Mother’s day has been the hardest holiday since Jason’s passing. Being a mother has been the greatest joy in my life. Being a mother to Jason has brought me some of the greatest challenges, perhaps most of my spiritual growth, and the greatest honor. Knowing what I do now, if someone had asked me if I wanted to take this journey as a mother to Jason, I would still do it, in a heartbeat. The (my) truth is, that Jason is not gone, he will be here forever, and I will be his mother forever. Nothing’s changed in that department. I believe I will continue to receive the benefits of being Jason’s mother in a bigger way that I would never have expected.
I allowed myself to submerge into the sadness and self-pity of not having my precious child with me on mother’s day, allowing the grief waves to superimpose to a mega tsunami, releasing more and more. I’m a world-class grief-wave surfer, I think to myself, and of course I’ll ride this one out. Jason holds me through it. He knows now that I have to feel it fully to release it, so he didn’t tell me to lighten up the way he used to.
I watched my mind dig up a ton of salt to throw on the wounds. All the work I did raising him, all the emotional and financial sacrifice, not being able to see him get his music and art out into the world, moving to Ipswich for him and not being embraced by the town during my loss…. and the salt kept stinging. I’m so grateful I could process these thoughts away (thank God for Avatar and dear friends), to leave me with the tenderness of a loving mom who is so grateful to have had Jason as my child in this lifetime. All of those painful thoughts are reflections of what I needed to learn in this lifetime.
Any painful thought is.
I’m in a peaceful place now, on Mother’s Day morning. I’m feeling the Divine Feminine energy, the energy I get in touch with every mother’s day. To me, mother’s day is a connection with the Great Mother who takes care of us all. We pass that on to others, as parents, as friends, as caregivers, as nurturing men and women. I am reminded of our incredible connection with Mother Earth.
Two days ago I sent an email out to several friends asking them to think of me and send me happy mother’s day wishes, as I guessed it would be a challenging time for me. Many people feel awkward about death, especially that of a child, and I wanted to clarify that I am still a mother, and would like to receive mother’s day wishes. I’m so glad I asked for what I want and need, because I received some precious gifts. I received beautiful messages from friends, and a few unexpected presents from Jason.
I received a new song from Jason. Chuck found it yesterday on the computer he inherited from Jason; we didn’t notice it when we backed it up. It may have been one of his last compositions, probably a work in progress (1 ½ minutes long) called Silent Deconstruction. It was so special to receive this, with his beautiful voice singing to his unique style of music composition, use of sound, and creative lyrics.
Jason’s mother’s day cards from several years ago resurfaced yesterday as I was cleaning out my files:
One card was from his Pokemon days (probably 8 yrs old) where he wrote “I love you so much!!! Happy Mother’s Day… Your son, Jason” and drew original animated characters called Spikler, Chenakirlie, Skratchy, Dion, and Curly Fred.
Another card was from when he was about 13, where he enclosed one of his first digitally enhanced photographs:
“Thankies for birthenerationaptizing me!!! You also birthenerationaptized the objectos and substances I needed for avoiding nonexistence. I love you too much to be a plastic cup or a flower with unnatural suicidal tendancies!
P.S. your head just blew up “
The envelope had his Spanish random humor: “Para mi madre, de su higo Jacisin. Su unas coches grandes males verdes esta en mis ojo. (Yay, bad grammar momento!)”
He continues to give me the present of laughter. I learned to laugh from him more than from any other teacher.
I received another mother’s day present that needs to be shared, by permission from the author Kerry Zagarella of Ipswich. Not only is Kerry a gifted writer, but her son Gus and Jason grew up together and inspired each other with their creative talents (Gus’s play just got performed at the high school). We had each others’ sons over our homes continuously for years in countless sleepovers. We have several home movies of Gus, Dustin, Katie, and others that will keep me entertained for years. It was very special to have Gus there spreading the ashes with us in Gloucester, swimming through the floating rose petals with us as we connected with Jason’s spirit together. Gus and Jason have a special bond. I used to take them to Carl’s mystical movie night, and they impressed all of us with their comments about the movies. They thought the mystical movies were really awesome. I could write so much about Jason and his friends. Jason spent a lot of time at Gus’s and Kerry’s home. We had a sweet time reflecting on the memories as mothers of these precious children yesterday.
Kerry’s poem was delivered to me with the words “for Michelle with much love and admiration, peace, kerry”. She explained how she used imagery from several of Jason’s photographs.
Mother Eternal
Mother Eternal
for Michelle with much love and admiration
~peace, kerry
You are mother eternal
Recognize your son’s soul in the far off mist lifting over the marsh
to become once again, present, filling puddles with song
tangled damp beach hair pony tail gone to the touch
creates celestial soundtrack on roof tops
It nourishes roots, grows trees tall
keeps us alive
together
He is in the calmness of Fire, a sky lit up hosting a bird made of water
You have taught us mother eternal
to accept the invitation to an underwater forest where two benches welcome his story and ours
being all part of the same story
He is in the flow of the river, the ebb of the tide
And like the ripple hidden beneath a bouncing raindrop
there is no beginning or end
there are only moments
when a mother eternal speaks
and the universe is revealed
-Kerry Zagarella, Ipswich, MA
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Gestation
It’s been nine months since Jason’s passing. I carried him for 9 months and I’ve been releasing him for 9 months.
It’s so interesting to me that reflecting on this at this time does not bring up intense sadness. I’m feeling inspired. I’m inspired by the memory of Jason. I’m inspired by what we can create in our lives. Life is a continual gestation.
