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It is Walpurgisnacht and my teacher is dying. There is a bale fire in my heart.
Gate gate, para gate.
We sing. We chant. We sit. We breathe. Every fire needs fuel. Every student needs a lesson.
Her skin is translucent. There is blood in the corners of her mouth. Her eyes are clouded, barely open.
She struggles to speak. "I love you," she says. "I love all of you."
(Water, engulf me.)
We lean in close to catch her words. "Thorn, take my heart." or was it "Thorn, take my hurt." We clear her body of pain. She rests.
Tubes and bruises. Her spirit hovers.
Parasam gate, bodhisvaha.
She insists on speaking to her son on the phone. Urgent. She tells him, struggling, barely able to speak, "I love you. You've done the right thing. I love you and D and T."
Yes. It all ends up in love.
(Fire, scorch my skin.)
She clutches my hand so long my fingers swell. Life is still present.
"I am going in and out," she says. We see her. Victor is there too, at the foot of her bed.
Gate, gate, para gate.
"Is it May 3rd?" Not yet, Cora. Saturday. Her and Victor's anniversary.
God Herself fills space and time. Fills the room. Including everything, we fall away.
(Air, suck my breath.)
Light is in extension. Stars wheel. Time ceases. There is only the hum of all.
The nurses aid is named Luz. Light. Breath. Stars.
Parasam gate, bodhisvaha.
Tonight, is the coming together. Of old, fires blazed on the tops of hills. The veils are thin, they say. The veils into the realms of faerie. The veils of birth. The veils of death.
Tonight, is the pleasure of the flesh. Tonight, there is dancing in the barrows.
(Earth, receive me in.)
Tomorrow morning, we will rise before dawn to watch Morris troupes dance up the sun. We will drink steaming tea on the hillcrest, and stamp our feet in the cold.
Tomorrow, Cora returns to her home, her bed. She will die in the lavender room, not this white place of machines. It is her wish.
Parasam gate, bodhisvaha.
It is Walpurgisnacht and Cora is dying. There is a need fire in my heart.
People are gathering, in spirit and in body. Lessons to be learned.
(Into the arms of Mystery, my spirit soars. Open the gates!)
Something new is coming.
Sshhhh. Await!
Gate gate, para gate.
We sing. We chant. We sit. We breathe. Every fire needs fuel. Every student needs a lesson.
Her skin is translucent. There is blood in the corners of her mouth. Her eyes are clouded, barely open.
She struggles to speak. "I love you," she says. "I love all of you."
(Water, engulf me.)
We lean in close to catch her words. "Thorn, take my heart." or was it "Thorn, take my hurt." We clear her body of pain. She rests.
Tubes and bruises. Her spirit hovers.
Parasam gate, bodhisvaha.
She insists on speaking to her son on the phone. Urgent. She tells him, struggling, barely able to speak, "I love you. You've done the right thing. I love you and D and T."
Yes. It all ends up in love.
(Fire, scorch my skin.)
She clutches my hand so long my fingers swell. Life is still present.
"I am going in and out," she says. We see her. Victor is there too, at the foot of her bed.
Gate, gate, para gate.
"Is it May 3rd?" Not yet, Cora. Saturday. Her and Victor's anniversary.
God Herself fills space and time. Fills the room. Including everything, we fall away.
(Air, suck my breath.)
Light is in extension. Stars wheel. Time ceases. There is only the hum of all.
The nurses aid is named Luz. Light. Breath. Stars.
Parasam gate, bodhisvaha.
Tonight, is the coming together. Of old, fires blazed on the tops of hills. The veils are thin, they say. The veils into the realms of faerie. The veils of birth. The veils of death.
Tonight, is the pleasure of the flesh. Tonight, there is dancing in the barrows.
(Earth, receive me in.)
Tomorrow morning, we will rise before dawn to watch Morris troupes dance up the sun. We will drink steaming tea on the hillcrest, and stamp our feet in the cold.
Tomorrow, Cora returns to her home, her bed. She will die in the lavender room, not this white place of machines. It is her wish.
Parasam gate, bodhisvaha.
It is Walpurgisnacht and Cora is dying. There is a need fire in my heart.
People are gathering, in spirit and in body. Lessons to be learned.
(Into the arms of Mystery, my spirit soars. Open the gates!)
Something new is coming.
Sshhhh. Await!
What do you need, Anaar? I am working at home tomorrow. Tell me what you need.
Cora returns home tomorrow from hospital. She would love to say goodbye to folks if you have a chance to make it by the house in the next couple of days.
If there is aught that Lark or I can do to ease your burdens or Cora's, or to help Cora accomplish that which she desires, you have but to let us know.
Thanks.
xo
I'll be lighting a candle on the ancestors altar for Victor, and asking those already passed on to guide Cora to where ever she needs to be right now.
... teary eyed...
Once we get details from the hospice nurses tommorow, I may post a call for additional help at the house from the community.
Waiting for May third.
Thats powerful.
Trying to get M over there tomorrow.....
An easy passing, and good journeys onward to Cora, and solace and hearts-ease to all who will miss her and grieve.
Thank you to the care-givers, who have worked so hard to make her last years as comfortable and sustaining as they could possibly be. That is a true gift beyond measure.
And, I'm so glad I got to visit, and sing, and hear stories, last October. Thank you, Thorn, for facilitating the visit -- it was such a blessing, and I had a strong sense it would be my last chance.
a blessing over her life´s end,
a blessing over her life after the end,
and a blessing to all who were blessed by her life.
I'm relieved to know she is not alone, and that her, our, family is surrounding her. All I can share is an old Shaker song:
Little children, says Holy Mother,
Soothe and comfort one another!
Lo, lodle, lodle, lo, lo lodle, lodle, lodle lo, lo lo.
Draw the cords of union stronger,
wind and bind them upon each other;
Make them feel your love and blessing!