is an experience than can only be truly understood by parents who have lost a child. It’s a club. It feels good to know there are others who will always understand when the pain arises. We’re called “bereaved parents”; my friend Henry who lost his son wants to see a new name coined just for us, like there are names for “widow” or “widower” or “orphan”. No one wants to give it a name because it is unthinkable.
It’s lonely losing a child. I’m grateful that my support has far outweighed anything I’ll mention in this paragraph. I know there are many who didn’t contact me because they didn’t know what to say, or because their fear of losing their own children was triggered. It’s not a disease, and it’s not contagious. (I remember some people avoided me when I was going through a divorce and a miscarriage, too. They weren’t contagious, either!) There are also some who see me or talk to me on the phone and don’t ask how I am doing. I usually don’t mind (because of all the support I do get), but it is very curious to me why anyone wouldn’t understand that this kind of loss is a pain that is felt daily for a long time, and it feels good to be asked how I’m doing. If I have to, I can share a quick cry and then move on to enjoy life; acknowledging the pain does wonders. I’m manifesting just the right amount of people who check in with me at just the right times when I need it. Most of the time I’m just fine, and I’m grateful for the once-in-a-while check-in.
As much as I’d like to create a painless future, I’m convinced that the pain of losing Jason will never go away. It will diminish and it will transform, and it will always remind me of what an awesome person he was in my life, how much love we shared, and how much I enjoyed being a mother. I do miss that. I really miss that. I still identify with being a mother. In fact, I asked Jason today if I could still be his mother and he said “of course, mom, you’ll always be my mother, you were an awesome mom.” That’s so true – why would I ever doubt that?
I miss holding him. Jason will always be my baby. He was my baby when he was going through his “give me space” teen phase, but I wasn’t attached to cuddling him like when he was younger. I just imagined it. I still do. He sure liked my massages at any age (except as a baby – he was too ticklish and he cried), and I miss giving them. I liked taking care of Jason on the physical plane. I admit it wasn’t always fun, but I treasured my role. I also enjoyed helping him learn how to take care of himself; he was growing up so fast, and I was so blessed to have such a mature young adult.
I don’t plan on being attached to seeing Jason grow up, wondering what he would have been doing at each stage of life. But I probably will wonder. It’s a curiosity, one that I hope won’t bring up an unhealthy level of pain – that’s something I believe I can manage.
I see kids his age or a bit older and wish I could still see Jason coming home from school, or hear his voice on the phone from college. This holiday season wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, but I have been triggered when parents talk about their kids coming home for the holidays, or planning their family holiday vacation. I won’t have that experience with Jason coming home from college, or from some new travel adventure. I’ll never experience his physical presence again, but I’m blessed to have his presence with me always, in other ways. And I really do celebrate other parents being able to enjoy being with their children; I know how special that is.
I’ve been intrigued by all the stories I’ve heard of parents who have lost a child, and the years of grieving they experienced. I’m not devastated, as many people predicted – “Oh, you will be devastated, you will be grieving for a very very long time.” The latter will probably be true. However, I’m finding I’m enjoying life at a steadier state with intermittent waves of grief that dissipate more and more quickly, and come less and less frequently. Some of them are big, like the one I had yesterday when I cashed in Jason’s college account. Wow! That hit me like a ton of bricks. I worked hard to save that money, envisioning supporting his dream to be a successful artist and musician. Well, that money is for my life college now. Jason moved on to a different college that doesn’t take earth currency, and I’m guessing he’s still getting A’s; he was always proud of his achievements, on whatever plane of existence.
Losing a child is not like any other loss. No loss should ever be compared to any other loss, but I can confidently say that losing a child is a unique kind of loss. I’ve heard several accounts of people who have lost a sibling, and they refer to the pain of their parents that was so much greater than their own. I’ve done deep grieving when I lost close friends and relatives, but that didn’t come close to even a very small fraction of the grief I have felt losing Jason.
Losing a child sucks. I met someone at a funeral gathering last weekend and mentioned I had just lost my son. She said with great compassion “wow, that really sucks.” I felt so much appreciation for that statement, as crass as it sounded. It’s so true. I’ll never pretend it isn’t.
I was going to end on that note, but I do love life, so I’ll end on this note. It’s a B flat, sing along! Love is all there is….
Friday, December 18, 2009
Humility and Power
Jason is a very powerful being, but I believe he was too humble when he was alive.
And I’m learning that all of us humans are often too humble.
Why don’t we celebrate our gifts more with others?
Yesterday I found about 20 songs on his ipod that I hadn’t heard before; a few were amazing. Why didn’t he show us these songs? He’s written about 60, but I processed some upset about not knowing about these 20 - guilt that I should have known about them, sadness that he may have thought that they weren’t good enough. Then I calmed down and realized many were older pieces he didn’t pursue, some were short cuts he was playing with, and several were recent ones with lyrics that perhaps were too private. He wrote many poems he didn’t share with us; he was very private. He used his creativity for self-healing, and I admire his ability to take care of himself. I got support in a co-counseling session last night, and I’m clear that this was Jason’s choice not to share this music, for whatever reasons, and that was fine with me. Many of his friends never even heard his music until I gave him them his music CD after he died.
Why didn’t he tell more people? In some ways Jason was just too friggin humble.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. Jason showed the world his photography on DeviantArt and he was on the favorites list of 100s of his fans, wanting to be notified of all of his postings. It was comfortable for him to do this on the internet because the feedback gave him confirmation of his talents, but he didn’t brag about his art in person, and he didn’t jump at doing art shows. I helped him with a couple early on, but in the past couple of years he didn’t want to do the work to put on an art show; he just wanted to make the art, and boy, did he! He showed his parents and close friends what he was working on, and I often knew when the latest creation was ready for viewing or listening when I heard a delighted exclamation from his studio.
It was perhaps his success on DeviantArt that got him thinking about pursuing photography, and not go to college for music. Last fall I encouraged him to put together a demo CD to take to college interviews. I set up a portfolio review session, and he at first was excited and then resisted going, after we had to cancel the initial visit due to his illness. Being sick last year slowed him down and got him depressed. Perhaps he was getting some unconscious premonition of his near-end, because he didn’t even want to talk about college. Finally, in July when he was feeling well, it was such a joy to see him happily showing the college admissions person in San Francisco his photography on the internet, a week before he passed.
Jason was very confident about his art and saw himself as a gifted artist. He was proud of his achievements; he even kept neat notebooks of all his report cards with mostly A’s, but he never celebrated this except with his parents. He didn’t show off enough, in my mind. What held him back?
Jason had high standards; he had an acute critical eye for music and art. He had mentioned once or twice to me and his father Chuck that he didn’t think his music was that great. I couldn’t believe it, but I could understand he might jump to this conclusion because no one bought his first CD. His music was a bit out there, the “left field” genre. He was a pioneer, and much of his music didn’t appeal to the mainstream. He did brilliant sound and music experimentation, much of it perfect for sound healing and journeying. I wish I had gotten his stuff out to the right music experts early on, and I have some regret about that. I planned to have him do it in college. I plan to do this, at the right time; it’s too much for me right now in my grieving process. I believe his music has financial value, so we will make sure to protect copyright.
If Jason didn’t fully get it when he was alive, then in his current ego-less state I trust he knows how good his work is.
Maybe when he was alive he was afraid that if he was too powerful he would scare people away. Where did he get that from? From me? I was a lot like Jason when I was young. It took me well into my 40s to be able to show my gifts without fear of being judged or fear of losing friends. I find that I inspire others to show their gifts, and that creates intimacy. Jason knew how to empower others; that was another of his gifts, and he had an abundance of friends and people who loved him all over the world on the internet.
When we share our gifts with self-love and love for others we empower others to share their gifts and feel powerful, too.
What other talents do I want to share with others before I leave this plane? I just made a CD of music that I’ve recorded with my voice and viola, and that feels good. I have many compositions that I haven’t shared yet, on a recording studio that I haven’t figured out how to master songs from. I have a blog of writings of Jason’s messages and my grieving journey, and that feels good. I’ll keep on writing. I won’t be too humble when I market my expert consulting and training services in the corporate world. I share my gifts of teaching spirituality and community building with Kule, and we will continue to do retreats and explore building an intentional community. We’ve been doing Avatar manifesting practices and reading “One Year to Live” by Steven Levine, to clear old stuff and practice living each moment as if that is all there is.
Life can be too short; Jason proved that. “I’ll do it someday” doesn’t work for me anymore, but at the same time I have been given the gift of patience from Jason. All I know is that when I feel called to be in my power and use my gifts, I listen and follow my heart. It knows what to do.
Humility is wonderful, when we are also in our power.
Jason, you were humble and powerful in life, and I feel that in your spirit.
Thanks again for being my teacher.
And I’m learning that all of us humans are often too humble.
Why don’t we celebrate our gifts more with others?
