I’ve reunited.
With friends.
With Source.
It’s been a time of major change in my life and I’ve felt the disconnection from Source bigger than I’m used to in recent weeks. The good thing is – it’s always right here with me, and I’m bound to bump into it again and it will stick! It’s been great practice in being in the moment; that’s where we find Source.
Playing music in spiritual community brings the connection back instantly. I’m continuously amazed how I can feel the pain of loss at the same time that I am feeling the bliss of being and connecting with Source. It is feeling more continuously that there is no separation; it’s all Grace. There’s no loss or gain; it’s all right here.
The First Boston Chant Festival yesterday was a magical reunion of many friends I hadn’t seen in some years. I watched my life of the past 25 years unfold in the meeting of dear soul friends, as we caught up in timeless minutes, sharing our current life journey with words and energetically. It was so beautiful to be in the opening act with Ashara’s kirtan band, and I felt my viola fill the room with the love I felt from me and all present to connect with our hearts. It is always a joy to share my musical gift in this way. The audience was filled with the radiance of recognition of a higher love.
It was a journey through time that showed me there is no such thing as time. We are all here for a short time and yet it is forever.
My sister Mariana came to spend my birthday with me; that alone would have made my day, and I got to see her enjoy the loving energy in this growing kirtan community. Sitting with Kule and Mariana amidst rows of loving friends was a sweet birthday present, reminding me of how much we have journeyed this past year, with Jason in our hearts. Moving through my life from childhood, my former husband Chuck was there, with dear friends we used to do kirtan (Satsang) with before Jason was born and when he was a baby at my breast. Then there were my North Shore healing arts friends and other local friends I have not seen enough of lately, and that I will miss so much when I move, along with other friends I have been wanting to connect with for the past year from the Human Awareness Institute. I reunited with sound healing friends from NESHRI (www.soundhealingnetwork.org I co-founded 8 years ago); the sound of Sanskrit chant, voices singing together, and beautiful instruments create powerful sound healing and shared intention for love and connection to Source.
They were all there, the old friends and the new, even the ones that weren’t there physically. It was a lovely reunion of dear souls who have accompanied me on my spiritual journey.
I reunite with Jason on a daily basis, but two days ago my experience of this shifted to a new place.
I was visiting Jason’s swimhole in the White Mountains of NH with Kule and my soul-sister Marie-Anne’s daughter Julia and her fiancé Jeff from Texas. We were enjoying our week-long reunion, reminiscing old times when Julia and Jason (two peas-in-a-pod) would make us laugh so hard with their silliness. I wanted to show them Jason’s swimhole, and when we got there it looked so different than the last time I was there, spreading Jason’s ashes last September. The water level was high, giving us less rock ledge to spread out in. The current was strong, making the short walk over the slippery rocks a shamanic journey.
When we arrived, I was surprised I didn’t feel great sadness. I felt at home. This was my place as well as Jason’s. I’ve come here every year on my birthday for over ten years. As I meditated with the elements, I could hear and feel the rush of water on both sides of my precipice, my piece of earth, and I could feel the warmth of the sun and breathe the refreshing mountain air.
I reunited with Jason. In the next moment, it was me. It was my connection with Source. In that moment, I celebrated the shift from seeing Jason as outside myself to experiencing me as One with Jason, as One with Source.
Re-union.
That the best birthday present!
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
Trials and Tribulations
This last month of graduation brought forth a plethora of tributes to Jason. I am feeling closure around the school’s honoring of their lost classmate and recognition of Jason’s talents as an artist and musician. I’m the proud mother, supported in my grieving, as I witness others feeling supported in their grieving as well (better late than never). This culture is not comfortable with death, and there are ways that work for every community, such as standing ovations in lieu of words. Grieving is so important.
With tributes come tribulations.
“I don’t want the awards and tributes. I want my son back.”
