Saturday, June 30, 2012


... “Let us try to live again and be happy even though Sylvester, our angel, is no longer with us.”

I have been haunted by this line from William Steig's children's book about a family of donkeys all week. While grieving the loss of their son Sylvester, Mrs. Duncan issues this plea to her husband to try to find normalcy again even though their beloved child is no longer with them. In Steig's story Sylvester has disappeared after finding a magic pebble which will instantly grant his every wish. Fear extends her slippery hand when a lion chases Sylvester and he impulsively, wishes to be a rock. Unfortunately his wish places him in some type of metaphysical limbo, invisible to everyone he loves but ever so near in his parallel universe of rockdom. As is the way with fairy tales, there is a happy ending. If one believes in a God or angel thoughts it is precisely that which prompts Mrs Duncan to set their picnic lunch on the rock which is Sylvester and then draws her eye to the magic pebble. The miraculous transpires when she places the pebble on the rock as Sylvester, in his rock state, wishes to be his real self again. It is a reunion which speaks of that profound love which exists in  families cemented by love.

My son and daughter-in-law are grieving. Their baby daughter Scarlett has disappeared into some metaphysical ether through the process we call death. She is now an Angel Baby. We can feel her all around but cannot see or touch or hold her. The sorrow is palpable. My heart aches for them. My heart aches for me.
We will live and be happy again in time. I'm sure of it. Perhaps Scarlett will seek us out again to be her parents and grandparents. But for now she watches from somewhere so close, yet so far.

Sylvester and the Magic Pebble

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

A Venusian Encounter

transit of venus

Rare cosmic events excite me. Tonight Venus made her historic transit across the face of the sun. An event not to be duplicated again in any of our lifetimes. In pursuit of the Divine Feminine that her transit is purported to usher in, I drove the short distance from my house to Cedar Beach.  One needs a panoramic venue for such events. Not owning a telescope, I concocted a solar viewer from an old Vera Wang shoebox and some aluminum foil. It seemed a fitting manner in which to view the black beauty mark of the Goddess of love moving across the face of the great Ra.

It was cold for June and the sky was playing host to everything from cumulo nimbus to cirrus in the way of clouds. I was not optimistic about my chances of viewing Venus in flight. I was also a bit reserved about sitting on the sand with my improvised shoebox viewer. It is too easy to strike the appearance of an aging crazy woman these days when either Goddess or Crone can prove victorious. I am always amazed that so few people gather on the beach to witness celestial events.

The baggage of my old life has been hanging heavily around both my waking and dream life sucking my energy and self image into dark places. Off to the west, end of the school year events play out without me. Enough!!
I tether the gathering energies of the power of the feminine and vow to release the toxic past. Innocently, I ask for a sign, a recognition from the Divine that my intention has been acknowledged.  Suddenly I feel like I am being watched from behind the reeds at the side of the Nature Center. The Nature Center where my children and I went, long ago, in the evenings to visit "our friends" the horseshoe crabs, mussels and fluke in the dirty water of the holding tank in the midst of those reeds. I surmise that I may be sensing the the etheric presence of "Us" that still lurks there.  The reality of the watcher greets me eye to eye when I turn to look over my shoulder. Five feet away, her elegant body shielded by the reeds, the doe has been keeping vigil. She snorts twice, lifts her tan tail in warning and bolts off through the beach plums and  honeysuckle. Another Goddess in flight.
The thick clouds begin to part and I scramble to use my cardboard observatory, struggling to find the pinpricked circle of light where I hope to have captured the transiting Venus. How many real life experiences have I missed while being in the "box". Taking photographs instead of committing reality to memory; looking for truth on the Internet when it abounds all around me. The Divine nags for my attention and I again, look behind me to behold the most intense double rainbow that that I have ever seen. It is almost neon in its intensity against the backdrop of dark, rain-filled clouds. Yes, I requested a sign but this is a celestial semaphore!
The sun viewing aperture in the clouds has disappeared and I gather my equipment and seek the path that leads through the primroses, honeysuckle and yellow beach cactus flowers back to the parking lot. Connecticut  is still there watching as the sun sets. And then it happens.
Next to my car is the most beautiful telescope manned by a sweet middle aged guy wearing glasses and a sky jacket. He responds to my query about Venus with such enthusiasm and for an hour we talk about the stars. He shows me his celestial app on his smart phone, we talk with his buddy in California who is charting Venus as well. We wait for the clouds to part one last time to get the teardrop view of the sun as it dips into the sound for the night, taking his loving passenger along for the ride. I don't feel alone. We have shared something fleeting and precious that won't happen again for 105 years.