holy ground

 

i have a confession. 

when driving alone i fill the car with people i love,

that are no longer living. 

honestly, they make the most satisfying, thought provoking company.

 i invite them right in and in no time flat my car is filled. 

i am careening around this mountain landscape

singing wildly

allowing my love to mingle in the essence of those

who have so generously loved me. 

 we are traveling on holy ground.

i also pick up strangers.

i pass road side shrines and offer

my silent acknowledgment. 

honoring each one as i sail by to the demands of daily living. 

there is something

about being truly seen in this life

that holds so much significance, 

imparts wholeness. 

i imagine in death

it is no less moving or appreciated.

this is the first time i have shared this with the living.

 the dead? 

they see me coming,

 they look forward to my drive by with joyful anticipation.

 i love to think it holds import for them too,

and there is the power of what remembering them

does for me.....

awakening a profound sensitivity and dimension

 that includes both the seen and unseen worlds.

 

 i am more deeply aware of the fragility of life

 and reminded to live fully, anchored in the present. 

to make a difference,

no matter how small or unnoticed.

just yesterday as the thunderheads rose in a vault blue sky i, 

we, passed a drift of flowers. 

not just any flowers...cempasuchil, flowers of the dead. 

the golden yellow orange marigolds 

used in mexico to lay a trail of bright colour 

and pungent scent for loved ones

to navigate back to this world; 

to homes and families they once resided in. 

that huge stand of flowers worked its magic,

it completely swept my breath away. 

every sunday in october please join us in the

art of remembering.

 

"Even now, a month ahead of November 1st,

we start talking about our beautiful daughter and how her spirit is alive within our hearts."

spadoman

round circle 

 

"Later when I got home and unwrapped the flowers, there tucked deep inside the flower stems were 3 dry pinto beans. 
a message from Tim.
I still have those beans. 
They are going on my ofrenda shrine."

gemma

gemmahouse 

 

 "His name was John and he loved to garden.

He taught me how to till the soil

plant seeds to grow tomatoes and strawberries.

He taught me about caterpillars and worms.

He taught me to love the taste of what I'd grown by eating them right off the plant."

cheryl

cheryl's excellent adventure 

 

"My father taught me to grow up without fear,

to grab the bull by the horns,

and get out there and live life to the fullest.

Often, when I least expect it, I see and feel his hand holding mine..." 

adriana

la llorona studio

 

"Tonight I hope to have quiet time

in the living room to begin writing memories

of some of my family, friends and heroes and heroines

I admire who have passed on. Death does not end a relationship."

fran

redondowriter's sacred ordinary 

 

"I think the very act of doing this makes you thing of all the positive memories 

you have of someone instead of just feeling the pain and grief."

paula

molokai girl

 

"We learn to live with loss by allowing ourselves to feel the pain and completely live in the present

moving on as best we can. So we will celebrate and remember

the happiness that we had, have, and share always."

gloria

viva la vida

Comments

[Dianne]

This is a beautiful practice...

[Sarah]

Your car full of the dead is such a lovely thing-a way to remember and celebrate while doing a practical thing is somehow so touching-I love it!

[somepinkflowers]

♥
yes
yes
yes
we
R
all
traveling
on Holy Ground
even when we R just sitting ♥

[Cheryl]

I'm honoured you chose me to include in your post. It brought tears to my eyes. I love your secret passengers. I will adopt this mode of transportation immediately. Thank you so much, Rebecca.

[annie]

The mysticism of this post grips me. I will never view a roadside shrine quite the same way again.

[Fran aka Redondowriter]

Thanks so much for excerpting many of us in your post today. I often invite my beloved dead in to the living room when I am writing about them, but hadn't thought about taking a drive with them. I'll admit I am one who occasionally hears the voice of a departed one and I know there is something there I have yet to learn from them. I like to think all our late loved ones are saints, intercessing constantly for all of us.

[gloria]

Yes thank you for including me in your post. I feel like I'm right there next to you smiling. What a wonderful post. Thank you.

[stephanie]

so powerful...so poignant...

I can see you and your merry carload, communing.

x...x
p.s.
I also did a similar thing with the amazing comments that are gathering in love and intimacy, I have printed them out and saved them in a little envolope in a journal page of soaring Monarch souls.

[Spadoman]

I am here. I am speechless.

Peace

[leslie]

Thank you for sharing your own and others' poignant experiences with loss and love and living... for some reason I am reminded of the Peter Marshall prayer recorded by his wife in her biography of him:

"And there are some, who bereaved, still feel lonely, and have not even yet found joy - the joy of Thy resurrection - and the sense of the presence of loved ones who are with Thee. For if they are with Thee, and Thou art with us, how can they be very far away? But we would feel them near, we would somehow be persuaded that they still live, that they are happy, that they still love us, as we love them. May such assurances come to the hearts that need them today..." --Peter Marshall, quoted in A Man Called Peter

[Kathleen]

Oh what a heart felt thought provoker. I talk to people while I drive, too. Some here, in this life, some gone to another place. I also honor roadside shrines as places where two worlds met for a moment. those shining marigolds light up worlds here and gone. I am now going off to remeber those who have walked with me before, but no longer.

[Noelle]

Rebecca,
This is a beautiful post. There are no words to adequately respond to the kind of Numinous connection you encompass here in image and written word. I love the idea that even those who have gone before us find a place of belonging with you and that in your loving embrace one dimension may coexist with another in perfect grace and harmony without the least boundary or line. I am reminded of a film called The Sixth Sense in which a boy was able to see those who had passed, and told his mother that her mother (the child's grandmother) had an answer to the question that she asked so often when she visited her grave and that answer was , "Yes." He said, What was the question mom? She responded tearfully, "I asked her, 'Was she proud of me?'". The boy leaned over and embraced his mother. So perhaps maintaining this connection with the other dimension deepens the relationships that we still have in this one where we reside now. You always make a difference in my life, rebecca.
xoxox,
Noelle
xoxox,
Noelle