Death Comes Suddenly

Phoenix - June 18, 2006 to January 27, 2018

The following was written in sections through the years; it is provided here as a memorial to our happy-go-lucky Phoenix, who died Saturday, January 27, 2018.

# # #

What a little treasure! He's the newest canine addition to our family, having been adopted at ten weeks old on August 27, 2006. This little guy was very mild-mannered and an absolute joy to integrate into the rest of our dog and cat family group. As you can see from his puppy photos, his ears took longer to come up than Pooka’s did! It had been six years since I had a puppy to raise so I totally loved every single minute -- even his crying when he was in his crate!

    The decision to get a Cardi pup instead of a Pem was not easy; we had considered another Pem from Pooka's breeder (because we love Pooka so much) earlier in the year but the timing of that litter wasn't right for us. That inadvertent delay allowed us to revisit our concerns with the process of docking dogs' tails and, therefore, provided us with the opportunity to get a Cardi instead for our second Corgi. We love our Pooka to pieces! However, we decided to try a Cardi and see what their personalities were like, as we already loved their appearance as well. I'd been told that they're a bit more mellow in some ways than the Pems, so it was extra fascinating raising our little Phoenix.

    Initially, I contacted Cardi breeders just to meet the breed and not to get a puppy! HA! Silly me ... as if I could do that! And Ron thinks Corgis are the best dogs ever so he was no deterrent at all. Interestingly enough, although I was thinking last Spring that we ought to get a boy puppy whenever it happened, when I talked with the Cardi breeder, I asked if they had a girl available (just curious, of course). They did and so when I was driving up for a visit, my mind was on possibly getting a girl puppy...even though I knew that I needed to keep an open mind about the girl and the boy that they had available. And wasn’t really intending to get a puppy at all right then. As it turns out, the minute I met Phoenix ... I was lost ... I fell head over heels in absolute love with this charming fella! LOL The girl, while a real cutie-pie, was not the personality I was seeking and I wasn't drawn to her the way I was to Phoenix -- and him to me. I felt Phoenix was meant to come live with us.

    Phoenix' registered name is: Blue Wagn Maxillaria Phoenix. The "maxillaria" part is in honor of this being one of the "Orchid Litter" for the breeder Lucybell Roessiger; I went searching on the internet and found there is an orchid called Maxillaria phoenicanthera that is a lovely golden color with a touch of white. It seemed appropriate since we had already chosen his name as Phoenix.

    As most people know, the Phoenix, originally from Egyptian mythology, is a sacred 'firebird' with extremely long life who can be reborn after its death (immortality and resurrection); it is believed by some that this myth derived from the "death" and "rebirth" of our planet's Sun during a Solar Eclipse. The Phoenix' plumage is bright gold and red as it is historically a Sun Bird; depending upon what source one reads, the plumage can also include purple and azure. Everything came together in perfect synchronicity for both our adoption of Phoenix as well as his naming. Ron is the one who found and liked the name Phoenix...and as soon as he suggested it to me, I knew instantly that it was perfect for our new little boy. 

# # #

    Phoenix has grown up so fast!!! He's a sweet, lovable, mellow, charming fellow; while he loves a good romp in the yard and thoroughly enjoys our long walks, he's also already becoming quite the couch potato and will settle beautifully on the couch or a dog bed. When he gets excited, though, he loves to nip the heels of Morgana and Chiana...which they dislike, of course! And that can start a ruckus! LOL While Phoenix and Pooka are still not “buddies,” Pooka at least now tolerates Phoenix. Phoenix has learned to retrieve as long as I stay excited about the game. And he rides in the back seat of our KIA (when he was little, he always rode with his harness on - secure and helped with training), while Pooka still rides in the front passenger seat. 

    From the very first, Morgana (our Smooth Collie) took on the role of 'nanny' to Phoenix (just as she had with Pooka) and they're great playmates for each other; she was incredibly gentle with him when he was so tiny, although now they play quite a bit rougher together. Phoenix was a remarkably easy-going chap to get along with even as a 7 month old puppy. At  a little over 6 months old, I couldn't stand the separation at night any longer and so finally allowed him to sleep on the bed - oh how he does love it still! 