I’m preparing for a birthing of new-ness in my life. This time I don’t have to worry if it’s a boy or a girl, or what name I should choose. I’m taking care of myself and putting my attention on what I want to create in my life, not on what I’ve lost. That’s powerful.
I’m finding I’m not sleeping well lately, similar to the way I didn’t sleep those last few weeks of physical pregnancy. I wake up in the middle of the night buzzing. I’ve processed out most of the anxiety and overwhelm of upcoming changes in my life, thinking of the 100s of things I have to do to get ready for my new clients, upcoming travel, explorations, renting out our home, whittling down our stuff, making my office mobile, etc. I’m noticing now that the energy that’s left is something that is working on me at deeper levels. When my dear healer friend Marie-Anne experiences this kind of energy, she calls it “uploads”. Something is coming in, some new energy, getting me ready for deeper work on this earth plane. Jason’s there, on the other side, helping me with my gestation and midwifery.
I’m a spiritual counselor. That’s my new mantra. That’s an identity that I’m starting to fully embody.
This baby is not separate from me, but I’ll be caring for her as if she were a tender newborn, recognizing her wise soul, allowing the unfoldment. I learned the first time around with Jason not to take the parental role so seriously, not to feel like I have to control everything, not to figure out everything with my mind. Nursing is a meditation; it is grounding and nurturing to the mother as well as the baby. We’ll learn naturally how to crawl together, to walk together, to play together, to just be together.
What should I do to prepare? I’m feeling into it. I’m embracing the role of spiritual counselor. I’m making this role a priority, just like I made mothering a priority when Jason needed me most. I’ve been so busy trying to make everything work, to whittle down my list of to-dos, and I wasn’t paying attention to my priority. Everything else falls into place when I embody who I truly am.
I have been asking for ease, and I’m getting it with the simple act of trusting. I trust that Jason’s passing is teaching me so much that is also beneficial to others. I’m still grieving and healing, and with time I will be taking a more and more active role to bring this healing out into the world. I’m sharing it with my friends and family, with strangers that become dear friends in minutes, with work associates who are seeking more meaning in their lives.
I’m a spiritual counselor, a transition guide, a freedom guide. I’m getting clear about the energy and the role, and the naming of it isn’t as important to me.
I’m enjoying the birthing of new energy, as overwhelming as it feels at times. At least this time I haven’t gained 40 pounds!
Happy Mother’s day to me.
Here’s Jason’s last mother’s day card:
You are such an awesome mom that even in my teenage years I still love you and talk to you. I even like spending time with you! But really, I do. And I’m glad I can be a son you look after and feed as well as a friend. It’s great sharing a house with you and it always makes me happy.
Te amo mucho y yo me espero que tu vas a vivir hasta tu mueres. (Translated: I love you very much and I hope that you will live until you die.)
La ensalada blanca no puede caminar mientras tu duermes (Translated: The white salad can’t walk while you sleep.)
Cuando los dientes estan negros, tienes que cepillarlos. (Translated: While the teeth are black, you have to brush them.)
Es porque los peces viven en las piernas. (Translated: That’s why the fish live in the legs.)
El piel de los gatos se respira quando tu hablas. (Translated: The fur of the cats breathe when you speak.)
Como siempre, te encanto. (Translated: As always, charmed.)
Love, Juan
Note: Jason had his relatives in Argentina in stitches with his Spanish
It’s so interesting to me that reflecting on this at this time does not bring up intense sadness. I’m feeling inspired. I’m inspired by the memory of Jason. I’m inspired by what we can create in our lives. Life is a continual gestation.
I’m preparing for a birthing of new-ness in my life. This time I don’t have to worry if it’s a boy or a girl, or what name I should choose. I’m taking care of myself and putting my attention on what I want to create in my life, not on what I’ve lost. That’s powerful.
I’m finding I’m not sleeping well lately, similar to the way I didn’t sleep those last few weeks of physical pregnancy. I wake up in the middle of the night buzzing. I’ve processed out most of the anxiety and overwhelm of upcoming changes in my life, thinking of the 100s of things I have to do to get ready for my new clients, upcoming travel, explorations, renting out our home, whittling down our stuff, making my office mobile, etc. I’m noticing now that the energy that’s left is something that is working on me at deeper levels. When my dear healer friend Marie-Anne experiences this kind of energy, she calls it “uploads”. Something is coming in, some new energy, getting me ready for deeper work on this earth plane. Jason’s there, on the other side, helping me with my gestation and midwifery.
I’m a spiritual counselor. That’s my new mantra. That’s an identity that I’m starting to fully embody.
This baby is not separate from me, but I’ll be caring for her as if she were a tender newborn, recognizing her wise soul, allowing the unfoldment. I learned the first time around with Jason not to take the parental role so seriously, not to feel like I have to control everything, not to figure out everything with my mind. Nursing is a meditation; it is grounding and nurturing to the mother as well as the baby. We’ll learn naturally how to crawl together, to walk together, to play together, to just be together.
What should I do to prepare? I’m feeling into it. I’m embracing the role of spiritual counselor. I’m making this role a priority, just like I made mothering a priority when Jason needed me most. I’ve been so busy trying to make everything work, to whittle down my list of to-dos, and I wasn’t paying attention to my priority. Everything else falls into place when I embody who I truly am.
I have been asking for ease, and I’m getting it with the simple act of trusting. I trust that Jason’s passing is teaching me so much that is also beneficial to others. I’m still grieving and healing, and with time I will be taking a more and more active role to bring this healing out into the world. I’m sharing it with my friends and family, with strangers that become dear friends in minutes, with work associates who are seeking more meaning in their lives.
