“Last year at the end of August my father died.... I loved my father very much and for some months after he died I entered a strange sort of place. I found out I couldn’t relate to many things I usually do. So much seemed utterly irrelevant. I didn’t feel depressed, in fact looking back it was as if part of me was sort of in the realm of the dead, with my father in some way, kind of seeing him through. But so much in ordinary life, so much of peoples concerns, what people wanted to know, what people were concerned about, seemed pointless. Meaning was in the experience of mourning my father’s passing. Of fully acknowledging his passing. Meaning was in the experience of meeting people heart to heart. They as living, breathing beings. Meaning was in fact looking at leaves in the sunlight or listening to bird song in the early morning. Meaning was in these things. So much else seemed like empty noise.”
Padmavajra
This morning while I was driving my son Neville to school, we were listening these words in a recording of a teaching by
Padmavajra from
Padmaloka Retreat Centre. As I heard him describe his experience at the time of the death of his father, I felt for the 1st time that my experience at the time of
Gra-anna’s passing and the year that followed had been put into words - I said to Neville,
‘that’s just how I felt!’... and to some extent still feel. It’s as though the passing my child has forever made an imprint on me. What I’m more conscious of these days is how she has opened my heart to compassion. I am aware that through her I feel the suffering of all beings. She has torn my heart wide open.
The other day, Courtney, who was like a sister to Gra-anna, therefore a daughter to me, said she felt that with Gra-anna’s passing my spiritual journey began. I hesitated because in a sense I’ve always been on a spiritual journey. My precious mentor for seven years,
Bill Ainslie, whose 20th memorial it is today, was a formative person in my life in terms of raising my awareness in so many ways. Among so much else, he introduced me to the stories of
Mullah Nasrudin and
Rumi’s poetry, which Gra-anna loved. But certainly it is true that I have never been the same since Gra-anna’s passing.
Look at love
how it tangles
with the one fallen in love
look at spirit
how it fuses with earth
giving it new life
why are you so busy
with this or that or good or bad
pay attention to how things blend
why talk about all
the known and the unknown
see how the unknown merges into the known
why think separately
of this life and the next
when one is born from the last
look at your heart and tongue
one feels but deaf and dumb
the other speaks in words and signs
look at water and fire
earth and wind
enemies and friends all at once
the wolf and the lamb
the lion and the deer
far away yet together
look at the unity of this
spring and winter
manifested in the equinox
you too must mingle my friends
since the earth and the sky
are mingled just for you and me
be like sugarcane
sweet yet silent
don't get mixed up with bitter words
my beloved grows
right out of my own heart
how much more union can there be
Rumi
Love
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It is raining today, Jopoa.
I see your traces
like lines on a tortoise shell
each time I look into Giens warm heart
your ancient lined face
made gold by the alchemy of love
this love between you two
I place on my inner shrine
next to Gra-anna's face
I see…
an ancient woman holding the hand of a young man
each adoring the other
and a young woman with beauty in her sad eyes
- sorrow - the source
of the River of Eternal Compassion…
7 years,
a sacred and complete cycle in time
It's raining today, Jopoa
this day of your memorial
I do not ask, 'where are you now'
or wish to hold you with questions.
May you be surrounded by that which you truly are
Love
In this picture you are with precious beings
- your daughter, the mother of your\my precious
'Sum Goon Day',
main artery to your\my heart,
Gien, your grandson,
my husband
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Yesterday we had an electric storm as we do at this time of the year
Yesterday was also Gra-anna’s 4th memorial
When I was driving home, the largest dragonfly I’ve ever seen weaved its way in front of my car for about half a block.
I decided the artwork which I’d been planning for Gra-anna needed to include a dragonfly.
I tend to see things as symbolic so I looked up ‘dragonfly’.
Because of the storm yesterday
and wishing to connect with friends and family on the actual day
I hurriedly posted off a webcam pic
Today I create a less hurried post:
In memory of beautiful Gra-anna
Who 4 years ago decided it was time to take flight from this planet
Who left us precious foot prints
For those who still haven’t taken a peek – Gra-anna's Book is brimming with treasures and gifts to you and for those who have - take another dip into her gifting
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I had a powerful dream where
Gra-anna visited me
wearing a long flowing dress.
Her hair was long too.
She felt very beautiful and in a good space.
In the dream Gra-anna was going to a further realm
and wanted a blessing from me
She was carrying an ancient book
which she referred to
She’d chosen this day for departure based on the book which guided her to selecting this as the most auspicious day.
Time was running out and she had to go soon
moving to further realms
I said to her that if I could keep her I would
– but it wouldn’t be the right thing to do
I told her my wishes for her are wisdom, creativity and compassion
And that my personnel wish is that she carry my nurturing maternal love
with her to the furthermost reaches of the infinite universe
to draw from when she needs to
I woke feeling acceptance and also sadness
Gra-anna my beloved daughter
journeyed on this earth
1979-2004
She still is on a journey
We all are
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Flames rain
Falling upon me,
I am aflame
My wings are the drum
In the sun, rivers explode
in rippling laughter
She is dancing
upon the crescent moon
My wings are the drum
From the essence of my being
I am called to be free
Inspired by the moment
My wings are the drum
Rising from the ashes renewed
I greet the dawn
Listening to Earth's heartbeat
Child's laughter echoes
across the Earth
My wings are the drum
by Gra-anna
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These beautiful poems were gathered by Gra-anna from our Friend Stephen Moss
Poems by Rumi
I am a painter,
Painting pictures all the time,
Yet when I see them near Your beauty
I want to throw them all away.