Jason probably wouldn’t have received the Renaissance Award if he were still alive because his works wouldn’t have been known the way they are now. He was so “outta there” his junior year, and didn’t care to share his photography at school art shows. I’m still feeling out ways to recover from discovering Jason’s best music, and almost half of it, after he died. His close friends hadn’t heard the pieces either. He wrote in his journal that he didn’t think his music was that good; I believe he was changing his mind about that when he wrote a lot a few months before he passed. He just didn’t share it with others; it was too powerful in some way. Perhaps he wanted to be a normal teenager without getting too much attention or experiencing people getting intimated by him; getting accolades through the internet through DeviantArt worked well for him.
“I’m the dead kid’s mother.”
There was a huge turnout of the local community at Jason’s funeral ceremony (most of the names of the register I didn’t recognize), but less than a handful of parents and teachers reached out to me after the ceremony. When I would see someone in town I could feel their resistance to connecting with me. I was a reminder of their pain, of their own triggers about imagining losing their own child and their difficulty dealing with a death so tragic.
At the Renaissance Award I sat with Kule and the family of one of Jason’s closest friends, Gus. That was my bubble; I could actually enjoy the awards ceremony; it was creative and a celebration of so many students’ gifts. I found myself in appreciation again that we had moved to Ipswich to get Jason into the arts-oriented school. Jason’s award drew a standing ovation, but only one parent or student came up to me before or after.
Before the ceremony started, I said hello to one mother who I had had lunch with a year before (she is a consultant, too), and she thanked me for some advice I had given her. When I mentioned I hadn’t seen her since Jason died and I was curious why she hadn’t contacted me (I took a risk here….), she looked puzzled and said we weren’t close, and found a way to edge away. Another mother sitting at our table, who I had met a few times before, told me she wasn’t interested in reading my blog because she has her own spiritual path as a Christian. I was imagining the stories people might have about my perceived pagan-ness, perhaps related to witches burned at the stake in this area years ago……ouch.
I got a big hit that night, after the deluge of grief that washed over me upon returning home. I got so strongly that I should not attend the Senior Banquet because my presence is a reminder of heaviness that would spoil the festivities. That felt right to me. However, when Jason’s good friend Evan contacted me to ask if I would go because he was giving a tribute to Jason (with Jason’s photographs and music), I wanted to go and couldn’t because I had a bad cold. Chuck did a 180 and went to the event; I appreciated seeing his video. Evan did a wonderful job, and the standing ovation was also very touching.
“And now for something lighter….”
was the Principal’s line after Evan’s tribute to Jason; Chuck was amazed at the lack of awareness.
Bottom Line –
People don’t like heaviness. They don’t like being reminded of death and pain. My decision to not go to graduation was a no-brainer relief. I was grateful for what we received, and that is that.
Jason had already graduated, and I felt complete with his school. Graduation day came and went and I was immersed in sacred chant and music and even forgot it was the 10 month anniversary of his passing.
“I moved to Ipswich for Jason, so I would be stuck if I stayed here.”
I’m ready to move. I’m also conflicted. I have so much wonderful virtual community in the Boston area, even though Ipswich as a town has not met my need for the type of community I want to live in and I want to try living outside New England. I’m working hard to move and there are some logistical complications around getting the house ready, getting the right tenants, and balancing all of this with my busy consulting business and my biggest project of the year – grieving. It’s been overwhelming, and my body revolted with a bad cold. I got the message then – time to slow down and take care of myself.
“I don’t know where I’m headed.”
Jason is gone and I’m completely free to follow my passion – and I need to, to best honor Jason. He would want me to. I don’t have anyone to take care of except my travel partner Kule. Even Annaper the cat is taken care of; she just moved to Auntie Liz’s. There’s an incredible excitement about this, and it also brings up an old pattern (one I think all humans with an active mind have) that I want to know what is going to happen, to control what happens. I’m being tested big time, and I’m somewhat passing the tests to be aware of letting go of this pattern.
I’m coming full circle to Jason’s message to Be. It really is the way to happiness.
Tribulations turn into Tributes when I shift to this state of Being,
With tributes come tribulations.
“I don’t want the awards and tributes. I want my son back.”