I’m a spiritual counselor, a transition guide, a freedom guide. I’m getting clear about the energy and the role, and the naming of it isn’t as important to me.
I’m enjoying the birthing of new energy, as overwhelming as it feels at times. At least this time I haven’t gained 40 pounds!
Happy Mother’s day to me.
Here’s Jason’s last mother’s day card:
You are such an awesome mom that even in my teenage years I still love you and talk to you. I even like spending time with you! But really, I do. And I’m glad I can be a son you look after and feed as well as a friend. It’s great sharing a house with you and it always makes me happy.
Te amo mucho y yo me espero que tu vas a vivir hasta tu mueres. (Translated: I love you very much and I hope that you will live until you die.)
La ensalada blanca no puede caminar mientras tu duermes (Translated: The white salad can’t walk while you sleep.)
Cuando los dientes estan negros, tienes que cepillarlos. (Translated: While the teeth are black, you have to brush them.)
Es porque los peces viven en las piernas. (Translated: That’s why the fish live in the legs.)
El piel de los gatos se respira quando tu hablas. (Translated: The fur of the cats breathe when you speak.)
Como siempre, te encanto. (Translated: As always, charmed.)
Love, Juan
Note: Jason had his relatives in Argentina in stitches with his Spanish
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Message 36 - I'm Right Here
Jason lives. He’s right here. He’s always been here.
I received that message from him clearly a few times this past week. It has helped me resurface easily from moments of deep pain, missing his physical presence, missing the adorable 17-year old that I used to share a house with and a life with, that used to help me relax, inspire me, and make me laugh.
He was right here with me when I was listening to his music the other day, after cutting two new CDs with 2 hours worth of songs he wrote that most people haven’t heard yet. We discovered many of them after he died, and now he is showing them to us with the familiar excitement he shared with so many showings of his photography and music.
He is right here showing off his photographs at his art show in Zumi’s coffee shop and cultural center in Ipswich. I cried at first when it was all up on the wall, a symbol of who he wanted to be in this world. I wished he were there. He lived for his art and music. Now he lives in his art and music. He is right here, showing his art to the world. He sees people coming in to Zumi’s, drawn to the photos, amazed that someone that young could have that advanced an eye, captivated by the colors, unique perspectives, and dream-like images. I get to sit and watch this happening, with a caramel cloud latte. I’m the proud mom and biggest fan. And the best part is I get to be with him in his excitement, celebrating what he lived for.
Jason has told me many times he is right here with me, and I’ve needed reminders. He told me to let go of my child a month ago (see Letting Go of the Future). I got the clear message this past week to let go of more than the child – to let go of any idea of his form, and to trust he is here.
I did a shamanic drumming journey in Essex last Sunday. We were instructed to find our spirit guide in the upper world and ask him/her about any impediments to my growth. It was the first time I had done a journey since Jason died, and I expected that I would see him. Jason has always been my teacher, since he was a baby. I shot up to the sky, my hair and gown flowing back in the breeze, and felt Jason’s hands holding mine as we soared up to a beautiful place. It was a scene he would have chosen in life – the Arizona desert, with Saguaro cacti and beautiful turquoise blue waterfalls.
As we floated, Jason looked into my eyes with that peaceful, strong, confident presence that had always reflected his wise soul. He told me firmly and lovingly to stop remembering him as the 17 year old boy and young adult. He no longer has that form, that sweet, tall, lean, pony-tailed artist. He is formless and limitless. Thinking of him in the old paradigm is impeding my growth. He wants me to be open to being with him in any form, and in the formless. That’s how I will know he is always right here. That’s how I will stay more connected to him and to the other side, where there is so much for me to learn and take back to others. This is my path of service. It always has been, and now I have a more direct channel, by staying connected with Jason.
I’m assisting others to connect with the other side, to trust that there is so much more than the physical world, and to know how much we can benefit by that knowing. We aren’t afraid of death, and therefore we can be more fully alive. We trust in the unknown, and have less expectations about how things need to be. We know how to surrender to what is, appreciating the beauty of all we have, attracting more beauty.
It has been wonderful connecting with Jason in so many ways. I enjoyed being in the Arizona desert with him again. This time we got to play by soaring together and jumping from cactus to cactus. “See, mom, we get to enjoy this even better now, without getting pricklies in us!”
I received that message from him clearly a few times this past week. It has helped me resurface easily from moments of deep pain, missing his physical presence, missing the adorable 17-year old that I used to share a house with and a life with, that used to help me relax, inspire me, and make me laugh.
He was right here with me when I was listening to his music the other day, after cutting two new CDs with 2 hours worth of songs he wrote that most people haven’t heard yet. We discovered many of them after he died, and now he is showing them to us with the familiar excitement he shared with so many showings of his photography and music.
He is right here showing off his photographs at his art show in Zumi’s coffee shop and cultural center in Ipswich. I cried at first when it was all up on the wall, a symbol of who he wanted to be in this world. I wished he were there. He lived for his art and music. Now he lives in his art and music. He is right here, showing his art to the world. He sees people coming in to Zumi’s, drawn to the photos, amazed that someone that young could have that advanced an eye, captivated by the colors, unique perspectives, and dream-like images. I get to sit and watch this happening, with a caramel cloud latte. I’m the proud mom and biggest fan. And the best part is I get to be with him in his excitement, celebrating what he lived for.