Yesterday I found about 20 songs on his ipod that I hadn’t heard before; a few were amazing. Why didn’t he show us these songs? He’s written about 60, but I processed some upset about not knowing about these 20 - guilt that I should have known about them, sadness that he may have thought that they weren’t good enough. Then I calmed down and realized many were older pieces he didn’t pursue, some were short cuts he was playing with, and several were recent ones with lyrics that perhaps were too private. He wrote many poems he didn’t share with us; he was very private. He used his creativity for self-healing, and I admire his ability to take care of himself. I got support in a co-counseling session last night, and I’m clear that this was Jason’s choice not to share this music, for whatever reasons, and that was fine with me. Many of his friends never even heard his music until I gave him them his music CD after he died.
Why didn’t he tell more people? In some ways Jason was just too friggin humble.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. Jason showed the world his photography on DeviantArt and he was on the favorites list of 100s of his fans, wanting to be notified of all of his postings. It was comfortable for him to do this on the internet because the feedback gave him confirmation of his talents, but he didn’t brag about his art in person, and he didn’t jump at doing art shows. I helped him with a couple early on, but in the past couple of years he didn’t want to do the work to put on an art show; he just wanted to make the art, and boy, did he! He showed his parents and close friends what he was working on, and I often knew when the latest creation was ready for viewing or listening when I heard a delighted exclamation from his studio.
It was perhaps his success on DeviantArt that got him thinking about pursuing photography, and not go to college for music. Last fall I encouraged him to put together a demo CD to take to college interviews. I set up a portfolio review session, and he at first was excited and then resisted going, after we had to cancel the initial visit due to his illness. Being sick last year slowed him down and got him depressed. Perhaps he was getting some unconscious premonition of his near-end, because he didn’t even want to talk about college. Finally, in July when he was feeling well, it was such a joy to see him happily showing the college admissions person in San Francisco his photography on the internet, a week before he passed.
Jason was very confident about his art and saw himself as a gifted artist. He was proud of his achievements; he even kept neat notebooks of all his report cards with mostly A’s, but he never celebrated this except with his parents. He didn’t show off enough, in my mind. What held him back?
Jason had high standards; he had an acute critical eye for music and art. He had mentioned once or twice to me and his father Chuck that he didn’t think his music was that great. I couldn’t believe it, but I could understand he might jump to this conclusion because no one bought his first CD. His music was a bit out there, the “left field” genre. He was a pioneer, and much of his music didn’t appeal to the mainstream. He did brilliant sound and music experimentation, much of it perfect for sound healing and journeying. I wish I had gotten his stuff out to the right music experts early on, and I have some regret about that. I planned to have him do it in college. I plan to do this, at the right time; it’s too much for me right now in my grieving process. I believe his music has financial value, so we will make sure to protect copyright.
If Jason didn’t fully get it when he was alive, then in his current ego-less state I trust he knows how good his work is.
Maybe when he was alive he was afraid that if he was too powerful he would scare people away. Where did he get that from? From me? I was a lot like Jason when I was young. It took me well into my 40s to be able to show my gifts without fear of being judged or fear of losing friends. I find that I inspire others to show their gifts, and that creates intimacy. Jason knew how to empower others; that was another of his gifts, and he had an abundance of friends and people who loved him all over the world on the internet.
When we share our gifts with self-love and love for others we empower others to share their gifts and feel powerful, too.
What other talents do I want to share with others before I leave this plane? I just made a CD of music that I’ve recorded with my voice and viola, and that feels good. I have many compositions that I haven’t shared yet, on a recording studio that I haven’t figured out how to master songs from. I have a blog of writings of Jason’s messages and my grieving journey, and that feels good. I’ll keep on writing. I won’t be too humble when I market my expert consulting and training services in the corporate world. I share my gifts of teaching spirituality and community building with Kule, and we will continue to do retreats and explore building an intentional community. We’ve been doing Avatar manifesting practices and reading “One Year to Live” by Steven Levine, to clear old stuff and practice living each moment as if that is all there is.
Life can be too short; Jason proved that. “I’ll do it someday” doesn’t work for me anymore, but at the same time I have been given the gift of patience from Jason. All I know is that when I feel called to be in my power and use my gifts, I listen and follow my heart. It knows what to do.
Humility is wonderful, when we are also in our power.
Jason, you were humble and powerful in life, and I feel that in your spirit.
Thanks again for being my teacher.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Soul Story
Once upon a time a wise soul was looking for a family to join on earth. He scouted the universe and found a married couple that didn’t know if they wanted or didn’t want children, and they were trusting in the universe to give them what they need for their evolution and their paths as spiritual teachers and healers. They seemed just right.
This wise soul had a mission on earth, and it wasn’t going to be for a very long time, so he wanted to choose a family that wasn’t attached to having a large family with grandchildren. He wanted to be with a family that would understand his soul-level and his passion for creating what he wanted on earth, and to enjoy love to its fullest with his family, friends, and extended family. He wanted to experience unity consciousness on earth, being one with everything, experiencing beauty in all people and things. He wanted to be a healer in his own way, in a humble quiet powerful way that would inspire and transform many who were with him. He also wanted to have a lot of fun being on the earth plane.
The wise soul was born to Michelle and Chuck Foster, and they named him Jason, which means healer in Greek. They were very happy to have Jason. They felt his wisdom and saw his bright light; they were so blessed and knew the universe chose wisely. They were also very challenged by this powerful being who was frustrated to be in a small body. Jason’s soul wanted to do so much so soon; he knew what he wanted and what he didn’t want. He learned to walk and do things with his body at a younger age than most babies. He didn’t like being confined to a body, and expressed his frustration often. Clothes didn’t feel right, food didn’t taste right, the energy of a person or place didn’t feel right. He didn’t sleep; that was a waste of his time and energy. He didn’t like school; that was a waste of his time and energy. He wanted to do so much.
The Jason soul thrived on love, trust, and creativity.
He received and gave love freely. He felt best when others trusted his wisdom about what he needed, even as a baby. He couldn’t stop being creative, from playing with words and numbers as a baby to making up stories to making people laugh to making creative videos with his friends to creating amazing photos, digital art, music, writings and his own website. He created from his own uniqueness, and was a pioneer in photography and music composition.
He sought other souls who understood his soul mission. He made soul-level friendships with several children and teens who felt no different than if they had been blood brothers and sisters. He attracted beautiful wise souls into his life, and he celebrated life with them. His extended family also included beautiful wise souls that his parents introduced to him.
The Jason soul had an abundance of love, trust, and creativity in his earth life. He met his soul mission in this world.
The Jason soul passed very quickly, before the Jason body or anyone else could see it coming. That’s the way his soul wanted to go, without any physical suffering or prolonged medical treatment that would prolong other’s suffering. It was easy for him to drop his body; he simply flew away to a world he knew so well. His soul friend Erin flew with him. The passage was so peaceful that his mother felt it when she was driving in to the hospital and after she arrived to hear that the Jason body had not survived the accident. Jason’s soul peace held her in a state of trust that all was fine, and she knew he was still there, on the other side.
He always communicated from a soul level, so it was easy to communicate with others who had communicated with his soul easily when he was in his body. His parents, relatives, and friends are consoled by knowing they can connect with him anytime, and knowing he is where he always planned to be, doing powerful healing work for this world on the other side. They miss the Jason body that they can hug and play with, see him with the people he loves, and see him in the joy of creating his works of art and music. They miss all the little things about Jason that made him unique in this world. They have so many memories and photos and music to remember his presence here. They understand that the separation of Jason’s soul and body was meant to be at this time, and they feel so blessed to have been chosen to be with his soul in this lifetime.
The Jason soul lives in many ways – on the other side, perhaps in another body, and definitely inside those of us who are connected by the deep love we cultivated when he was in his body.
This is a story of Jason’s soul, and it is a beautiful never-ending story.
This wise soul had a mission on earth, and it wasn’t going to be for a very long time, so he wanted to choose a family that wasn’t attached to having a large family with grandchildren. He wanted to be with a family that would understand his soul-level and his passion for creating what he wanted on earth, and to enjoy love to its fullest with his family, friends, and extended family. He wanted to experience unity consciousness on earth, being one with everything, experiencing beauty in all people and things. He wanted to be a healer in his own way, in a humble quiet powerful way that would inspire and transform many who were with him. He also wanted to have a lot of fun being on the earth plane.
The wise soul was born to Michelle and Chuck Foster, and they named him Jason, which means healer in Greek. They were very happy to have Jason. They felt his wisdom and saw his bright light; they were so blessed and knew the universe chose wisely. They were also very challenged by this powerful being who was frustrated to be in a small body. Jason’s soul wanted to do so much so soon; he knew what he wanted and what he didn’t want. He learned to walk and do things with his body at a younger age than most babies. He didn’t like being confined to a body, and expressed his frustration often. Clothes didn’t feel right, food didn’t taste right, the energy of a person or place didn’t feel right. He didn’t sleep; that was a waste of his time and energy. He didn’t like school; that was a waste of his time and energy. He wanted to do so much.
The Jason soul thrived on love, trust, and creativity.
