Using Spiritual Power to Change the Events of Our Lives

This lovely angel made by local artist Elli Groninger hangs in my bedroom,
can't you just feel the good energies?!

I had promised in one of my recent blog posts to share my methods of turning waking up into a positive event each morning, after one has experienced the shattering of reality as they know it by the death of a dearly, dearly beloved - in my case it was my sweet daughter. These methods may also have a positive effect for those who are feeling depressed or challenged, with or without the passing of a loved one. They have the power to change what we're experiencing in our day-to-day reality, especially when it's not so good.

One of the most painful surprises that came after the first time I fell asleep, having been notified that my daughter was found deceased in her bed as a result of a long-term illness, was that waking up after sleep was mind-numbingly, excruciatingly, exhaustingly, paralyzingly PAINFUL, as I'm sure many people have experienced.

In the course of my life, I had successfully traversed the passing of beloved pets, my sweet grandparents, my beloved father, and some close friends and acquaintances, but NEVER had I experienced this kind of CRASH into a reality that was more painful than I thought I could bear.

Sweet soft dawn, one of Jessie's photos.

Sweet, soft dawn was not the joy it had been for all the years of my life. I was used to getting up around 6 a.m., having a good, busy day, and being nicely tired by somewhere around 11 p.m. But while my daughter was sick, and after after she passed, upon waking the first few times, I realized a pattern was setting in where I started procrastinating at bedtime. Just a couple more things to do, one or two TV shows to watch, some beadwork to get done...and I found myself up til the wee hours, sometimes through the night til dawn, when I could at last not help but put my head down, only to realize that no matter what time I woke up, it was still the same crashing reality that hobbled my very heart and soul.

Recognition of Jessica's new pathways

So the first thing I did was realize that I would have to "be" in my mind. I would have to make it a comfortable place. I would have to own it, and not allow it to react with kneejerk emotion, but consciously guide it into smoother waters.

In order to do that I had to acknowledge that Jess was made of energy, so she isn't destructible. She is indestructible. That led me to think about what her expression of herself might now be in her new world. It led me to think about the fact that we all die, and it is a natural part of life, and each of us is essentially indestructible. It led me to remember that the reason there's a veil of separation is because this is a magnificent, wonderful place, the place from which we come when we are born into this world, and the place to which we return after each worldly adventure. If we knew how beautiful it is, how nourishing and life supporting, we'd probably all go jump off a bridge - but we each have our reasons for being here, so we mostly don't do that.

While we're here, we have our etheric roots in the ground of the mother planet who sustains us. Solid and nourishing.

Suckling our connection to Mother Earth - we have roots too, though they're etheric.

And we have the etheric part of our bodies reaching to the other worlds, connecting and receiving messages and guidance from higher sources. Most of us don't know how to do this. We are not taught, in fact, it has been hidden from us.

Reaching higher sources.

I remembered some things that had happened during the course of my life. Just before my father died, he came to me in a very vivid dream. We were in a field of grass sitting cross-legged facing each other, and he was a younger version of himself than when he actually passed over. He said to me "I love you, Sugar." He was originally from Virginia, and Sugar is a common endearment for loved ones in that territory - he often called me Sugar. And I said, "I love you too." He placed his palms up and I placed mine down on top of his beautiful palms. He said, "Take care of your mother." And I said, "I will." Then we rose, and had a good hug. After our hug, he walked to the edge of the forest. He had grown up in and loved the forested areas of Virginia so I figure he picked the place where we "met". He said "I'm going now." And with a big smile and a wave, he, dressed in a bright, soft, warm red jacket, turned and walked into the woods. I awoke knowing he would soon die, and he did within a matter of days. Our connection was such a gift. Thank you Dad.

We love the forest and the forest loves us.

I consider that this communication with my father was a spiritual connection.

I was reminded of another spiritual connection that I had initiated at a time when my sister was in trouble. She had somehow managed to become entangled in a relationship with a man who would not leave when she decided the relationship should be over. He was a real-time stalker, following her to restaurants where she dined with friends, sitting and watching her. Following her to her apartment where she lived alone, sitting on a little hill looking in the windows. She couldn't shake him and was quite understandably scared.

She was able to get help from the wonderful Centre County Women's Resource Center, even to the point where he had crossed so many boundary lines he was finally arrested and held for 18 months. Stalking is not okay and it is against the law. She was scared as it neared time for his release.

Dragons may be out there, but we need have no fear.

