Extraordinary Lives by India Hicks & “39 Years of Silence” by Rita Tanos

 

Rita Tanos  _J7A2651

Rita Tanos:  Extraordinary Lives!   by India Hicks  –    ’39 Years of Silence’

 

I am honored and deeply grateful to India Hicks for sharing my story with the world.

This is the fist time in four decades of my life that I have openly shared my story of loss, grief, and transformation.  While it is heartbreaking, it is also heartwarming.  

 

“Rita is one unstoppable gal. Her courage, resilience, tenacity and imagination bowl me over. She proves just how strong and capable we all can be – even when faced with the most terrible misfortune.”

~ India Hicks

Post:

Extraordinary Lives: Rita Tanos

 

’39 Years of Silence’ is an important book about adoption, the right to life, and the right to know the Truth about oneself.  This book will serve to enlighten and educate people with regard to the complexities and implications of adoption.  It will also become a guide to law makers, attorneys, counselors, and students of the adoption process.  Most importantly, ’39 Years of Silence’ will serve to heal millions of Birthmothers and Adopted Children who have experienced this sort of loss, and shed light and truth to everyone touched by adoption.  And I believe it will change legislation in States like Florida that are still ‘closed’ States, where birth records remain sealed under lock and key, hidden away by an antiqued belief system that forbids children and mothers to know each other, or their medical history.  

 

’39 Years of Silence’ is a book that reflects the lives of millions of silenced birthmother’s and their adopted children around the world during these dark ages of adoption.  Today in 2016, there are more than 6 million birthmothers and adopted children in the U.S. alone who remain silenced by the shame and secrecy of giving up their child to adoption. 

 

As an unwed pregnant mother in 1969, I was coerced into silence and surrendering my child and placing her for adoption.  Ostracized by society’s moral compass, it was forbidden to keep your baby and raise them.  Motherhood was synonymous with marriage.  The moral code and social ethics of the day gave Birthmothers one of two choices:  either kill and abort your baby illegally, or give them up for adoption.  To this very day in 2016, State records remain sealed, hidden and locked away by shame, silence, and secrecy in an antiquated and dark belief system that prevents Birthmothers and their Adopted Children from connecting with each other.  Even health records are sealed in the State of Florida, where I gave birth to my daughter.  After many years of searching, I finally wrote a letter to then Governor Jeb Bush, asking him to open up the sealed files so my child and I could finally find each other.  He said no.  And his letter is in my book. 

 

While laws have changed over the years in many States, these dark ages of adoption still hold these antiquated belief systems in place, where records remain sealed and locked away with deep scars, and silenced secrets for millions of children and mothers around the world.  Their voice is longing to be heard.  

 

I was forced into hiding and thrown into the outcast role with my choiceless choice,  silenced by shame and secrecy.  I became the “nameless, faceless, voiceless mother” who was not allowed to keep my baby.  As a young Birthmother I was silenced by the most traumatic event in my life. . . giving birth to my beautiful baby and then being asked to surrender her at birth.  How does a mother separate from her own child?  

 

It left a hole in my heart that pierced by very existence.  Like two atoms splitting in half, I was split in two, hiding from my own feelings so well that I could not find myself.  My unprocessed emotional pain and loss became hidden from my conscious awareness.  Even the grief of losing my own child was not allowed to be expressed, and she was alive, living somewhere else, without me.  

 

Four decades of silence later, after finding my daughter and committing to a path of self-transformation, I finally gave way to the divinity of my powerlessness to change anything.  I entered into the mysterious domain of being transformed in desolation, though my darkest hours.  The healing balm of forgiveness and acceptance became the portal to deep transformation in the midst of my greatest struggle.  I learned to trust again.  I learned to love again.  I learned to live again, even after losing my child a second time.

 

Millions of Birthmother’s from the 1960’s to present day have suffered in silence, shame and secrecy, without ever uttering a single word about the depths of their heartbreak and sacrifice.  They’ve buried their story somewhere in the deepest, darkest night of secrets, feeling terribly alone, unworthy, and silenced by shame.  Their ‘secret’ became the event in their life that defined them, and it also silenced them.  I am one of these women.  But I am one of the lucky ones who found my child and had a three year relationship with her.  Through every obstacle I forged ahead.  I never gave up.  Something deep within me knew it was possible to find my child and have a relationship with her.  Thank God I did!

