Posts tagged gratitude

Awake Unto Love

My friends,

The book, all 55 chapters plus your messages of encouragement, J-R and John’s counseling, and Kenny’s posthumous messages have gone to my editor and we are in communications about sending sample chapters to an agent. This is exciting. We’re actually taking steps to bring this work out to those who are looking for a spiritual perspective on dying, death, and caregiving. Light to all the next steps is so much appreciated. And loving you all!

In December of 2011, a year and nine months after Kenny passed, he said: Hey Honey, do me a favor and take the noose off your neck. You’ve already hung yourself many times and it’s not necessary this lifetime. I love you too much to not tell you that. In fact, I watched you do it once and couldn’t get you down in time, and that set up the whole karmic dynamic of those thirty-five lifetimes.
Love you, K

Throughout these 29 months since Kenny passed, I have mulled over the regrets I had about how stuck my mind said we were many times. Stuck in our “miasm” I called it. In my loneliness I found myself thinking what it could have been like if we had broken out in a different way. What if we came to our senses (our hearts’ desire for oneness really) sooner and we’d had more time to nurture our relationship instead of freeze in it out of fear of losing each other? What if we’d realized there was a way through our addictions that would liberate each of us and bring us closer, bring us to be allies earlier, marching toward the cause of realizing we were already one with each other. All it takes is the willingness to shift one’s gaze, but only last week I learned that that shift can take eons to materialize.

I was deep in one of the last processes in the Consciousness Health and Healing intensive five-day lab last week—it was focused on awakening unto love. Even though the focus was to move upward in the consciousness—to come to a place of unconditional love, I was almost pressed to express these regrets. Then remembering that kneeling in prayer can activate healing, letting go, and humility, I got down on my knees and forgave myself out loud for the judgments I had been placing on myself and Kenny by regretting our “stuckness.” Somehow the kneeling really moved me and what I sensed, after sensing the same awareness many times before but not as deeply or profoundly as on this day, was that Kenny’s and my karma together was complete. I must have heard this from every cell of my body and throughout all systems on all levels because I began to sob in recognition that the pattern was dissolved. I had the uncanny sense that Kenny was right there kneeling with me—there was such a fullness in my heart. It was a complex experience of recognition, sadness, relief, joy and profound gratitude.

The message went on to say that any carrying forward of our relationship is by choice and not driven by past actions. That we are to be of service together through the book and any other way it shows up to help mankind become more aware of the joys and excitement and peace in the dying process. Along with the natural human expression of loss and all the raw and normal emotions I have shared with you. That our karmic path together went back many lifetimes (those thirty-five in fact when we had assisted each other in dying and maybe the hundred more in which we’d played some important role in each other’s lives), and that’s why it took such a dramatic event for us to unlock the pattern and end it once and for all. Of all the ways Kenny could have taken leave of this world or of just me, the way he did it was perfect according to the karma we’d been playing out. How awesome, my newfound freedom in the gift Kenny gave me of his leaving,

To look at the leaving from the highest perspective I can, it was perfectly orchestrated to move us into oneness instantaneously. To help me shift my consciousness from “What about me?” to “What can I do to assist you, my Beloved?” And since we both were doing the best we could at any given moment in our life together here on earth, a surprise ending that wasn’t such a surprise was perfect. We had time to begin to live our relationship as we had always hoped. He had time to forgive his judgments and begin to do good things for himself, and gradually embrace his path with all his heart, mind, and Soul.  But not so much time that might have threatened the deep heart-centered healing that we both were experiencing. There was no time for negativity, no time for worrying, no time for irritation or short tempers; only actions in service, words of praise, encouragement and love, moments of oneness, each one more deeply experienced than the last, and finally the moment he left, for the first time I heard myself telling him it was actually OK to leave.

Having a loved one die is meant to be profound. It’s meant to shake us up, to have us review our life and come into acceptance. Come into forgiveness. Come into compassion and empathy. Come into unconditional loving for ourselves, our loved ones, and hopefully everyone and everything else—all circumstances and situations, every creed, race and color. And every moment we come to these cornerstone realizations, we enter into the Kingdom of God. Not that it isn’t always there/here, because it is. Only that we awake unto it. Awake unto Love.

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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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