Okay....my last post was just too long...it will be a miracle if anyone has the time or inclination to read it. Today I'm posting a short one.

Hope sings,

Hope springs,

Hope is what I have.

I have been thinking a lot lately, about the nature of time. I've noticed that it isn't static; that it doesn't seem to flow along at the same even pace. It seems to run fast sometimes; at other times it seems to go painfully slow; and once in a great while it even seems to stop....depending on our shifting perspectives. As I look back over my life; time seems to fold up on itself...it all went by so fast! As I look forward; especially as I contemplate the realization that "time" is what stands between me and a reunion with my deceased loved ones; time seems to stretch out interminably. Sometimes, when I am thinking of my deceased husband or son, time seems suspended as I find myself re-living a memory. (I've noticed that sometimes memory is like reading previously read chapters in a book....the memory doesn't really live but seems like dry black words on white paper. They tell what happened in an earlier time; but you can't really see or feel it. Sometimes though; when I least expect it, and when I'm not trying too hard; a memory comes flooding back to me and flows with all the color and feeling I felt as the memory was being made. It is on these rare occasions that I am "transported" back to that time and place. The memories come alive and are so real; I experience them as if I am really back in the moments!)

When I had my own very brief "near death experience" as a five year old child; I experienced an out of body experience as my little body was "drowning" in a pool full of people. I remember so clearly that one of the most striking things about the experience was the realization that not only was I "out" of my body and looking down on the scene; but I was also "out" of time. I was in a timeless place and a timeless state. It wasn't long after this realization, as I watched my uncle pull me out of the water and put me on the side of the pool, that I found myself "back" in my body choking and gagging. This experience; remembered in detail as if it were yesterday; has helped me understand something about the nature of "time". I know it only exists for us here; that it is artificial....and that it does not exist in the spirit plane. The other thing I realized in those seconds/moments when I had this experience as a child; was that there is a part of us that does continue; that we do "live" on after death; and that we are still very much ourselves. I had an English teacher in High School explain to me that: "Time is an abstract entity; though it's effects are manifested in tangible and concrete ways." What we perceive as "concrete" are the cycles of life and nature. We actually live in the eternal present; though it seems we are "traveling" through time as we go through experiences that seem to happen along a linear lifeline. I've read many NDEr's (Near Death Experiencers) stories and they all talk about the fact that time did not exist when they were "out" of their bodies. Instead of talking about time passing during their NDE; they explain that everything, all experience and potential, seems to exist in that "place" all at once. The talk about going "deep" into the experience; where more and more of the truth and light of it is revealed to them; rather than describing it in terms of time. It's more of an unfolding.

I hope this makes some kind of sense to those of you who may someday read this. If we live in the eternal present; something that we can't perceive as mortals; (though we get glimpses of that paradox once in a great while) wouldn't it make sense to think that our deceased loved ones have never "left" us and exist in the same "Present" and and are all around us? I believe they not only live in the "eternal present" as we do; but they are also eternally present; we will see them when our true eyes are opened at death.

There is an old Helen Reddy song that I sometimes remember when I am thinking about the time when I will have my spirit eyes opened as my mortal eyes are closing. Some of the words go like this: "Time hurry by, carry me home, don't wait too long, knowing I'll travel much freer this time. And when I go home; my heart like a stone; he'll call me his own, when I go home."

I don't know why that song spoke to my heart when I was just out of high school...but it has always spoken to me of that time when I too will be going "home". I do not fear death; but I know that I have to fill up the "time" I have left here doing my best; and loving to the best of my ability to love, the ones who are still here in this time and place.

You

Such a small word.

Me

Even smaller.

I

Smaller still.

We

Bigger than I

Infinitely so.

Where did you go?

Where is the we

That used to be?

This is a poem I wrote after my husband died....I know he "lives" somewhere, somehow....but it is still so hard living without his physical presence. I miss him and our son sooooo much.

I have been thinking about the stress that life brings to each of us...especially when we have suffered through a loss. It's not just grief that we feel...that overpowering sorrow that seems to eclipse everything else; but with that often comes fear, and the stress that creates. FEAR. When my husband died in particular I felt overwhelming grief and fear. One of the first things my husband tried to get through to me after he died was that I shouldn't be afraid. He was very creative in trying to get through my wall of fear and grief. Sometimes in the midst of the emotion; we are not open to the messages of help and reassurance that our deceased loved ones are trying to give us. Not long after my husband died in 2006, I went with my cousin and Mom to a local book festival. Part of the agenda were workshops in everything from "Finding Your Inner Shaman", to "Writing your own story". We went to the Shaman workshop and were treated to an hour with a wonderful Native American Shaman from the Ute tribe. He was dressed in native costume; and told us about the Shaman traditions and healing. He cleansed the room with a burning sage bouquet; (smoking would be more the description); and told us about the Native American view of heaven and earth. After the workshop my cousin and I went to find a restroom before our next class. I had noticed an interesting and rather colorfully dressed woman across the room from me while we were in the Shaman class. She kept looking over at me with a odd look on her face. We encountered her in the restroom and she looked at me and said: "I need to give you a message." Startled I just said "What?" She said: "I feel I need to tell you not to be afraid." I was shocked; but knew that she had spoken to my need. I just mumbled a few words of thanks and left. I wish I had asked her more about why she felt to tell me that; and where it had come from. What I believed at the time, and still believe; was that my husband found a way to get that message through to me through her. He has brought real reassurance and comfort on many other occasions since. Sometimes I am open to the messages; and sometimes I am too steeped in fear. It's natural to feel fearful of the future when a spouse dies, but I think it's important to realize that fear gets in the way of finding peace and creative solutions for going forward. Fear can be crippling and influence decision making in ways that are not in our best interests. It also blocks communication from those who know best how to help us...those who have gone before. One of the things I have learned is that there is an undercurrent of peace and love in the Universe. In the midst of grief, fear and stress; it is possible to feel that oneness and all is wellness at times. I found that I was best able to do this when I went to a natural place...a lake, a canyon stream, a country path into the woods or fields. This is where you can best get in touch with what is older, bigger, timeless, and in harmony with that underlying peace. My heart goes out to all who are feeling the absence of loved ones; to all who grieve, to all who feel the fear of the unknown that comes with change.

