Archive for memorial

The Last Leaving: Oneness Isn’t Just a Theory

There’s a magical quality about the Teachings of the Spiritual Heart. It’s about the perfection of timing, Spirit’s timing. John-Roger has told us that we’re never given anything by Spirit that we cannot handle. So while ALL the teachings are present in every moment of our existence, the learnings are revealed to us only as we can open our consciousness to use them for our upliftment, learning and growth. In my case after thirty-seven years of study, I am still learning and Spirit is still revealing, and if I’m lucky (stay connected) and I stay awake until I pass from this world, I will be learning right up until my last breath and beyond. And I thank my lucky stars (or should I say my good karma) that Kenny showed me the way to look forward to my own transition with joy and anticipation of the bliss that awaits me on the other side.

In all the years I have studied the teachings (more than half my life), the lessons repeat and not only have I seen them coming again and again, they also can sting a lot harder each time until it’s powerfully obvious that they can no longer be denied.

It follows then that our dying is perfectly orchestrated according to the life we have led and the teachings we have learned. Know this though, we have until that last breath to make up for eons of sleepy lifetimes and unconscious choices. I saw this when Kenny got sick. Both our lives made a bee line toward God like we’ve never experienced in this life. We had nine months to clean up our acts. For me that meant dropping ALL my judgments about how he led his life and coming into full and unconditional cooperation with the support he needed from me. For him, I saw him come into acceptance of his condition and alignment with his purpose of healing himself on every level possible and announce his mission to touch as many people’s lives as possible with his message of joy and fun. Day after day, week and month, we rushed up the levels of consciousness such that we were listening for Spirit’s direction, following it and reveling in the discoveries that only supreme sacrifice affords on a daily if not hourly basis.

John-Roger has told us in more than many seminars over the years how important it is to meditate and pray and the more we dwell upon God and his love, when we finally reach those last moments before we leave for the last time, our thoughts will be on God, and that’s where we will go, into the Heart of God. J-R encourages us to keep the mind clean, the body and the emotions also. To do everything we can to live as long and healthy as we can to complete our karma so the record will be dissolved and we go free. Where we place our consciousness there we go.

And while we are on the subject of the orchestra of angels who will be waiting for us when we leave for the last time, I’m convinced that Oneness isn’t just a theory. I still have a little trouble with time (the reality that everything’s happening right now), but I’m excited to say I have personally experienced the oneness. If I leave this world with just a glimpse of timelessness, I will be most gratified and at greater peace. But oneness is evident to me right now. I experienced it (and still do) with Kenny when we were of one mind and heart taking care of him. And I experience the oneness when I’m with someone who asked me to just listen. I experience it when I consciously activate my ministry, embracing whoever and whatever is in front of me. I heard it said in my University of Santa Monica program in Consciousness, Health and Healing, that when we utter a blessing toward another being or thing, the blessing reverberates throughout the universe as positive energy—energy that heals, energy that loves, energy that carries compassion and understanding. How remarkable is that! Thus is explained the power of prayer. And so it follows that when we utter a negative thought, the same is true. John-Roger wrote a book entitled You Can’t Afford the Luxury of a Negative Thought. One of the spiritual laws he talks about in this book is that it takes twenty-five positive actions to balance one negative action. Better get crackin’ doing and thinking good things before it’s too late to catch up!

So everything we do, think, feel, and speak affects every other thing. Kind of like Uri Geller bending spoons with the power of his mind. Kind of like when we intuit a next step and it proves to be the perfect next step. Or a medium who contacts the souls of the dead tells you something only you and your loved one could have known. Or how group peace walks actually do make a difference. And talking to plants telling them we love them can make a measurable difference in their wellbeing. How praying for one Soul sends a vibration of love to all Souls. How praying for the Soul of a person who has left this world can support their upliftment. In my own way, in my own timing, I know I will embrace more and more of Spirit’s understanding. The understanding that surpasses the mind and envelopes all space and time. One thing I know now is my gratitude is bigger than I can imagine.


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It’s All in How You Look at It, the Blessings

I asked Kenny what to write about to begin the process of ending this book and he said, “What if you were to look back on your life and your relationship with me and my illness and my death and all the learnings you are now aware of as blessings?”

This is for a later chapter, but that reminds me to mention here that I am convinced blessings reverberate throughout the universe. Can you embrace that! Isn’t that remarkable to contemplate? Same is true of negative thoughts. Throughout the ENTIRE universe! No wonder the title of one of John-Roger’s award-winning books is You Can’t Afford the Luxury of a Negative Thought.

The blessings:
As noted in the New Day Herald article earlier in this book, Kenny was as much looking for me as I was for him. Our friends thought we’d make a good match and if you believe that blessings ripple throughout all creation, then it must be true the entire universe was lined up to support the match. The blessing? We both were in the right place at the right time to do the right action—to find each other.