Jason probably wouldn’t have received the Renaissance Award if he were still alive because his works wouldn’t have been known the way they are now. He was so “outta there” his junior year, and didn’t care to share his photography at school art shows. I’m still feeling out ways to recover from discovering Jason’s best music, and almost half of it, after he died. His close friends hadn’t heard the pieces either. He wrote in his journal that he didn’t think his music was that good; I believe he was changing his mind about that when he wrote a lot a few months before he passed. He just didn’t share it with others; it was too powerful in some way. Perhaps he wanted to be a normal teenager without getting too much attention or experiencing people getting intimated by him; getting accolades through the internet through DeviantArt worked well for him.
“I’m the dead kid’s mother.”
There was a huge turnout of the local community at Jason’s funeral ceremony (most of the names of the register I didn’t recognize), but less than a handful of parents and teachers reached out to me after the ceremony. When I would see someone in town I could feel their resistance to connecting with me. I was a reminder of their pain, of their own triggers about imagining losing their own child and their difficulty dealing with a death so tragic.
At the Renaissance Award I sat with Kule and the family of one of Jason’s closest friends, Gus. That was my bubble; I could actually enjoy the awards ceremony; it was creative and a celebration of so many students’ gifts. I found myself in appreciation again that we had moved to Ipswich to get Jason into the arts-oriented school. Jason’s award drew a standing ovation, but only one parent or student came up to me before or after.
Before the ceremony started, I said hello to one mother who I had had lunch with a year before (she is a consultant, too), and she thanked me for some advice I had given her. When I mentioned I hadn’t seen her since Jason died and I was curious why she hadn’t contacted me (I took a risk here….), she looked puzzled and said we weren’t close, and found a way to edge away. Another mother sitting at our table, who I had met a few times before, told me she wasn’t interested in reading my blog because she has her own spiritual path as a Christian. I was imagining the stories people might have about my perceived pagan-ness, perhaps related to witches burned at the stake in this area years ago……ouch.
I got a big hit that night, after the deluge of grief that washed over me upon returning home. I got so strongly that I should not attend the Senior Banquet because my presence is a reminder of heaviness that would spoil the festivities. That felt right to me. However, when Jason’s good friend Evan contacted me to ask if I would go because he was giving a tribute to Jason (with Jason’s photographs and music), I wanted to go and couldn’t because I had a bad cold. Chuck did a 180 and went to the event; I appreciated seeing his video. Evan did a wonderful job, and the standing ovation was also very touching.
“And now for something lighter….”
was the Principal’s line after Evan’s tribute to Jason; Chuck was amazed at the lack of awareness.
Bottom Line –
People don’t like heaviness. They don’t like being reminded of death and pain. My decision to not go to graduation was a no-brainer relief. I was grateful for what we received, and that is that.
Jason had already graduated, and I felt complete with his school. Graduation day came and went and I was immersed in sacred chant and music and even forgot it was the 10 month anniversary of his passing.
“I moved to Ipswich for Jason, so I would be stuck if I stayed here.”
I’m ready to move. I’m also conflicted. I have so much wonderful virtual community in the Boston area, even though Ipswich as a town has not met my need for the type of community I want to live in and I want to try living outside New England. I’m working hard to move and there are some logistical complications around getting the house ready, getting the right tenants, and balancing all of this with my busy consulting business and my biggest project of the year – grieving. It’s been overwhelming, and my body revolted with a bad cold. I got the message then – time to slow down and take care of myself.
“I don’t know where I’m headed.”
Jason is gone and I’m completely free to follow my passion – and I need to, to best honor Jason. He would want me to. I don’t have anyone to take care of except my travel partner Kule. Even Annaper the cat is taken care of; she just moved to Auntie Liz’s. There’s an incredible excitement about this, and it also brings up an old pattern (one I think all humans with an active mind have) that I want to know what is going to happen, to control what happens. I’m being tested big time, and I’m somewhat passing the tests to be aware of letting go of this pattern.
I’m coming full circle to Jason’s message to Be. It really is the way to happiness.
Tribulations turn into Tributes when I shift to this state of Being,
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