Jason has told me many times he is right here with me, and I’ve needed reminders. He told me to let go of my child a month ago (see Letting Go of the Future). I got the clear message this past week to let go of more than the child – to let go of any idea of his form, and to trust he is here.
I did a shamanic drumming journey in Essex last Sunday. We were instructed to find our spirit guide in the upper world and ask him/her about any impediments to my growth. It was the first time I had done a journey since Jason died, and I expected that I would see him. Jason has always been my teacher, since he was a baby. I shot up to the sky, my hair and gown flowing back in the breeze, and felt Jason’s hands holding mine as we soared up to a beautiful place. It was a scene he would have chosen in life – the Arizona desert, with Saguaro cacti and beautiful turquoise blue waterfalls.
As we floated, Jason looked into my eyes with that peaceful, strong, confident presence that had always reflected his wise soul. He told me firmly and lovingly to stop remembering him as the 17 year old boy and young adult. He no longer has that form, that sweet, tall, lean, pony-tailed artist. He is formless and limitless. Thinking of him in the old paradigm is impeding my growth. He wants me to be open to being with him in any form, and in the formless. That’s how I will know he is always right here. That’s how I will stay more connected to him and to the other side, where there is so much for me to learn and take back to others. This is my path of service. It always has been, and now I have a more direct channel, by staying connected with Jason.
I’m assisting others to connect with the other side, to trust that there is so much more than the physical world, and to know how much we can benefit by that knowing. We aren’t afraid of death, and therefore we can be more fully alive. We trust in the unknown, and have less expectations about how things need to be. We know how to surrender to what is, appreciating the beauty of all we have, attracting more beauty.
It has been wonderful connecting with Jason in so many ways. I enjoyed being in the Arizona desert with him again. This time we got to play by soaring together and jumping from cactus to cactus. “See, mom, we get to enjoy this even better now, without getting pricklies in us!”
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Rebirth
When Jason died, I died. His funeral was my funeral, a celebration of his life and my life. My grieving has been a rebirth. It’s spring time and there is new life everywhere.
The change in season has brought up some renewed grieving for me. April spring break reminds me of the awesome vacations Jason and I would take together to the southwest, getting up early with the excitement of flying in a plane together. He wore his camera like a necklace, and time did not exist to him. It still meant something to me, as I waited patiently on the trail for him to catch up as he captured magical moments on his camera. As I waited, I got the lesson to be in the moment. I’m getting that lesson again as I write this.
Graduation is coming soon, and although it is very sad, I feel Jason will be there in spirit to celebrate with his friends, and in the art show we are doing for him at the local coffee place, Zumi’s. I’m remembering how excited Jason would be when the warm climate came this time of year; he came alive again, wanting to be outdoors, taking long walks with his camera and his friends, enjoying the newness of life. I’m remembering how it felt as a student every spring, feeling the renewal and juiciness of life. I’m remembering how special it was to enjoy this with him last spring and into July, after a challenging winter of illness and make-up homework. I’m feeling the joy he had with his Art of Living course in Canada, his two trips to California with me, Kule, and family, and his excitement to join his friends on the south shore to do hang out and do a rock concert together. I’m feeling that joy right now as I write.
Birth isn’t easy, so I can’t expect rebirth to be, either. I was in labor for 48 hours with Jason; he was in no rush to leave the warm nurturing womb. I pushed for 4 ½ hrs, grabbing a snooze between contractions. It never occurred to me that Jason could be in any danger; the passage was long and painful but very peaceful. I remember how much I let go and just let it happen. I’m feeling that now with my rebirth.
It’s beautiful. It’s painful. It’s inspiring. It’s what it is. I’m allowing myself to flower with all of the other spring buds.
Last year, before Jason passed away, I was preparing for my next steps when he was to take his next steps (college, travel, or exploration). I asked myself “What would I be doing or planning right now if I didn’t have Jason in my life?” I immediately felt a lot of confusion, fear, and grief in response to hearing this question. I didn’t know what I wanted to do; I’m still not clear, now that the opportunity is here. I’m not only grieving not having Jason, but not having had the opportunity to do lots of things in my life, and I’m afraid I won’t get to do them. I’m realizing as I write this how much I want to let go of any attachment, and just be with who I am, where I am, and what I am doing…..anytime.
I’m also feeling the gratitude of all I have done in my life, and all the gifts I have received from so many. I’m taking this opportunity to thank all of those wonderful souls that found me in this lifetime to learn together, to experience together, to celebrate together. I cherish every opportunity to connect deeply with other souls. I also cherish the times, such as lately, that I need time to myself. It’s all good.
I experienced a facilitated rebirthing process recently. It felt so familiar, and I recognized that I have been in it since Jason died. I have been reflecting on my own life, on the “clean up” of material things and of unfinished business, looking at what is really important, and letting my heart guide me more and more. It really is about letting go, and it is freeing.
I am reminded of how blessed I have been to feel Jason with me since he died. Death can be so lonely, if we believe there is a complete loss. I have received the gift of hearing his messages, of now understanding how I can connect with others when I die. I haven’t been afraid of death for some time, and this confirms why. Imagine how much peace there would be in the world if we did not fear death, and if we were in a constant state of rebirth and refreshed perspective on what we receive and give on this earth plane and beyond.
I am here to assist others to connect with the soul of others before and after they or their loved ones depart, so they know that the connection will not be lost. In fact, I believe we gain a connection to the beyond through our departed, when we stay connected in the love we feel for them. It’s overwhelming, and I believe that practicing this before death eases the transition.