 

My transformation of consciousness arrived in the form of an epiphany while on spiritual retreat in Santa Barbara, just days before the third attempt to meet my daughter.  When her cancellation came, once again in the eleventh hour, instead of breakdown, it lead to breakthrough and an extraordinary peace that surpasses all understanding.   There are no words to describe this extraordinary peace and the power of Love, but I know for sure that my daughter felt it too.  A year before she passed through the veils she told me that she had never known or felt such unconditional love in her life until she found me.  Thank God she felt my love for her.  In her heart of hearts, she knew the power of this love.

 

’39 Years of Silence’ is a profound book that is ready to find a leading New York Publisher and Documentary Film Maker.  It is my living Legacy and I’m certain it has the power to heal millions of lives affected by adoption. 

Even famous people like Oprah have been affected by adoption.  Her mother was silenced by shame afer giving up her child to adoption and only recently revealed the truth to Oprah.  She never knew she had a sister.    

Louise Hay, the well known publishing giant of self-help books gave up her baby to adoption when she was a teenager.  So many women have had to bear this kind of loss and grief in utter secrecy.  Why?  The social stigma and the shame of giving up your own child to adoption, no matter what the circumstances, leave a deep inner scar inside the soul of every woman who has surrendered their baby.  

It’s 2016!  It’s time to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  There is work to be done and adoption reform has a long way to go.  There are still closed States where records remain sealed and hidden.  It’s the law. . . and these antiquated belief systems keep these records sealed.  Every child has the right to know the Truth about themselves, who their real mother and father is, and what their medical history records contain.  It may save their life one day.  

 

’39 Years of Silence’ invites us to look deep inside our own hearts and inner knowing of the soul, as we walk this path of transformation to bring forth our own higher potential and our greatest contributions to the world…as women, as mothers, as daughters and sons, and as enlightened spiritual beings, living a human experience.  I invite Birthmother’s everywhere to stand tall and proud, and to find the courage within your own hearts to speak the Truth, in your own voice that has been hidden, silenced, and held hostage for far too many decades.  My personal mission is to heal and empower Birthmothers and Adopted Children globally to speak out and tell the Truth about their wounds, so they may transform their decades of silence, pain, and suffering into a new decade of liberation, joy, freedom and discovery of their highest self.  

~ ~ ~

 

India Hicks post about my story:

“Rita is one unstoppable gal. Her courage, resilience, tenacity and imagination bowl me over. She proves just how strong and capable we all can be – even when faced with the most terrible misfortune.”

http://blog.indiahicks.com/extraordinary-lives-rita-tanos/

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(photo credit:  www.AndreaDomjanPhotography.com)

 

Each Friend Represents a World in Us. . .

 

Honey Moons & Friendship

Honey Moon – June 12/13, 2014

 

The Honey Moon

The Honey Moon

 

“Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”

         – Anais Nin

 

That’s how it was with us. . . We were a world unto each other and by the Grace of Divine Destiny, our paths crossed long ago and united us on a journey of the Soul. A long journey of friendship, love, deep connection and soul companionship that blended us together and joined us as One. How is it that my heart can break like this. . . over and over again?  So many deaths in my life, all in such a short time.

I don’t think I can bear it anymore, not even for another second.  My heart is split wide open, with too much pain and grief.  I feel this loss deeply and profoundly.  Have you ever lost a Beloved Best Friend that was closer to you than your own family?  Who knew you from the inside out?  Bare, dark corners and all that lay hidden inside, from the rest of the world.  There is an emptiness inside of me, like a part of my heart has been cut wide open and taken out of me.  I feel completely empty and alone.

