The Space of Becoming...

I've been off radar these past weeks - in a kind of zone where the living and the dying meet each other, a space I have called a Space of Becoming.

I was taken to Australia as my beautiful mum finally left her body after years of being interred through a very long period of life with the condition known as Alzheimers...

It's not an easy place to write about because the language of words is limited by definitions and forms  but I have been somewhere that exists on this planet and it wants to be spoken about...
It is an energetic place, a space really, a space where we can go beyond our emotional restrictions and rise in a way, to another way of perceiving...receiving...accessing our knowing and also our being. 

Is this the same space where new beginnings arise as well?
The answer is Yes. It is an unconditional yes.

How do I know?  My Mum told me so on a salt sea and warm windy afternoon on the northern coast of Queensland She gave me words - words that have never been spoken before to me and words that carried an energetic awareness of her, though she had never before spoken in this way. I wrote them down and they flowed in a way that was simple, clear and free. 
She spoke of what creates and maintains Alzheimers in a way that was directly pointing to something we can each and all recognise and it is this that I wish to share with you. It's a gift for the living when the dead convey freely what it is they are aware of from another realm of existence. 
You might ask why I would wish to share such a personal and intimate experience such as this and I simply say - it is no longer personal when it points to something that we each experience. She gives us pointers to glimpse a way of living from greater consciousness. I never knew her in this way but apparently she knows something about this now.
I was blessed to be able to run her Bars and also several different Body Processes over the occasional and infrequent visits to her bedside in Victoria, Australia. There was always, but always, a shift that was palpable...a relief and a lifting of something. Others with her recognised the shift too - this was lovely though never required. Sometimes the door seemed to open and a real glimmer of possibility emerged from her direct gaze at me or another. and then she would sleep and rest in a different way...deeply. 
Here is the link to the gift she brought through to me. It is for us all - directly pointing to the choice to not  engage with the avenue of regret or remorse or even of backward gazing through the haze of longing...



Yeppoon Hilltop.
Southern Great Barrier Reef. Looking out to the Keppels…
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The sea sweeps the vast shore and the waves kick up stories that she has spoken of or inferred or simply transmitted through her divine like lightness of being… Over the years I was able to osmose …sense… the many pleasures that she experienced here in this placeof her growing.
I am brought straight to the top of the highest point and I walk down clutching Red Ted - a soft bear that was clutched by her through night and day in the many years of incarceration through Alzheimers - and my laptop that simply plays the music of a Space of Communion like a long-lost accompaniment to a great friend.
I find myself stood on a central hearth, an altar of friendship that has been expressed by those who endured and remained in constant awareness of a time during the 2nd world war when this place was the home base to a large squad of soldiers from the US forces. They were the soldiers of the 41st battalion.
I am with her again as she conveys the warmth of these times through the gratitude that is expressed through these plaques. They speak of a tangible, an actual period of time that brings me to her youth and my own – the own that sucked in the stories and lived them over and over. The love that was touched and fanned and tantalised, the laughter and the heroics, her kindness and grace and her joy in stepping out with a new and wider fan base. These men opened her doors to a wide world that teased and taunted her burgeoning sexuality and her delicious flirtatiousness as well as the potential terror of the war sitting close by as though in her lap. It is raw and it is vulnerable and it is enlivening to all her senses. She tastes the salt of living and it makes her thirsty for more.
 
Mama – what is it that I can do for you from here?
 
It seems now that the following words are given to me through the energy that is my Mum though this is a new frequency – one that I cannot say that I experienced directly whilst she was lived in her body.

 
There are many who came onto these shores and the throwback in generous, way beyond your and my years. The cost has been high – a cost in cognition and consciousness and one that is created through the disconnect from the rootedness of being with one’s place of knowing…
There is a place of the grieving that has strong men weeping and small children ever sleeping. It is the place of unknowing and un becoming…a lost-ness that creeps into the bones and locks out a pulse that simply lives through the sweet soft marrow
Whilst you hang on to the haze – whether at the forefront or the back cupboards of oblivion - it lives as a lure, a silent and deadly lure to entice and enthral a kind of sadness that shuts down vital essence of life.

