All Things Return to Dust and This, Too, Shall Pass
Part Two

Personal Perspective 8

My Mother lies resting on my piano amidst statues of Native Americans and a Knight and Archangels and Saraswati. On top of her box is a winged Isis. Her ashes are inside. Every time I play the piano she vibrates and I remember the hours she would while away just noodling on the black notes, sending out haunting pentatonic melodies that probed the heart with callings of ancient times and lives passed by and love lost and dreams of something I will never know about.

She rests there because she did not like being on top of the native drum...I think the movement reminded her of the tenuous nature of her living moments where she oscillated between what life gave her and what she wished for. I moved her to the shelf between the G and the D quartz bowls hoping that it would give her permission to dredge out her second chakra and free up the throat chakra. Her wounds were entwined with her belly and spine and she held tight to the pain like a man grasping the mast of a sinking ship. Her voice yearned to scream the injustice and the abuse and the lost childhood and the wanderings of the tarnished wayfaring angel  that she was. But she held tight and closed down breath by breath until all she had left was the soft "aaaah" that said she was ready to start again in some new home.

I had hoped that the kiss of sound between the two bowls would wake her up in her new form, running free from the lightness of being her true self again...but I am not, as yet, privy to her transformational dance of recognition and release. When I started laying papers on top of her cremation box I knew I was letting go of the physical connection. One day I noticed she was gone from my awareness and I got a little scared. I found her under a copy of Mother Jones magazine...she wasn't much of a rebel but she sure was feisty.

That's when she asked for something better. I said I would move her if she would just start appearing in my dreams or my visions or my wishes...I swear I heard her say "yes!", but it could very well have been the voice of a child's yearning, or an imagination filling in the blanks. Whatever...she is there now.

 I await instructions. Is this really where she wants to be? Or will I be spreading her dust in the days to come, some in Morro Bay where she almost drove the Pontiac Tempest into the water that Sunday long ago when her inner cup was overflowing but going nowhere...some in San Francisco where she was born and raised into a life as the oldest daughter to a Greek father, complete with the restrictions and the abuses of a blended family and a weak man who simply let too much go on without listening to his heart and saying "no more!!" It was here, I am sure, that the seeds of discontent and the greatest abuses were perpetrated upon her beautiful being. This is where she closed her heart but held the yearning, where she said "my family will only have happiness", where she learned to wait for the train of fulfillment that never came, where she gave up on tears and doomed herself with "I must earn the right to cry..."

It was those uncried tears that drowned that magnificent woman who wanted love more than she could ever admit...if only that young man had not killed himself when Grandpa said he could not marry his daughter...if only so many men from her high school class had not gone to war and never returned...if only she could have rendezvoused with the only man she really felt love for..the father of my brother...before he was arrested the night before their meeting and deported back in Lebanon...if only...

She rests on the piano and, every time I play, my heart remembers her goodness and my belly remembers the not so goodness...I sing to her and I think, for now, she likes it. It is doing something for me...leading me down some twisted path to forgiveness, opening my heart a pulse at a time to let out my own struggles and shut downs and protections and losses. Healing is a funny thing. It rarely comes in the way we want it, in the time frame that is convenient. I cry for no reason, so it seems... and I feel like a little boy who just wants to be held more than he can fathom, thinking that this magic would make it all safe and take away the unnamed.

But Mother works in the unseen realms now, The absence of her body is a formality that is inconvenient. We communicate better now because i don't have to wince through her responses or the lack thereof. I feel as though she is precipitating some release and change in me  that she was completely incapable of eliciting  when she was in the flesh. Or maybe I'm just making it up because i want to have some relationship with her and think that she is a champion for me and my success. Not sure that it matters...I just know something is going on and I am changing my costume for bare naked flesh that simply says, "this is me". Thank you, Mother.

Remember when I left you with the tender hug between my brother and i in the last perspective? I bet you thought that you would hear that our relationship had healed and that we were now best friends traveling in a Volkswagon bus across the US with no real destination in mind and with laughter and good times and precious sharings flying out the windows. I had hoped that would happen as well.

But the real truth is that that window that opened with Mom's death closed by the the end of the dinner we all had after she died. Some people are willing and some people just postpone until the next life. I learned long ago that no pain was deeper than the truth and the release that could birth the new child within. And so I have been willing to jump into any abyss and mess in the mud and debris of decisions and choices and mistakes and possibility. Others choose the silent path and just do their duty. I will not say one is better than the other. I miss my brother. We both do alone well...it is what mom taught us. It just doesn't feel as safe anymore. I guess I can pick up the phone, but, sometimes, you just want to get the call

I was given a dream the other night that revealed some pretty intense abuse done to me as a boy by family. I have worked with it and cried the river and had it validated by a therapist. I am amazed by the percentage of abused people who never open the door to the sunlight again. I do not plan on running for political office so there is nothing to hide...still I am going to ponder how I might address this in the future perspectives. I must say that I sure felt different on the other side of the awareness and the release. I had been carrying a lot of heavy energy for a long, long time. No wonder I did not really trust anyone and struggled with relationship and commitment...

These are days of flinging doors wide open and letting the beauty return to the inner house. Endless multiversal energetic Light is bathing this planet in order to free the human drama cycle and allow the birth of the real new age. Resisting the personal internal cleansing  is entirely foolish. I suggest each of us pay attention to the not so subtle signs and hear the voices that are willing us toward a long sleeping clarity. Moments are made for life, not struggle. Old ways and beliefs have been spent and are required to be processed into new, exciting energies and forms that massage and nurture the little one within. The wounds can be cleansed in a breath with intention and action. Only the routine of ego will give them any semblance of life again. Resist the temptation to circle in the familiar and pointless eddy of the stream of our past. I suggest that each of us allow the inevitable and remain open and willing and invite the new family of choice to manifest for us on all levels.

Coming home is no longer a choice. It is inevitable. Enjoy the ride, dear one...

A recent song I wrote called, Bathe Me in the Light

Spring has sprung with Light and Love  The kingdom cracks its shell
Despite the forms and confusion  To the past bid fare-thee-well
Rising up in each of us the Truth of who we are
Golden beams of energy bathe us from the stars

Everything within this world has come from you and me
We co-create and manifest the forms of our beliefs
Yet, we were taught to doubt and fear and this has tied our hands
The time has come to rise above  embrace this Divine plan

Within us lies the coding to create a life of peace
Forms and thoughts that don’t align  They all must be released
This quickening is Heaven’s call to heed the Holy Sound
Free emotions, open the heart, love only in the now

  And you have known for a long time   You know all this is true
  For you were born in this prime time    To help this world renew
  Lay down your story and rise up     To break illusion’s spell
  Prepare to enter the Kingdom    That starts 2012

The forms on Earth  are changing fast so let your power rise
Take the steps be clear be true and never compromise
Celebrate each moment full with gratitude with joy
And we shall live in Love and Light   With me won’t you join?

  And you have known for a long time   You know all this is true
  For you were born in this prime time    To help this world renew
  Lay down your story and rise up     To break illusion’s spell
  Prepare to enter the Kingdom    That starts 2012

So make your pledge and stand right up  To your Holy Self be true
Walk your talk, say yes to life   It’s all you have to do

   Yes, I will   Yes, I shall   Bathe me in the Light
   Open me   To truly see   Bathe me in the Light...

c. March 22, 2008. Mark Stanton Welch. All Rights Reserved.

In Perspective 9 I shall discuss my new adventure of living with and providing for and growing with my  16 year old daughter as we create a new home together. My excitement wrestles with my trepidations and concerns. But, as I am being called, I jump over the cliff and sing with an open heart, ready for the grace I was born to receive.