Tag: Death of parent

A Shamanic Journey – from Becoming the Oldest Generation – Excerpt from Part II

On Mom’s dresser live a black metal whale and a green jade fish. I carried them up the narrow staircase lined with famous paintings and small pieces of antiquities.  Black whalecrpd1

Emerging into the large open room with its plush Oriental rug covering the marble floor, I placed pieces of old Roman glass, translucent blue, in the whale’s open mouth. I arranged an altar in the center, with the candle and sage, the whale, the fish and the enameled box where the panther spirit who is helping Mom resides temporarily. Found feathers from here grace this altar too. I have lightly saged the room and have placed pillows for everyone in a circle on the Oriental rug. My elk skin drum, rattle and beaded leather medicine bag wait, ready for this ritual to celebrate Mom’s birthday.

Medicine Bag
Medicine Bag

When we gathered together, I lit the candle and called to all the directions, entreating the spirits to help us. As our intention, we asked for help and guidance for Virginia. If people wanted, I said, they could also journey for me, but I stressed that my concern was for Virginia. With that intention as our guide, while everyone lay down on their backs and covered their eyes, I picked up my drum and began to play the trance inducing monotonous beat for the journey. Finally I played the callback rhythm, bringing the journeyers back into their bodies. One by one they opened their eyes and sat up.

Marianna in the yurt
The author doing shamanic work in her yurt in California.

 

 

Excerpt from Part II: Shamanic walk on the beach

In the afternoon I took a little time off and walked Sami to the beach. The sun was shining on the water in a column that looked like a bridge to the sky. Was this what my Shamanic friend saw in her journey? In the morning the sun shines differently on the water, more sparkly and diffused and not as blinding. I asked the spirits for help again, just in case. Although, I do feel they have been helping immensely already.

Virginia walking along the beach below Nof Yam
Virginia walking along the beach below Nof Yam

 

Another Excerpt from Part III – Becoming the Oldest Generation – Flying Back to Israel for Mom’s Funeral

… Part of me still thinks I will see Mom when I arrive. I imagine her in her room, the room I sleep in when I am there. She is changing her clothes. I see the deep green jade fish on her dresser and the small light green jade statue of Quan Yin. I think of greeting Sami the dog. I imagine the dust on the white stone tile floor and the cool marble top of the dresser that was Mom’s mother’s. Will it be passed on to Lainey and to me in its third generation of women? As Lainey said, we are now the oldest in our female line. Nothing stands between us and our mortality in our female lineage.

And my feelings seem to be on hold, in the air as I travel between these realities, a reprieve from the storm to come. I can’t quite grasp the vision of burying Mom, of Mom really gone. I know that my last trip prepared me, but still I feel unprepared. I am strangely calm, yet there is an odd excitement in my belly and my chest.

I am part of the human experience, part of the cycle of life and death that all beings experience.

 

©2016

 

 

Excerpt from Becoming the Oldest Generation Part III – Her Burial

When we arrived, the gravedigger was standing in the grave. Immediately I thought of Hamlet –this scene was so strong. His presence felt knowing and powerful as he stared at us, his gray-black beard and wild, frizzy white hair framing his radiating intensity. Mom’s body was slipped from its bag, and still wrapped in a white shroud she was lowered into the grave. No ceremony, no fanfare, she was just quickly lowered diagonally into the grave. Lainey wailed and we all cried. Next they put Styrofoam squares over her, over half of the grave. The gravedigger climbed out on them, and then he put Styrofoam squares over the rest of her body. Finally, everyone who wanted to, started filling the dirt in. I threw in a handful. Some people took turns with the shovel, including Lainey. When Mom was all covered in a mound, people placed rocks and stones on top, signifying permanence, of both death and memory of the departed. Margalit, Judith, Deena and Shlomo had brought shells from the ocean and placed them on top of the burial mound. Someone handed me a rock and I put it on the pile. I hadn’t known about that custom beforehand or I too would have brought a shell and stones. But Margalit told me that she piled on enough for me too.

Then it was over.

©2016

 

My Wish

My wish is that my writing about my mother’s aging and death help others as they pass through this human stage of life. It is hard to have a parent die. Maybe my experiences, chronicled here will be a helpful guide and comfort to others as they face this loss and also become the elder generation in the continuing cycle of life!

 

Inside the book:

How I dealt with death of a parent. Ways to cope with the death of a loved one.

Emotional and spiritual growth.

Resources: friends, spiritual help (specifically mine was shamanic), humor, witnesses,