So as his release time neared, I decided to do a "spiritual intervention." I sat in meditation (which is not just a passive tool, it can be very powerful) and called him to meet with me. We met on a spiritual level and talked. I reminded his "whole spiritual self" that what he was doing was against cosmic law - he didn't have the right to treat another person the way he was, and I asked him inside himself if he was happy doing this. He said no. He understood that the ego part of himself, disassociated from his spiritual self, was crossing boundaries and going against his own true spiritual path. I asked him if he would please leave my sister alone after he was released, and he agreed he would.

Upon his release from prison, he moved out of state, and she never heard from him or saw him again. I think this is an illustration of the power in learning how to communicate on spiritual levels. I believe that when we're feeling vulnerable, we have the power to seek agreement with individuals when they're in their spiritual form, which filters down to the physical, Earth-plane level after the meditation. But we can only ask, we cannot force or coerce. That doesn't work. In their more whole spiritual form, they have to recognize things for themselves and agree so that it filters down to the ego level, so the conversation needs to be carefully orchestrated. Also it's very important to say thank you - to acknowledge their realization that they are "off-path," and their innate desire to self-correct.

I believe that we can have this kind of spiritual communication with those who are living or passed on. We can do it for various purposes - to protect, to gain knowledge for historical work we are doing, etc. We can do it to smooth our relationships as we go about our daily lives. Meditation is a powerful tool. It connects us to levels higher than those we experience in our daily lives. Try an intervention with someone you're having difficulties with and just watch the difficulties dissipate.

So. Having had these experiences in life, I thought about how I could apply what I had learned to my vulnerabilities with Jessie's passing and the pain of waking up. One morning, upon first opening my eyes and realizing I was here yet again, I decided to acknowledge my daughter's growth. She was no longer the physical being that I raised and loved, she was more!

And knowing she was more, I realized she could lend me strength without being taken off task with whatever she's doing on the higher levels, because I understand they're somewhat holographic, so they can be in several places at once without losing any energy in any of the places they're "working." I decided to keep it simple. And I called to her, that first day, and said, "I can't do this by myself, will you send your peace into my heart and help me to be strong?" And I saw in my mind's eye our two palms coming together in a high five, clap! "You got it Momma!" And I said "Let's do this day!" So we did. And this type of meditation, where I take an extra five minutes to touch base not only with Jess but with my Lovies who are still here, is how I begin my days.

I high-five with Torey though I'm not sure he knows it : )

I high five with Jess first, then I think of all the Lovies in my life, my sweet husband, my beloved son, my pups, my relatives, and my heart fills with love. And my mind turns to the projects I'm working on and I can go on, with this new relationship nicely in place. And my current relationships nicely acknowledged, in spirit form. What a great way to start a day in the danged new normal we're creating.

I high-five with Rob, remembering so many of our good times.

Good times!

Good times!

Kiss!

Kiss!

My beautiful girl.

We can do hard things.

Here's hoping all your dreams are sweet and that waking up is always a pleasure through learning how to connect spiritually with your Lovies and your own spiritual agenda for this lifetime. This is one way to "be here now" even though we can participate on different levels of "reality." 

Let's do this day!

One of Jessica's beautiful photos of her time in Seattle xo

Namaste,

Jen

Doing Different Things and Doing Things Differently

Love

You know how when you meet someone and you're falling in love, they're the very first thing on your mind when you wake up? And they're in your mind all day? And they're the last thing you think about when you fall asleep? It's like they permeate your waking life. If you're very lucky, and very much in love, this can last for weeks, months, years. It's wonderful.

My experience of my daughter's death has been like that - not so wonderful, but definitely permeating my whole being and existence 24/7. It is changing me - I am redefining myself, doing different things and doing things differently, because the previous reality is shattered.

So as I progress through this journey, I find that there are things about the event that seep into my work - my artistic expression. I am giving voice to them because I am listening to the urges of Spirit within myself.

When we were at Elowah Falls, scattering her ashes, I took a photo just afterwards, and in the mist from the falls I saw a group of Spirit Women and one Standing Spirit, as if the Spirit Women were welcoming Jess's spirit, drawing her into their circle to cleanse and heal her from her earthly journey, which, after the sickness, has made her tired and caused her pain.

Do you see the circle of women and the standing spirit to the left?

So as I teach myself to do different things and do things differently, I bring this to the painting that is inspired by this photograph. I don't usually post too much about paintings while they're in progress, but this one is taking quite some time so I will post as I go. I think this painting is one of my best, and it is birthing a new style that I will bring into subsequent works. It's softer, and I like it. I am studying Stephanie Pui Mun Law's tutorials in order to develop my own style the way I see it in my head. Stephanie is a master of watercolor whom I greatly admire. Might as well try to learn from one of the best.

The landscape of the upper corner of the painting is done.