Our friendship grew rapidly from spending time chatting about our interests, which had proved to be similar in many ways (or so our minds construed them to be) to within a month holding hands after a sumptuous Thanksgiving Dinner. The blessing? Time stood still that month while we meandered through tales of our lives together. While we found infinite ways to drink in each other’s essence. While we filled ourselves with memories of the last encounter until we would be steeped in the next one. It was as if we had known each other since before time.

And indeed as noted earlier in this book, we assisted each other in dying at least thirty-five lifetimes prior to this one and we had been together in one way or another for at least one hundred lifetimes. It was as if we had known each other since before time!

On Leap Day 1996 at Beloved Windermere Ranch, just three months after we first held hands, Kenny proposed to me. Those three months flew by dotted by a trip to my cousins’ for Christmas where he met my family for the first time, and a New Year’s celebration at home-sweet-home and many evenings pouring over projects for which he was my volunteer at the seminary. I hadn’t said yes yet. Having been married twice before and witnessing others take their vows, and the karma that went with them, it took another two months for me to finally agree. The blessing? Patience? Or is it blindly sitting on the conveyor belt of the march toward matrimony? Perhaps the blessing is the ability to see but not see. To know on one level the lessons and blessings that were to streak through the sky like Haley’s Comet racing to earth once the legal deed was done, and on another level to unconsciously ignore the star shower as each day rolled by.

I think it was the latter—for we made our bed (carved out the karma), we lay in it (met the karma with the best each of us could give to it), and what was to come was a marriage of multidimensional awareness (oblivious to solutions in the physical but willing to slog through it on every other level) that got richer with each passing day.

The marriage vows were deep, the Traveler’s blessing was profound, our purpose on earth in this lifetime was being played out, unraveling a blow-by-blow battle of wits, habits, untruths, blind furies, and pull-no-punches protective maneuvers, while our Souls were dancing with delight that we’d found each other, that someday soon, not more than fifteen years later, it would all become crystal clear why in the first place the match was made in heaven.

Yes indeed, we would culminate this agreement to go into the Heart of God together by completely abandoning our conditioned relationship for one of unconditional loving, gratitude, selfless service, single focused, tenderness, depth of understanding and oneness. As for my multidimensional abilities, all this wonderment was rolling by like a 16mm movie projection while my body and mind did the tasks at hand to care for Kenny, and my emotions tried to negate the depth we were experiencing on other levels—I kept busy doing tasks that would push my grief away. Amazing how this happens. It is a result of damaged nerve pathways which limit the types of responses one has toward traumatic or even just any powerful experiences.

The blessing: to at the very least, know one is experiencing multidimensional awareness. And to at most, have profound gratitude to God, to the Christ, to Kenny’s Soul, to my strength and endurance to emerge from the most powerful era of my life to date, whole and acutely aware of the deep and no-turning-back learning, releasing, healing, blessings that have been and continue to be bestowed upon me.

I can truly say I am more conscious of both my strengths and my weaknesses than ever before. I can truly say the lessons are more tender than ever before, mainly because I am spending more time in my observer consciousness, watching how I respond to situations and circumstances. And in midstream, I’m more willing to try on new behaviors that I could not even imagine myself doing before.

Most profound is my willingness to come into the loving, even when there may be friction, maybe an insult here and there, maybe a jealousy coming my way or projecting out from me. In the last year I have consciously brought the loving to some challenging relationships in my life. And that loving has changed these relationships dramatically. With one of them, I no longer see the other person as trying to control me. With another, I forgive their lashing out at me for unexplainable reasons. Yet another was transformed by consciously coming into the loving whenever I felt left out or jealous. Compassion works wonders also. It’s really a special kind of loving where our consciousness moves into the oneness and understands the other person’s predicament or their response or their weakness. Our heart goes out (at it were and perhaps more than figuratively) and in that oneness we embrace who they really are, who we all really are: Spiritual Beings having a human experience.

I am blessed beyond words. My husband died, my life opened up in ways heretofore unimaginably positive. I experience more joy, fulfillment and neutrality than I could have wished for before his illness and transition. Our nine months of complete and utter devotion to his living as long as he possibly could, my complete and utter surrender to my role in his life, and the prayer that emanated from our depths paved the way for miracles of awareness and enlightenment and prepared me for the greatest awakening of my life.

Kenny even found his way into my father’s consciousness. In messages since his passing, he told me my relationship with my father was getting closer. That my dad was nearby working with me like Kenny was working with me. This opened a huge space in my heart for the loving compassion that my father deserved. Having seen mortal combat in World War II, he came back a broken man. Now they would call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Then their only tool was pity. Much like my nerve pathways were blocked, I imagine his were also. So demonstrating affection toward his daughter was probably out of the question. All these decades since he died, in my own way I have abandoned my father, much like I thought he had abandoned me when he went off to war and came back two years later unrecognizable to my two-year old self.

