Transition # 47

I died as a mineral and became a plant, I died as a plant and rose to animal, I died as an animal and I was Man. Why should I fear? When was I less by dying?
~ Rumi
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Carmela Scognamiglio Patella                                    Maha-samadhi: June 22, 2018 
I am untethered.  Now that she is gone, who will remember me as my purest self as child?  Who will smile with affection and tolerance at the wild adolescent, ‘blond witch’ rebelling against the world trying her wings?  And who will witness the miracle of the adult that emerged, continues to emerge?  Who will know my whole story present from the beginning to end?  There is something of self-preservation in the child/parent bond.  Am I just an idea of myself without the someone who witnessed, was indeed co-author of, my birth? 
 
We come together, those that loved love, for it doesn’t stop; love grows as long as we recognize and tend to it.  We come together to honor her spirit, to assist that spirit back to its source, to the arms of God.  Spirit, from the Greek spiritus, “that which animates”.  However we name that spark of life, light, energy, nature, God, it is eternal and vast in character; full of every creative potentiality.  It is the very source of love that rests in each heart. 

What comfort there is in knowing energy cannot die!  Eternal, it merges with its source.  Oh happy child who knows home!  My original home was her.  Her body so beautiful, strong and expressive became a prison of sorts as its expiration date neared.  We all have an expiration date stamped on our back in invisible ink that is revealed in the light of time.  She taught me, waste no time, love with all you’ve got.  Crazy wild exuberant loud love!  Her time came and the spark of life left its mooring.  Now she is like the eloquent poets and learned scientists tell us: she is everywhere, nowhere and always available if our hearts are open and senses attuned.  I take heart in knowing I will indeed see her in the morning light and when the night is new.  I’ll be looking at the moon Mama, but I’ll be seeing you.  

Thank you for bringing me into this world; for supporting and guiding me with the best you had to offer.  What greater gift can be given then the full wholehearted love and acceptance of what you have created!  My prayer today and everyday: may every word, every breathe, every thing I create reflect the magnitude and grace of your gifts to me, all flowing from the greatest gift, life.  Mother is the child’s first teacher whispering in their private silent language.  I will always hear her voice when I listen to my heart.

She loved to sing and now, the choir of angelic voices I hear is sweeter by far. She seemed a magician to me as a child, able to make any shape I asked out of material to drape me in beautiful clothing.  Now, always the shape of her in my heart, a shape that cannot be filled by any other.  Fortunately the heart is infinite and there is always room as long as we tend to its expansion.

Now the Blonde Witch carries you in the womb of her heart as I ride on the winds of your love.  Rest in peace, Mama your art lives on.
 
Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no such thing as separation. 
~ Rumi