The upper left corner of the painting depicts the beautiful pines of Oregon, which I adore, and the beautiful waterfalls. After we scattered Jess's ashes by Elowah Falls, the Lovies released lime green and pink balloons with notes and prayers written on them, and as they floated up through the sky a part of my heart went with them. They are appearing in my work now.

Detail of the background falls.

In Oregon there are yellow flowers that grow just about everywhere and I love them, so I added some into my painting.

Jess in spirit form and the Spirit Women welcoming her.

This part of the painting is in the very early stages. I will glaze layers that gently pull out the features of the Spirit Women and the misty waterfoam surrounding them. And I'll glaze layers over the landscape in the foreground, which is composed of beautiful ferns.

Detail of Jess's spirit form

 When I drew Jess's spirit form I gave it wings, because she's turning into her celestial form, and she's my angel, so she must have wings. And because the moon was in the sky in the morning, soft white against robin's egg blue, I chose the Luna Moth as a reference for her wings, so they'll be a beautiful, soft lime green color with accents of deep navy blue.

The whole composition in its early stages.

So here's a photo of the whole composition in its very early stages. I will post more as I progress. I am enjoying working in this softer style and discovering how I can work with the watercolor to preserve its own expression as well as convey what's in my head.

Thanks for visiting!

Namaste,
Jen

Scattering Jess's Ashes, yes again.

Jess's Ashes

So this post is not for those who are primarily interested in my artwork, it's mostly to commemorate my daughter's life, and the milestones I face and experience in navigating her journey into wholeness in her Universal life and the continuation of my journey here in my Earthtime without her. My blog is about many facets of the things I experience, and my apologies to any who may wish to skip these parts.

It's kind of funny, and sort of a challenge, that when we were in the funeral home in Portland, choosing the container for the ashes we would scatter on the beautiful hike, the true tribute to my daugher, I had no idea of the volume of ashes of a human body and I made a sort of mistake in choosing a container that was too small. I didn't know til they turned the ashes over to us that I would have "leftovers."

After we scattered her ashes in the beautiful, proper ceremony with all her Lovies, we had to bring some back on the plane, labeled with a steel tag with a number on it, in a very official looking totally sealed up white box. I thought it would kill me when we went through security and instead of my daughter going through the process (which had made me cry when we brought her home to heal) they took the box out and spent an e t e r n i t y scanning it. Oh LORD. I had also purchased two little containers to transfer her "leftover" ashes into, a private little ceremony I had by myself late one night in my studio after we got home.

So I've known for several months that I would need to scatter these "leftover" ashes here in PA, and have contemplated various places--wanting to put them in places that Jess loved and felt safe in. I didn't know when I would do this. I wasn't looking forward to it. I knew it would bring pain. But it would also bring release, freedom, and a kind of peace.

Yesterday was a day of good work, learning new technologies for bead pattern making, and I felt good, but what I've discovered through this process is that a little time must be spent each night honoring and acknowledging my daughter, which I usually do by writing in my journal. Well that night I went a bit to the dark places--realizing that I am waiting in the night for something that will never happen. She will never call again. I will never see her again. She will not visit. I could not save her. I was bouncing into the acceptance phase of the dang chart they provide so you can monitor your coming to terms with this kind of loss.

I thought about the phone conversations we had had and wondered what I should have said or done. A huge piece of me and my life was missing. It hurt so much. I wanted to run away but there was nowhere to go to outrun this.

And that was when I felt quite certainly that it was time to scatter the rest of her ashes. So I called my sweet sister at about 6:30 in the morning, miraculously, she was awake, and said she would come to be with me. Then I went in the bedroom to my husband, who was also miraculously just waking up, and, standing by the side of the bed, flopped myself across his body, which is a position we often take when we're talking and he's sleepy and I'm not, and I asked him if he would take me to do this and he, in all his wonderful kindness said "Okay."

My sis arrived at about 9 a.m. I haven't seen 9 a.m. in all the months since Jess died because it's hard to sleep--well not so hard to sleep but just awful waking up to reality. (Blog post coming about how I've learned to make waking up a good thing.) So by 9, I had somehow taken a shower, my hubby had fed the pups and let them out, and he'd eaten some toast while I drank coffee. We were ready to go.

Special Territory

We drove to a place here in PA where my hubby and I have spent a lot of time, and my daughter also spent a lot of time. It's out in beautiful Nature, and you can see for miles around. It's very special territory. We've had picnics there, buried beloved pets there, made love under the trees there, and skinny dipped in the sacred waters there. I knew Jess also loved to swim there, so this was one of the places I chose to scatter her ashes.