While I know that the Soul is eternal, I am in the thickness of this empty forest right now, stuck inside this thorn bush, feeling the heat and slice of this sharp edge.  It cuts me to the core.  My heart bleeds.  Throbs.  Cries.  Rivers of tears flow, and I allow them.  This is grief.  This is loss.  This is the painful knowing that this beautiful and magnificent soul and friend I once could embrace and talk with for hours, sharing and bearing the deepest parts of my soul, is gone.  She was a world unto me that filled me up with delight and surprise, and created new dimensions of space inside my mind and heart, soul and spirit.  She was an architect of my soul’s evolution as we shared, uncovered, built and re-built the stories of the past, present and future.  We dreamed.  We imagined.  We laughed.  We cried.  We howled.  We thought.  We prayed.  We meditated.  We wept.  We walked.  We talked.  We constructed and de-constructed a million pounds of weight that no longer belonged to either of us, in both of our worlds.  We excavated.  We created demolition zones where they needed to be.  We built fortresses and safe camps when we needed them, and then we softly let them go when we did not.

This is the gift we shared.  The unconditional Love and Acceptance of each other, in all ways, always.  No judgement.  No attitude.  No opinion.  No structure.  No walls.  No expectations.  No belief systems.  Just clear, open space to be truly and authentically who we were and how we are, with each other.  This was the deep embrace of our Friendship.  This loving space was always there, forever Present, and always inviting us to go inside of it.  It was the world we shared inside of our Friendship with each other, where new worlds were possible and often created. 

Driving home tonight, I saw the brilliant Orange Sun behind me, like an orb of Golden, Orange Light. . . bigger than the biggest Sunset I have ever seen setting in the West.  In front of me was the Honey Moon, lingering so low and so close to my face, I felt I could reach out and touch it.  To my East were the beautiful dark mountains and shadows, and to my West was the Pacific Ocean, nearing the end of it’s Sunset.  Just before I left on this drive and journey home, a young Asian woman came up to me and embraced me like an old, sweet friend.  We had met once before and she noticed my sorrow.  I shared your photograph with her and told her of your recent passing.  She said, “She’s here with you right now. . . I can feel her” as tears streamed down her face.  I knew it was you, my sweet friend, in this moment, coming here to embrace me this night, in this human form of this charming young woman who knew I needed a hug from you.

 

Soul Sisters ~

My Beloved Friend & Soul Sister ~ Adrienne Grayson

My Beloved Friend &
Soul Sister ~
Adrianne Grayson

 

Soul Sisters ~

Some of us get really lucky in our lives . . . We are Blessed by a Soul Sister that Loves us unconditionally and for many years.  I was Blessed by my Beloved Friend & Soul Sister, Adrianne Grayson, whom I learned today passed through the veils of life to the doorway of death.  She was one of my Angels that lifted me up when my wings had forgotten how to fly.  At some of the darkest moments in my life, she was there, holding me with her Love.

No distance or lapse of time can lessen the Love or the Friendship we shared.  She lives on inside my Heart. Eternal is her Spirit.  As she rests with the Divine, I am eternally grateful for the many years of Love and Friendship we shared.  Times of Sacred Connection, times of Soul Companionship, times of healing, times of deep sharing and compassion, times of long and deep conversations, times of joy and laughter, times of reflection, times of Grace and Beauty, and times of just sitting together in silence, praying and meditating.

The greatest gift my Friend & Soul Sister, Adrianne gave to me, was her unconditional Love.  It was felt in the deepest parts of my being.  She knew me at my core.  I knew her at her core.  We were always there for each other, and in all ways, always.  How rare a friend. How special a companion on this journey of Life.  We honored each other with the gift of a Friendship so rare and true.

Adrianne represents to me what ‘True Beauty from Within’ is all about.  Radiant.  Joyful.  Loving.  Kind.  Generous.  Caring.  Compassionate.  Beautiful.  Charming.  At Peace.  A bright light of Love in my life. Shine on my sweet Beloved Friend & Soul Sister.  You will always be with me, living inside my Heart.

https://www.facebook.com/TrueBeautyBeginsFromWithin

http://www.TrueBeautyBeginsFromWithin.com 

 

Once Upon a Time. . .

October 22, 2013

 

Twists, Turns, Circles and U-Turns

Once Upon a Time. . .