He received and gave love freely. He felt best when others trusted his wisdom about what he needed, even as a baby. He couldn’t stop being creative, from playing with words and numbers as a baby to making up stories to making people laugh to making creative videos with his friends to creating amazing photos, digital art, music, writings and his own website. He created from his own uniqueness, and was a pioneer in photography and music composition.
He sought other souls who understood his soul mission. He made soul-level friendships with several children and teens who felt no different than if they had been blood brothers and sisters. He attracted beautiful wise souls into his life, and he celebrated life with them. His extended family also included beautiful wise souls that his parents introduced to him.
The Jason soul had an abundance of love, trust, and creativity in his earth life. He met his soul mission in this world.
The Jason soul passed very quickly, before the Jason body or anyone else could see it coming. That’s the way his soul wanted to go, without any physical suffering or prolonged medical treatment that would prolong other’s suffering. It was easy for him to drop his body; he simply flew away to a world he knew so well. His soul friend Erin flew with him. The passage was so peaceful that his mother felt it when she was driving in to the hospital and after she arrived to hear that the Jason body had not survived the accident. Jason’s soul peace held her in a state of trust that all was fine, and she knew he was still there, on the other side.
He always communicated from a soul level, so it was easy to communicate with others who had communicated with his soul easily when he was in his body. His parents, relatives, and friends are consoled by knowing they can connect with him anytime, and knowing he is where he always planned to be, doing powerful healing work for this world on the other side. They miss the Jason body that they can hug and play with, see him with the people he loves, and see him in the joy of creating his works of art and music. They miss all the little things about Jason that made him unique in this world. They have so many memories and photos and music to remember his presence here. They understand that the separation of Jason’s soul and body was meant to be at this time, and they feel so blessed to have been chosen to be with his soul in this lifetime.
The Jason soul lives in many ways – on the other side, perhaps in another body, and definitely inside those of us who are connected by the deep love we cultivated when he was in his body.
This is a story of Jason’s soul, and it is a beautiful never-ending story.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Message 33 - Retreat and Relax
Jason gave me a clear message today – it’s time to retreat and relax.
Grieving takes a lot of energy – it’s important work, but it doesn’t have to be consuming. I never had that belief, but I have been tired. I also get the sense that most of the hard work is done, and I feel good about where I am. Writing has been a great support for me, and loving witness. I have abundant support to turn to for help when I need it; just knowing that makes my current journey easier.
Jason’s right (he usually is). It’s a great time to do a retreat, to be in more silence. This time of year is a time of reflection, solitude, and silence for me, following my inner rhythm according to the Solstice tradition rather than the active holiday party-shopping-workdeadline craze. I love the Christmas lights, reminding me of the light in the darkness, and the cozy warming fire and being with loving community. I’m enjoying a slower pace of work, and some interesting work, planning presentations for the spring, and good rapport with my clients. I have no major business travel coming up, and I can do whatever grieving comes up easily.
I’m appreciating the opportunity to do what I need to do, not what anyone might expect. I’m not making commitments to any travel or major events, so I can stay tuned into what I need and not disappoint. I’m trusting I will get what I need, and that I can be available to others when that is needed.
I’m appreciating that others are honoring and wanting to follow my wishes, such as not exchanging presents with my family. I am blessed that everyone understands. I trust we can enjoy the family holiday gathering and include Jason’s spirit in a way that is comforting and sweet and not dwelling on loss. My family understood that I didn’t want a routine Christmas (reminding me of Jason’s absence) when I encouraged them to go to Argentina to visit relatives over Christmas vacation; I am so glad to see my niece Nikki have the experience Jason had 3 years ago, spending time with relatives she never met, and to see my sister Mariana spend that precious time with her daughter the way I got to spend it with my son. I’m so grateful we got to explore our roots together, and to hear Jason create intentionally ridiculous Spanish phrases to humor our blood relatives. They are grateful they got a chance to get to know our dear Jason.
Life can be too short to put off what’s so important to us. That’s why I’m going to Costa Rica to play and explore intentional communities with Kule in early 2010. That’s why we are taking an advanced Avatar training in manifesting, to continually be creating what we want in our lives. I’m looking forward to removing any obstacles (that I might not even know I have!) on my sacred path.
The retreat time for me will be an opportunity to just be, and to listen without judgment or expectation about what any of it means. I’m incubating. The transition will be what it is, and I trust I will get the guidance I need to make some changes in my work and lifestyle that I’m being told will happen. Much of my book on my grieving journey and Jason’s messages has already been written, and I am inspired to continue writing in other areas of my life, such as with my corporate consulting (I am co-authoring a book due end of 2010) and teaching spirituality in the workplace. Rediscovering my passion for writing has been a gift.
Jason taught me how to follow my passion even more than I have been, and to use my gifts. There is one more writing to do before I immerse in silence – Humility and Power. Watching Jason being too humble and not letting his power out more in life, I learned that I also do this. I plan to use my gifts more powerfully, to assist with my own growth and that of others.
Let the retreat begin……
P.S. Being in retreat doesn’t mean I won’t be in communication, but I will choose what communication is priority and what feeds me in the moment. I wish you holiday peace and joy!
Grieving takes a lot of energy – it’s important work, but it doesn’t have to be consuming. I never had that belief, but I have been tired. I also get the sense that most of the hard work is done, and I feel good about where I am. Writing has been a great support for me, and loving witness. I have abundant support to turn to for help when I need it; just knowing that makes my current journey easier.
Jason’s right (he usually is). It’s a great time to do a retreat, to be in more silence. This time of year is a time of reflection, solitude, and silence for me, following my inner rhythm according to the Solstice tradition rather than the active holiday party-shopping-workdeadline craze. I love the Christmas lights, reminding me of the light in the darkness, and the cozy warming fire and being with loving community. I’m enjoying a slower pace of work, and some interesting work, planning presentations for the spring, and good rapport with my clients. I have no major business travel coming up, and I can do whatever grieving comes up easily.
I’m appreciating the opportunity to do what I need to do, not what anyone might expect. I’m not making commitments to any travel or major events, so I can stay tuned into what I need and not disappoint. I’m trusting I will get what I need, and that I can be available to others when that is needed.
I’m appreciating that others are honoring and wanting to follow my wishes, such as not exchanging presents with my family. I am blessed that everyone understands. I trust we can enjoy the family holiday gathering and include Jason’s spirit in a way that is comforting and sweet and not dwelling on loss. My family understood that I didn’t want a routine Christmas (reminding me of Jason’s absence) when I encouraged them to go to Argentina to visit relatives over Christmas vacation; I am so glad to see my niece Nikki have the experience Jason had 3 years ago, spending time with relatives she never met, and to see my sister Mariana spend that precious time with her daughter the way I got to spend it with my son. I’m so grateful we got to explore our roots together, and to hear Jason create intentionally ridiculous Spanish phrases to humor our blood relatives. They are grateful they got a chance to get to know our dear Jason.
Life can be too short to put off what’s so important to us. That’s why I’m going to Costa Rica to play and explore intentional communities with Kule in early 2010. That’s why we are taking an advanced Avatar training in manifesting, to continually be creating what we want in our lives. I’m looking forward to removing any obstacles (that I might not even know I have!) on my sacred path.
The retreat time for me will be an opportunity to just be, and to listen without judgment or expectation about what any of it means. I’m incubating. The transition will be what it is, and I trust I will get the guidance I need to make some changes in my work and lifestyle that I’m being told will happen. Much of my book on my grieving journey and Jason’s messages has already been written, and I am inspired to continue writing in other areas of my life, such as with my corporate consulting (I am co-authoring a book due end of 2010) and teaching spirituality in the workplace. Rediscovering my passion for writing has been a gift.
Jason taught me how to follow my passion even more than I have been, and to use my gifts. There is one more writing to do before I immerse in silence – Humility and Power. Watching Jason being too humble and not letting his power out more in life, I learned that I also do this. I plan to use my gifts more powerfully, to assist with my own growth and that of others.
Let the retreat begin……
P.S. Being in retreat doesn’t mean I won’t be in communication, but I will choose what communication is priority and what feeds me in the moment. I wish you holiday peace and joy!
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Losses and Gifts
We experience so many losses in our life, and so many gifts.
It’s Christmas time, and I had been planning to get the heck out of town to avoid the pain of not having Jason here, opening gifts together. This morning I pulled up the courage to pull out his Christmas stocking and I let the tears flow. I had embroidered “JASON” on the stocking when he was a baby. Opening the stocking Christmas morning was one of two holiday rituals Jason was still into as a teen. In the past few years that stocking has held so many mints (his favorite candy), gag gifts, I.O.U’s for massage, music and photography equipment, and other treats, and money (of course). My stocking may not have been as overstuffed as his, but it was overflowing with laughter and love from Jason’s creative gifts (and special ones from Kule, too). Jason jumped out of bed Christmas morning to open stockings in front of the Christmas fire with hot chocolate. It’s the only day of the year I can say he did that; the rest of the year, unless we were catching a plane, it was like pulling teeth to get him out of bed!