Mourning Moon

It is a beautiful place, and today the moon was in the sky in the morning--beautiful white against robin's egg blue.

There is water in this beautiful place. And Jess loved it. In this photo I tried to capture the very last of the ripples that Jess's ashes caused when we scattered them, just like the beautiful ripples she made in everyone's lives whom she touched. I loved watching them flow so gently and peacefully across the water.

Jessica's Ripples

We buried the little cardboard container that I had tapped goodnight so many times--it was one of those with a photo of a sunset going all the way around it. We picked a spot under a huge old oak tree, and both Rob and I dug the hole. At first the roots were protesting a bit, and we didn't want to harm them, so I went over and pulled back a flap of the turf, and when I tucked the little sunset container (now empty) into the hole, it sort of popped in under the turf like it was perfectly happy to be there. Something about that felt so right. We said our prayers and started walking back to the car.

Happiness amidst the sadness - Earth's sweet messages

We were nurtured by sweet Earth's profusion of happy flowers along the trail back to our car. My husband went to the edge of the forest and picked a handful of gloriously sweet, sunshine warm blackberries and we had a little feast of them. Somehow that seemed so right as well.

Then we were off to our second destination for the other container of ashes to scatter. This container was made of ceramic pottery, with pictures of little black cats walking among abstract blues and greens. I had chosen it because Jess had had to send her beloved cat Jack across the Rainbow Bridge just after she returned home--he had cancer and it couldn't be cured. So I knew that Jack would be the first to meet her on her new journey, hence the little container.

Along our walk we were accompanied by a beautiful hawk, perhaps the same one who was with us on Mother's Day earlier this year.

This journey today wasn't about "dumping ashes," it was about acknowledging places Jess loved while she was here. So for the second acknowledgment we went to a way up high place--the Campbell Trail at Rothrock State Forest. Rob and I had gone there one New Year's Eve--the first one after all our kids left home, to welcome the new chapter of our lives. All of our kids know this place, they've all been there at one time or another. It's a beautiful view.

The view from the little parking lot next to the Campbell Trail

When I first got out of the car I noticed someone had been celebrating something--there was all kinds of glittery stuff mixed in with the gravel of the parking lot. All those sparkles felt like a good sign. You can't really see it from my photo, but they were sooo sparkling in the sunshine.

Glittery welcome

We started our little hike across the ridge of the mountain to the beautiful clearing where Rob and I had gone on our wedding day with the kids to make a cairn. We built it of six rocks, one for each person in our family, a commemoration of our union.

Beautiful pathways flanked by ferns

We walked and walked, thinking to ourselves, "We are so not 20 or even 43," since the last time we hiked this trail was about 13 years ago. It's just beautiful and I was so happy to be surrounded by fragrant forest, soft breezes, absolutely perfect weather.

The developed side of the valley

We hiked to the clearing on top of the ridge where on one side we could see the valley, with its farms and development, and the beautiful more undeveloped land on the other side.

Ah, sweet freedom in undeveloped land.

I chose this side to scatter the rest of my sweet daughter's ashes. They flew on the wind and landed across puffy ferns and sparkling white rocks. And then my little container was empty.

All done.

We sat and smoked a cigarette, centering ourselves for the hike back. We soaked up the vibes of others who have been here celebrating life and love.

Little firepit where I'm sure good times have taken place.

The beautiful view.

And then we hiked back. I tried to capture a photo of two hawks that circled above us--just one while we were scattering Jess's ashes, and two after we were finished, but my phone camera didn't do a very good job.

Nonetheless, it was perfect.

On the way back I was contemplating what the heck I would do with the little ceramic container and I decided to commemorate this milestone day by collecting some of Nature's bounty to put inside it, partly because Jess and I always used to bring home a rock or some bark or a stick or something when we hiked--both of us did this throughout our lives, and I didn't know she did this until I took care of her home, and discovered her containers of rocks and things. I brought some home and put them with my own, and they're lovely to have around. So on this day, I collected 9 acorns, some twisty bark, a couple of shiny limestone rocks and a few weathered sticks, and that's what I put into the little ceramic container. Somehow cotton puffs for the bathroom just didn't seem right....

These ceremonies today had little to do with Jess herself, and much to do with a milestone event in the moving on of our lives. She's whole and huge and empowered and I feel her peace and joy underlying everything. It resides inside me, and all around me.

It is only my little ego that cries.

So we came home and Rob had a firefly glass of JD whiskey, which we purchased for Josh's visit a few weeks ago, and I had a blue polka dot shot glass of cognac, and we took a nap in our bedroom with the pups, with the curtains blowing and the sunshine sparkling on the leaves outside. And I wiped my tears with one of my grandmothers handkerchiefs.