These realizations are blessed with healing and upliftment. I think of my father today and instead of stoic resignation of my loss, I extend affection and love and softness with an embrace of acceptance and tenderness. And I feel that coming from him wherever he is today. Here’s a piece from Kenny’s messages that reflects this part of my story:

Kenny can you help me contact Daddy tonight?
Sweetie Carol, he’s right here blowing you kisses on your birthday. He wants you to know you can contact him directly whenever you want to and he’s loving you and the work you did this weekend. He will care for your little one. He will show you how to love her and dissolve all the misunderstandings about your body. He will bring you healing in your dreams and open up a new way of loving yourself like never before in this lifetime. He says you are loved because you are divine and oh so precious to him. You are our sweetie Baby! Together along with Cherish, we will fill you with the loving energy of your father here and in heaven such that you are so very fulfilled. God Bless You, We Love You, Peace be Still.

The blessing: I’m still here to record these miracles. I’m still here to experience more joy and more fulfillment, and even more happiness as I move forward in my life. I’m still here to keep activating my ministry every day, keep realizing more and more of its power. And when it’s my time to leave this planet for the last time, may there be a smile on my face, Light in my eyes, and a prayer in my heart to reach up into my High Form and meet those Angels Kenny told me about who will gladly welcome my Soul into the Heart of God.

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Sacred Crossings: The Night Kenny Left his Body for the Last Time

In earlier chapters, I described what I dared put to paper about the night Kenny died. Today, 20-some months later, a bit of training as a hospice volunteer, and having witnessed the death of another loved one in my life, I can brave more recall, more important parts that may be valuable to you as the reader, that are certainly more available to my creative hand.

I didn’t know then that I could give him some comfort by closing his eyes during those last few hours of labored breathing when he couldn’t communicate. I didn’t realize I could continue to moisten his mouth. The hospice nurse left in kind of a hurry with no such instructions for me. I didn’t know they would leave us at such an auspicious moment.

So when Kenny took his final breath, his eyes were wide open as well as his mouth. I tried to close his eyes, but they flipped back open twice. Those incredible deep blue eyes that I so often sank into for love and comfort. That I so often admired and could see into his vulnerability, his true loving and his powerful oneness with God.

While I could cover his body and arms with the sheet, I couldn’t cover his face and I also couldn’t look at it after my attempt to close his eyes. It was too haunting to me—At that time I’d rather have remembered his eyes when they inhabited his Soul, his life here on earth.

So his body lay there while some friends gathered with me in the room. We called the mortuary, because I thought that’s what I was supposed to do. They were to come in a few hours. In the meantime, we told stories, laughed and cried and waited. And everyone present, of course, took my lead and didn’t look at Kenny’s body either.

Aside from those haunting memories, I do remember something really important:

Soon John-Roger had his aide, Zeus call to ask where “the body was being taken.” I told him which mortuary and that was the end of the conversation.

Just a few days ago, Kevin and I were looking at photographs of Kenny as a young man and I found myself recounting that phone call. In a burst of recognition, as Kevin held my hand and stayed with me in his empathy and love, I went from laughing at the photo of Kenny doing some funny antic, to tears of understanding and gratitude. I realized once again how blessed we are to be under the protection of the Mystical Traveler Consciousness, that part of us that guides our way back to the Heart of God. For I knew that John-Roger’s call was about checking in on Ken’s body to see if his Soul was on its way to the proper dimension in Spirit—to help it along if needed. So many times in years gone by when J-R was counseling MSIA students in the presence of many of us, and the subject of a loved one having already passed over came up, I would hear J-R say, “I’ve got him (or her). He’s OK. He’s where he should be.” And as I listened, I would well up with tears of gratitude, and I sensed so many others witnessing the counseling, did the same. Thank God the Traveler chose us. Thank God we chose back. Thank God our loved ones, even if they are not actively studying in MSIA, just by being connected to us devotees, are protected as ones of his own.

Back to what I didn’t know, but know better now: I could have closed his eyes so they would stay moist and more comfortable. And after he passed, if they were open again, I could have laid a clean cloth over them to help them stay closed. And I could have rolled a towel under his chin to help his mouth stay closed. I could have done a lot of things to honor his body, the Temple of his Soul, for as long as three days if I wanted to (legally). I didn’t know this. I actually kept a lot of information away from myself because I didn’t want to face his dying. For as long as he was alive, even as he got weaker and weaker, day by day, in my mind he was not dying. He would not be dying until he actually took his last breath. So I didn’t ask, I didn’t read much, and what I did read I forgot immediately. The only bit of compassionate education from the particular hospice agency we were assigned came from the doctor who one night only a few days before Kenny passed, told me I could stop counting liquids in and liquids out. That I should just focus on being with Kenny. Thankfully there was that much.