    There is a quite humorous essay written called The Truth About ... Corgis and my, oh my, is it ever true! While I’m a total Corgi Convert (sorry Collies, but you’re too big and have too much hair for this woman to want to deal with anymore! LOL), I have to confess that there are so many truths in that essay, including, the line that these dogs “have a tendency toward something called megalomania”. Much in this essay describes perfectly the relationship I see between Phoenix and Pooka (although, to be honest, it describes Pooka's temperament more than that of Phoenix). I mean, come on, is the bone the other dog has REALLY all that much better?! LOL Phoenix has been seen to put three bones in his mouth at one time in order to keep them away from the other dogs, while Pooka sounds like a rabid Badger trying to steal one or keep it away from Phoenix! I could go on and on about this behavior which is at one time completely hysterical and at another can be annoying as all get out (when one is trying to concentrate).

    Anyway, suffice it to say that we adore Phoenix and trust that he will bring us joy and laughter for many years! LOL

# # #

     The move to Arizona in 2011 was easy for Phoenix; he doesn’t seem to care where we are as long as we are all together and enjoys our long walks together. As he matures, he is getting a little more bossy with Pooka as they jostle for alpha position, but otherwise he is still extremely easy-going, enjoys brief snuggles and exploring new sights. Phoenix and Pooka could usually be found sharing the same bed, blanket, or couch, or lying next to each other in the yard or on the floor, in spite of their sometimes contentious relationship. When Pooka died in September 2014, it was clear that Phoenix mourned the loss of his long-time buddy, so we did our best to help him through the process.

Pooka (L) & Phoenix (R)

    The move to Missouri in 2015 was also simple for Phoenix. He truly takes everything in stride, with good humor. He has always been fantastic -- and patient -- with the little stray Chihuahua (named Widget) that we had adopted in February 2014. Phoenix has never been aggressive (even when play-scrapping with Pooka); it’s not in his nature. He might try to be possessive of toys, but never in a violent manner like some dogs. Not a cuddle-dog (brief cuddles suited him but not longer), Phoenix needed to always be in the same room with me but as long as he could observe me, that was enough for him. The herding instinct in him emerged as watchfulness, rather than the need to control.

    Sadly, in November 2017, Phoenix was diagnosed with Lymphoma. We chose to keep him as comfortable as possible for as long as we could maintain a good quality of life for him (usually, the time frame for this cancer is fairly rapid in dogs). By mid-January, we sensed his time was approaching when a decision would have to be made. However, Phoenix really took the choice out of our hands; during the last week of January, he seemed to go off his food a little and was more tired, and then, Saturday morning about 2am, his system basically crashed. It was clear that an organ had ruptured (or something similarly sudden) and he was in rapid decline. I scrambled to locate a vet that would make an emergency house call for euthanasia and found one. By late evening, within less than 24 hours of his collapse, my sweet, gentle Phoenix was gone.

Phoenix (with Widget in background)

    I am having a difficult time coming to terms with the loss of Phoenix since he was not even 12 years old; I had expected him to live at least a couple more years as he had always seemed so sturdy, healthy, and hardy. But, we just never know, do we? One would have thought that I had thoroughly learned that lesson; Phoenix is my 8th dog to die in my arms. 

When will it end?

I’ve been trying to read This Republic of Suffering: Death and the American Civil War by Drew Gilpin Faust but it’s tough. She puts the people front and center, and the text is grippingly realistic as she uses quotes from those soldiers who were there … and died or who never “came back”. I’m reading it because I want to understand the lingering effects all that suffering and blood in the soil has had upon our nation — and pour those emotions and patterns into a manuscript I’m working on. 

So while I’ve been reading, there has been (in the TV series Parenthood) a story-thread about a young soldier coming home from several tours in Afghanistan that has broken my heart. War is war, and as the character in the series tries to find a way to live in the “real world” again, I can’t help but reflect upon the Civil War soldiers who wrote to their loved ones of their pain and suffering, of everyone dying around them, of being far from home and being required to kill other people.

I had gruesome nightmares a few nights ago, I couldn’t seem to get away from them; no matter how often I woke up, they returned as soon as I fell asleep. I can hardly imagine the nightmares endured by soldiers when they are awake and asleep.

In the Civil War, soldiers tried many ways to manage the horrors they experienced, from focusing upon their own dying to religious succor to blocking all emotions and becoming killing machines. Faust says that, “As the intensity of this war and the size of its death tolls mounted in the months and years that followed, vengeance came to play an ever more important role, joining principles of duty and self-defense in legitimating violence.” When will this madness end? When will all humans realize the toll enough to stop the killing, the violence, the warfare? How can we release our fear and need for vengeance? One author said that war is a result of impatience, a result of wanting our own way so badly that we are willing to kill to get it.