It was a good, milestone day in moving forward and letting go. Now when I see the little ceramic black cat container, I lift the lid and inside I see the bounties of Nature, and I know that it IS all right.

Love you Jess, always.

Namaste

Heaven and Earth Green Agate Cabochon Statement Necklace

Gorgeous green agate cabochon

My two favorite colors are blue and green, the best colors of Heaven and Earth.

One night while I was playing in my cabochons, I got this vision in mind of an upside-down triangle shape and the polished, glossy, green agate cabochon jumped into my fingers, saying "Pick me! Pick me!"

So I did, and this necklace is what came about. 

Heaven and Earth

The cab is surrounded by peyote stitched iridescent purply-blue seed beads in sizes 11/0 and 15/0. This necklace wanted lots of texture, so the beautiful iridescent purply-blue bugle beads called to me. They surround the cab and spread out into a nice winged pattern. And I went nuts with the fringe : )

Texture with tube beads and drop stitch seed beads

I love the texture of stop-stitch, though it takes a long time, and wanted to pull out the colors in the agate cab as well as the contrasting darker colors, so chose a soft creamy pale green, a translucent forest green, an iridescent green with a bit of gold, and darker blue-purple seed beads in 11/0 to fill in the spaces on both sides and across the top.

This piece looks best at a much shorter length than I'm used to, so I designed a simple necklace that includes Swarovski crystal beads, Czech crystal beads, and seed beads. It's strung on 6 lb FireLine, and I went through each strand twice, so it has 24 lbs of strength, which will hold up nicely for a very long time.

Lobster clasp

And it has a sterling lobster clasp. I had considered doing a really beautiful toggle clasp, but didn't want it to tangle in long hair, so this one worked out nicely. Quality is excellent - it includes silver wire guards so the threading material is protected from rubbing against the jump rings.

The back is finished in soft blue ultrasuede.

Cabochon embroidered part is 2 and 3/4 inches wide by 3 and 1/8 inches long.

Necklace is about 14 inches, so it sits just above the collarbone.

20 hours with lots of Annie Lenox--don't you just love her music and her ethic--and three old-time corny Sandra Dee and Judy Garland classics : )

Heaven and Earth is available in my Dreamkeeper Creations shop in Etsy. 

I put it on as soon as I finished it, to test and see how things lay when you're moving about. I'm becoming really fond of it, so might just have to make another one for me!

Detail

Thanks for visiting!

Namaste,

Jen

Countering Pain with Pleasure - Try this exercise, it's powerful medicine!

Pleasure

So I've been working with myself on dealing with too much pain with the passing of my daughter and sometimes my mind and heart want to go to the dark, dark, dark side, but there is a large part of me that wants not to do that.

I wrote in my journal a page and a half of the pain I am feeling and I wanted to get it to a better place, so tried a new exercise, one that just came to me. 

If we're feeling dark, let's flip it over.

I asked myself: When is the first time I felt pleasure? And there came an outpouring of lots of memories that have nothing to do with my daughter's death and everything to do with my current questions - Who am I now? Who was I before? How can I reach back to that and pull it through?

My pleasures - the wonderful thing is that when I focus on them (feed the good wolf*) there are plenty, plenty, and they make my heart sing. I made a list (try this in troubled times, it feels very good, the best kind of medicine).

Art museums
Comic books
Swimming
Sunrise
Hot coffee
Hiking in the woods
Skinny dipping
Reading aloud to children
Writing
Drawing
Sex
Climbing trees
Digging in the dirt
Splashing in puddles
Jumping on beds
Really good hotels
Dancing
Singing
My hair, long, long, long
The sun and the twilight
Painting
The moon
Tarot cards
Beading
Music
Meditation
Sleeping
A job well done

So I will tell some small stories about my pleasures.

Art museums - when I was a kid, we traveled all over the world, barely setting foot in the U.S. til I was about 11 years old. My mother would take us to the great museums wherever we were, and one of those places was Italy. I saw the Sistine Chapel, beautiful sculptures, paintings, colors, form, line, oh museums became the place of my heart. My home away from home wherever I am.

Comic books - My sister and I had a stack of about 300 comic books - back in the day you could get them for about 25 cents each. My mother indulged us generously. They kept us busy for hours, not only reading, but also squishing silly putty to smoosh onto the images and then pull to stretch them out, causing much giggling.