Once Upon a Time. . .

 

Twists, Turns, Circles and U-Turns. . . Stop.  Go.  Turn left.  Turn right. Turn around. Don’t look back. . . look ahead.  Be Present, in this very moment.  Drop the fears.  Let go of the worries.

It’s all OK.  All is well.  All is well.  All is well.

 

These are the thoughts swirling around in my mind this morning.  I can’t seem to find my center of gravity these last few days.  Feelings of loss and sadness arise, and I don’t know what to do with them.  So I just visit with them and ask:  ‘What is it my Sweet?  What are you trying to tell me?’

 

Self examination leads me back to this time every year, days before the B-Day. . . the big event that changed my life forever.  October 31st, 1969. . . the day I gave Birth to my only child and gave her up for adoption.  I feel immense loss, even today. . . especially today.  Almost 44 years ago I was preparing myself to ‘let go and let God’ be the force in my life as I was forced to surrender this life inside of me.

 

I was 19, living in secrecy and hiding, shamed by my very existence.  Unwed pregnant mothers were ‘not allowed’ to keep their babies.  It was unheard of.  It was forbidden. It was simply unacceptable in the late 1960’s. How could I let the power and force of societies moral compass dictate what I was to do with my own child?  Why was this such forbidden fruit?

 

How could I surrender and give up this life inside of me. . . the One life that was most precious to my very being and existence?  How could I ever live with myself, knowing that I was being asked to surrender my baby to adoption and did?

 

Nine days from today she would have turned 44.  Instead of life, she choose death.  Last year she took her own life and gave up.  I will never know why.  I will never understand the pain and suffering she went through to reach this point.  There were a few warning signs along the path of my knowing her. . . but only from a distance.  We never met.  What we shared was a 3 year long-distance relationship by phone, emails, letters and text messages.  I have heard the vibration of her voice.  I have seen her only in photographs she sent me.  I have felt her love in the words she  expressed as she wrote them to me on paper.  And, I have loved her and longed for her all of my life.

 

As she rests in the invisible, ethereal realms, I think of her so tenderly. In these moments of deep inner stirrings, I feel her Presence around me.  The power of this love is eternal and endless.  And the longing never ceases.  It is always very Present in my heart and soul.

 

I have never seen her birth certificate.  I have never seen her death certificate.   I have never seen her.  But I gave birth to her. I gave life to her.  She existed. . . once upon a time.  Once upon a time I had faith and hopes that we would finally meet in this lifetime and share a beautiful relationship that was not in the invisible, but in the earthly realms.  All that is left living are the scars I carry on my body, the stretch marks that now look like grave markers of a life once lived

. . . once upon a time.

 

Along with her letters and photographs, she sent me two gifts of love, both behind glass . . . like the glass window pane that separated us upon her birth. Untouchable . . . unreachable . . . in the invisible.  One gift is a beautiful picture frame that has enamel vines and flowers with crystals and a ladybug on it.  It arrived empty. . . a blank canvas, without a photograph inside the glass frame.  Weeks later I received her picture which now sits inside that frame, behind the glass.  The other gift is a glass snow globe with Buddha inside . . . resting on the lotus in silence, in the center of the glass globe.  Sprinkles of light capture the Buddha when you move it.  In the stillness, in the silence, behind the looking glass, in the invisible realm is where she rests inside of me today. . . deep inside of my heart.

My Beloved Child . . . Once Upon a Time.

~  ~  ~                      ~ ~ ~                    ~ ~ ~                 ~ ~ ~                   ~ ~ ~              ~ ~ ~

This Sunday I will walk with other mothers who have lost a child or loved one to suicide to benefit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.  There will be many twists and turns, circles and U-turns along this walk inside the heart space as we pound the pavement with our rubber soles.

‘Walk out of Darkness’ is a nationwide effort and this is my local community walk.  Net proceeds will benefit AFSP to fund research, education, survivor and awareness programs – both to prevent suicide and to assist those affected by suicide.

Funding will help those who suffer from depression or contemplate suicide know that it doesn’t have to be a secret – that there is help available and that there are people out there who really care about them.