Only later when I was with my cousins supporting them as Cousin Nicky was passing, did I begin to get some education that mattered from the Hospice agency assigned to them. They instructed on meds, on bathing and changing, on when it was time to say our last goodbyes and so much more. Their loving, compassionate manner made all the difference. Their loving, compassionate manner gave me a measure of what was missing from the agency assigned to Kenny and me. Thankfully we had our MSIA ministers, our Circle of Light, our incredibly service-minded housemates. We were blessed beyond measure. Remember my talking about Circle of Light minister, Diana? She recounted her experience with us as “standing in for God.” And that’s how I experienced my presence at Nicky’s side.

I am blessed to be in a position to help others, having experienced the death of my husband in such a complex way. And to have the gift of awareness that allows me to grow from the experience, to awaken the parts of me that were afraid and unwilling to see. In tenderness for the lost part of me that I am gradually finding and surrounding with love, compassion, and forgiveness.

So now in my memories, whenever I may picture those last hours of Kenny’s life, I also remember the long moment just days before he passed, when he took my face in his hands, and held his gaze on my eyes in silent communion for a very long time. The world stood waiting outside our little bubble—it could have waited forever as I soaked in the loving we shared. It shall always remain a Divine Soul-to-Soul moment when time stood still, when nothing else mattered, when his death was imminent but yet so far away.

Bringing compassionate awareness to end of life issues is one of my passions now. Thus this blog and thus the compilation of the book. Wish me well! And I send my love to all of you who over the months have devotedly supported my efforts to bring myself into a greater Light focus around death and to bring this subject, however raw the accounts, to the Light of Spirit.

P.S. Today I attended a volunteer meeting of Hospice Partners of Southern California. A woman named Olivia did a presentation on “Sacred Crossings.” She calls herself a Death Midwife and helps families create a sacred experience for themselves of caring for a loved one’s body after death. I don’t necessarily advocate her business or her methods, but the subject is certainly worth exploring ahead of time so families can make educated decisions about the disposition of their loved ones’ remains.

Please do “like” this article, make a comment, share your experiences, however you are moved to do so. Or write to me directly at Baruch Bashan. The blessings already are!

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2011 in review

Dear Readers,
I haven’t posted lately because I’ve been busy editing prior posts and your comments in preparation for sending the manuscript to my editor for her first serious, contracted take on how it will shape up into a book. There are 47 posts and uncounted comments from you, my dear friends, in support of the writing and my personal process and Kenny’s Soul. Below is a report that WordPress produced just for your fun look-see and your Light. Before you read that, I am including the Preface that Kenny dictated through my hand just recently. It’s quite profound and gives us an idea of how the Soul looks at the human experience. Here goes:

The purpose of this book from my point of view is Divine Intervention. We are all divine and until the moment of our death, we doubt that Divinity. From the plane on which I’m now living and looking, the human being is a direct emanation from Soul, from the God Source, therefore Divine in every cell, every breath, even every thought, if one is willing to observe the root of the thought. The root of all thoughts, whether toxic or benevolent, is contained, surrounded, and embedded with Living Love.

 In this book, the reader will find a personal blessing on every page, whether it is describing a perceived negative occurrence or a revelation of the Divine. The Lord God of the Universe oversees all levels of creation and loves them all. It is only believing our mind that leads us astray. My darling wife has given of her very nature in the outpourings on these pages. Read with an open mind and awareness of how your spiritual heart is responding. Therein lay the opportunity to make choices in alignment with your highest good. And so it will at once touch your loved ones whether they are aware of it or not. For every organism is connected to every other organism in the universe, and each one is contained within the whole—the Holy Spirit, the One God of the Universe.

 By the way, I am as we say on earth, “in blissful heaven.” I am working hard, resting well, and contributing so much more than I could in my human body. And in case you’re wondering, I spend time with Carol on a regular basis, mostly while she is sleeping. If you would like me to, I will be glad to make myself known to you also. Just ask inwardly for my presence (for the highest good of course—there is no imposition meant here).

 I always remain a devoted student of the Holy Spirit, Carol’s loving husband in Spirit, and your friend,
Ken Jones

And here’s a quote from Kenny while he was still with us that spells out very clearly the message of this book. He was, and still remains, quite the writer:

 “I do not know what Spirit has in store for me. I will keep breathing as long as Spirit gives me breath. And if melanoma absolutely must claim my body, it can have it. Melanoma cannot go where I go, because I go into the pure Spirit of the Soul Realm that is my true home.”

Ken Jones
December, 2009

Loving you all and so appreciating your ongoing support and Light. It’s immeasurable.

The stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Syndey Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 10,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

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Remembrance Day for Kenny

Morning Observations in Peace Awareness Gardens


My dear Friends and Family,

March 30 marked one year since my sweet, funny, handsome, talented, mischievous and darling husband left his body to go home to God. I knew I wanted to have some kind of acknowledgment of that day, though since we had already had three memorials in 2010, it didn’t seem appropriate to have yet another memorial. As I projected in my mind what would sooth my healing heart, I realized I wanted an intimate gathering of those who seemed to make a big difference in our experience near the end of his life. I’m sure there were many others whose silent prayers and distant caring impacted us deeply, so choosing who to invite was a challenge. But the place was very clear to me. It would be Gail’s house, the site of many patio dinners and movies and Christmas Eves, and Thanksgiving dinners. The fare would be Kenny’s favorites, and the emphasis would be on acknowledging the loving and caring poured out to us at a time when every minute and every breath counted. I called it Remembrance Day.