Swimming - I always loved the feel of water against my skin, and when I was 10 I was able to secure my bronze and silver medals for swimming as a school activity in Britain. I wanted to go for my gold but you had to be older and they wouldn't let me. I would have gotten it. Part of the tests was diving off the verrry high dive which wasn't even a board, but a concrete platform, another part was treading water in your clothing with wellington boots on for five minutes, and of course, lap swimming. When I was 12 I swam a mile just to see if I could and I did.

Sunrise - When I was about 15 I lived in the unfinished attic of our house with nine windows across the back, overlooking the beautiful backyard, and windows at each end. The sun would rise orange and beautiful, and the first time I saw it I vowed to get up every day at sunrise just to enjoy it. 

Hot coffee - Some of those sunrises were very cold, as there was little heat in the attic (but lots of privacy, which a teenager needs) and I would go down to the kitchen and make a pot of coffee in my parents' old-fashioned percolator. I would sit with my back against the radiator and my feet propped up on the kitchen counter while it perked away. Ah sweet anticipation.

Hiking in the woods and skinny dipping - There was a place called FlatRock in New Jersey where I hiked a lot with a close friend. It included huge boulders and waterfall pools where we could swim, with or without clothing. I always hiked barefoot.

Reading aloud to children - Oh there is nothing better. When my kids were small they didn't understand books and pages so there's a lot of scotch tape on some of the books we read while they were very young. Treasure now. Our very favorite was The Sky Jumps Into Your Shoes At Night.

Writing - I've always written - have kept a journal every day for over 40 years. The sad thing is that by the time anyone inherits this they might not know how to read it since they don't teach cursive anymore. Ugh.

Drawing - I started drawing when I was about 10 years old and my favorite subjects were people on planets. Each person had their own planet upon which they danced and they were color coordinated.

Sex - Well I was born for this - nice discovery, eh? I didn't have a good partner to enjoy it with until I was in my 30's. He taught me to play. And I am very blessed to have that lesson under my belt.

Climbing trees - Total pleasure - sap from the pines in my hair and on my skin, sitting under dappled sunshine with a good old trashy paperback, the tree limbs rocking in the wind. Nothing better.

Digging in the dirt - When I was about nine years old, my favorite place to play was in the bushes that ran across the front of our property in Wimbledon, England. I unearthed some red clay roof tiles and thought I'd found the way to China. Lots of good old antique bottles too.

Splashing in puddles - There's almost nothing better than celebrating the rain. It runs swiftly down past the curbs, making whirling eddies you can stomp in. Good wellies needed. Much fun.

Popping tar bubbles - In the hot New Jersey summers the tar on the roads would melt and if we were wearing flip flops sometimes they'd come right off your feet and you'd have to sqwootch them out of there. We loved popping the bubbles with the front of our flippies.

Jumping on beds - So far no one has been able to break me of this habit. When's the last time you did it? It's very silly and fun. 

Really good hotels - Ah, there's nothing better than pure white bleached sheets, a balcony with a view, and room service. And extra pillows. I love a good hotel almost better than anything. Grew up in them, spent half my life in them. The little tiny jelly containers are the best. And the butter! All swirled and salty, mmmm.

Dancing - Music moves the soul as well as the feet and hips and everything else we can jiggle. Dancing is good at all times. 

Singing - Yep, in the shower, in the car, in my studio while I'm working, singing is a wonderful thing. When I was a kid I would sing in the bathtub and I didn't know that the piping led to the other part of the house where we lived in London - and the landlord's family could hear it. They loved it - what I remember most about that bathroom was that there would always be a wooly, hairy big spider in the tub to get rid of first. Didn't deter me in the least.

My hair - long, long, long - When I was young my hair was like my mother's - aubern and full of golden highlights. It would shine in the sun like nobody's business. I am happy that it is turning a nice glowy silver - eat your fats girls, that's what makes your hair shine.

The sun and twilight - Twilight has always been my very favorite part of the day, that golden orange sunshine slanting across the trees and making long shadows. It's the time when the fairies start their dancing, and fireflies come out to join in the magic.

Painting - Ah, the fragrance of oil paints and turpentine. I spent many hours in my attic refuge feeling the smoothness of the brushstrokes painting my soul on canvas. Almost nothing better.

The moon - A beautiful constant in our lives - when we're apart from our loved ones we know they can see it too. The same moon. It dances across my bedroom windows, and I soak it up in sleepy gratification.

Tarot cards - Where would I be without them? My greatest teachers and comforters - my inspiration. Jamie Sams and David Carson. They've raised me.

Beading - My solace. My joy. One of the things I share with the world. My play and my work - I push myself to grow with my creations. 

Music - When I was a kid living in New Jersey we got the New York radio stations, and there's nothing better. Allison Steel taking you through the night into Peter Pan land. Then graduated to albums, 8 tracks, smaller tapes, CDs, and streaming - how many times must we redo our music setup? Gotta have it. Especially really good jazz and beautiful acoustic guitar. I could go on and on. I'll let the music do that.