The second of the two holiday rituals he enjoyed was playing with the Christmas village, some ceramic houses with lights that we used to decorate with small plastic fish and frogs and lizards and various other random things. It’s such a comical scene and an opportunity for creative theatrics, that Jason always looked forward to with me and his friends. I almost gave the village away last year because he thought he grew out of it, but we set it up one last time and had a ball with all the memories of what this village has survived. I will set the houses out and get his little animals out of his treasure chest to play with Jason once again. I’m guessing it will be fun, as always.
Losing Jason has been a tremendous loss; I still cry daily in acknowledgment of this. This loss has also given me the opportunity to feel the greatest love and gratitude for what I have had and continue to have in my life. I would not have chosen this, but I am able to see the gifts I am receiving.
I’ve observed that when I focus on loss, then I feel the downward spiral into depression and despair. The other day when I was thinking about how I lost Jason, I started questioning why I’ve had to experience this and so many other losses in my life – a divorce and other failed relationships, my father’s Alzheimer’s and death, a late miscarriage, my mother’s cancer and depression (now both fine, thankfully), my dear aunt’s brain surgery and move to relatives far away, two dear friends who didn’t survive bone marrow transplants, my band Bluegate that moved away, etc, etc. I felt so sorry for myself and started asking why I had to have these losses. Why does anyone have to suffer these kind of losses? I felt confusion and despair.
Then I was reminded of how I grew and became alive with each loss. Each time, I reflected on what I gained from each loss, the gifts I received from each person or situation. I’m also being called to share my experiences with others; it may assist them with their healing.
When we focus on the suffering, that’s what we experience. When we focus on the gifts, then we feel uplifted. I believe sadness about a loss can be a gift, because it reminds us of how much we received from that dear person in our lives, how they contributed to our aliveness in some or many ways. I feel that gratitude daily, along with the tears.
I’m not afraid to die, and now, for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid to lose others. I used to worry that something would happen to me and Jason wouldn’t have a mother. Now I see how all that energy was wasted. Of course, it never occurred to me he would go first! So many parents have told me how hard it was for them to hear about my losing my son, because they couldn’t imagine losing their own children. Some have deep fears about this. I do believe every soul has its own time, and it’s important to accept the soul’s path or choice, no matter how hard it feels. All we can do is live each moment as if it could be our last, without thinking of it as our last moment. It’s a new beginning every moment, and an opportunity to receive so many gifts and create wonderful memories. My awesome memories of Jason keep him alive in a way I never would have imagined. Kule and I strive to live each moment fully and trust that we will always be together in spirit.
I believe that we can live life more fully if we are not afraid of death.
I know that with each loss I will also gain. It may not be apparent immediately, but I trust that I am continuing to evolve going forward. I am presented with opportunities to grow. Every time I lost a romantic relationship, I expressed gratitude to that dear man of how much I learned and grew with him. Every time I lost a close friend or relative to death, I gained a relationship with their spirit that influences me in a way that it feels they are part of me. I have taken on some of the things Jason taught me in a bigger way, such as patience and being in the moment. I know I laugh and appreciate beauty everywhere and in everyone so much more easily having had him in my life. These are such precious gifts.
I now like the idea of hanging Jason’s stocking. I always liked his stocking more than mine, so he’s given me permission to share his. I’ll embroider Michelle on the other side of the stocking, to remind me that we are one, and that every gift I ever gave him was a gift to myself.
It’s Christmas time, and I had been planning to get the heck out of town to avoid the pain of not having Jason here, opening gifts together. This morning I pulled up the courage to pull out his Christmas stocking and I let the tears flow. I had embroidered “JASON” on the stocking when he was a baby. Opening the stocking Christmas morning was one of two holiday rituals Jason was still into as a teen. In the past few years that stocking has held so many mints (his favorite candy), gag gifts, I.O.U’s for massage, music and photography equipment, and other treats, and money (of course). My stocking may not have been as overstuffed as his, but it was overflowing with laughter and love from Jason’s creative gifts (and special ones from Kule, too). Jason jumped out of bed Christmas morning to open stockings in front of the Christmas fire with hot chocolate. It’s the only day of the year I can say he did that; the rest of the year, unless we were catching a plane, it was like pulling teeth to get him out of bed!
The second of the two holiday rituals he enjoyed was playing with the Christmas village, some ceramic houses with lights that we used to decorate with small plastic fish and frogs and lizards and various other random things. It’s such a comical scene and an opportunity for creative theatrics, that Jason always looked forward to with me and his friends. I almost gave the village away last year because he thought he grew out of it, but we set it up one last time and had a ball with all the memories of what this village has survived. I will set the houses out and get his little animals out of his treasure chest to play with Jason once again. I’m guessing it will be fun, as always.
Losing Jason has been a tremendous loss; I still cry daily in acknowledgment of this. This loss has also given me the opportunity to feel the greatest love and gratitude for what I have had and continue to have in my life. I would not have chosen this, but I am able to see the gifts I am receiving.
I’ve observed that when I focus on loss, then I feel the downward spiral into depression and despair. The other day when I was thinking about how I lost Jason, I started questioning why I’ve had to experience this and so many other losses in my life – a divorce and other failed relationships, my father’s Alzheimer’s and death, a late miscarriage, my mother’s cancer and depression (now both fine, thankfully), my dear aunt’s brain surgery and move to relatives far away, two dear friends who didn’t survive bone marrow transplants, my band Bluegate that moved away, etc, etc. I felt so sorry for myself and started asking why I had to have these losses. Why does anyone have to suffer these kind of losses? I felt confusion and despair.
Then I was reminded of how I grew and became alive with each loss. Each time, I reflected on what I gained from each loss, the gifts I received from each person or situation. I’m also being called to share my experiences with others; it may assist them with their healing.
When we focus on the suffering, that’s what we experience. When we focus on the gifts, then we feel uplifted. I believe sadness about a loss can be a gift, because it reminds us of how much we received from that dear person in our lives, how they contributed to our aliveness in some or many ways. I feel that gratitude daily, along with the tears.
I’m not afraid to die, and now, for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid to lose others. I used to worry that something would happen to me and Jason wouldn’t have a mother. Now I see how all that energy was wasted. Of course, it never occurred to me he would go first! So many parents have told me how hard it was for them to hear about my losing my son, because they couldn’t imagine losing their own children. Some have deep fears about this. I do believe every soul has its own time, and it’s important to accept the soul’s path or choice, no matter how hard it feels. All we can do is live each moment as if it could be our last, without thinking of it as our last moment. It’s a new beginning every moment, and an opportunity to receive so many gifts and create wonderful memories. My awesome memories of Jason keep him alive in a way I never would have imagined. Kule and I strive to live each moment fully and trust that we will always be together in spirit.
I believe that we can live life more fully if we are not afraid of death.
I know that with each loss I will also gain. It may not be apparent immediately, but I trust that I am continuing to evolve going forward. I am presented with opportunities to grow. Every time I lost a romantic relationship, I expressed gratitude to that dear man of how much I learned and grew with him. Every time I lost a close friend or relative to death, I gained a relationship with their spirit that influences me in a way that it feels they are part of me. I have taken on some of the things Jason taught me in a bigger way, such as patience and being in the moment. I know I laugh and appreciate beauty everywhere and in everyone so much more easily having had him in my life. These are such precious gifts.
I now like the idea of hanging Jason’s stocking. I always liked his stocking more than mine, so he’s given me permission to share his. I’ll embroider Michelle on the other side of the stocking, to remind me that we are one, and that every gift I ever gave him was a gift to myself.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Grieving with Strangers
I do my best grieving alone, and I’m learning how sweet it can be to grieve in front of strangers. Compassion is everywhere.
I attended a weekend workshop for the first time since Jason died (for the first time in a year, actually – I don’t attend workshops too often these days, but it felt right; I can receive healing). I wasn’t ready before this to leave my cocoon (being alone or with close friends or family) for more than a partial day. On the third day I found myself wailing in the arms of a loving compassionate woman who I’ve met once or twice, and I liked her energy. I didn’t see the wave coming until I asked her for a hug. She held the perfect space for me. The entire room held the space, and, for the first time in my life, I let myself disrupt a workshop. We had just finished a series of one-on-one communications, and the room was quiet in some reflection time. The last thing I would ever want to do is to disrupt this peace with loud emotional sounds. But it happened, I let it happen; I could have held back the wave, but I really didn’t want to. It felt great, and from the feedback I received it worked for everyone else, too.
The reason it worked is that, at the beginning of the workshop, I asked to share something with the group. I told them about my loss, and that I was grieving. I might need space or I might need to cry out of the blue. I didn’t want to explain this to everyone I met. The death of a child often triggers strong emotions in other people. Sharing this opened people up to sharing things with me, including how my loss of Jason triggered them. This kind of open-ness is what creates intimacy and trust. I was held this weekend in a safe loving place, where I could be the way I needed to be and that was beautiful to others as well as to me. It gave others permission to be who they needed to be. It was a well-facilitated workshop, and the space was what we all wanted and what we created.