I believe one way toward stopping the violence is to hold ourselves to the grief instead of the celebration, to the suffering and loss instead of the “victory.” Not all the time, not to the exclusion of the other joys in life, of course not. But when we think of “war” maybe keeping the losses everyone experiences at the forefront of our thoughts, maybe reflecting upon the suffering instead of becoming impatient with the “other” would be more prohibitive. I lament the sacrifices made by soldiers and their loved ones, even while I honor them — but we have to stop killing.

“Battle was, as a North Carolina soldier ruefully put it, ‘majestic murder.’ The carnage was not a natural disaster but a man-made one, the product of human choice and agency.”

Here is another view on "The Other Side of War" -- the writer's poem is so profound in its simplicity.

The Goodness of Guinevere

She stared, unblinking,

a one-eyed gaze

that held the world in peace.

For 13 wonderful years,

deepest love and gratitude always.

Reflections on Absence.

Will O' the Wisp

In Memory of Pooka*

October 22, 2000 - September 10, 2014

My dear little Pooka The Perfect Puppy! Okay, so I was a bit partial from the get-go; I'd been hearing about him from the breeder since the day he was born. I drove up from our home in Maine to just outside Quebec City – in December during a snow storm -- to adopt the wee fella at 8 weeks old and he’s been a dream dog! He was easy to raise, to housetrain, to teach, to love, to live with – he got along with everyone, didn’t bark too much, rode with me in the car absolutely everywhere while in Maine, greeted new people with enthusiasm, and was a pure joy that brightened every day. His Daddy said that Pooka was a Momma’s Boy and…okay, he was! He was completely adorable, and everyone loved meeting him.

Day 1 with Pooka

He had his quirks that made him all the more special ...

Death: Borderland to Bridge

Death touches us many times before our bodies die; it is a commonality we all share. Because of that, the topic presented itself to be explored in one of my University of Arizona assignments: the text in context paper. Even if you haven't seen the movie Babel or read the article, "the lines that continue to separate us," (both of which were assigned, not chosen; students were to interpret the movie through the lens of the article, to which I then added another lens), my hope is that the piece will be clear and interesting. So, in the spirit of sharing, of opening into our interconnected threads of experiencing life and death, I share my paper below.
______________________

Death: Borderland to Bridge

Death is the ultimate architect of border and can draw people closer together or push them apart. David Newman’s language in his article, “The lines that continue to separate us,” can clarify and expand our conception of death and our reaction to it as it is subsequently portrayed in the movie Babel, directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu. Newman in concurrence with Babel helps us to see death from a new perspective: that dying and/or death can be an impetus that sends people into a borderland, one that can potentially lead to a bridge of acceptance toward the unknown. Babel displays a grand narrative of acute personal experiences, interwoven with death’s borders, and detailed through striking visual elements. This paper will specifically address how an American couple progress through the borderlands created by the death of their baby to eventually access a bridge of emotional healing.

Before and After

THE DAY BEFORE LOSS...

the day before writing prompted by this visual

See through a glass clearly yet all is upside down,
a reflection reversed and up-ended, 
so that ground is air and wind is earth,
and we are all one in the bubble of the world of illusion.
We think we are one way and yet could easily be the other,
only our vision, our perception,
details the path we travel.
So many eyes that see the same yet perceive what is revealed so differently.
Crystal clear depths that rise above the sky into the ether where all is so transparent. 
And down below,
the solid is translucent allowing freshness and insight 
to flow easily into the grounding of rooted Oneness.