It's been awhile since I last wrote. I can't seem to write just because I want to....it seems I have to be inspired to write. On July 29th, it will have been 5 years since my husband died at 55 of cancer. It has been a tough five years in many ways. I've had to learn to do so many things I'd never done before...pay the bills, do the taxes, maintain a house and yard...etc. Most of all I've had to deal with being the only mortal one in this relationship. I'm sure that sounds odd; yes, I'm still in a relationship. I still feel remarkably connected to my sweetheart; in fact, our relationship is an ongoing thing. (I've spoken in other posts about the communication that continues between us.) Being a "mixed" couple (one mortal the other a spirit being, or former mortal) has its limitations to be sure. (Yes, this is a bit "tongue in cheek"; but don't for a moment think I don't mean what I'm saying.) I have had to learn to deal with the limitations: the absence of the physical manifestation of my husband, the longing for his touch, the sight of him, the sound of his voice, etc. Notice I did not say that I long for his PRESENCE....that is still very much with me. As a blind person learns to "see" with enhanced and highly developed senses other than sight; I have learned to hone and rely at times on my "spirit senses". We do have spirit "eyes" and "ears". We can perceive with that "other" part of us that is not physical.

I can sense when my husband, son, or other non-physical entity is close. I can somehow "know" what they are trying to communicate to me. I have had this ability for as long as I can remember...though it seems to have become much stronger since my son died at 18 in 1996. I don't think this ability is particularly unique because I believe it's an ability we can all develop. I think the first step toward developing this enhanced perception is believing that it is possible. We also have to believe that there is another dimension of being...and that our personalities/spirits are eternal. I also practice a method I call "going deep". If there is a question I need answered from someone who has passed on; I ask the question then close my eyes and shut out all the external signals. I have to consciously clear out my thoughts and that is when I "go deep". (That is the part of the process I can't really describe.) I seem to go to a very quiet and deep part of my self....then I become very still and listen. I have had some profound experiences with this. I am able (not always, but often) to "know" or "hear" what the answer is. These answers seem to come from a place outside my own consciousness and thought-processes. These are things I couldn't have known, but have later proven to be true. One somewhat humorous example: Just before my husband got sick we were going to the horse track to watch a friend's horse race. We needed to be there at a certain time to see this particular race. As we were getting ready to leave, my husband went looking for his car keys. He couldn't find them anywhere. I had a set of duplicate keys but he needed his to get something from his trunk he needed to give the man whose horse we were going to see. His search for the keys was fruitless and frustrating. He had been sitting in a recliner before we started looking, so he looked there three times...even turning the chair upside down. I could see how upset he was getting so I thought of my friend Sally's Mom who was able to "find" anything. Friends and family members would call her from all over and say: Muriel, I've lost my _____. Can you tell me where it is?" Muriel would say a prayer, then call them back to tell them where to find their lost thing. (Invariably she was right!) Muriel had been deceased for about two years when I decided (with a chuckle) to ask her where to find my husband's keys. I ask her (not out loud, but in my head) "where are Jim's keys?" I then "went deep" and listened. It wasn't long before I heard; clear as a bell in my "mind's ear" Muriel's answer: "Your sitting on them!" It sounded just the way Muriel would have said it in life....she even sounded a bit irritated, as if I had interrupted her. I thought "Jim's looked in that chair three times." but I had to go look yet again. I stuck my hand deep into the side of the chair cushion; and sure enough, there were his keys. Jim could not believe I'd found his keys. We made it to the racetrack and had one of the last fun days together we would have before he got sick. I do believe that there are times when we won't get answers....I believe that on that particular day there was a purpose to my getting that prompt answer to such a mundane thing...PURPOSE is the key word. I believe that it was important for us to find Jim's keys so we could get on with being together. We didn't know then how short his time was. There is a purpose to everything; though most of the time we only get to see the purpose in hindsight. I still haven't seen the purpose in Jim's dying so young....I struggle to find the purpose in my being here alone in the physical sense. I do know that I'm not really alone...that there are those who are with us still.