The first person I met was a young man, 18-20 yrs, in our dorm area. He was very friendly, and I wanted to smile but felt like crying. I held back the tears, but before the workshop started I asked if I could share something with him, and he agreed. I told him his energy reminded me a bit of my son Jason who died recently. After a nice brief conversation and a hug, I never cried again when I saw him. We smiled and danced and joked a bit in brief connections throughout the weekend, and it was nice to be around that youthful creative energy, the way I always enjoyed being around Jason and his friends.
Early in the workshop I shared a connecting exercise with a mother of a young child. When I looked into her eyes I felt such motherly love that I allowed myself to cry and just be held like a child and let her stroke my head. The crying didn’t last long, the smiles came easily when we realized how quickly we became good friends. I thanked her for being my mommy; I apparently really needed that – it fit with the message to be a child that I had received the day before from Jason. After that, I received a message to play, and I really got into that, too.
I appreciated my honesty and transparency so much, because it freed up my energy to be in the moment.
On entertainment night, I shared my gift of music, and it was a gift to me and to so many in the room who resonated with the singing bowl and my voice, opening up their hearts and their voices, bringing them relaxation. It felt more powerful than other singing performances, and Jason was there, being my biggest fan. We got the biggest laughs watching Kule’s group skit about “The Buddha has spoken”.
I might have gone the entire weekend without crying, I was having such a good time. But when the waves came, it felt so good to let them happen, to ask for a hug and cry, and not to have to wait until I was in the “right” place. Perhaps there is no such thing as a wrong place to grieve.
I realized this weekend that we make friends in an instant when we are open to that. I also realized that the reason I do my best grieving alone is that I am my best friend, and I am with this dearest friend who takes care of me until I die. That’s sweet.
I attended a weekend workshop for the first time since Jason died (for the first time in a year, actually – I don’t attend workshops too often these days, but it felt right; I can receive healing). I wasn’t ready before this to leave my cocoon (being alone or with close friends or family) for more than a partial day. On the third day I found myself wailing in the arms of a loving compassionate woman who I’ve met once or twice, and I liked her energy. I didn’t see the wave coming until I asked her for a hug. She held the perfect space for me. The entire room held the space, and, for the first time in my life, I let myself disrupt a workshop. We had just finished a series of one-on-one communications, and the room was quiet in some reflection time. The last thing I would ever want to do is to disrupt this peace with loud emotional sounds. But it happened, I let it happen; I could have held back the wave, but I really didn’t want to. It felt great, and from the feedback I received it worked for everyone else, too.
The reason it worked is that, at the beginning of the workshop, I asked to share something with the group. I told them about my loss, and that I was grieving. I might need space or I might need to cry out of the blue. I didn’t want to explain this to everyone I met. The death of a child often triggers strong emotions in other people. Sharing this opened people up to sharing things with me, including how my loss of Jason triggered them. This kind of open-ness is what creates intimacy and trust. I was held this weekend in a safe loving place, where I could be the way I needed to be and that was beautiful to others as well as to me. It gave others permission to be who they needed to be. It was a well-facilitated workshop, and the space was what we all wanted and what we created.
The first person I met was a young man, 18-20 yrs, in our dorm area. He was very friendly, and I wanted to smile but felt like crying. I held back the tears, but before the workshop started I asked if I could share something with him, and he agreed. I told him his energy reminded me a bit of my son Jason who died recently. After a nice brief conversation and a hug, I never cried again when I saw him. We smiled and danced and joked a bit in brief connections throughout the weekend, and it was nice to be around that youthful creative energy, the way I always enjoyed being around Jason and his friends.
Early in the workshop I shared a connecting exercise with a mother of a young child. When I looked into her eyes I felt such motherly love that I allowed myself to cry and just be held like a child and let her stroke my head. The crying didn’t last long, the smiles came easily when we realized how quickly we became good friends. I thanked her for being my mommy; I apparently really needed that – it fit with the message to be a child that I had received the day before from Jason. After that, I received a message to play, and I really got into that, too.
I appreciated my honesty and transparency so much, because it freed up my energy to be in the moment.
On entertainment night, I shared my gift of music, and it was a gift to me and to so many in the room who resonated with the singing bowl and my voice, opening up their hearts and their voices, bringing them relaxation. It felt more powerful than other singing performances, and Jason was there, being my biggest fan. We got the biggest laughs watching Kule’s group skit about “The Buddha has spoken”.
I might have gone the entire weekend without crying, I was having such a good time. But when the waves came, it felt so good to let them happen, to ask for a hug and cry, and not to have to wait until I was in the “right” place. Perhaps there is no such thing as a wrong place to grieve.
I realized this weekend that we make friends in an instant when we are open to that. I also realized that the reason I do my best grieving alone is that I am my best friend, and I am with this dearest friend who takes care of me until I die. That’s sweet.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Message 32 - Be a Child
Be a child – that was Jason’s message to me today, delivered by the three wise boulders of Labor-In-Vain, after I shared Jason’s energy with them.
Cool. That’s the ultimate reflection – to be the mirror!
(I just wrote about Mirror Reflections).
The message resonated with me deeply. Of course – this is yet another reason to miss Jason, another reason to grieve. When he was around I could be the child through him. When he left the physical plane I unconsciously assumed I couldn’t feel that anymore. But he’s telling me I can.
And he’s telling me that I need to be; I didn’t get to be it much when I was a physical child. I was an adult child, and when I became an adult I continued to be responsible, by taking care of my child Jason. He was becoming an adult, but he would always be my little boy in some way.
So what have I been missing?
The awe, the wonder, the innocence, the naivety, the vulnerability, the play, the being-taken-care-of-ness. I experience all of that, I embrace that, and I have come so far learning with Jason, but perhaps I could be that even more, naturally?
Duh. (That’s from me, but it could as easily be from Jason!)
So what about all the inner child work I did in therapy in my late 20’s and 30’s? All good stuff, and probably more layers to discover. Instead of seeking, and grieving not having had it, I’m being told to just be it. I already am; I just need to push aside the other identities that get in the way. I need to remember that this is an important part of me that needs attention sometimes.
The child has been crying, and I’m being held. The divine mother is holding me, Jason is holding me, I’m holding Jason’s blankie. I’m seeing beauty in all of the decaying trees and berries left on leave-less bushes to feed the winter birds – beauty Jason captured in his photographs. I’m walking faster, forgetting my healing ankle can be sore. Next, it’s time to play! Children know how to shift easily….
I am also reminded that I am always the child, the adult, the healer, the teacher, the musician, and whatever identity I choose. Jason got to be all of those identities and more when he was a child.
I’m being with my child Jason and my child Michelle. We play well together.
Cool. That’s the ultimate reflection – to be the mirror!
(I just wrote about Mirror Reflections).
The message resonated with me deeply. Of course – this is yet another reason to miss Jason, another reason to grieve. When he was around I could be the child through him. When he left the physical plane I unconsciously assumed I couldn’t feel that anymore. But he’s telling me I can.
And he’s telling me that I need to be; I didn’t get to be it much when I was a physical child. I was an adult child, and when I became an adult I continued to be responsible, by taking care of my child Jason. He was becoming an adult, but he would always be my little boy in some way.
So what have I been missing?
The awe, the wonder, the innocence, the naivety, the vulnerability, the play, the being-taken-care-of-ness. I experience all of that, I embrace that, and I have come so far learning with Jason, but perhaps I could be that even more, naturally?
Duh. (That’s from me, but it could as easily be from Jason!)
So what about all the inner child work I did in therapy in my late 20’s and 30’s? All good stuff, and probably more layers to discover. Instead of seeking, and grieving not having had it, I’m being told to just be it. I already am; I just need to push aside the other identities that get in the way. I need to remember that this is an important part of me that needs attention sometimes.
The child has been crying, and I’m being held. The divine mother is holding me, Jason is holding me, I’m holding Jason’s blankie. I’m seeing beauty in all of the decaying trees and berries left on leave-less bushes to feed the winter birds – beauty Jason captured in his photographs. I’m walking faster, forgetting my healing ankle can be sore. Next, it’s time to play! Children know how to shift easily….
I am also reminded that I am always the child, the adult, the healer, the teacher, the musician, and whatever identity I choose. Jason got to be all of those identities and more when he was a child.
I’m being with my child Jason and my child Michelle. We play well together.
Mirror Reflections - Jason's CD, Michelle's CD
Jason’s spirit is a mirror reflecting back what we have given each other, and how we inspired each other.
It’s often overwhelming, and it brings up a lot of emotions and some fear of change.
A big wave overtook me last night, and I was missing him so much it hurt.
This morning I’m in calmer waters and reflecting:
I’ve been writing about Jason being an indigo child; I’m an indigo adult, embracing the “new culture”of oneness consciousness.
I’ve been remembering Jason’s patience, presence, and calmness; I feel he’s passed these qualities on to me - what gifts.
I’ve been in awe of how many people Jason touched in his life in person and on the web; he’s reminding me of how connected we all are.