I recently received the gift of inspiring a woman to help her sister prepare for her imminent death from cancer. She got in touch with her grief that her sister didn’t have a good life, and how important it was to be in the moment and inspire her sister to enjoy her final moments on earth by sharing beautiful memories together. I’m being called to be available to assist others in this way, and that is assisting my own rebirth.
We are one. There is no separation, in life and after death. The cycle of life is a mobius strip, a continuous loop where we don’t know if we are dying or being born. It’s meant to be felt and accepted, and not figured out with our minds.
Happy rebirthday!
Love,
Michelle
The change in season has brought up some renewed grieving for me. April spring break reminds me of the awesome vacations Jason and I would take together to the southwest, getting up early with the excitement of flying in a plane together. He wore his camera like a necklace, and time did not exist to him. It still meant something to me, as I waited patiently on the trail for him to catch up as he captured magical moments on his camera. As I waited, I got the lesson to be in the moment. I’m getting that lesson again as I write this.
Graduation is coming soon, and although it is very sad, I feel Jason will be there in spirit to celebrate with his friends, and in the art show we are doing for him at the local coffee place, Zumi’s. I’m remembering how excited Jason would be when the warm climate came this time of year; he came alive again, wanting to be outdoors, taking long walks with his camera and his friends, enjoying the newness of life. I’m remembering how it felt as a student every spring, feeling the renewal and juiciness of life. I’m remembering how special it was to enjoy this with him last spring and into July, after a challenging winter of illness and make-up homework. I’m feeling the joy he had with his Art of Living course in Canada, his two trips to California with me, Kule, and family, and his excitement to join his friends on the south shore to do hang out and do a rock concert together. I’m feeling that joy right now as I write.
Birth isn’t easy, so I can’t expect rebirth to be, either. I was in labor for 48 hours with Jason; he was in no rush to leave the warm nurturing womb. I pushed for 4 ½ hrs, grabbing a snooze between contractions. It never occurred to me that Jason could be in any danger; the passage was long and painful but very peaceful. I remember how much I let go and just let it happen. I’m feeling that now with my rebirth.
It’s beautiful. It’s painful. It’s inspiring. It’s what it is. I’m allowing myself to flower with all of the other spring buds.
Last year, before Jason passed away, I was preparing for my next steps when he was to take his next steps (college, travel, or exploration). I asked myself “What would I be doing or planning right now if I didn’t have Jason in my life?” I immediately felt a lot of confusion, fear, and grief in response to hearing this question. I didn’t know what I wanted to do; I’m still not clear, now that the opportunity is here. I’m not only grieving not having Jason, but not having had the opportunity to do lots of things in my life, and I’m afraid I won’t get to do them. I’m realizing as I write this how much I want to let go of any attachment, and just be with who I am, where I am, and what I am doing…..anytime.
I’m also feeling the gratitude of all I have done in my life, and all the gifts I have received from so many. I’m taking this opportunity to thank all of those wonderful souls that found me in this lifetime to learn together, to experience together, to celebrate together. I cherish every opportunity to connect deeply with other souls. I also cherish the times, such as lately, that I need time to myself. It’s all good.
I experienced a facilitated rebirthing process recently. It felt so familiar, and I recognized that I have been in it since Jason died. I have been reflecting on my own life, on the “clean up” of material things and of unfinished business, looking at what is really important, and letting my heart guide me more and more. It really is about letting go, and it is freeing.
I am reminded of how blessed I have been to feel Jason with me since he died. Death can be so lonely, if we believe there is a complete loss. I have received the gift of hearing his messages, of now understanding how I can connect with others when I die. I haven’t been afraid of death for some time, and this confirms why. Imagine how much peace there would be in the world if we did not fear death, and if we were in a constant state of rebirth and refreshed perspective on what we receive and give on this earth plane and beyond.
I am here to assist others to connect with the soul of others before and after they or their loved ones depart, so they know that the connection will not be lost. In fact, I believe we gain a connection to the beyond through our departed, when we stay connected in the love we feel for them. It’s overwhelming, and I believe that practicing this before death eases the transition.
I recently received the gift of inspiring a woman to help her sister prepare for her imminent death from cancer. She got in touch with her grief that her sister didn’t have a good life, and how important it was to be in the moment and inspire her sister to enjoy her final moments on earth by sharing beautiful memories together. I’m being called to be available to assist others in this way, and that is assisting my own rebirth.
We are one. There is no separation, in life and after death. The cycle of life is a mobius strip, a continuous loop where we don’t know if we are dying or being born. It’s meant to be felt and accepted, and not figured out with our minds.
Happy rebirthday!
Love,
Michelle
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Letting Go of the Future
I’ve worked hard to let go of the past and be in the present. I overlooked one piece – the future.
Jason and I had a 5-year plan in Ipswich:
He was going to spread his adult wings and fly to his future. He’s done that, and I believe I’ve accepted his path.
I was going to take off to a new destination outside New England. I didn’t know where I’d end up, but I looked forward to having Jason visit me wherever I was. Wow. That hit me hard.
Two days ago, I was doing a process with my Avatar group around manifesting my ideal living situation, asking to be presented with any limiting thoughts or feelings. I felt the sadness, and the source got revealed to me…….“No living situation is ideal for me if Jason can’t visit me.” Continuing the process, I felt that shift to a feeling of gratitude for Jason being an inspiration to me, wanting me to be happy and follow my passion. If it weren’t for him and Kule, I wouldn’t be hitting the road exploring new places to live. Jason and Kule have been my favorite travel partners of all time, desiring exploration and adventure, allowing me to feel free, in the moment, and able to make any place my home. Jason continues to travel with me and be in my home; I know that will always be true. I also have the perfect earth-bound partner with whom to spread my wings and fly.