Continue writing, 
allowing the flow without restriction, 
without control of thought as pen sweeps upon the page and
mind is magically transmitted onto something that will last longer than the fleeting spark itself, 
a keepsake of the moment not necessary and yet a gift here and there where we share together,
each of us writing, and knowing, simple trust, 
that what spark emerges upon the page is an expression of journey 
that blossoms here just as the flowers in the field.
The clarity of perception does not have to make sense in the moment 
for at some point it will simply BE the sense of that moment of expression, 
and will be right side up for some and
upside down for others.
We all perceive in the way we need to,
our paths unique yet following a common star across the galaxy, 
mirrored within the bubble that is the world illusion.
Words, just words.
Helping us communicate, that is their gift.
Coming from love and desire to reach others, to reach out.
Hands open.
Palms exposed.
We are the tender center, the heart of the spark, and when we open, 
the honey of love flows, transformed by those who welcome, 
we embrace each other in our common field of seeds and blooms and spare stalks of what once was.
Trailing thoughts that have no control, just flowing, releasing, 
escaping into the world to be born again and again, 
rearranged or captured briefly.
Only we who write can share so broadly with fine lines 
like wrinkles upon the face of time Herself as we expose our innermost selves, 
the thoughts that are hidden by some become revealed for healing into Union.
We are all One.
What we express is not alone and abandoned, 
not an orphan walking the desert without hope for always nearby, 
beneath the prickles of the armor we raise, 
lay the tender hearts of love and nourishment.
Blown hither and yon, delicate words of ancient measure, 
we tremble upon the moment, kneeling and offering our meager thoughts into the world, 
the form a blessed gift of illusion's joy to explore and learn from and find comfort within. 
We all walk together yet alone.
Each of us finding our own way in the clear crystal we see through 
when we shine and polish the dirty walls we've built around us 
until they fall gently away beneath the caress of a soft, warm cloth 
and our scars are buffed until smooth.
See the wounds, healed through gentle touch and precious birth, 
each of us wandering into a mystery too beautiful to behold directly 
so we see through the glass, 
the colors reflected, 
and drink from Her goblet of life waters flowing forever, 
touching each droplet that connects us all. 
No separation for all our oceans pulse together and we see clearly. 
Upside down or right side up is no matter for all is perception of the One. 
We drink of Gaia's clarity together and fall asleep within Her embrace.
All is revealed.

© Jarosław Brzychcy | Dreamstime.com

A FEW DAYS AFTER TRANSITION...


The wheel turns, 
the hourglass is tipped,
life's cauldron is brimming with charred remains and possibility.
No longer is spirit confined to the soup 
but swirling and flying with all colors and shapes 
among the winds and into the ether 
that gives birth to all 
with the sound of laughter and love.
Breathing in the song of the world,
we are free of limitation.
Like the fireflies that seem to appear magically in the dark yet are always here,
lighting my way is Spirit and the souls of all who love 
and companions who once were are never gone.
Close my eyes and I can see him.
I can hear his voice if I listen closely,
feel his body beneath my fingers. 
He's still here more subtle, in spirit,
it is only that I need to be aware, present, 
and pause to breathe him in.
Moving with the change, 
lifting my feet and heart to 
go with the flow of birth and death, 
with the life that is now and beyond.
As one soars away, another calls.
Always there is another blessed being who gives freely and accepts openly.
Not expectation or demands of responsibility but 
giving because of love, I am humbled by innocence
that shines through the shadows like a beacon.
Rediscovering this place of freedom,
this space from which to respond out of love, 
is an individual path, a unique journey to us all,
one that cannot be forced but simply allowed.
To love and give to another,
then suffer the momentary pain of loss,
and move through it upon soft wings and gentle tears,
is a gift.
Not avoid the love out of fear of pain.
Open to a moment of pure presence so exquisite that it almost blinds.
Spiral into the joy of life and love that includes creation and loss.
I don't want to lose the joy from fear of the pain
that is a final expression of deep connection
now disconnected from form yet still tied together in spirit,
our threads woven as One for all time,
the patterns shared.
Be happy to love and be loved,
without fear of death and dying,
because I can't ignore it or distance myself from ending 
if I cherish beginnings and creation
for they walk hand in hand in the world of form.
I look around and see the blossoming of creation and feel joy.
Gratitude that if he had to go, that he left when so much is just beginning.
And if I listen,
I can hear the voices of all my beloveds flying in the wind, 
carried around the world, 
soaring in song and rejoicing in harmony, 
singing the world into Spring.
What a beautiful song.

Suddenly Gone

read his story: Khepra aka "Rocket-Butt"

Oct 25, 2004 to Mar 3, 2012

Beautiful Bones

SoulCards(c) Deborah Koff-Chapin

All of Life is Death.
Yet in Death is transformation and renewal--Birth.


Imagine Death, see it lying beside me, calm, at peace, bare bones laid open and free from outer judgment, stripped of the covering that separates to show underneath we are all the same.


Beautiful structure, the base, the foundation, available to be reborn as disintegration begins, yet, for a while, a testament to the life before, a remembrance of that which housed the personality and ego. 


Look through the gleaming colors, through the shadows that linger ever so slight, and see the face of who has gone before, the Being that once was but is still here and is always.


Remembering . . . the words of a tale . . . "I'll grind your bones to make my bread" . . . words that seemed so scary but truly our bones are miraculous minerals given for our use in the manifest world to live but when we are done, they return to the earth, without the animating Vital Force, the Soul, the Spirit--without the animation of living a purpose we all return to the earth, to Gaia, to be transformed and reborn.