I’ve been honoring him by being grateful for all the things that I learned from him; I had taught him much of this by example, and I’ve relearned from his perspective.
I’ve celebrated how he followed his passion; I’ve followed mine, but he’s showing me how I can do it more fully, without worrying about making money and all those things we adults do to feel responsible. The money will follow. I trust that.
I’ve made his CDs, updated his website, and gotten his photography out there more since he died.
He’s been telling me to get my music out there.
Last night Jason pulled me out of my chair and I made my first CD of Michelle’s music called “Journey”. It’s about time, and Jason is enjoying seeing me with my first CD!
(If you want to hear a sample, go to Ben Sheppards’s website www.liquidvoice.com – I’m singing on Sirens and Transformation, and singing and playing viola on Streams.)
A week or so after Jason died, I was feeling bad about not being able to get his music out there more while he was alive, and he then “showed” me a piece of paper that happened to be sticking out of the bottom of my in-box from a year ago , with a list of the pieces for my CD. I asked him to make the CD for me again this July as a birthday gift, but I didn’t know where my list was and we got busy with vacation time, and then he passed. He was telling me in life and after life to do my music, and I learned recently how to use itunes to make his CDs, and it feels good that I could make my CD all by myself. Next step is to get technical training on some music recording equipment in Jason’s studio, our studio. A step at a time……
I’ve recorded dozens of tunes since the Bluegate days, and two compositions on my iphone since Jason died; it’s a great way to capture the songs when they “come in” (I just don’t know how to master them for a CD). I compose every day when I do a ritual sounding in my morning grieving time, in reflection of Jason’s life and my life. It’s music in the moment, and that’s my passion.
So, I’m following my passion.
The problem is, the call is so strong that I’m being pulled to do things in an accelerated way, particularly in my consulting and training career, things I’ve been planning to do for some time. I know I’ll be making shifts, and I’m doing the visioning and the manifesting exercises – it’s all good.
I’m being patient – that’s good, too.
I’m feeling the emotions – that’s good, too.
But it’s hard.
I miss Jason.
I’m overwhelmed.
And I’m being with it.
That’s the best.
Note: The Journey CD has 4 pieces co-composed live with my healing music ensemble Bluegate, 4 with Ben, 1 piece I composed, and 2 pieces with viola solos on Caera’s CD (www.caera.info) . It is not commercially available (since some of the pieces are copyrighted to other artists), and is just for friends. The home-made CD cover has a photo of me taken by Jason in his favorite place in the world – Canyonlands, Utah. I also want to thank Christine and Kem for being with me and Ben in Bluegate, inspiring me to do my music – their website is www.christinetulis.com – the Portal CD they recorded in Boulder, Colorado is awesome healing music.
It’s often overwhelming, and it brings up a lot of emotions and some fear of change.
A big wave overtook me last night, and I was missing him so much it hurt.
This morning I’m in calmer waters and reflecting:
I’ve been writing about Jason being an indigo child; I’m an indigo adult, embracing the “new culture”of oneness consciousness.
I’ve been remembering Jason’s patience, presence, and calmness; I feel he’s passed these qualities on to me - what gifts.
I’ve been in awe of how many people Jason touched in his life in person and on the web; he’s reminding me of how connected we all are.
I’ve been honoring him by being grateful for all the things that I learned from him; I had taught him much of this by example, and I’ve relearned from his perspective.
I’ve celebrated how he followed his passion; I’ve followed mine, but he’s showing me how I can do it more fully, without worrying about making money and all those things we adults do to feel responsible. The money will follow. I trust that.
I’ve made his CDs, updated his website, and gotten his photography out there more since he died.
He’s been telling me to get my music out there.
Last night Jason pulled me out of my chair and I made my first CD of Michelle’s music called “Journey”. It’s about time, and Jason is enjoying seeing me with my first CD!
(If you want to hear a sample, go to Ben Sheppards’s website www.liquidvoice.com – I’m singing on Sirens and Transformation, and singing and playing viola on Streams.)
A week or so after Jason died, I was feeling bad about not being able to get his music out there more while he was alive, and he then “showed” me a piece of paper that happened to be sticking out of the bottom of my in-box from a year ago , with a list of the pieces for my CD. I asked him to make the CD for me again this July as a birthday gift, but I didn’t know where my list was and we got busy with vacation time, and then he passed. He was telling me in life and after life to do my music, and I learned recently how to use itunes to make his CDs, and it feels good that I could make my CD all by myself. Next step is to get technical training on some music recording equipment in Jason’s studio, our studio. A step at a time……
I’ve recorded dozens of tunes since the Bluegate days, and two compositions on my iphone since Jason died; it’s a great way to capture the songs when they “come in” (I just don’t know how to master them for a CD). I compose every day when I do a ritual sounding in my morning grieving time, in reflection of Jason’s life and my life. It’s music in the moment, and that’s my passion.
So, I’m following my passion.
The problem is, the call is so strong that I’m being pulled to do things in an accelerated way, particularly in my consulting and training career, things I’ve been planning to do for some time. I know I’ll be making shifts, and I’m doing the visioning and the manifesting exercises – it’s all good.
I’m being patient – that’s good, too.
I’m feeling the emotions – that’s good, too.
But it’s hard.
I miss Jason.
I’m overwhelmed.
And I’m being with it.
That’s the best.
Note: The Journey CD has 4 pieces co-composed live with my healing music ensemble Bluegate, 4 with Ben, 1 piece I composed, and 2 pieces with viola solos on Caera’s CD (www.caera.info) . It is not commercially available (since some of the pieces are copyrighted to other artists), and is just for friends. The home-made CD cover has a photo of me taken by Jason in his favorite place in the world – Canyonlands, Utah. I also want to thank Christine and Kem for being with me and Ben in Bluegate, inspiring me to do my music – their website is www.christinetulis.com – the Portal CD they recorded in Boulder, Colorado is awesome healing music.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
The Indigo Child - Part 2 - Trust
“Jason, The Joy of My Life”Journal dedicated to Jason– February, 2001 (Jason was 9 yrs old, last entry below at 14 yrs old)
Jason knows who he is and what he wants and doesn’t want. He has access to deep wisdom and has the purity of wildflowers. All of the “challenges” he presented to us as a baby and small child are easily explained by all this – he is an Indigo child. I am blessed to have him in my life, as my son, my friend, my student, and my teacher.
Jason is here to bring light to the world and it is my honor and commitment to guide him (or confirm his own clear guidance) in his growing years to manifest who he is.
Discipline:
Time out and classic punishment never worked for Jason. When he says he learned his lesson and doesn’t need punishment, it’s true. He is full of truth and integrity.
Last night I said he couldn’t watch TV until he finished his homework. He was tired and refused to finish his homework, but proceeded to turn on the TV after I repeated calmly several times that he has to finish his homework first. Finally I said “Jason, if you don’t turn that TV off I will have to ask you to choose your own punishment.” He immediately turned off the TV, came over to sit on my lap, and went to bed. He likes to make his own decisions.
Another time, he was misbehaving and I told him to take time out. He had been crying, feeling really badly about what he had done (hitting us because he didn’t want to do something, or something to that effect), and he looked at me lovingly with those sweet eyes and said “Mom, I already had my punishment. Time out won’t teach me anything. I won’t do that again.” And I didn’t give him time out, and he never did it again.
Integrity at School:
Jason doesn’t like school (not uncommon for Indigo children), but he was having a particularly difficult time going back after Christmas break. The school counselor, Mr. Van, befriended him and helps him with the Monday transition. One day he went to school late and refused to go to the classroom, looking exceptionally stressed. We found Mr. Van and talked about why school feels hard. It took a while, but we found out that one of his classmates, “A”, was being “disgusting”. He was resistant to talking about it, and I sensed he didn’t want to see anyone get in trouble. We talked about how it’s OK to not like what someone does even if you love him. He then shared stories about being sexually harassed and bullied right in the classroom. Mr. Van had his seat changed, and Jason said it was “way better.”
The school handled the bullying issue well, doing some training in class without picking out anyone in particular, and confidentially. Jason and I talked about sexual harassment and bullying. Not only did Jason learn about how bullying is unacceptable, but he also learned you can love someone without liking them. On his own, he showed the bullies he cared for them – he was very humorous with them, and showed them he was confident in himself. The bullies not only stopped bothering him, they respected him, and “A” became one of his friends. He understood that “A” was joining the bullies because he didn’t want to be bullied himself.
Jason never got bullied again.
The Artist 4/10/06 (Jason is 14 yrs old)
Jason is such an amazing artist: music, graphics, photos, flash animation, stories – he takes the recognizable and makes them unrecognizable. He’s so happy in his studio, and works for hours and days on projects.
Moving to Ipswich was the best thing we ever died – an artist community, respectful and creative kids, great teachers, and school. Jason will be in high school next year taking jazz band and electronic music! He’s turning into quite the drummer!
We used to worry about Jason, but now I realize I didn’t have to. He found his passion and is self-motivated and highly confident.
