a hummingbird in December
I’m taking it as a sign of some sort. It will present itself eventually. I hastened to clean and fill the feeder, in the hopes it will soon return. My mom loves birds.
~*~*~*~
I’m going to tell you my dream, Mama. And some of my thoughts. I want to hear about your dream, Mama, and what it looked and felt like from where you are. We will compare notes!
We are in the spirit, so we present ourselves in joyful child form, sparkling little girls. You with your platinum curls, golden eyes, and milky white skin, me with my wispy brown waves that won’t stay out of my face (I get that from you, by the way). We are wearing fluffy dresses and roller skates, regular Shirley Temples! I take your hands and we clasp them criss-cross. We are in the spirit and I assure you that we can do this. After all, I saw it done at Teatro Zinzanni! We are on a circular pedestal and we begin to skate in a spinning circle, round and round, faster and faster. We are joyful little girls, skating our hearts out, giggling with delight. I’ve explained to you that as we spin, we are weaving a web of light, and we are opening a portal to heaven. Because we are getting ready to do some healing work. We need a strong beam that will serve as a funnel, a tornado of light that will draw the poisons and sufferings out from our beings and incinerate them with the fire of heaven.
We spin together, round and round, faster and faster, and we weave a funnel like a beehive, with thick honey golden coils, but it’s not enough. We need a pyre with the strength of a hurricane for what we are to do. The dream changes, and we are no longer little girls. I’ve summoned the siblings and we are all here, your tribe, all of us, in the spirit. We are joined together hand in hand, encircling you, tenderly. You are a slight and elder form, seated on a cushion or a couch, maybe your hospital bed. You glow with an ethereal platinum light, and we, your tribe, glow brightly with a golden white light. You are not strong and we radiate a cushion of warmth that surrounds you and holds you so that you can rest and float and allow the poisons and sufferings to flow out when heaven’s gate is opened. Our hands clasped, we form a tribal circle and dance around a blazing fire. It’s a magical display, a joyful pow-wow. There is so much energy as we dance and celebrate and rejoice and love. The fire blazes stronger and stronger and the golden tendrils of light weave together, stronger, tighter, stronger, tighter, forming a blazing tornado of golden white light. The tornado blazes, tended by the tribe. You and I are back to little girl form, two Shirley Temples, seated in the center of the tornado, where it is quiet and still. My arm is around you and I’m the big sister now. You feel lost and afraid; you are small. I hold you and comfort you and assure you that I will protect you, that you don’t have to be afraid, you don’t have to know what to do, you don’t have to know who to be or how to be. You can just rest and I will hold you and take care of you. I’ve got you. We are in the spirit, I say. See?! You relax and melt into my embrace. I brush a wisp of your platinum hair from your sweet face. Now we are ready. I hold you, you beautiful, pure, innocent and precious child. You are wrapped in my embrace, and we are wrapped in the holy blazing embrace of heaven. We are in the still place where time and space have no meaning. The space between. Where our molecules and our energy are distinct, and we swim about through the waves and fields of the essence of our being. Here we find the poisons and sufferings and draw them out, out, out, like the way a log jam collects and grows and is gently yet persistently carried downstream towards a waterfall, the poisons are pulled through the blazing tornado, seared, clarified, and absorbed into heaven’s embrace. We swim and stir up the waters to release more sufferings. We extend our reach to embrace those near us, our beloveds; we are all in the spirit in this cosmic goo, so we beckon their sufferings out and away, to send them back to become one with heaven, too.
There were other dreams. So many dreams. I showed you my chedvah place with the bright pea pod green grass and blue blue sky. I showed you my sleeping diamond-skinned dragon mother-ship. We climbed inside the ship, two little girls, and hid and played.
And I helped you see, from my eyes, how worthwhile your life has been, how you always did the best that you knew how to do, how your part brought about deep and widespread blessings, and how thankful I am for you.
~*~*~*~
Somewhere in the night I had a moment of conviction in which the clear act of faith is to go ahead and book the vacation rental house for our summer celebration of life and family, and to boldly assume that we will celebrate her birthday together in February as planned.
I hope she feels strong enough to continue earthly living. For myself, I think about the sunset years, and there is a hope to share the sweetness of age with my dear sisters. I wish for my mom and her sister to be able to share more of their sunset together.
And selfishly, we all wish for Mom to want to hold on, because we’re just too tired to process more loss right now.