Kenny at 23

Here’s what I wrote to Kenny’s sisters who all live on the East Coast and whom I wanted to include as much as I could.

Remembrance Day was a very dear and sweet gathering of people who assisted Kenny and me on an ongoing basis, and friends who loved him very much. We had it at Gail’s house. I purposely chose Gail’s because she has a very sweet little place on the west side. And Gail, Yvonne, Kenny and I were pals and did things together including that trip to Northern California in winter of 2008. And many of the furnishings in her house Kenny helped her assemble. I brought with me some of his favorite music and the two pictures of him in his youth that I love–the close-up on the beach at 23, and the one in the engineer’s cap in his early 30’s. Plus I brought an enlargement of the one of all of you and Kenny dressed in blue in front of the Island House. I also brought the album you all put together which everyone loved looking through. The living room was crammed full with only seventeen people—just as I imagined it would be—cozy, close, chairs all lined up like a couch.

 Kenny in his 30’s

Here’s how the day went:

I opened with a prayer and asked for Kenny’s Soul to be present.

I acknowledged each person present for their personal giving–said something personal to each one. Many brought tears and choked words, but I felt it important to acknowledge each one.

I read Kenny’s ministerial ordination blessing. In MSIA ministers have special callings that amplify their strengths and gifts. In Kenny’s case, the focus is on his “storehouse of treasures,” empathy, compassion, kindness and sensitivity–not in grand gestures, but in simple ways that show people he cares. And it encourages him to share his healing touch. I especially wanted everyone there to hear it because from my experience, he exemplified this blessing in his last few months more evidently than ever before.

You asked me to tell everyone that his family loved him very much and still does. I did that and showed everyone the family photo. There were audible sighs of empathy and appreciation in the group. Most of them had met you when you came to visit in January 2010. And they remembered the Jones sense of humor. Remember Kenny in thoseNew Jerseycrab shorts!

John Morton, our Spiritual Director, came to visit Kenny just a week or so before he passed and was so uplifted by his exuberance, he told Kenny his ministry was on fire! Kenny’s response was “If people could discover what I’m experiencing, they’d drop what they are doing and doing what I’m doing!” This visit was recorded and so at this point in the gathering, I played the recording of what Kenny said. Hearing his voice, especially with such a poignant message, brought tears to people’s eyes. They realized how much they missed him. Everyone realized he was showing us how to leave this world gracefully, in love and excitement and gratitude.

Kenny’s favorite recording artist and song writer is Mark Knopfler. At this point I played Knopfler’s Remembrance Day, which is how I came to name the gathering. Knopfler is British and inEngland, Remembrance Day is like our Veterans’ Day, commemorating the fallen Soldiers of WWI and WWII. The song is on the album “Get Lucky,” Knopfler’s latest with many poignant songs that Kenny loved and I had grown to love also. Here’s a YouTube clip of the song and a word document with the lyrics:

Remembrance Day
Music and Lyrics by Mark Knopfler
In Loving Memory of Kenny Jones

On your maypole green
see the winding morris men
Angry Alfie, Bill and Ken
waving hankies, sticks, and boots
all the earth and roots


Standing at the crease
the batsman takes a look around.
The boys are fielding on home ground.
The steeple sharp against the blue
when I think of you. 

 Sam and Andy,
Jack and John.
Charlie, Martin,
Jamie, Ron,
Harry, Stephen,
Will and Don
Matthew, Michael
on and on.  

We will remember them,
remember them,
remember them.

We will remember them,
remember them,
remember them


Time has slipped away
The summer sky to autumn yields,
Haze of smoke across the fields.
Let’s up and fight another round
and walk the stubbled ground.


When November brings
the poppies on Remembrance Day,
When the vicar comes to say,
May God bless them, every one.
Lest we forget our sons.” 

We will remember them,
remember them,
remember them. 

We will remember them,
remember them,
remember them. 

We will remember them,
remember them, remember them. 

We will remember them,
remember them,
remember them.

Then lots of people shared their fond memories of Kenny. It was very sweet and actually fun to hear it all. It reminded me of lolling in the pool at your house in Bayhead, as we all told stories the night after Kenny’s orchestration of his ashes day. (This is sited in an earlier entry called “The Funeral Train began inSpringfield.”)

I ended the formal part of the gathering with Kenny’s poem about the Prana gardens. Writing this poem was one of his moments of empathy and sensitivity. And reading it was even more so. He paused in just the right places emphasizing the description he was weaving. I’m adding it here:

Morning Observations in Peace Awareness Gardens
July 21, 2004
by Ken Jones
Photo by Ken Jones

Cool morning air,
thick with blossom smell,
caresses me inside and out.