Yesterday I was in the water, playing with dolphins in my Watsu session with Bobbie Courtney. Not surprisingly, Jason came out to play, holding my hands in the water. He was pure light. He told me he wants to be happy, and I definitely felt that.
Jason also told me directly to let go of my child. Every parent needs to do this, and it causes us parents suffering when we don’t let go. He reminded me very clearly that he is where he wants to be, where his soul is doing his work. I thanked him for this message, and noticed he had taken off to play with others. I felt his presence letting me know that yes, he is playing, but it is very different than how I remember it. He is playing with ageless souls. He saw everyone by their soul age when he was alive. I was humbled by this, and in awe. I continued to play with my own childlike energy and to feel the beautiful mystical space that is probably closest to the experience Jason has, swimming in the universe of souls, including my own.
In that meeting with Jason I understood better why people suffer more with the loss of a child than any other loss. We bring our children into the world and we want them to be safe, happy, and successful. When they die, we think we didn’t protect them, or we didn’t do enough to help them be happy, or we didn’t see them achieve some or all of our expectations. Those attachments create suffering. Jason has helped me to release attachments. I’m cutting the chord, for the second time since his birth.
I’ve been missing Jason tremendously. And now I see that I have been missing certain identities of him, ones that he no longer resonates with. He’s moved on, and I’m on my way. Sometimes it’s baby steps, and sometimes it’s leaps.
I’ve been over-focused on the future lately, planning our move. It’s not surprising this grief came up about missing Jason in the future. I’m getting how grief is cleansing. I’m now feeling less worried about the future and more able to let go of what it will look like. We are moving, and we don’t know where we will end up. That’s a metaphor for life. I’m excited, overwhelmed, sad, scared, grateful, and at peace all at the same time. I’m learning to watch what comes in and moves on. When I allow myself to fully experience it, I can release it.
I’m really good at managing projects, and I’m not always good at un-managing them.
Trusting that all will work out is all that is needed. Change happens. Death happens. Things don’t happen the way we plan, but it’s important to move toward something that we are guided to do. It feels I will be moving by July 1, and I trust we continually find the ideal living situation, including the ideal tenants.
I’m letting go of the future. There is a movie Back to the Future – my movie is Back to the Present!
Jason and I had a 5-year plan in Ipswich:
He was going to spread his adult wings and fly to his future. He’s done that, and I believe I’ve accepted his path.
I was going to take off to a new destination outside New England. I didn’t know where I’d end up, but I looked forward to having Jason visit me wherever I was. Wow. That hit me hard.
Two days ago, I was doing a process with my Avatar group around manifesting my ideal living situation, asking to be presented with any limiting thoughts or feelings. I felt the sadness, and the source got revealed to me…….“No living situation is ideal for me if Jason can’t visit me.” Continuing the process, I felt that shift to a feeling of gratitude for Jason being an inspiration to me, wanting me to be happy and follow my passion. If it weren’t for him and Kule, I wouldn’t be hitting the road exploring new places to live. Jason and Kule have been my favorite travel partners of all time, desiring exploration and adventure, allowing me to feel free, in the moment, and able to make any place my home. Jason continues to travel with me and be in my home; I know that will always be true. I also have the perfect earth-bound partner with whom to spread my wings and fly.
Yesterday I was in the water, playing with dolphins in my Watsu session with Bobbie Courtney. Not surprisingly, Jason came out to play, holding my hands in the water. He was pure light. He told me he wants to be happy, and I definitely felt that.
Jason also told me directly to let go of my child. Every parent needs to do this, and it causes us parents suffering when we don’t let go. He reminded me very clearly that he is where he wants to be, where his soul is doing his work. I thanked him for this message, and noticed he had taken off to play with others. I felt his presence letting me know that yes, he is playing, but it is very different than how I remember it. He is playing with ageless souls. He saw everyone by their soul age when he was alive. I was humbled by this, and in awe. I continued to play with my own childlike energy and to feel the beautiful mystical space that is probably closest to the experience Jason has, swimming in the universe of souls, including my own.
In that meeting with Jason I understood better why people suffer more with the loss of a child than any other loss. We bring our children into the world and we want them to be safe, happy, and successful. When they die, we think we didn’t protect them, or we didn’t do enough to help them be happy, or we didn’t see them achieve some or all of our expectations. Those attachments create suffering. Jason has helped me to release attachments. I’m cutting the chord, for the second time since his birth.
I’ve been missing Jason tremendously. And now I see that I have been missing certain identities of him, ones that he no longer resonates with. He’s moved on, and I’m on my way. Sometimes it’s baby steps, and sometimes it’s leaps.
I’ve been over-focused on the future lately, planning our move. It’s not surprising this grief came up about missing Jason in the future. I’m getting how grief is cleansing. I’m now feeling less worried about the future and more able to let go of what it will look like. We are moving, and we don’t know where we will end up. That’s a metaphor for life. I’m excited, overwhelmed, sad, scared, grateful, and at peace all at the same time. I’m learning to watch what comes in and moves on. When I allow myself to fully experience it, I can release it.
I’m really good at managing projects, and I’m not always good at un-managing them.
Trusting that all will work out is all that is needed. Change happens. Death happens. Things don’t happen the way we plan, but it’s important to move toward something that we are guided to do. It feels I will be moving by July 1, and I trust we continually find the ideal living situation, including the ideal tenants.
I’m letting go of the future. There is a movie Back to the Future – my movie is Back to the Present!
