Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Partnering with Spirit

It's been a stormy and rainy day as I drive from the office to have dinner with my boyfriend Robert. There on the grass, parked is a white limousine. Today would have been my wedding anniversary to Steve and there it is, the road sign and symbol of our union. As I listen to my heart speaking to him, the dark heavy clouds are pouring down rain, as a bright sun peaks out of the opening and shines right on my car and the road I am driving on. Then the song that Luke sang at our wedding begins to play on the radio. My body begins to vibrate with truth chills as Steve's presence continues to make itself known. I line up in the moment and then this divine awareness becomes my beloved companion. It's not a phenomena to me. I invite my spirit loved ones to show up in my world at anytime. I feel their messages of love sent to me daily.

(drawing by Frannie Hoffman)
I love the quote from Yoko Ono when she was asked how she could bear being without John Lennon given they had spent 90% of their time together, her response was:
"Now we spend 100% of our time together."
The death of the body is not the death of love. It doesn't mean we don't grieve and feel the hurt but we can transcend the loss. When our hearts remain open to the flow of truth, the spirit can compensate for material loss. 
My connection to spirit's wisdom is natural and intimate. It feels like second nature to me and I believe that all the losses in my life have helped me to feel myself more fully and allow inner guidance or intuition to be my lifeline to freedom. If we can turn our attention inward to our heart instead of letting outside appearances overwhelm us, the Universe will show us what to do and where to go as we trust our own vibration.
My mother was a great teacher for me. She didn't listen to the doctor who told her that she couldn't have children. She climbed those steps of St. Joseph's Oratory in Quebec, praying as she knelt on every step, listening to her heart. She saw the crutches and wheel chairs that lined up on her path up the hill. Her pilgrimage was her own. She allowed her deepest desire to speak loudly. She believed she was born to have children. She listened to her inner calling and leaped with faith as she continued to give herself up to God. She knew her calling was to be a mother. Nothing stopped her from this deep spiritual connection to her heart. She had faith and her fears did not stop her.
That night my mother conceived triplet girls. My sisters and I were born and 2 years later so was my brother. 
My mother was an incredibly gifted and talented woman. She lived with a disease where her mind kept her in fear and so many days she was paralyzed with anxiety. Her suffering was unending and yet the joy of her children was the salve that soothed her brokenness. She was beautiful and cooking was love. She always had soup going on the stove or something mouth watering in the oven. She was a master at painting and creating centerpieces made of driftwood. Did I say how she loved her children? It is worth saying again. Maybe sometimes she loved us more than herself.
I wished she could have loved her own life more fully but yet in the end, she continued to be brave. It took great courage to let go of this world. She suffered with Alzheimer's and in her tormented days, she would look around her most favorite home, our cottage up north in Northern Ontario, and stare at all of her belongings surrounding her. The walls were adorned with the many oil paintings that she created through the years . My mother would cry out and plead " I want to go home. Please, you tell me these are my paintings and this is my favorite home, just take me home, nothing here is familiar." As I looked into her eyes she said, " I want to go home! "
At the time it was heartbreaking to listen to her pain and longing to remember her home. Now I believe that she was longing for her spiritual home. This place of comfort that no longer was inside her reality anymore. She was longing for that which seemed forgotten. 
Home for her was creating in the kitchen beautiful recipe's that made your mouth water just thinking about it. She showed her love through her cooking and sharing food. Her mother was the same. Food was love and that was something that I was always inspired by. I too love to cook and share love in this way. It is that feeling inside that makes you feel at home and having a pot of soup on the stove is something that just feels good. I love the feeling of cutting up veggies and throwing it all in a pot as I create this goodness that gives me life. Creating salads and dishes of all kinds is just a little piece of heaven for me. It doesn't matter if I didn't have enough money to shop for a big grocery, I would use what I had to create something that could feed others. It was a way to share love. 
Our mothers were our first home inside their womb. They are the music on the radio, the sun peaking through the rain clouds. They whisper sweet comfort during these life long journeys.
Today let us celebrate our mothers and mother figures in our life. Maybe they didn't always give us what we needed. These great woman helped to mould us and to be all that we are today. 
May we forgive our own fears when we forget how natural it is to breath and become more. We are here to bring life into us and let our bodies be the instrument to co-create a beautiful life. From the inside to the outside, let us leap into the moment with great abandon and share all that we receive.
Bowing to our mothers for we can receive life because this is our birthright! 

How blessed I am to be a mother.