Meditation - Lots of lovely visions teaching me. Making me strong. Letting me see my essential self, which is very beautiful.

Sleeping - Dreams. Stories. Outlets. Guidance. Reflection. All good.

A job well done - Nothing makes me feel a whole lot better than when I'm soaring after the completion of some project, especially when it has involved the work of others dedicated towards the same goal.

Feed the good wolf*. Count your blessings and be aware of the things that bring you pleasure - seek them often to make your heart sing, even in the worst of times. I take my inspiration from the incredibly dedicated performers of Cirque du Soleil, who give their lives for their art.

A Madonna for Racing 2 Cure

Italian Renaissance Madonna and Child

I fell in love with the Madonna the first time I saw the movie, Under the Tuscan Sun. During a violent thunderstorm, the main character, Frances Mayes, played by Dianne Lane, slaps her hand on the beautiful icon of the Madonna that decorates the old bed in her Italian villa. The way she slaps her hand on the icon promises a connection to safety, a connection to one who has borne the worst and survived. Along with Frances, a little owl rides out the storm, sitting safely in her bedroom while the shutters flap in the wild winds and thunder and lightning rage outside. Frances says to the owl, whose feathers are ruffling in the great wind, "You're gonna be okay. You're safe here. Just don't fly around. You creep me out!" The owl, in many cultures, is a harbinger of death because of its silent wings and nighttime activity. It's a bird that is often ostracized by other birds. But owls have their place and purpose. No doubt about it. I love them. It's a great scene, full of hidden meanings. 

This is what Mary is to me: the calm amidst the storm. The quintessential woman who bears the very worst, yet never does her heart grow cold, and never does she lose the ability to love, not only her son, but also those who would do him harm. She has abiding faith in our larger Source of Creation. She has abiding faith in Life itself. She is an example for us to aspire to in cultivating serenity amidst the challenges of our lives.

So when I was asked by a good friend of mine, Brenda Milliken, if I was interested in donating some Dreamkeeper jewelry for the fundraising for Racing 2 Cure, I was delighted to accept, and my first thought was for the families dealing with cancer - the mothers, the children, the fathers, praying for healing and comfort, living with strength and loving with gentle hands throughout all of the challenges inherent in the illness in the bodies of our loved ones. I decided to donate my very first Madonna to this effort, in hopes that she will bring serenity and guard and guide the love within the hearts of those who understand the journey to healing. Sometimes that healing means "going home," and my hope is that this Madonna can be a source of comfort regardless of whether healing means "here," or "there."

The Madonna Necklace

The original painting of this Madonna and Child was attributed to Fra Filippo Lippi (scroll down within the Lippi link to see the full image, it's beautiful) during the Italian Renaissance period - so so many years ago, and yet the message still has meaning. I love the soft colors of this painting, and the rose with the thorns, a depiction of what it is to risk leaving our true home for adventures on beautiful Earth. She's very special.

Agate earrings with a touch of gold.

I made a pair of earrings in case her new caretaker would like something to wear with the necklace. I love working with gemstones, and agate has lovely energetic properties that enhance the energies of the wearer, such as the ability to bring about emotional, physical, and intellectual balance. "They aid in centering and stabilizing physical energy," according to my favorite crystal expert, Judy Hall, in her book, The Crystal Bible. 

Flat pearls with turquoise and Hill Tribe silver

 And while we're talking about the energy of the feminine, I'll post these beautiful flat pearl earrings, which include Thai Hill Tribe silver accents and little turquoise dangles. Pearls come from the sea, so bring good feminine energies to their wearers.

Black onyx teardrop necklace

I chose to include a beautiful sterling silver wire wrapped black onyx gemstone in this collection for Racing 2 Cure. Onyx brings strength and support during times of enormous mental or physical stress. According to Judy Hall, it helps to center your energy and align it with higher guidance. 

Black onyx teardrop earrings

And again, as a designer, I'm trying to give more thought to what earrings people might like to wear with their necklaces, so I put together these shiny black onyx teardrops - simple, not too "matchy matchy," they'll go with the necklace beautifully. You could also wear anything silver, like hoops, or anything with a little black in it. 

Beautiful blue chalcedony

Let's talk chalcedony. This beautiful transparent blue stone is full of healing energies. It's "a nurturing stone that promotes brotherhood and good will and enhances group stability." It also "absorbs negative energy and then dissipates it to prevent onward transmission." I gave this teardrop a couple of Swarovski crystal friends, in gentle pink and soft, silvery blue.