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Passages
I’m experiencing many passages. Jason passed almost 8 months ago. He passed so much to me for which I am grateful. I’m in turn passing it on to others as I am called to do.
I’m getting ready to pass my home to another. Our first interested buyer, a friend of a friend, reminded me of me five years ago, a single mom looking for the best home and arts-oriented school for her teens. Everything was in such an easy flow; I hadn’t even listed with a realtor. When she decided she wasn’t ready to buy, I was surprised to discover I felt relieved. I’m not ready to sell my home. I bought it for Jason. Now the house is being passed on to me and Kule, and we will enjoy it for a short time longer, until it is the right time. It is a house of healing, and it wants to take care of me a bit longer. We we sat on the deck this morning, I meditated on the glistening cobwebs fluttering in the breeze catching rainbows. Jason was so there; he wouldn’t miss that photo op.
We’ll be on the road in a couple of months, passing through many places of many homes and communities around the country and Costa Rica. We’ll explore and tune in, and will discover the right home for us at the right time.
I’m passing through memories of my entire life, as I sort and clean out my physical belongings. I’m reflecting on the five years I was here, and I went through some intense grieving about Jason leaving before our 5-year plan to be here was complete. Jason gave me a clear message recently to let go of material possessions, including his remaining ashes. Hours after I received that message I opened a gift I received in the mail from Erin’s mother, some glass pendants blown with Jason’s ashes that her dear friend made. These are the ashes to keep, beautiful pieces of art that Jason would appreciate. I will do a ritual before the one-year anniversary of his death, to spread the remaining ashes and release attachments to the material.
I’m passing into another phase of my female life, no longer passing menses. The last time was 2 months after Jason passed. My blood blended with his, and helped to wash the grief away. There is no coincidence.
I’m appreciating Jason’s passages in life, flourishing as an artist and transitioning to adulthood, being super creative in every phase of his life. We’re celebrating his artistry in an show of his photography starting April 26 at Zumi’s, the local cultural/coffee center in Ipswich. I asked to have the show before graduation. His classmates can celebrate their passage with Jason’s spirit. We will also have a couple of pieces of his art available for silent auction to benefit the Ipswich arts program at the Art for Arts show next weekend. I have not yet heard if the high school will pay tribute to Jason’s art and music; there was talk of it last fall, I am letting go of attachment to this, after processing some pain in my perception that the school had not done enough. Individuals and organizations have their limitations when it comes to dealing with death and loss. There have been several special tributes to Jason – the senior year T-shirts, the dedication of the first play of the school year, the lacrosse team’s wearing of his initials on their helmets, and some beautiful articles in the school paper. I pray the students get what they need to support their grieving process, as I have. Jason’s art and music has been and will be celebrated in so many ways.
Death is a passage. It is also a transformation, to transform body into light and pain into beauty.
I’m just passing through…..being right here, wherever I am, in every moment, in gratitude.
I’m getting ready to pass my home to another. Our first interested buyer, a friend of a friend, reminded me of me five years ago, a single mom looking for the best home and arts-oriented school for her teens. Everything was in such an easy flow; I hadn’t even listed with a realtor. When she decided she wasn’t ready to buy, I was surprised to discover I felt relieved. I’m not ready to sell my home. I bought it for Jason. Now the house is being passed on to me and Kule, and we will enjoy it for a short time longer, until it is the right time. It is a house of healing, and it wants to take care of me a bit longer. We we sat on the deck this morning, I meditated on the glistening cobwebs fluttering in the breeze catching rainbows. Jason was so there; he wouldn’t miss that photo op.
We’ll be on the road in a couple of months, passing through many places of many homes and communities around the country and Costa Rica. We’ll explore and tune in, and will discover the right home for us at the right time.
I’m passing through memories of my entire life, as I sort and clean out my physical belongings. I’m reflecting on the five years I was here, and I went through some intense grieving about Jason leaving before our 5-year plan to be here was complete. Jason gave me a clear message recently to let go of material possessions, including his remaining ashes. Hours after I received that message I opened a gift I received in the mail from Erin’s mother, some glass pendants blown with Jason’s ashes that her dear friend made. These are the ashes to keep, beautiful pieces of art that Jason would appreciate. I will do a ritual before the one-year anniversary of his death, to spread the remaining ashes and release attachments to the material.
I’m passing into another phase of my female life, no longer passing menses. The last time was 2 months after Jason passed. My blood blended with his, and helped to wash the grief away. There is no coincidence.
I’m appreciating Jason’s passages in life, flourishing as an artist and transitioning to adulthood, being super creative in every phase of his life. We’re celebrating his artistry in an show of his photography starting April 26 at Zumi’s, the local cultural/coffee center in Ipswich. I asked to have the show before graduation. His classmates can celebrate their passage with Jason’s spirit. We will also have a couple of pieces of his art available for silent auction to benefit the Ipswich arts program at the Art for Arts show next weekend. I have not yet heard if the high school will pay tribute to Jason’s art and music; there was talk of it last fall, I am letting go of attachment to this, after processing some pain in my perception that the school had not done enough. Individuals and organizations have their limitations when it comes to dealing with death and loss. There have been several special tributes to Jason – the senior year T-shirts, the dedication of the first play of the school year, the lacrosse team’s wearing of his initials on their helmets, and some beautiful articles in the school paper. I pray the students get what they need to support their grieving process, as I have. Jason’s art and music has been and will be celebrated in so many ways.
Death is a passage. It is also a transformation, to transform body into light and pain into beauty.