Once having faced Death--full frontal view--the bones and skeleton seem beautiful, fragile yet strong, solid yet filled with space! The rigidity an illusion we cling to as justification until realization comes that our bones are living tissue of change, and if that is real then, in the world of form, how much more potential is found in the rest of our bodies and lives?! We can move and shape and create!


Death is a Friend. Bones are Beautiful.


How does it feel to be laid bare?
How does it feel to be stripped of all the coverings accumulated as so-called protection?
How is this different if I shed the armor myself? 
To Die before Death?
______________________
I was struck by some of these thoughts and images last year, recalled now by the SoulCard(c) I drew, when I was able to be personally involved in the process of cremation for my beloved animal companions. Why does society--why do we--try to distance ourselves from Death and Dying? The kind couple who started this special crematorium allow the cremains to be returned to the animal's human companion 'as is' . . . bone fragments . . . instead of requiring "processing" through a grinder to make the powder usually seen after a cremation. I found this incredibly and deeply honoring of form. To be witness to how each form returns from the fires of transformation is very moving. The bone fragments are the last residual visual representation of the once-animated being who wore flesh and walked the earth with me for a short while. To see the innermost form revealed in all its beauty is a wonder . . . physically or spiritually.

Demeter - beloved feline companion

Peace

SoulCards(c) Deborah Koff-Chapin

I sit upon the incline, dreaming of life in its mysterious ups and downs.
Below lay the twinkling sea of opportunity, glittering in its invitation.
Yet I look up to the heavens, an Auroric night of flashing insight . . . openings into Being.
I feel expansion and light as I sit in the presence of Gaia.
Peace.


____________

This image represents a mirror of my Soul. I remember when I used to hike the mountains; I remember finding an outcropping and just sitting, looking, listening, feeling. Not for extended periods of time back then, but it was a vital form of renewal and rejuvenation . . . to pause in peace.

I sit at ease and feel the breeze within the pause of peace.
I raise my face into Her Grace where all resolves without a trace.
And sitting here I feel no fear for She has dried my tears.
So now I feel my heart can heal for Love is all that's real.

Chiana

A simple message, a precious image, and one I can appreciate deeply today as we prepare to assist one of my beloved companions in the transition out of her current form. Chiana is ready, has been for a while probably, and so am I--finally.

I've lived with many incredible companion animals over the years, present in the transitions for fifteen of these precious souls, yet each one is unique and the decision to assist has never been easy--probably never will be, and perhaps that is as it must be. The journey of each soul is a treasure.

photo courtesy Green Hope Farm,
all rights reserved

I was drawn intensely this week, thanks to Molly's timely blog post, to obtain a bottle of Coralita, a Green Hope Farm Flower Essence--to untangle my emotions, to receive clarity--and I feel Coralita has been an angel, a lovely source of peace and presence for which I'm very grateful. Sometimes I feel like there are so many strands running through my life that I get all tangled in them, like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn . . . until it becomes dangerous and hard to step out of, the threads clinging and confusing. The more I would move, the more knotted they became. And the only way to find freedom is to relax, accept, let the vibrations be pure; to accept and let the strands fall away like magic for they have only the energy I feed to them, these thoughts or worries or even joys when there are too many to manage without beautiful clarity. Coralita helped me to be still, feel the clearing and supportive vibrations, be present.

As in the SoulCard image, I pause now, contemplate and light fills my mind, sweeping away the overwhelm, leaving only peace and love. I allow my heart to open . . . and it is filled with love.

This Dark Whole

SoulCards(c) Deborah Koff-Chapin

A dark center lies within 
where troubled thoughts and birth begin, 
a whole of blackness filled with fear 
that makes me cringe when I draw near 
this certain death of something dear 
or growth of that which causes tears 
yet venture close I have to do 
because within lies altered view 
of world and me, of Self and Soul, 
within the darkness lies the whole. 


Death is waiting with Her skulls of past 
that I must face full on at last 
for hiding does my heart no good, 
leaving cracks of "don't" and "should" 
yet through them also seep the better world 
where I might live and breathe with wings unfurled. 


Gaping wounds run rivulets red, 
the choices made within my head 
I based upon ego thoughts 
and left behind the love She taught 
me in Her wisdom: share and help to be, 
others who depend on me. 
And so I feel the deep dark space 
where envy lies in my disgrace. 
I see it dwelling, squirming there, 
within the heavy darkness bare. 
Blood must flow to cleanse and heal, 
clear and rich, bright and real, 
not to worry or resent the unrevealed 
of what was meant ... to BE. 