Pure chalcedony earrings

And I made some sterling wire wrapped blue chalcedony teardrop earrings to go with the necklace in case someone wants a set. They'll bring out the blue in your eyes, along with all the great energetic enhancements.

Cloisonné!

And last, but never least, I included a couple of sets of my most popular selling item in Dreamkeeper Creations, the set of five cloisonné bracelets.

Brenda's son, CJ will be doing his part for Racing 2 Cure, and I'll be his biggest cheerleader, next to his Mom. Go CJ!!  

Sending love and strength to all those who are experiencing health challenges. May this little bit of money help to bring comfort, and support the mission of finding a cure.

Namaste,

Jen

Comforting Thoughts About Jess's New Journeys

Jess and Jen building cairns together.

I came across this article today and found it a nice summary of the information provided by Michael Newton, Ph. D., in his books Journey of Souls and Destiny of Souls, both of which I read and enjoyed years ago.  http://www.spiritscienceandmetaphysics.com/the-journey-of-souls-101-where-our-soul-goes/ (Unfortunately, the article could use some editing, but it's a nice round-up nonetheless.)

I first encountered this information when I lived in Southern California, in a culture which tends to foster open-mindedness and personal experimentation. It wasn't enough for me to just read about these types of experiences, I wanted to find out as much as I could first-hand, so I spent some time practicing meditation and "graduated" to guided past-life regression, then went on to experience several past-life regressions on my own.

I've posted a bit about what I learned, including the discovery of carryover interests and talents, an understanding of past/current relationships and events, and developed clarity about various skills, interests, and habits of my current lifetime. Past-life regression is a very natural process, one which also carries the capability to heal by defusing carryover emotions (fear of fire, water, heights, pain in the body from past-life wounds, etc.).

One of the most helpful things about having done this personal research is the ability to apply its concepts to the recent passing of my beautiful daughter, Jessica, who left this world at the tender age of 26, in January of this year.

Instead of finding myself stuck in the "finality" of death as we are generally taught - in the misery of abandonment and loss, I am able to think of her new journeys with a much more expanded perspective. So, with that in mind, I'd like to share some of the thoughts that bring comfort, even as the human part of myself struggles with her absence - the spiritual part celebrates her ongoing existence, of which I am certain.

Comforting Thoughts About Jess's New Journeys

• If I could choose a place for my daughter to live, it would be exactly where she is now, surrounded by love, access to learning and mentorship without cost, with a complete absence of danger, a place I can visit and a place to which I belong.
• I honor my spiritual commitments - knowing we chose the larger events of our lives together coming in, I can remind myself as I do some of the hardest things a mother ever might have to do that I am honoring our agreement. I am working with her, for her, on what we agreed upon.
• I can release the need for questioning every facet of what happened during her sickness and subsequent surrender.
• I can release the need to place blame on anyone for the circumstances surrounding her passing.
• I am profoundly thankful for and appreciative of the grace with which she navigated through the leaving part of her time here.
• I realize that she's not a child, but a whole, grown-up, eternal, and infinite spirit/soul, and can relate to her in this new capacity, which allows me to release what can be an overwhelming parental sense of needing to protect.
• I can respect her decisions without judgment or the need to usurp them. 
• When I am grieving, I can use my awareness to recognize the human part of myself and its yearnings as well as the spiritual part of myself and its abiding comforts.
• I have a solid understanding that there is no "past, present, or future" except here in this Earthly plane of existence, so I know that this particular relationship with my daughter "is, and always will be." 
• I hold no regrets about common expectations of a young person's "future," and what they "did not have a chance to experience," because I know that she has as many opportunities as she desires to experience whatever she desires; it is already happening in the eternal now, and some of these experiences include me.
• I know that she has less limitation and more abilities in her new form, so I can ask for and feel her love when I need to.
• I know that she is cleansed of the emotional turmoil that accompanied some of her Earthly experiences.
• I can celebrate the love she widely shared while she was here.
• I can profoundly admire the courage with which she approached and navigated the challenges she experienced while she was here.
• I can celebrate our togetherness as well as our independence and interdependence.

Jess - Self-portrait happy dancin'

I still have to work with my Earthly self to create balance in my emotional self. The Earthly part of myself cries and misses her, and I have to work hard to care enough to stay and work on my own journeys. It is challenging here, but there are many joys to focus and work on, and the bottom line is that not only do I need to honor the commitment we made together when she was born, I have to also honor the commitments I made alone and with others when I was born. 

So I carry on, with spiritual joy and human sadness, along with a profound sense of wonder at the magnificence of life in all its forms.