I’m just passing through…..being right here, wherever I am, in every moment, in gratitude.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Purpose
When Jason was alive I had a strong purpose – to be the best parent I could and to help Jason become a happy independent adult. My work strategy was based on this purpose. I worked for myself, out of our home, making enough money to maintain the lifestyle needed to be in the Ipswich school system so he could thrive as an artist. He did, and the decision was a good one, just 20 minutes from his father Chuck. Jason expressed himself as a true and talented artist, leaving us his wonderful works of art and music.
When Jason and I moved to Ipswich we had a 5-year plan to move to where we both wanted to be, independently, when Jason graduated from high school. I’m right on target with my decision to move now, and it feels so freeing. My partner Kule and I are ready to explore our individual and collective purposes together.
Jason’s main purpose in life was to follow his passion and creativity, and he continuously inspires me to do this. I know I inspired him, and it’s coming right back at me. He is cheering me on to move from Ipswich to wherever my spirit flies. His spirit is flying free, and so is mine. I just happen to have a physical body, which could be considered a minor detail.
Whittling down my possessions in anticipation of a sale and a move in the near future stirred up some energy, creating some big grief waves. I’m surfing the waves again, feeling the sadness and the adventure at the same time. I’m waterskiing in the peaceful wake, plunging into the wet tears, and jumping the wild waves. I look at Jason’s photo on the wall and he smiles. Actually he lightens up and has an expression similar to the one we shared when we parasailed 1500 ft above Lake Tahoe a week before his body left this earth.
Awesome!!!!!!
So many people wonder what their purpose is, and often feel bad about themselves if they don’t have a purpose in life. I’m feeling called to assist anyone who thinks this way, and help them to feel into it. What excites them? If we follow that feeling of excitement, freedom, passion, and love, I believe we can’t go wrong. That’s my path.
I don’t know where I will end up. We’ll check out North Carolina, California, and Costa Rica again for starters, and feel our way across the country, visiting dear friends and family along the way. We’ll explore spiritual sustainable places to live and perhaps to build a home. We’ll teach building community, manifesting, Avatar, sound healing, and presence. We’ll serve the world however we can, the way it feeds us as well. We’ll connect with the earth, seeing new forms of beauty we may not have experienced. Jason will be there with me, 50 yards behind me on each path, taking photos in his usual slow and careful style, wanting to get the best shot with the best energy. I couldn’t rush him through that process, and now he is inspiring me to slow down and be with my process. Just be.
It’s hard to describe the feeling of being simultaneously the most excited I’ve been in my life while experiencing the greatest pain of loss I’ve ever experienced in my life. All I know with my heart is that letting go is important, and accepting what is is all that is.
When I leave the house I won’t leave memories behind; they are coming with me wherever I go. Jason and I loved to travel together, and we will always travel together. I know what it feels like to be with him when he was enjoying the landscapes of the southwest, the open vistas, the waterfalls, the wildflowers, the wild desert, and the most mundane subject that was so unique in itself. Jason saw beauty in everything.
My purpose is to be myself. To be. Jason seconds that.
When Jason and I moved to Ipswich we had a 5-year plan to move to where we both wanted to be, independently, when Jason graduated from high school. I’m right on target with my decision to move now, and it feels so freeing. My partner Kule and I are ready to explore our individual and collective purposes together.
Jason’s main purpose in life was to follow his passion and creativity, and he continuously inspires me to do this. I know I inspired him, and it’s coming right back at me. He is cheering me on to move from Ipswich to wherever my spirit flies. His spirit is flying free, and so is mine. I just happen to have a physical body, which could be considered a minor detail.
Whittling down my possessions in anticipation of a sale and a move in the near future stirred up some energy, creating some big grief waves. I’m surfing the waves again, feeling the sadness and the adventure at the same time. I’m waterskiing in the peaceful wake, plunging into the wet tears, and jumping the wild waves. I look at Jason’s photo on the wall and he smiles. Actually he lightens up and has an expression similar to the one we shared when we parasailed 1500 ft above Lake Tahoe a week before his body left this earth.
Awesome!!!!!!
So many people wonder what their purpose is, and often feel bad about themselves if they don’t have a purpose in life. I’m feeling called to assist anyone who thinks this way, and help them to feel into it. What excites them? If we follow that feeling of excitement, freedom, passion, and love, I believe we can’t go wrong. That’s my path.
I don’t know where I will end up. We’ll check out North Carolina, California, and Costa Rica again for starters, and feel our way across the country, visiting dear friends and family along the way. We’ll explore spiritual sustainable places to live and perhaps to build a home. We’ll teach building community, manifesting, Avatar, sound healing, and presence. We’ll serve the world however we can, the way it feeds us as well. We’ll connect with the earth, seeing new forms of beauty we may not have experienced. Jason will be there with me, 50 yards behind me on each path, taking photos in his usual slow and careful style, wanting to get the best shot with the best energy. I couldn’t rush him through that process, and now he is inspiring me to slow down and be with my process. Just be.
It’s hard to describe the feeling of being simultaneously the most excited I’ve been in my life while experiencing the greatest pain of loss I’ve ever experienced in my life. All I know with my heart is that letting go is important, and accepting what is is all that is.
When I leave the house I won’t leave memories behind; they are coming with me wherever I go. Jason and I loved to travel together, and we will always travel together. I know what it feels like to be with him when he was enjoying the landscapes of the southwest, the open vistas, the waterfalls, the wildflowers, the wild desert, and the most mundane subject that was so unique in itself. Jason saw beauty in everything.
My purpose is to be myself. To be. Jason seconds that.
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