Inside the delicate delightful green garden
sweet tendrils of tenderness
tell me I am loved.

Birds flitting, humming, and peering
sing and call their kin:
“Here I am, here I am here I am.
“Come nest with me, come nest with me.
“Let’s eat, let’s eat, let’s eat.

“Boy, I’m glad…
glad glad glad glad glad!”

The goldfish and koi and their playmates
glide in schools of silence
and rejoice….
in the suspended….
of ..the.. pond….

Every moment, the arcing sunlight brings fresh beauty,
whether illuminating lush leaves,
or reflecting ripples
that tickle tall translucent trunks.

Outside the green garden bubble,
the world rushes on,
Leaving us alone in soft splendid grace.

Once again I know gratitude.

Then we had homemade pound cake with Hagan Das vanilla ice cream. Two of Kenny’s favorites.

It was very warming and satisfying to create this gathering. For me it felt like Kenny was right there with us saying something like, “I had no idea so many people cared about me.” Well I know we all did and we all do still.

I hope you enjoyed this homage. Every holiday, birthday, and anniversary will have passed this coming Wednesday, March 30. I don’t know what the next year will hold, but I do know absence makes the heart grow fonder. I’m missing Kenny and you all as well.

Lots of  love,

Please feel free to comment in the comment field below, share your story, your thoughts and feelings about losing a loved one or assisting the family. Alternatively, contact me directly at

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The Plane Ride Home from Houston

We had taken the doctor’s advice to leave Houston for home as soon as possible while Kenny could still fly on a commercial plane. He was extremely weak, mustering up all the strength he had each day to walk from the bed to the chair, get dressed, bathe, have meals and a visit to the clinic here and there. And of course he needed help with all of that. By this time, his entire body was riddled with melanoma; I could feel the lumps in his stick-thin arms and even see a crusty one just behind his left ear. His blood supply was dangerously low and waning every day. But my husband had the strength and endurance of a race horse, the determination of a man with a mission, and the acceptance of an ascended master. As this story progresses, you’ll see for yourself how these attributes supported his final trip home to our beloved Prana.

That Saturday, Baba arranged to have a recorded MSIA seminar right in our hotel suite. Marsha and Rosie drove all the way from Austin to be with us. They stayed the night. Thelene drove five hours from Fort Worth. And Juaquin and Yvette made it too. There we were, eight of us calling ourselves forward into the Light, sharing the depth of our prayers and our gratitude and being there in support of one Soul’s journey into the arms of God. My prayer was not only for Kenny’s healing, but for a safe and easy trip home.

On Sunday, Rosie and Marsha bought us a bunch of groceries including a good old fashioned, head-kickin’ Texas Barbeque Lunch, which Kenny devoured with glee. And since that rude and crude bucket list doctor told him he could eat and drink whatever he wanted (after all without saying, he really meant “These are your last days, Buddy,”), Kenny promptly ordered Baba to bring in some really good boos. I can’t remember what it was, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

On Monday I didn’t know how I was going to get Kenny on the plane and off. He was using a walker now and could only manage a few steps. I was consumed with grief and worry. I didn’t know how it could be done. I felt helpless. While Kenny was napping in the bedroom, I silently cried my eyes out on the couch in the living room as I made arrangements on the phone for a flight home the next day. But I also prayed. I remembered how Spirit had met us at the point of each action and filled in the gaps wherever necessary time and time again during that month in Houston. In fleeting moments of awareness, I put my trust in God, that the Omniscient and Divine would pave the way, that our trip home would be graceful and easy—through all our circumstances.

It was Tuesday now, the day we would fly. I began to pack and Esther, sent to us by Yvette and whom we hired to help care for Kenny while we were in Houston, emptied the entire refrigerator and the cupboards of our personal food supplies. Juaquin packed all the stuff he agreed to ship home for us like the juicer and the strainer and the emersion blender, and I crammed everything I could into our luggage including the new Tony Lama boots and the books and the medications, and the everything, oh and Valentine Tiger.

Valentine Tiger, Kenny and Me

Thankfully Baba would follow me to the car rental drop off, which was only blocks away from the hotel, and then he drove us straight to the airport in his car. Two porters were waiting for us, one with a wheelchair for Kenny and the other to help me with our carry-ons. They escorted us all the way to the gate and stayed with us until we were called to board.

I can’t express how dear and exciting and relieving it was to be coming home after the harrowing month in Houston, what with Kenny’s painful reaction to the medication, the overwhelming and dreaded results of the CT scan, the blood transfusions, the hospital stays, the masked knowing underlying all the busy-ness of each day that the Well of Souls would be calling Kenny’s name soon, signaling the end and the beginning of his journey home to the Heart of God.