A cave within, now transformed 
into a haven given form, 
a safety zone where I reside 
when chaos outward bids me hide. 
Go into the darkness willing, 
take Her hands and know the wonder of Her magic healing
 ... LOVE. 


This dark center can be anything 
I need or see or share with me 
a Truth that offers space for inner work, 
to sit in stillness, darkness, 
and feel the peace descend 
right before the end 
- of anger, fear or pain 
dark whole gives, 
so much to gain 
for Self and Her and All that is. 


Death is birth, 
and shall reverse. 
Perception is what that needs to change 
for life continues in its exchange 
- of energy, love, light.  


This dark whole 
a gift to explore, 
a dark pearl shone, 
an unborn diamond is the coal. 


Open my heart, my eyes, to the gift and the Light comes in, the darkness dissipates, easing away into shadow and then no more - for now. But it will come again because this human existence is natural cycles flowing, growing and then leaving, departing, into darkness. Yet my openness, my heart and love and acceptance are what see Her gifts in the cave, in the healing darkness of Her womb. 


A time of rest is death. 
A time and space of renewal. 


To be born again, I feel the ebb and flow. On the bottom of the ocean, no light can reach into the deepest channels that lead the way to the center, the core, and yet once there, all the heat and light I need is present, waiting. There is always light on the other side of darkness; treasure both, embrace and learn. 


Go into the darkness on my own 
and it will no longer be a threat -- Home.

Her Face in the Dark Soil

I see Her face embedded in the dark soil of rebirth and know comfort; Her lips parted, She sings of eons and moments.

Death is near for a dear one and She awaits the return of this dear one with calm serenity and love for I feel Her. Death is not the opposite of Life for Life is eternal. Death and Birth are simply transitional phases like the Full and Dark Moons, the ebb and flow of the tides, each asking for but a moment to see beyond the Veil of Illusion, a glimpse into the mystery of sacred Source.

I pause at Her edge, and look deeply into Her, into Self, into Souls who have gone before and those ready but hesitant. My question is not how to prevent once the moment is near, but how to help. She invites my attention in knowing the difference between rescuing and helping, to know when to let go. A gift is brought into my life and we walk so many paths, we share stories to be told and most of all, there is love and compassion and a deep respect for soul beyond differences. Her lips whisper in comforting tones of responsibility, and I open my heart as wide as possible, breathing deeply, touching the Truth.

Her face lies among the dirt and pink sands, the shades of Her subtle and yet rich with vitality, carrying in Her gentle smile the promise of peace and rebirth. Her presence is all around me, every pair of eyes a remarkable reflection of Her diversity and love. Their words a mystery to me and yet when I close my eyes and listen with my heart, I hear their thoughts of love and joy, I see their acceptance of what is. She teaches me through them and I am filled with gratitude and honor to be Her student for the gifts of companionship far outshine the shadows of transition. And I learn to embrace the shadows even, for the nearness and truth they bring, clearing away the glitter and distraction of the outer world.

Angels rise from Her depths, energies swirl and merge, souls are joined in Her, and I feel such peace in the Unity. Knowing that I will also make the journey, I listen and open to Her voice through the next precious soul, and the next. I touch the body yet feel the soul, just as I fill my hands with soil and know Her. Is it time? Soon.

I enjoy each precious moment, knowing, seeing, understanding through the tears and ache that life is change. From Her face new life emerges, from Her womb new life is born. Over and over, the cycle continues, each new life is eternal. We visit and experience, teach and learn, grow and fall down. I embrace Her through the souls who choose to walk with me, and we create community in diversity. I am grateful to know Her face in so many amazing Beings.

I welcome each moment for the gift that it is, knowing with serenity that this too shall pass as does all in this life, now and forever, and then return. Each exquisite life is Divine and She shines through them always. Her face is mine and theirs and everyone's. Her face is in each plant and rock and stream. We are all the same ultimately, merging, we become One. And I see Unity in Her face. I see Love.

___________

SoulCards® Deborah Koff-Chapin, Center for Touch Drawing

Samhain 2010

"We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own live within a fragile circle; easily and often breached. Yet, still we would live no other way."

