I browsed through Facebook, as I sipped my morning coffee, and immediately connected with two posts from clients of mine who had crossed the border of relationship, to now be known as friends. Both of them were posting about the long term sorrow, of loosing a child, each of them feeling that pain in it’s intensity, as the time of the children’s death was now.
I thought on how the loss of a child is the most painful of all deaths, as there is nothing that can compare to the grieving felt by those who have had to bury their children. I do not say this lightly, I say this with the experience of a Medium with many years of practice, and interaction with both the dead, and those who morn them. I do not say this to lessen in any way the loss felt by those who have lost husbands, wives, mothers, and fathers. I say this for I see it as true. This truth comes from the fact that we all believe our children will out live us, and that we hold a responsibility for their well being. This truth is not just applicable if the child is under the age of 18. If a 75 year old mother looses her 50 year old son, she will still hold a level of irrational responsibility, as if she could have somehow done something to change the outcome.
Upon reading the post from my friends, an commenting with love and support, I realized that one of the women, mentioned the very place I was heading to that day. She did not specifically name it, but knowing her, it was clear to me what place she spoke of when she mentioned heading to the river in a couple of weeks with coffee and flowers for her daughter. At that moment, Spirit poked me in the side, and I replied to her privately that I was going to the river that day, and I would bring her daughter coffee. I asked her how her daughter liked her brew, and waited for her response, but none came. She had left for work, and would not respond to my question until early that evening.
As I picked up my friend, and we began our drive east to the river, I told her of my intention and how simple offerings were so powerful. Often people who have passed into Spirit long for their favorite treats, and truly enjoy when we think of them while offering up such goodies.
The car ride was long, but we are dear friends, and the time flew by in a series of conversations, and laughter. When I got to the town of Bretton Woods, and approached the turn that would take me onto the river road, I had totally forgotten that I was going to stop at the mini-mart to get a cup of coffee for my friends daughter. She did not forget.
Just before the driveway to the mini-mart, I heard a voice clear in my head…”Don’t forget the coffee”. I laughed, realizing, that she probably didn’t want me to give my coffee, up as an offering, as she didn’t strike me as the kind that would like an unsweetened latte, make with coconut-almond, milk. So, I made a quick turn into the parking lot, and went in to get her offering.
coffee offering for the Beloved Dead
As I poured her coffee, I decided I would make her a generic style coffee, with sugar and cream. I poured about a teaspoon of sugar in the cup of hot coffee, and went to place it back on the counter, when she spoke up again, “I need a lot more sugar than that”, and that she did. I found myself making coffee candy. I added about 3 more teaspoons of sugar to the coffee, as well as, a quick shot of marshmallow flavored coffee to the cup, and a whole lot of cream.
When I got to Middle falls, Stace and I trampsed the short distance into the woods to one of my favorite mossy spots, to take pictures. I placed the hot, sweet, candy coffee on a moss covered rock, and set about giving my offerings to the Spirits of the land, before we got down to the business of pictures.
I laid out a crystal grid on the moss, in my favorite hidden glen. It was amazing to me how such a place, has the ability to set itself aside from the vision of most people. For their were paths all around the woods, trampled down by snow shoes, until they were like sidewalks through the forest. But the glen I love so dearly, with its magical bits, and plethora of Nature Spirits, showed no sign of human traffic. The pathway to my sacred space was covered in snow, untouched by the feet of humans. I know that others had visited this space over the winter, but those others like me; who were seekers of the sacred. Even they had not been there in quite some time.
*Please note-I take it upon myself to clean such sacred spaces, and will be back in the spring to clean up the remains of offerings, and any debris that is left behind.
My offerings were not as spicy as fireball whiskey, but I did light a cigarette, and give it a few puffs, for my father, and for the spirits who enjoy the energy of tobacco. As I am not a smoker, my dad had to be satisfied with the little bits he got, but in giving offerings, it is important to remember that more important then the actual offering, is the nature in which it is given. What are you thinking when you give an offering to your Beloved Dead, or the Spirits of Nature, is far more important.