He was wheeled right up to the door of the plane. In his shearling slippers (the only shoes that would fit his swollen feet), we slowly shuffled together to our seats at the bulkhead. Me walking backwards holding Kenny’s hands to help keep him steady and attendants standing by helpless because the aisle would only accommodate us two. Finally we reached our seats, Kenny handsome as he ever was in his Virgil Cole cowboy hat and me in my Boss of the Town 100% beaver fur hat that Kenny had commissioned especially for us by a world-renown cowboy hat maker in Canada. They were mighty fine hats indeed.

Kenny (Virgil Cole) & Carol (Boss of the Town)

Such are the blessings. The flight attendants did their best to be helpful. And so did many of the other passengers. The flight was short (whew!) and it was time to land—I say that with gratitude that Kenny’s feet could soon be elevated to relieve the swelling. As usual the captain’s voice boomed through the cabin announcing our upcoming landing. Only this time he told us we were being met by some gusty winds that would buffet the plane around a bit. Kenny held my hand as he always sensed my nervousness on take-offs and landings. And yes indeed, as we descended, the plane bounced and bobbed, swaying to and fro, and I could hear Kenny asking for the Light of the Holy Spirit to be with us and especially with the captain. And the ascended masters as well. In fact, all the masters that work with us, it was time for them to line up in support of a smooth landing. We touched down one wheel at a time and breathed a sigh of relief. Kenny was in tears of recognition and gratitude. Even now in his weakened state when it would take all his strength, fortitude, and focus to get from his seat in the plane to the wheelchair awaiting us in the jetway, he called forth the Holy Spirit and the entire MSIA ministerial body to assist in the landing.

I was struck once again by Kenny’s unwavering focus and determination.

Now it was time to retrace our steps, making our way from our seats on the plane to the wheelchair in the jetway. The attendants had called ahead to make sure porters would be waiting for us and they were. We were the last to deboard. We helped Kenny to his feet and ever so slowly and painstakingly, hands in my hands, he reached the chair, I could see he was focusing on balance—with hardly any strength left in his muscles, he now had to consciously make sure he was balanced from head to toe or else the lack of strength could knock him over. I was in awe of what I was seeing. It was not new to me, his determination. I had seen it before, but never to this extreme. In the background I heard the attendants remark, “We have a disabled man slowly deboarding the plane. It’s going to be very slow.” Dear Ross met us at baggage claim and drove us those fateful miles home. Home was in sight now. We made it home. Today is March 7, 2011, just one year and two days from the real “Coming Home to Prana Day.” And just 24 days shy of the one year anniversary of Kenny’s “Coming Home to God Day.”

As I look ahead, there may be one more article as I plan for a gathering of loved ones on March 30, the anniversary of his passing, to remember our Kenny in his vitality and wide-eyed enthusiasm for life, especially life in nature, hearing birds calling, being held close to the breast of the forest, watching a race horse full out in the straight-away, Kenny would be embracing us with his magnetic blue eyes and forever smile.

Later I am seeing an accounting of my personal healing from the trauma of my husband’s illness and subsequent death, and the many traumas I experienced throughout this life. The frozen synapses thaw out, the resiliency restores, the freedom of choice and walking the high country is within sight. The Father in Heaven holds his hands out to me, kind of like I held my hands out to Kenny, although not for balance, but ready to receive whatever I can let go of, whatever I don’t need any longer—the ancient protection of the reptilian mind (good for real physical danger but now outdated for emotional or mental challenges) is assigned its rightful job ready for only when needed instead of being revved up nonstop. The nervous system repairs, and the true protection of being present in the NOW anchors deep in my consciousness.

The rest of our story is in previous articles. I hope you are touched by the Spirit as you read, and that you look into your own consciousness once again for the places that call out to be healed. God bless you, Baruch Bashan—the Blessings Already Are.

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Where do I go from here? From Mourning to Conversations with Kenny

I was going to write about the huge impact having an attitude of gratitude plays in my life because in those months of caring for Kenny, there were so many miracles to be thankful for, and so many people who ministered to us on a daily basis. That would have been very uplifting and genuinely sweet and touching, after all, writing about being grateful to people for their generosity of Spirit and being grateful to God for the many moments of perfection we experienced, opens not only my heart, but most likely your heart as well. Only since my last entry, it’s taken weeks of self-reflection, giving in to the never-ending tears, and beginning somatic therapy to even write the first sentence here. Having the notion of learning about perfection on my life path, I squander energy racing back and forth between feeling sorry for myself, grieving all by myself, putting on a face for my friends and coworkers so I won’t appear self-indulgent, feeling guilty that I haven’t gotten past some fake and made up idea of a corner-turning stage of grief into a happier, more productive, more social, more likable, all healed up widow ready to put Kenny in his rightful place in my memories and moving on in my life to new beginnings. Widow! Always was a disturbing term, not it’s downright mean.