- Irving Townsend

This year has seen the death of three of my beloved feline companions. As I spread their tiny white bones and gray ashes upon the Sedum bed, as the remains of their manifest form return to Mother Earth, I know that their Spirits fly free upon the wind into the ether and we are One in Love. Among all the bones, only Demeter's skull remains intact. Demeter was Mother Earth 'felinized' and so it seems proper that her bones were strong and solid, resistant to the intense fires of cremation just as she was resistant to chaos around her. The longest bones are those of Imhotep's legs. And so, I honor our lives together, the love we shared, and their many gifts to me. Candle, sage, water, salt, blessings, prayers; elements and spirit joining, purification, charging, consecration. I am eternally grateful that they chose to be with me during this earthwalk; they are in my heart and memory forever, as are all the others that have come and gone before them. So many and I am so blessed.

In many traditions, the days around this time of year are ones spent in reflection - upon the ancestors and loved ones who have died. In Wicca, tomorrow is the beginning of the New Year, and Hecate guides us through the crossroads. The veil between worlds is thinnest, and we can become thin ourselves, opening to the connections across time and space. I welcome whole-heartedly the wisdom of those who have gone before. These moments/days are beautiful reminding us of birth and death, and the deep knowing that life is eternal.

For what is it to die, but to stand in the sun and melt into the wind? And when the Earth has claimed our limbs, then we shall truly dance.

KAHLIL GIBRAN

a new game

sometimes Death comes up to us,

tosses a shiny red ball,

and says:

"let's play a new game!"

Thank you Demeter

I lost a dear friend and companion of twelve years...

Demeter was a cat of abundant love and nurturance; she epitomized all of the kind, giving nature of a mother, willing to sacrifice all she was or had to others. Scarcely a cross 'word' ever escaped her in the twelve years we were together; certainly none that I can recall. A foster cat with kittens originally, I felt like I didn't name her -- Demeter, a great mythological mother Goddess, simply was who she was.

On Saturday, September 11th, our sweet and huggable cat Demeter died in my arms. Demeter was eating and good until Friday morning; within 36 hours, she was gone. I feel honored that she waited until that moment of togetherness to depart this world of form; each time this has happened, when a beautiful soul chooses to be with me when they let go, I feel like I have been given a tremendous gift - one that I will treasure always.

I have found cats to be particularly good at hiding serious illness; in Demeter's case, though, I feel like she consciously chose to give us a very special year extra. Last year, she experienced what seemed to be a 'stroke' of some kind; with lots of TLC, Reiki, Flower Essences, and Homeopathy, she recovered beautifully. This past weekend, though, she seemed to have a similar one, but it felt very different to me. Indeed, she only waited until the evening until I was relaxed with her cuddled in my arms to transition all on her own. Demeter left as quietly and gently as she had lived; no fanfare, no drama. She leaves a huge space in our hearts and home.

To see more photos and read about the lovable, remarkable and devoted Demeter, click here.

p.s. in hindsight, I see that on Friday I posted about aging, acceptance, and death, so a part of me must have sensed that Demeter's dying time was near...

Aging and Acceptance

I learn a lot from the animals who live with me. Today, the lessons seem to be on aging and acceptance. The two older gals - one 13.5 (Chiana) and the other at least 13, although a more realistic estimate is around 16-18 (Demeter) - exist moment to moment, both of them sleeping longer and more deeply (as if to wink in and out of that other realm) than in the past, contrasting significantly with the patterns of the younger crowd. There is a sweetness within them, though, that softens the resistance I have to their aging, easing it into acceptance just as they seem to accept the present gracefully most of the time, not comparing it to how they were yesterday or whether they will be here tomorrow. Although, because they have different personalities, the process is very different. Demeter with her solid Kapha constitution simply becomes more and more relaxed. Chiana, strongly Vata, can become restless and anxious, seeking reassurance and averse to being alone, but then it passes and is forgotten as she settles down.

Fear used to surround me a lot when it come to the thought of death and worrying about these blessed companions dying. They are such a huge and integral part of my life -- of my very being. They are Mother Nature living with me as we are knitted together as one unit. When I was a kid at home, the animals would simply disappear - there one day and then gone. It made no sense to me. And then, when Amber (photo) died in January 1997, a portal opened up as I moved into a sense/sensation of what 'death' meant, and it was not what I thought it would be. Her dying, the first I experienced on my own with a precious one I had raised, loved and cared for her whole life, was painful and excruciatingly real. I was grateful, though, that I had found a spiritual center prior to losing her that offered tremendous support. Since then, with each beloved's passing, with each transitional experience of a uniquely beautiful being, the sensation grows: acceptance. To accept does not mean to become depressed and resigned, as it is not debilitating, but rather is opening, allowing the peace and love of all that is natural to reside within oneself, to truly be Self.