Here is the link to my page.

http://afsp.donordrive.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=donorDrive.participant&participantID=497079

Here is the link to AFSP:  http://www.afsp.org

 

The Touch of a Woman’s Hand

A Woman's Touch

A Woman’s Touch

June 1, 2013

The Touch of a Woman           – by Rita Tanos

 

I had forgotten what it felt like to be living authentically in my own feminine power.  Those feelings of lightness, sweetness, and grace seemed like a past history of another life that I was no longer a part of.  So many years of challenge, struggle and loss began to show their wear and tear, especially on my hands and the tips of my fingers.

 

Once beautiful and elegant, with perfectly manicured nails, my hands now looked like a gardener’s hand, mowing lawns, seeding vines, and doing hard labor.  What was I cultivating?  I had not noticed them for a long time.  Until today.  They were clean, but the texture of my skin had changed, as did my perfectly feminine manicure.  I had to take a closer look to see what they wanted to tell me.  Surely there must be a message here, on the tips of my fingers and palms of my hands.

 

I noticed that the years of tapping on my computer keyboard, writing volumes of sorrow and grief  in my book were somehow indented on the tips of my fingers.  All those emotions that flowed up and out of me these last years were ingrained like a spider’s web, circling the imprints of my thoughts onto my body.  Had my fingerprints changed?  Did the swirls of my DNA look any different today than they did when I felt strong, feminine and beautiful?  I wondered…

 

Did my daughter’s death vibrate so violently throughout my body and soul that I now had a new imprint?  Where was the tenderness?  Where was the sweetness?  Where was that graceful, elegant woman I knew myself to be just a couple years ago?  Where did my humor go?  Where did my affections go?  Where did my passion go?  Where did ‘I’ go?  I wondered…

 

Feeling the depths of this hard labor camp called grief and loss, I finally found myself sowing new seeds of hopes and dreams more than a year later.  Slowly, very slowly, they came…one at a time.  I wanted to feel love again.  I wanted to feel life again. I wanted to feel beautiful again.  I wanted to feel ‘me’ again!  But most of all, I wanted to feel love again. Love for myself and love for all sentient beings.  And I longed to share my life with a loving partner.

 

This path of pain and sorrow that left me feeling weak, fragile, and uncertain was beginning to morph into tenderness and sweetness once again.  While I ached for closeness with my self and others, I wanted to feel my full, open heart.  Where was it?  Surely somewhere very close by, inside my beautiful self.

 

So began the journey of my heart into a deeper, more spacious, more luxurious place.  As I dug through so many layers of these locked chambers inside my heart, I realized that I did not even know they existed.  Locked so tightly in place, and frozen with rusted ancient wounds, they were invisible to my conscious awareness.  How could I possibly exist like this?

 

Throughout the excavation of this dark night, I trusted that the deep longing of my soul held the rusty keys to this secret hiding place where I would find my inner radiance once again. . . where I would feel love again.  As my journey took me to the bottom of the earth, digging through hardened layers of dark, black gravel, I began to find this tunnel of light.

 

I knew all I had to do was Trust.  One step at a time, one day at at time, one moment at a time, one breath at a time, every day.  I had to Trust that no matter what was happening in my life, and no matter how it looked right now, something amazing, huge, and incredible was going to come out of this.  Something way bigger than me!

 

My hardened, grieving heart became soft once again, like a whisper in the breeze when I heard my daughter’s voice speaking to me in the wind.  Like grist for the mill that was as tough as nails, I suddenly melted like smooth snow and transformed those rough, hardened edges into fluid, flowing water.  Like Grace, the downpour of streaming tears broke every rusted chain inside my heart, one by one, link by link.

 

In deep gratitude, I kneeled and kissed the earth.  As I rose up, for the first time in years, I stood tall and proud and felt the power and the Presence of this magnificent Woman inside of me.  With my gardener’s hands across my heart, I could also see the hands of a beautiful woman. . .Loving.  Kind.  Compassionate.  Gentle.  Soft.  Sweet.  Tender.  Warm.  Feminine.  Powerful.  I felt the touch of a Woman’s hand, as I held my own hand with Loving Kindness, Gratitude and Appreciation.