Jasons’ probably the best housemate I’ve ever had (Christine was good, too) and gives me the space and quite I need, and shares fun and music and creativity and inspiration with me. He’s a bit messy in his own space, but great in shared space and doesn’t complain when I remind him of his chores. He’s really awesome. We laugh a lot together and with his friends – his friends are great kids. I don’t worry about him getting into the wrong crowd.
Trust (today’s entry)
I trusted Jason, and he trusted me. I gave him a lot of independence at 17. He didn’t tell me much about what he was doing or who he was with, but he answered questions truthfully, protecting confidentiality, and I got his word that he would mind his health and safety, and wouldn’t drive with people who were drunk or on drugs. He and his friends didn’t do that stuff (excessively), so he never had to lie to me about that. He told me he was at parties where people drank (well, duh, of course he would at some point), but they were responsible about it, and he wasn’t interested himself. What a blessing I didn’t have to deal with what most parents have to with teens. Jason didn’t have a problem saying no.
When he was almost 17 (before he told me he was gay) and he was just starting to stay home alone, I returned from a business trip to get 2 voicemails from a parent of a teenage girl looking for her daughter. When I asked Jason about it, he said that yes, a girl had visited, and he couldn’t tell me anymore. He was protecting confidentiality, but I had to know more to make sure everyone was safe. He told me that the girl did stay over, but slept on the couch (I found out a few months later that Jason was gay, but I of course jumped to stories at this particular time); she was having a hard time in her life and came from Beverly (an old school friend) to visit, but missed the train. She didn’t want to tell her parents where she was. He assured me she was safe and wasn’t suicidal or something else dangerous. I sensed Jason was being an angel to this girl, and I didn’t call her parents back (although I asked him not to put me on this position again, and he understood). They never called me, and I never did find out what the details were. After Jason died, I received several anonymous stories about students who Jason helped through suicidal thoughts and rape. I’m guessing this girl was one of those, and Jason was the only one she could trust at the time.
Jason was the most trustworthy person. He understood trust deeply at a young age.
Jason knows who he is and what he wants and doesn’t want. He has access to deep wisdom and has the purity of wildflowers. All of the “challenges” he presented to us as a baby and small child are easily explained by all this – he is an Indigo child. I am blessed to have him in my life, as my son, my friend, my student, and my teacher.
Jason is here to bring light to the world and it is my honor and commitment to guide him (or confirm his own clear guidance) in his growing years to manifest who he is.
Discipline:
Time out and classic punishment never worked for Jason. When he says he learned his lesson and doesn’t need punishment, it’s true. He is full of truth and integrity.
Last night I said he couldn’t watch TV until he finished his homework. He was tired and refused to finish his homework, but proceeded to turn on the TV after I repeated calmly several times that he has to finish his homework first. Finally I said “Jason, if you don’t turn that TV off I will have to ask you to choose your own punishment.” He immediately turned off the TV, came over to sit on my lap, and went to bed. He likes to make his own decisions.
Another time, he was misbehaving and I told him to take time out. He had been crying, feeling really badly about what he had done (hitting us because he didn’t want to do something, or something to that effect), and he looked at me lovingly with those sweet eyes and said “Mom, I already had my punishment. Time out won’t teach me anything. I won’t do that again.” And I didn’t give him time out, and he never did it again.
Integrity at School:
Jason doesn’t like school (not uncommon for Indigo children), but he was having a particularly difficult time going back after Christmas break. The school counselor, Mr. Van, befriended him and helps him with the Monday transition. One day he went to school late and refused to go to the classroom, looking exceptionally stressed. We found Mr. Van and talked about why school feels hard. It took a while, but we found out that one of his classmates, “A”, was being “disgusting”. He was resistant to talking about it, and I sensed he didn’t want to see anyone get in trouble. We talked about how it’s OK to not like what someone does even if you love him. He then shared stories about being sexually harassed and bullied right in the classroom. Mr. Van had his seat changed, and Jason said it was “way better.”
The school handled the bullying issue well, doing some training in class without picking out anyone in particular, and confidentially. Jason and I talked about sexual harassment and bullying. Not only did Jason learn about how bullying is unacceptable, but he also learned you can love someone without liking them. On his own, he showed the bullies he cared for them – he was very humorous with them, and showed them he was confident in himself. The bullies not only stopped bothering him, they respected him, and “A” became one of his friends. He understood that “A” was joining the bullies because he didn’t want to be bullied himself.
Jason never got bullied again.
The Artist 4/10/06 (Jason is 14 yrs old)
Jason is such an amazing artist: music, graphics, photos, flash animation, stories – he takes the recognizable and makes them unrecognizable. He’s so happy in his studio, and works for hours and days on projects.
Moving to Ipswich was the best thing we ever died – an artist community, respectful and creative kids, great teachers, and school. Jason will be in high school next year taking jazz band and electronic music! He’s turning into quite the drummer!
We used to worry about Jason, but now I realize I didn’t have to. He found his passion and is self-motivated and highly confident.
Jasons’ probably the best housemate I’ve ever had (Christine was good, too) and gives me the space and quite I need, and shares fun and music and creativity and inspiration with me. He’s a bit messy in his own space, but great in shared space and doesn’t complain when I remind him of his chores. He’s really awesome. We laugh a lot together and with his friends – his friends are great kids. I don’t worry about him getting into the wrong crowd.
Trust (today’s entry)
I trusted Jason, and he trusted me. I gave him a lot of independence at 17. He didn’t tell me much about what he was doing or who he was with, but he answered questions truthfully, protecting confidentiality, and I got his word that he would mind his health and safety, and wouldn’t drive with people who were drunk or on drugs. He and his friends didn’t do that stuff (excessively), so he never had to lie to me about that. He told me he was at parties where people drank (well, duh, of course he would at some point), but they were responsible about it, and he wasn’t interested himself. What a blessing I didn’t have to deal with what most parents have to with teens. Jason didn’t have a problem saying no.
When he was almost 17 (before he told me he was gay) and he was just starting to stay home alone, I returned from a business trip to get 2 voicemails from a parent of a teenage girl looking for her daughter. When I asked Jason about it, he said that yes, a girl had visited, and he couldn’t tell me anymore. He was protecting confidentiality, but I had to know more to make sure everyone was safe. He told me that the girl did stay over, but slept on the couch (I found out a few months later that Jason was gay, but I of course jumped to stories at this particular time); she was having a hard time in her life and came from Beverly (an old school friend) to visit, but missed the train. She didn’t want to tell her parents where she was. He assured me she was safe and wasn’t suicidal or something else dangerous. I sensed Jason was being an angel to this girl, and I didn’t call her parents back (although I asked him not to put me on this position again, and he understood). They never called me, and I never did find out what the details were. After Jason died, I received several anonymous stories about students who Jason helped through suicidal thoughts and rape. I’m guessing this girl was one of those, and Jason was the only one she could trust at the time.
Jason was the most trustworthy person. He understood trust deeply at a young age.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
The Indigo Child - Jason's 16 Things
Jason was an indigo child.
I prefer not to use labels to categorize people, but “indigo child” is a term that has meant something to me, raising Jason as a child. Indigo children question all the old belief systems, many of which have been hurting our planet and our culture. He always asked “why” about the real important stuff, and hearing his questioning taught me how we buy into so many beliefs we don’t even realize we have. He didn’t understand why people wouldn’t love and accept each other, and taught oneness by example. He didn’t refer to himself as “spiritual”, but he was one of the most spiritual people I’ve known.
I found this entry in my journal when Jason was 9 yrs old. Jason’s journal entry from 17 yrs old follows.
The Indigo Child, 12/1/2000
Jason has come in with pretty evolved consciousness; we’ve always thought this, but now I’m tuning into it more. Some of the things that have caused us frustration as parents (such as his high energy and insistence) are things that Jason is trying to use to teach us something. As in Jump Time (a book by Jean Houston), we need to be prepared for the unexpected!
• Jason is focused in unity – he doesn’t understand judgment and punishment or other separation. He plays so well with his friends; he never fights, but they argue sometimes and work out their differences, knowing there is unity, and often with humor.
• Jason doesn’t like competitive sports – he knows it’s how you play the game, not who wins.
• Jason doesn’t like school – the 8:30-2 public school system doesn’t work for him. He didn’t want Montessori either. He called it a “play pen” for grades 1-3, and he got clear he wants more structured lessons, since he sensed the academic pressure to be an independent student. He would benefit with homeschooling, although he would miss being around other children. (I research this for the past few years and decided it would be crazy for me with an upcoming divorce, being a single working parent). I listen to him and honor his wisdom; I don’t underestimate his maturity level and ability to handle knowledge and emotions.
• He needs to learn thing his way – this has been the case since was a baby!
• He has a great sense of humor; he never gets too serious about life.
• He “dawdles” and has difficulty with transitions – he’s in his own flow.
• He always knows what he wants and lets me know.
• He is motivated by empowerment and choices.
• He doesn’t understand why his parents are the bosses. (We don’t have all the answers and we are all teachers, including Jason.) He understands why there are rules, but they have to be relevant.