I’ve intimated in previous posts that Kenny had a lot to hide. And he was a master at it. But what I didn’t know is how much I was hiding. Throughout our marriage and probably throughout my entire life and all the other relationships I’ve had, I spent an inordinate amount of time and energy “fixing” my partners. This resulted in the ironic effect of keeping understanding and healing my own traumas at bay, avoiding any resolution for the last six decades. I thought of myself as the healthy one and I thought of the other as the helpless one, the sick one, the disturbed one, the one that needed “fixing.” And if I only did this and such, they would mend their ways and emerge 100% recovered. Oh, and did I forget to say, in the emerging they would love me.

Where in the world did this come from? What made me the “fixer?” Well I can only speak to this lifetime, though I’m sure it stems from others. And I’m about to launch into psycho-babble, so bear with me. When I was six months old, my father was called to World War II. So in November 1943, we packed all our gear, and Mommy and her “little monkey” as I was called, followed Daddy across country as far west as we could go before he was shipped off to the China/Burma/India theater. It was a brutal two years of ugly hand-to-hand combat, but he survived (only physically) and came home in 1945 a broken man. Friends and family whispered that Luddy used to be so happy-go-lucky, and now, poor man, he sleeps a lot and his eyes look so sad, and he doesn’t talk much any more.

Somehow it was while Daddy was at war that I began to know myself as the “fixer.” I was there to fix my mother’s grief and fear of the ever-pending notice of injury or God forbid, death of her soldier-husband. I was glued to her side as if I hadn’t been born yet. I absorbed her thoughts and feelings. I made her feel better just by giving her someone special to love. This would be a beautiful ministry for a little baby, but the bond became so impenetrable that when Daddy came home, there were no threads to unravel, no holes to peek into, not a smidgen of dust to indicate a draft where he might discover the path to relate to me.

Being the only child (a girl child) and wanting desperately to win my father’s love, I remember following him around, asking to do things with him. I’d go up on the roof to hammer shingles down. I’d help him carry bricks when he built the outdoor barbecue, I’d ride with him in this ’52 Ford pick-up to “colored town” to pay his helpers or pick them up on Monday morning after a weekend of bingeing. I’d try to be a boy to see if that would work. And I’d buy him presents I thought he would love for his birthday and Christmas, which by the way were the same day. Lodovico Natale Colombi. Luddy (Christmas) Colombi.

There it was, the beginning of a pattern of relating to men–who needed help. And it didn’t stop there. My mother was sick most of my childhood with recurring bouts of Crone’s disease that required multiple surgeries almost like clockwork. If it was February, she was almost always in the hospital–her birthday month. Me, I had my share of childhood diseases, but nothing that didn’t mend quickly and easily. There’s so much history around so many childhood experiences, suffice it to say here that no wonder my darling Kenny was with me for only thirteen years and agreed in Spirit to leave me after the most traumatic year of our lives, but to leave me, never to be seen again on this earth. No calling to say I’m sorry, I’m coming home. No letters to say what he couldn’t say in person, no repairing our marriage, no coming home from the war, just the end of all ends–death–the thing my mother feared the most. The thing I absorbed through my skin. In the end in my pores, I knew they would all leave me.

See I told you I feel self-indulgent, wallowing in my loss, stuck on repeat with no end in sight. And don’t you wonder what somatic therapy will do for me? It’s supposed to heal one of traumas, physical, emotional, mental, all of them. And I’ve had many more than the average first world citizen. So while some people get sick as a result of karmic patterns, others hurt themselves or allow others to hurt them. So my goal? To heal the hurts and change the karmic flow to create more balance–eh, maybe add to be happier, to experience more joy, and receive more love, and to absolutely know that God and I are one.

Meanwhile, I pour over the thousands of pictures my photographer-husband took over his lifetime, culling out the most beautiful and spectacular landscape photos and portraits of all his work in order to find a representative selection to include in the book I’m compiling. Not only do I want to convey his magnificent transformation and transcendence through his own blog entries, but my own experiences of caring for him, grieving for him, growing my Self and learning to tune in to his messages from the Spirit world. I am convinced his ministry continues, and I want to know how and why and what he wants you, dear readers, to know about conscious death and conscious dying and the after life.

I am blessed to have this medium to share our precious story. God bless you and all your loved ones. I’d promise you that the next entry will be on gratitude, but we’ll see. In the meantime, my dear friend who introduced me to Liz who introduced me to Ruthie, who is able to communicate with Kenny and all those who will teach me the same, encouraged me to include a picture of Kenny and me. Underneath, surrounding, and overriding all our challenges, is a deep and abiding love that no trauma could or would shake. It’s there for eternity–a spiritual promise–our heritage as initiates and ministers of God. Look for it in these photos. And soon I’ll be chatting away with Kenny myself.

Sending you all deepest love and gratitude for hanging in here with me, sending your love and Light, and witnessing the transformation of consciousness into the Heart of God.

Carol & Kenny Aug 1996 at the Beloved Island House

Carol, Ken, and our Valentine Tiger March 2010

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