Many have tasted it and fall in love with its hypnotic gaze…. dazzling and seductive in the most whispered way this seduction lives as though by secret proxy, a place recognised as a heroic gesture – a love lost, a parting of such sweet sorrow, a longing and luring back, always back, to something that has been won and lost and never to be returned. Whilst the taste of this memory continues to be sweeter than the moment, any moment, it acts as a hook into the dizzying space of nowhere at all…the space of the other world that one is never given total and complete access to.

This is not the same space as presence and awareness – these have a different life force, a different quality of vitality. They simply generate more of the same – aliveness and clarity. Dear one – my daughter. You owe nothing to the many who are caught and seduced in this ever web like veil of seduction. Be not lured by it any longer and please cast off the nets from the gaze across the shores of your own becoming…look not to this space where the understanding entices you – the wish to recover those lost is not yours to complete. Allow it to end for you, only you, with this sweep of the shore. There is no life here and there will never be. Be awake my lovely heathering one. Awake to the multitude who wish to communicate through many means. Punctuate your new life with a wakefulness that no longer mourns the dead or the unborn but one in which each moment is a dance and a question, an open door to creation with all of the life forces that are present to your every expression and wish. Dot the I’s and cross the t’s and keep choosing to wake more fully. It is more than I can convey to you through words what it is that you are in the constancy of creation with. Be not a hero or a heroine, be not a martyr or a slave to another. Be commensurate with the rising sun and the morning birds – these are your truest gauges of how to live.
Wake up each day and each moment. Wake up more fully and breathe in a way that laces your very being with the delight of gratitude. This will be an ongoing gift to me …
and you owe me nothing.

As to my ashes there are some to whom it is important. To me it is not. I will convey to you the way and the spaces as you enter into a night tonight….be not troubled by them. You did me proud and you did me well. Thank you beloved daughter mother sister aunt dear…
 
I am of the sea and with the sea
I am of the wind and with the wind
I am of the sand and with the sand
I am of the light and with the light
And shall ever be
 
You chose a good body. Mark it well with attention that rewards and nourishes. Live my daughter as though you have never fully lived before and you shall know the sweetness of laughter as though a tonic for a heart that shall need not ache once more.
I loved your father and he loved me well. Let it not be necessary to ponder or muse upon your parentage…you are more than all of us brought together. A composition of joy and wonder. A daughter of the Earth and gift to us all.
 
Let the wind carry me away and we shall weep no more.
 
I call upon those who would wish to come with me that they shall occupy you no more. I call back to the ashes of the many, the memories of lost and yearned for spaces and we release the bindings and unfulfilled promises from each other and the many others as we become truly like a breeze and lifted to the air. Let there be no one who lingers any longer between the veils of lost-ness and grieving.
It is done.
It is done.
Weep no more. Hold onto nothing…not even yourself.

Go now
Be ready
The moment will be clear and light
We alight 
 
As I walked away from the place of the writing my eyes alighted on five small newly planted sea pines – the kind that the Australian coast loves…There they had been all along protected from the strong winds in that exposed landing by a strong layer of polythene…
I approached one, knelt down, touched the coarse fronds and caressed them as I introduced the idea to the one representative of the five.

“Hello trees…I am Heather…”I whispered to this young life form who had witnessed my  brief visit there…

I wonder whether you would like to receive the body of my beautiful Mum as a contribution to your life? Would you like to take her bones into yours and have them nurture and feed you as she did me? My fingers moved to lift the plastic and I touched the soil at the roots, pulling away some of the grass that was covering the soil, all the while listening, aware and awake to the energy of a clear yes or no coming towards me.
It came clearly – in the way of least resistance. That’s really where yes lives.
I went to the car and collected her box and a using a spoon I was able to lift the lid, prising it away from the seal and opening this most sacred new ground, new earth from old.
And there in the dark of evening light, with a wind that was warming to my very being, together with my mum, we brought about a union, a kind of wholly communion, of life and death.
Five trees said yes to receiving the body of life of the woman who gave me life. 
 
 
She was called Bern
And she did.
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