• He resists his father’s intensity about nutrition and following certain special diets (“why?”), but understands that eating well is important.
• He knows God is in him.
• He likes being home – the outside world doesn’t always fit with his world of innocence and unity!
• He is able to express more now why he doesn’t like or agree with something. We are listening more, such as when he decided he didn’t want to go to Montessori school in 3rd grade.
I am going to observe more how Jason behaves with respect to his higher consciousness. I will honor his inner wisdom and see him as much a teacher for me as I am for him.
The above journey entry was written half-way through Jason’s life, and mostly held throughout his life.
Jason was one of my greatest teachers and continues to be.
I’d be happy to speak to any parents of Indigo children who are finding it challenging – it certainly was, and the journey was more than well worth the effort, with all the gifts he gave me!!
Jason wrote 16 “random” things about himself on his Facebook on 12/08. I feel he’s given me permission to share it, and it really captures his indigo-ness and self-confidence:
1) I've been vegetarian for 4 years now. I just don't like eating the meat of another animal. If someone else is eating meat in front of me it's totally cool, just don't want to have any for myself.
2) I'm a musical composer and I've made a hell of a lot of stuff.
3) I've been really into photography as well since like 8th grade.
4) I haven't significantly cut my hair since the summer of 7th grade. But you never know.
5) I'm an introvert, meaning I use up my energy being around people so I need a lot of alone time to regain it. (opposed to extrovert) As much as I love hanging out with friends and all, I like to spend most of my time by myself.
6) I'm really open about everything and would tell anyone pretty much anything.
7) I like, for the most part, every kind of music in existence. (like, rule out a bit of country and most children's lol) You can tell when you see both Slipknot and Enya in my library. XD
8) I accept everything about everyone. If you're the total opposite of me, that's cool, I respect it. I might not agree with your beliefs or ideas but who says I have in order to get along?
9) I don't even remotely associate myself with any religion or position on the question of God. The only thing on the topic of religion I'm against is when hardcore Mormons tell you if you don't join them you'll go to hell. The way I see it, there's only a hell if you create one for yourself.
10) I'm gay. No, I don't associate myself with rainbows and I don't do the stereotypical flip of the hand. No, I don't have an obnoxious voice all female friends. No, I don't try to come on to every guy I see or would even want to. I simply like other guys. That's... all being gay means. XD
11) I appreciate beauty in everything, may it be a landscape or the rust on a building.
12) I don't like dealing with absurdly immature people (aka about half of the freshman class) or people who are so annoying that they'll most likely be shot some day for pissing off some huge guy with a rifle. lol
13) I don't like the extremes of both pessimism or optimism. When you're so happy you try to ignore everything bad that's happening, you're only creating more problems. And of course, when the only thing you ever do is piss and moan about random shit that's happened to you doesn't get anyone anywhere.
14) It's soooo frustrating when movies have terrible endings. It's like, everything's going so great and get better and better and better until right when someone opens their mouth to say something the screen goes black and the ending credits come up. >.>
15) When people can't type with at least somewhat proper grammar online to save their life. Or when conversations go hey, wuts up, nmu, nm jc. and then no one says anything else for two hours when someone says g2g cya, kk bye. Is your life seriously that boring? XD
16) I'm extremely sensitive. If I'm completely useless when I'm trying to help or do or say something really stupid, it really gets to me and I start to sulk. I also pick up heavily on other's emotions. If there's a sad atmosphere about some place I'll start to get a little sad, or if everyone's laughing I might start too even if I don't know what for. :P
I prefer not to use labels to categorize people, but “indigo child” is a term that has meant something to me, raising Jason as a child. Indigo children question all the old belief systems, many of which have been hurting our planet and our culture. He always asked “why” about the real important stuff, and hearing his questioning taught me how we buy into so many beliefs we don’t even realize we have. He didn’t understand why people wouldn’t love and accept each other, and taught oneness by example. He didn’t refer to himself as “spiritual”, but he was one of the most spiritual people I’ve known.
I found this entry in my journal when Jason was 9 yrs old. Jason’s journal entry from 17 yrs old follows.
The Indigo Child, 12/1/2000
Jason has come in with pretty evolved consciousness; we’ve always thought this, but now I’m tuning into it more. Some of the things that have caused us frustration as parents (such as his high energy and insistence) are things that Jason is trying to use to teach us something. As in Jump Time (a book by Jean Houston), we need to be prepared for the unexpected!
• Jason is focused in unity – he doesn’t understand judgment and punishment or other separation. He plays so well with his friends; he never fights, but they argue sometimes and work out their differences, knowing there is unity, and often with humor.
• Jason doesn’t like competitive sports – he knows it’s how you play the game, not who wins.
• Jason doesn’t like school – the 8:30-2 public school system doesn’t work for him. He didn’t want Montessori either. He called it a “play pen” for grades 1-3, and he got clear he wants more structured lessons, since he sensed the academic pressure to be an independent student. He would benefit with homeschooling, although he would miss being around other children. (I research this for the past few years and decided it would be crazy for me with an upcoming divorce, being a single working parent). I listen to him and honor his wisdom; I don’t underestimate his maturity level and ability to handle knowledge and emotions.
• He needs to learn thing his way – this has been the case since was a baby!
• He has a great sense of humor; he never gets too serious about life.
• He “dawdles” and has difficulty with transitions – he’s in his own flow.
• He always knows what he wants and lets me know.
• He is motivated by empowerment and choices.
• He doesn’t understand why his parents are the bosses. (We don’t have all the answers and we are all teachers, including Jason.) He understands why there are rules, but they have to be relevant.
• He resists his father’s intensity about nutrition and following certain special diets (“why?”), but understands that eating well is important.
• He knows God is in him.
• He likes being home – the outside world doesn’t always fit with his world of innocence and unity!
• He is able to express more now why he doesn’t like or agree with something. We are listening more, such as when he decided he didn’t want to go to Montessori school in 3rd grade.
I am going to observe more how Jason behaves with respect to his higher consciousness. I will honor his inner wisdom and see him as much a teacher for me as I am for him.
The above journey entry was written half-way through Jason’s life, and mostly held throughout his life.
Jason was one of my greatest teachers and continues to be.
I’d be happy to speak to any parents of Indigo children who are finding it challenging – it certainly was, and the journey was more than well worth the effort, with all the gifts he gave me!!
Jason wrote 16 “random” things about himself on his Facebook on 12/08. I feel he’s given me permission to share it, and it really captures his indigo-ness and self-confidence:
1) I've been vegetarian for 4 years now. I just don't like eating the meat of another animal. If someone else is eating meat in front of me it's totally cool, just don't want to have any for myself.
2) I'm a musical composer and I've made a hell of a lot of stuff.
3) I've been really into photography as well since like 8th grade.
4) I haven't significantly cut my hair since the summer of 7th grade. But you never know.
5) I'm an introvert, meaning I use up my energy being around people so I need a lot of alone time to regain it. (opposed to extrovert) As much as I love hanging out with friends and all, I like to spend most of my time by myself.
6) I'm really open about everything and would tell anyone pretty much anything.
7) I like, for the most part, every kind of music in existence. (like, rule out a bit of country and most children's lol) You can tell when you see both Slipknot and Enya in my library. XD
8) I accept everything about everyone. If you're the total opposite of me, that's cool, I respect it. I might not agree with your beliefs or ideas but who says I have in order to get along?
9) I don't even remotely associate myself with any religion or position on the question of God. The only thing on the topic of religion I'm against is when hardcore Mormons tell you if you don't join them you'll go to hell. The way I see it, there's only a hell if you create one for yourself.
10) I'm gay. No, I don't associate myself with rainbows and I don't do the stereotypical flip of the hand. No, I don't have an obnoxious voice all female friends. No, I don't try to come on to every guy I see or would even want to. I simply like other guys. That's... all being gay means. XD
11) I appreciate beauty in everything, may it be a landscape or the rust on a building.
12) I don't like dealing with absurdly immature people (aka about half of the freshman class) or people who are so annoying that they'll most likely be shot some day for pissing off some huge guy with a rifle. lol
13) I don't like the extremes of both pessimism or optimism. When you're so happy you try to ignore everything bad that's happening, you're only creating more problems. And of course, when the only thing you ever do is piss and moan about random shit that's happened to you doesn't get anyone anywhere.
14) It's soooo frustrating when movies have terrible endings. It's like, everything's going so great and get better and better and better until right when someone opens their mouth to say something the screen goes black and the ending credits come up. >.>
15) When people can't type with at least somewhat proper grammar online to save their life. Or when conversations go hey, wuts up, nmu, nm jc. and then no one says anything else for two hours when someone says g2g cya, kk bye. Is your life seriously that boring? XD
16) I'm extremely sensitive. If I'm completely useless when I'm trying to help or do or say something really stupid, it really gets to me and I start to sulk. I also pick up heavily on other's emotions. If there's a sad atmosphere about some place I'll start to get a little sad, or if everyone's laughing I might start too even if I don't know what for. :P
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