I am a sculptor, carving images
and filling each with life,
Yet when I compare these with Your beauty
I want to dump them in a fire.
O bringer of sweet wine,
Enemy of the sober
You have laid waste to
every house I ever built!
Tell me, are You the cupbearer or do You take the cup from my sober lips?
Perhaps You are both, the builder and the ruiner of all that I build
My soul has merges with Yours-
Water into wine, wine into wine.
Now there is only the scent of Your rose perfume.
Every drop of my blood calls out,
Dye me the colour of Your love
Make me the jewel of Your affection.
In this house of water and clay
my heart is in ruins.
O Beloved, please enter my house or let me leave this empty world
---
Last night I gave a star a message for You.
On my bended knees, I begged her to tell You
How much I pray that You turn my stony heart
golden with Your radiance
I bared my chest to show my wounds
And asked her to tell You that if I sway this way and that, it is because I need to calm
the infant of my heart
As babies sleep when rocked in their cradles
My beloved, my heart was Yours always,
nurse it like a child, save it from wandering
How long will You keep me in exile?
I will be quiet now, but even in my silence
my heart will long for one glance of Your grace.
---
Do not worry if our harp breaks, thousands more will appear.
We have fallen into the arms of love, where all is music.
If all the harps in the world were burned down,
still inside the heart
there will be hidden music playing
Do not worry if all the candles in the world flicker and die
We have the spark to start the fire
The songs we sing are like foam on the surface of the sea of being,
whilst the precious gems lie deep beneath
But the tenderness in our songs is a reflection of what lies in the depths
Stop the flow of words
Open the window of you heart
And let the spirit speak
---
When You come back inside my chest
No matter how long I've been away
I look around and see the way
At the end of my life, when I have one, last breath left in me
If You come to me then, I will sit up and sing
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this was probably the hardest poem I ever wrote...
and like all tough journeys undertaken
a door opens
Loved one
4/12/05
Dear one you came to this planet
through the passage
of my womb
You reached for the umbilical cord again
as you took your life
hanging from this tree
with the scarf I¹d given you
a little while before
I think of this
as I sit at the foot of the tree
molten rock of attachment
runs red rivers from my eyes
I say quietly
'loved one, I gave birth to you,
you never asked
if you could end it all'
A bowl of swirling liquid
filled with silver and shadow
presents itself to me
In it I see the blend and journeys
of your sacred life
These I did not sanction either
none of this was mine to direct
I thank the Great Mystery for imparting this wisdom
softly returning to the arms of the Beloved
the place of 'It is so'
the place of eternal rest
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when I was 7 years old... my mother came through the gate after one of many many visits to the hospital to see my father.
I watched her from the window as she turned to close the gate and tears started flowing. I sobbed to my sister... 'he's dead... my father is dead...'
then my mother came in and broke the news... embracing us... telling us the blessing he asked her to say to us every night. I cried every night for a year...
Years later I heard Elisabeth Kubler Ross speaking on death and dying and she told of her experiences with children. An example was a certain child who hadn't been told her mother was dying, drew a picture of her mother's overturned chair at the dining room table, while the rest of the family were all occupying their seats. Displaying her awareness, DESPITE NEVER HAVING BEEN TOLD.
As I watched this programme, I remembered my own experience. My mother told me, she never spoken to us about the fact my father was dying because it had been too difficult for her to accept. Yet I knew my father was dying... felt I'd been brought up knowing this...
And this was the ground which was laid for the most crucial experience of all... when my daughter, Gra-anna, committed suicide... and my beautiful grandson, Awen, who you can see in this photo and others in my albums, needed to be spoken to - have me meet him right there in his experience, in the bewilderment and pain he was experiencing... telling him his mom is holding him so close in every moment ... he has a very special angel - a mom spirit guardian.
One of the most powerful moments of my life was when I went to see my daughters body. The last time I'd seen her was a couple of months before on a visit to London. She'd been living in the UK for about 6 years... Gra-anna had met me at the airport - her beautiful radiant face appearing from nowhere, beaming hello...
...time to go in and see her body which had been prepared... suddenly it occurred to me.. what about Awen.. almost all of 4 years old.. should he see his mom's body too? No one had spoken about this. Though Ian, his beautiful father told me he had been wondering about it, when I broached the subject. Part of me felt he should, part of me wanted to protect him...
The compassionate woman who worked there and also owned the funeral service place overheard us... she said how her heart was going out to us.. and told us we should ask Awen. That this is what she always encouraged people to do and she always found children did want to see their loved one's body...
It was like a breath of fresh air - AHA! Of course! I asked Awen, who said very simply, 'Yes, I want to see her.' I prepared him, saying she would look like she is sleeping but would no longer be in her body as she is spirit now and is holding him so close...
Ian and I and Awen went in and he stood looking quietly... after a while he asked what the thing over body her was and we explained they were coverings they had put on her ... then Ian took him out quietly and I stayed... holding this space for a short while.. the last moments I'd ever be with my daughters body on earth... this now slightly ashen face with a trace of a smile the autopsy people had probably placed there which didn't hide.. what.. what was the silent roar I could almost feel tangibly? What were her moments in this transition? This wrenching from the body where she'd experienced such adventures and so much trauma....
in subsequent months and years.. I experienced her journeys again.. sometimes struggles ..much joyousness.... always busy, this beautiful girl! Who loved mother earth and her offspring incomparably...
When I left this room... there was Awen looking at the aquarium chatting about to the fish...
moving from one moment to the next...
as children do....
in that moment I took a great lesson...
about flowing with things...
this is happening...
now this
... now this...
always in the moment
...always the moment sacred...
living as a child
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