Aging and Acceptance. Natural and Now.

He Who Comes In Peace ... has gone

Mo’s departure was sudden and entirely unexpected; the situation caught both Ron and I completely unprepared emotionally, and so has been particularly difficult. In addition, Mo has always been a lead character in our day-to-day lives; from the very beginning, he inserted himself into the very center of our home and hearts -- and settled in deeply.

I can scarcely grasp that he will no longer drape himself across my neck to sleep at night as he has for almost ten years; no more to follow me around, to jump on my lap when I sit down to read, to carry on long conversations with Ron or I, to be the first to the food dish, carry a toy to me while yowling loudly or snuggle with me whenever and wherever possible. He was mellow, friendly and seemed to rest in a deep faith that all would be well no matter what; in fact, he was so calm that we could run a vacuum right next to him and he would just watch, or when the dogs would hear a noise and go crazy with barking, again he simply observed while the rest of the cats scattered to hiding places. We called him Mo and a host of other nicknames, but his proper name was Imhotep - Egyptian for 'he-who-comes-in-peace'. And he lived that name.

I know that everything happens the way it does for a reason but I confess that I failed this particular lesson in 'loving detachment.' Without any mental or emotional preparation to losing Mo, I lost a bit of myself as well. And yet, I feel so honored and blessed that he came into my life, and I will treasure every moment we shared together, even as my heart aches with the absence of his physical form and voice. Mo was peace - a being who brought light, love and laughter into each and every moment of life.

Read more about our miraculous Imhotep ...

Adopted March 2000; Died March 2, 2010

Good-bye Juliette

We lived together for almost 15 years and I'll miss her lively presence. This morning as I prepared my breakfast, and each time I rattle a dish or open a cabinet door, I expect to see her leap to the counter hoping for a snack - or hurry to her water dish so that I'll fill it with fresh warm water just the way she prefers it. And I know that the next time I return home after being away a few hours, it will be odd not to see her waiting in the window, watching for me; she didn't do it every time but often enough that it became habit for me to see if she was there.

Juliette was the last of the "Colorado Cats" -- those who were rescued while I was living in the Rockies - so it feels sort of like the end of an era, the true loss of connection to a particular phase in my life that was filled with tremendous growth.

More about the Lovely Liette...

Adopted in 1995; Died February 10, 2010

Companioning

I was introduced to this term a few months ago and, while it is mostly used in relation to those providing support to the bereaved or dying, the essence of this teaching can be applied to almost any situation in which we are providing support to someone who is suffering. When we bring love and compassion into being a supportive presence (we are then Being, not Doing), the following will flow naturally:

-Companioning is about honoring the spirit; it is not about focusing on the intellect.

-Companioning is about curiosity; it is not about expertise.

-Companioning is about learning from others; it is not about teaching them.

-Companioning is about walking alongside; it is not about leading.

-Companioning is about being still; it is not about frantic movement forward.

-Companioning is about discovering the gifts of sacred silence; it is not about filling every painful moment with words.

-Companioning is about listening with the heart; it is not about analyzing with the head.

-Companioning is about bearing witness to the struggles of others; it is not about directing those struggles.

-Companioning is about being present to another person's pain; it is not about taking away the pain.

-Companioning is about respecting disorder and confusion; it is not about imposing order and logic.

-Companioning is about going to the wilderness of the soul with another human being; it is not about thinking you are responsible for finding the way out.

~ Dr. Alan D. Wolfelt

Married to Amazement

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measles-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

~ from "New and Selected Poems" by Mary Oliver

I first heard this poem today and was completely spellbound; one of the first things I did when getting on the computer tonight was to add Mary Oliver's books to my wish list - I cannot wait to read more of her poetry!

Memories of Loss

Today, those of us in Hospice volunteer training participated in a bereavement session. Each one brought a photo of a loved one who had died. I brought a photo of Dad. I had never been in one of these before and was surprised at the deep sense of connection I felt with the other women. Although none of our losses were the same, the thread of memories joined us. I didn't know what I would say. While speaking of Dad I experienced profound grief recalling when he could no longer communicate with me in email; I had been so excited over this form of relating when it developed between us that when it was broken, it seemed I lost him before he died (his being hard of hearing, we weren't able to speak on the phone). I wrote of Dad in an earlier blog post and he saunters cross my mind every day; I miss his messages and miss knowing that when Mom visits, he won't be with her anymore even though we talk of him all the time so he is definitely with us in spirit and in our hearts. He is present, though. I love you, Dad.