Now Sheila and I did not have the same taste in music, and the song she chose is one that I do not particularly like, Rupert Holmes ‘Escape’, the 1980’s ‘Pina Colada’ song. In short, she loved it, I hate it.
A few weeks ago, she began popping into my head with her favorite song, simply singing the chorus in my head “If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain”. By the time the first verse is done, I know it’s her and am generally begging her to stop singing it. In truth, she is very clever. Using a song I don’t like, grabs my attention, like being stung by a hornet. I just want it to stop.
One night, after getting my full attention with her musical serenade, she told me she needed me to reach out to her daughter, and let her know how proud she was of her, and how she was watching over her. This was not a surprising statement, and made me aware of the fact that her daughter was really mourning her, at this moment in time. I reached out to my cousin, who is more of a niece, passing on my aunts message. This seemed to be sufficent for the moment.
It was not!
Sheila is opportunistic, and spends a lot of her time, trying to figure out the best way to reach out to people. Friends of hers have sent me videos and pictures with orbs in them, asking me if I think this could be Sheila. My answer is always yes, as I know her to be a ‘pushy’ Spirit. This is not a bad thing, simply a fact. If she wants you to know she’s around, she will keep at it, until you do.
About a week after she was serenading me in the car, she took advantage of the fact that I was going to be driving through the same town her daughter lived in, on my way to the airport. Normally, a trip to the airport would be a tight schedule, but our flight to Milwaukee (to teach Earth Magic) was an early morning one, so we planned to stay with friends in Boston, the night before. Which meant more time to be maneuvered by Spirit.
It has always been my belief, that getting there is half the fun. I love road trips, and the feeling of being slightly sleep deprived, and giddy. I love spontaneous stops along the way, to observe the beauty of nature, or the weirdness of little towns. Thankfully, so did my traveling companions, my sister Sandy and our ‘adopted’ sister Missy (who was driving Sandy and I to Boston). With this in mind we gave ourselves over to the fact, that there would be stops along the way, and they would most likely be led by Spirit, and Bessy; the genius locus/spirit of place, that is Missy’s vehicle.
Bessy loves adventure, which means there is no straight shot to Boston, but instead a meandering road of wyrd opportunity. The first stop was literally 5 minutes down the road, when we needed to stop for some wyrd car malfunction, only to see we were parked next to a huge head of Witches Broom growing on an old pine. The pine’s roots were down in the ravine next to the curb of the road, and the broom was at easy picking level. It was obvious that the plant wanted me to take a few sprigs with me to Wisconsin, so I snipped a few, thanked the tree, and jumped back in the car.
Witchs Broom is a deformity that can form on a Pine tree, in which a ball of branches forms. Energetically it carries the properties of the Pine-cleansing, purifying, attracting abundance, as well as the symbolic energy of a witches broom…flying, astral travel, shifting ones reality. It was a perfect bit to be added to the weekends intensive.
The third stop on our trip was a simple one, a late lunch at 5 guys in Manchester, NH. Something we thought would be a simple in and out. But in fact it ended up starting me on an errand run, for the Spirits. My aunt in particular.
While at 5 guys, they got my order wrong twice, which meant I ended up with 2 extra burgers. We all laughed at how absurd this was; as there was only one other customer in the restaurant, and commented on how my dad must have wanted burgers too. With this in mind, we wrapped up the other burgers, deciding we would leave them somewhere along the road as an offering for my dad. We left my father’s burgers on a rock in an industrial park, surrounded by stones. I know the crows will love the meat, and my dad loved the offering.
I speak about Spirit offerings often, and how the Dead love to be given offerings of their favorite foods, beverages, and libations. When given an offering of this kind, the Spirit does not actually eat the food, or drink the beverage. Instead they partake of the energy that the food carries, and the remembrance itself.
As we left the industrial park, with some flower blossoms, and bits we had collected, I checked in on Facebook, as I had been posting pictures of our journey so far. Immediately, I saw that my niece/cousin had responded to my pictures, saying “Pit stop in Manchester?”. I knew upon seeing her words, that it was all connected. The extra burgers, the quick stop to drop off my dad’s burgers. I wrote back to her…“Where are you? We are in Manchester now”.
We were literally less then 3 miles from where she was volunteering at a local recovery center HOPE of New Hampshire.
Spirit, particularly that of my Dad and his sister Sheila, got us where we needed to be. Morgan, was very close to her mother, and had really been feeling her loss heavily. She needed to connect to family, and needed to hear from her mom in a big way. It was a short visit, simple yet powerful, for the death of my aunt had sent her daughter (morgan) spiraling into drug addiction. Something she has been fighting hard against for over a year now.
I see this story as one that not only shows the power of Spirit to communicate with the ones they love, but also as a story of how we can carry our wounds in more then one way. We can take that which has hurt us, and hold onto it as an excuse for why we will never be happy, or we can choose to see our hardships as lessons, meant to strengthen us and give us purpose. Morgan has chosen the latter, she has taken her hardships and turned them into tools, into a foundation that can be built upon. For that I am very proud of her, and of her mother who has not stopped parenting, even though she is dead.
We all hold inside of us the ability to change our story. We may not be able to change the hardships we have faced, or the wrongs done to us by ourselves or others, but we can change what that story does to us. Each and every one of us is flawed, each and every one of us is also divine. We were created, to be co-creators of our reality. Do not let your troubles define you, instead let them be the fuel that makes you step more fully into all that you are capable of. Remember we are made of Stardust!