Edward Robert Hughes
There are stories upon stories to tell. There is beauty and majesty and spiritual nourishment to lift us and sustain us through the constant unveiling of some very dark agendas.
We can not turn our heads nor only see that which is beautiful for the dark and ugly builds strength and fortitude and grants the opportunity for the greatest light.
Each soul’s light is bright enough to vanquish the darkest and most unimaginable atrocity. With intention and conscious awareness we see, feel and transmute through our thoughts, our bodies and our truth.
This is the magic.
This is the alchemy.
Nature is our elixir.
Earth is our breath sanctified.
The stars our crowning glory.
We are almost there.
Don’t give up.
I feel it was predestined and my good fortune to be with both of my parents when they passed from this world. There is a mechanism that prevents us from ever really believing our parents will die. We know it on an intellectual level but in the heart it is impossible to even imagine the reality of such a thing.
I heard talk just about all of my life about how my father would not live long but I never for a moment believed it. His huge personality matched his size. His incredible love of life thrilled and inspired everyone that knew him. He seemed indestructible. Life without him could never be imagined. He died at the wheel of his car in front of my house one September day in my 26th year. Just like that. Gone. Over. He breathed his last breath in the middle of our conversation and life as I knew it came to an end. And that is just the way it can happen.
Death is a doorway not only for the one who passes but for those who remain. My father’s passing on that September day opened many doors. There was of course the doorway of grief. Once this doorway opens you must pass through the many levels that come with grief and in a way you feel as if you are dying yourself. As you move through the days and nights in a new reality that feels completely unreal you are faced with agonizing, unrelenting sorrow and terror that you feel will never end.
At the same time the doorway of love opens. Love is magnified. Love for the one you can no longer see, feel and touch. Love for the family and friends who come together in such unbearable sorrow. Love for every precious moment spent, every word ever uttered, every everything.
And then the doorway that saves opens, the doorway that creeks open and shines a small stream of light. It may hurt your eyes and you may not be sure just what this light is bringing but soon you begin to see the signs that this door of light and transformation offers. Signs that life never ends. Signs that they are with you still. Signs that love never ends and all you have to do is believe and all you have to do is open the new eyes that you have been given.
Missing and loving them goes on forever. Grief remains but the doorway of heaven is now open and miracles of love flow through the doorway and this is our saving grace.
Until we meet again……..
Photo of The Doorway to Heaven taken by me on the anniversary of my father’s passing when asking him for a sign.
This is the astonishing result of the water sample sent to Dr. Masuro Emoto’s laboratories in Japan from the 911 Memorial site. This included water form the Newtown Sandy Hook horror. I suggest you read here
http://aetherforce.com/healing-megarituals-one-womans-journey-through-sandy-hook/ #IntuitiveMatrix how this began with Hillary Raimo’s inspired intuition to begin the healing of these events and have the prayed upon waters analyzed. I have been a part of these global meditations and have received some astonishing information. I write about this in my blog https://gailheartoflove.wordpress.com/2014/12/15/911-and-the-crystal-stars-of-love-and-hope/
These events are connected and the water is revealing it’s truth. Hillary will be writing her thoughts on this latest incredible 911 water crystal sample tomorrow on 9/11.
I have been weepy for days. Is it all the war, the thousands of refugees and the complete disregard for human life? Is it the pain from the injury to my right arm and the connection to a past life that shows itself wherever I turn? Is it the anniversary of my mother’s passing? Is it the realization that there is no hope of reconciliation ever with someone I love so deeply? Yes. It is all these things and more.
I have not had a shred of inspiration to write for some time. The pain in my arm has been the kind of pain I have never experienced before. As I always do I look for the meaning in everything. The right arm is my dominant arm and the side of the masculine. This means I have been forced to use the left which is of course the feminine side. That in itself is rather interesting. I am being forced to rely more on the feminine side while suffering a deep and painful wound on the masculine side.
Just this morning I discovered that I cannot write by hand because it is too painful. Everything I have ever written has been by hand because there is a natural organic flow that flows through the body and onto the page. So I thought that perhaps this is another message that there is never only one way to do things.
I am by nature a happy and optimistic person. I am also a person who feels and carries much in my physical body. The emotional effects the physical. The physical effects the emotional. There are trials and initiations that bring us to our knees. There is love and beauty and magic that raises us again and again.
How many times must the Phoenix rise?
I have been weepy for days. This is the time four years ago my mother took her last walk and climbed into her bed. She passed three days later with me at her side. It was everything I wanted for her. No suffering, just peace and a final letting go after I told her I would be alright without her.
There is something in our cells that recalls the timing of these events in our lives. If you were not aware of the dates or time of year you would still feel in your body the remembrance of love and sorrow. I feel it so strongly.
At the same time I have been experiencing a wound from times past. This is a deep and painful wound. This is a wound that does not come from this lifetime. Just as we experience remembrance of events in this lifetime so do we experience other lifetimes as well.
What do they come to show us? Why do we still carry such wounds? I wonder. The wound of my mother’s passing from this world is now merging with this wound of long ago. I travel this road with the spirit of my mother by my side. She comforts me as she always has. I can hear her say “Don’t cry Gaily.”
Oh how I love you Ma.