 

The touch of a woman’s hand has the power to heal and change lives.  Even our own lives!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I am the Soft Caress of Wind on Your Face.”

"I am the soft caress of wind on your face."

“I am the soft caress of wind on your face.”

 

Introduction by Dr. Marj Britt

“Sometimes events in our lives shock us, stun us, beyond our human ability to understand.  The sacred process of ‘Write Your Soul’ can open the windows of the Infinite. This writing is one from ‘the profound beauty of the Dazzling Darkness’ where the light and dark become One in the Radiance of Union.  Facts of the human life of this author included a baby given up for adoption at birth, a yearning and long search which never culminated in physical reunion in this lifetime. The Soul reunion is New Birth.”

 

“I am the Soft Caress of Wind on Your Face…”

This morning I walked inside Aaron Art supply store to buy some blank art books to start my excavation search. . . all in hopes of finding clues to my treasure map. . . and the next steps to take.  The blank black books were there and as I turned and walked to the next isle, I found some interesting keys, all with words engraved on them.

Love. . . Journey. . . Secret. . . Heart. . . Life. . . Memory. . . Dreams. . .
I also found a tiny set of calendar months which I will begin the first page of my blank journal with.  January 2012. . . the month of my birth and a day in this month that you chose to pass through the veils. The number 13 is significant. . . the night you ended your life. The numbers 1 and 3 are also significant. . . you were born on the 31st day of October.

As I wandered around, I remembered that my last visit to Aaron’s was when I went hunting for a frame to enclose my photograph in that I was sending you for Christmas. That was two years ago. . . or was it three? I can’t remember.

I feel like I am walking through a mist in the unknowing.  I feel the breeze on my skin as it softly caresses me.  I feel the warmth of the sunshine on my face and arms as I take in the energy of the sun.  I hear the doves in early morning, cooing for each other near the first nest they built on the patio.  I smell the ocean air and hear the waves gently crashing on the seashore.  The Seagulls are calling out for food, and the sound of laughter is nearby from young people enjoying their Sunday afternoon. Some people are just lingering in the warmth of the sun, closing their eyes and resting. . . taking it all in.

I wish you were here with me today.  I wish your senses could breath in this life around me and feel the beauty of this day. My hair blows in the wind, and the bees are busy pollinating the purple, red and yellow flowers nearby as they buzz past my ears. The sky is wispy with soft white clouds.  It’s a beautiful day that feels like summer in the end of January.  It’s so crystal clear, I can see Catalina Island on the horizon of the Pacific. Boats are cruising by, some of them leaving white trails of water behind them. The surfers are out in hopes of a good wave on this calm shore and there are even a few jet skiers flying by on the water.  The pelicans are soaring so gracefully in the air, in search of their next meal. . . gliding together in small groups, and taking turns with who will lead. The palm trees are softly swaying in the breeze as I hear their leaves dancing in the wind. Even the Birds of Paradise are arched up towards the sun, bursting with orange and purple color.

It’s all so quiet and peaceful and ever so beautiful, my Sweet. I wonder if you ever took the time to be silent and peaceful in nature. . . I wonder if you spent time near the ocean. . . I wonder if you liked the smell of the sea and the sound of the water. . . I wonder if you liked to swim.  All these wonderings as I quietly sit here today thinking of you.

Is there anything you would like to tell me?

Yes!  I am the soft caress of wind on your face. . . I am the laughter in the hearts of children. . . I am the wind beneath you, lifting you up, out of your sorrow. . . I am the waves in the ocean gently rolling in to the shore. . . I am the buzzing sound you hear, echoing in the vastness. . . I am the light you see, the air you breath, the warmth on your body from the sun.  I am there with you, now and forevermore.  Lighten your heart and let it not be heavy with sadness. . . There is much beauty and joy for you now. . . every flower has it’s seeds. . . like the keys you found today.  The words are keys for you to go on. . . in Love, with Faith. . . and Hope. There is a circle of white light around you. . . surrounding you. . . protecting you. . . it is I.

