Something I've been giving a lot of thought to lately is how I know my loved ones. Losing a young soulmate during a young relationship takes a toll on a soul, and so it seems reflexive for any person to inquire more extensively in order to stay connected. We know one another in the physical world so well: touches, kisses, snuggles, hugs, conversations, but to know someone's spirit is to be able to interact with them on a level that takes us beyond this dimension together.
I was surpised to be approached by a sweet and gracious intuitive counselor to ask me if I would like her to conduct an energetic session on behalf of Morgan, my spirit dog that crossed over several weeks ago. I wasn't sure what to expect and didn't have hopes about what would come. What really took my breath away in the end was Bridget's compassion for those who leave this physical plane. She brought up something very simple, but so needed, which was to know Morgan outside of her body. Writing it brings me to tears because while I feel I do, I would have said that indeed, I did, I wish I'd brought more of that consciousness to our relationship when she was here. I, of course, as humans are apt to do, must have believed she'd be with us a long time like our other fur babes, somewhat sheltered creatures that they are these days. And so much of my experience with her was of innocent and daily joy. Because her passing was so sudden, the loss of her was like a blindside-the kind I've seen friends and family experience, but had no real way to relate to yet.
Bringing this wisdom back to the hearth, with the experience and new vantage point I was carrying, has found me digging a little bit deeper into the impermanent aspects of connection that I have with others-listening for essence rather than showing up at the level of face-value. Being a mother to two young children, life can be rife with fears. In fact, I just read the scene from Harry Potter tonight in which Mrs. Weasley encounters the boggart, (pesky buggers that take the shape of ones biggest fears), who appears as each one of her children in succession having died. It reminded me, yet again, how much quiet fear we can carry when anticipating the physical loss of a child or beloved. We don't dare speak it (for fear of laws of attraction?). We can really get eaten up by these fears, to the detriment of the time that we do get to spend with our loved ones. I find that I can't even go there, it's so erosive- though I know too many for whom this is reality.
What I'm seeking out when I interact with my loved ones now is to see them in a spirit way, the way that they might always be, in or out of matter. I'm only just beginning to flex this muscle in a truly conscious way, but it's had a way of easing things already. I can see that I am less fixed on what is in front of me, and more enamoured with the way someone moves through the world. I imagine the essence of my loved ones, and it lightens my heart.
Being human can be challenging on a body and a mind. We come bursting into the world with a stew of personality, going on to gather imprints from childhood, develop ethics that grow out of experiences, gun-shyness from the lessons we've learned, medicative obsessions,and beautiful strengths, too-a tangled, and equally worthwhile mess of humanness. We are most commonly perceived by others based on how we present in this dimension. And rightfully so, we have to be responsible for these aspects and how they affect others. Yet, spiritually, we are actually none of those things. What must we peel off to let spiritual substance shine?
I'm guessing that many of us hobnob with the unchanging aspects of *essence* in this community of artists, parents, healers, and medicine keepers. It's certainly spoken of plenty. I seem to know a few folks who seem to be blessed with this kind of vision naturally, unencumbered by the constraints of mortal coil. Children are particularly good at this kind of seeing.
Each event or lightbulb that wakes us up a bit is another opportunity to move closer to what a spiritual quality in a living being looks like in ourselves, and cherished others- and our fundamental relationships to them.
What extracted core can we acknowledge that is most meaningful?
How can we perceive authentically in order to let some of the superficial go?