You are beautiful, radiant, and ever so Blessed with Love.  You are Beauty itself! Feel the rays of the sun on your body, the energy of Love is there touching you. The light that sparkles from the ocean and the Seagull calling out to you now. . . I am there in full magnificence, with you every day, every moment. Your pain will ease. . . your suffering will lessen. . .You will soar again to new heights, beyond what you ever imagined for yourself. Currents of Love are flowing to you now and always. . . like the smooth currents of the ocean heading your way. . . I am in every sound, in every wave, in every flower, in every living, breathing thing.  My Soul is with you. . . my Heart is with you. . . my Love is with you. All the beauty that you see and feel is the beauty I am. Listen to the sound of the ocean. . . it calms you. Watch the birds soar and glide. . . they are in harmony with all life. Watch the flowers burst forth in brilliant colors. . . they are all God’s reminder of who you are.

May I ask you a question? I would like to know what it is like for you in the invisible?

Just like when you were in the invisible. . . when you crossed over, after you gave birth to me. Complete Bliss and utter Oneness with all that is. . . You are living in a time/space continuum that you once were able to go beyond. . . you can and will again.  I am here without time, space, distance or separation. . . as you say.  I am pure Love itself, without a body.  Our Souls are joined in union. . . a beautiful Love union that is eternal. . . you know that.

Sit quietly in the calm and you will feel me.  I am here with you now. Just breathe when the moments are hard. . . there will be more of those moments.  You are grieving me. . . there is nothing to fear.  Just let go and rest your body and mind. Rest and be gentle with yourself. From that little bird on the stone next to you to the big Pelican that just flew above you, I am there with you.

Rest and relax. . . let go of all your worries and concerns. Close your eyes now and just rest. . . I am here with you.

 

Aunt Lucy’s Shoes

Aunt Lucy's Shoes

Aunt Lucy’s Shoes

Aunt Lucy’s Shoes. . .    March 6, 2013

 

She bought those gorgeous Italian shoes, even though her husband told her not to. . . they were too expensive. . . but she bought them anyway.  Something inside of her called to her, to manifest those shoes into her life and inside her closet so she could admire their beauty and craftsmanship, and someday wear them.  Something about them called out to her and she just knew these gorgeous shoes were her shoes!  She just had to have them. . . Shoes that she would admire and hide inside the back of her closet from her husband, until one day she would dare to wear them. But Aunt Lucy would never wear those gorgeous Italian shoes or place her own feet inside of them, except for the day she first tried them on.  They remained inside the treasure chest of a cardboard box that kept them hidden inside the dark corners of her closet. . . away from sight.  Secret places that women hide their secret belongings and dreams from their husbands.  Secret desires unspoken and never shared.  Secret passions that lay hidden inside the heart space and imagination, waiting to erupt at just the right moment.

 

Uncle Larry found them a few weeks after her death. . . surprised and bewildered by this finding of these fine Italian shoes in the dark, hidden corners of her closet. Remembering he told her not to buy them, he just sat there with the shoes in his hands and smiled through his tears and grief, remembering her feet when she tried them on, remembering her beautiful smile when she admired them.  He had loved her feet for 45 years, and every night in their shared bed, it was their feet that met and touched in the dark slumber of night dreams.

 

In this precious moment, he holds the shoes, like an alter to the Christ, like keys to his heart that Aunt Lucy never wore, and finally allowed himself to grieve and mourn her passing.  Holding these gorgeous Italian shoes in his hands that she so admired, he realizes there is a sacred mystery here. . . something about Aunt Lucy’s longing for beauty and love and dance and movement and the journey of life and death itself. . . while she laid in her hospital bed, shoeless. . . awaiting her passage through the veils.

 

In his darkest hour of despair a smile is brought to his lips as he embraces the visible form of what is now his invisible Beloved. Even though he did not want her to buy these gorgeous shoes she has never worn, he is so grateful for their presence on this day as he calls to ask me if I would like to have them.  I say yes with honor and respect, knowing in my heart I will receive them as a treasure of his love for her. . . knowing there will be new moments of revelation for Aunt Lucy’s Shoes.