When you’re witnessing the end of a life, your trust of Source can be called into question. All those beliefs and ideas about what happens after we die are determining factors of our actions and behaviors in the present. As I sit here supporting my mother in her transition to her Light Body, I realize that I truly trust Source. I know that angels, ascended masters, devas and elementals exist. I believe in fairies, goddesses, and Santa Claus. But right now, I want to look at this trust more closely because I see where I have taken trust and shaped it into something profane.
One night, I was frightened. Sitting in Mom’s room, watching over her like a shepherd watches his flock, I wanted to make sure that she was safe and faring well. I went through a wild phase of creating unrealistic expectations for myself– wanting to work shamanic magic and alchemy to shape and mold this event into something monumental and worthy of my mom’s life. I believe in the Pleaideans and by golly they were going to come forth on behalf of my mother tonight!
But of course, who could succeed with that kind of pressure? Who could find joy in the moment when there is the expectation of measurable magical events? And what divine entity would come forth because my ego has commanded something that has nothing to do with Truth, Spirituality or above all, my mom? In an effort to keep myself busy so I could avoid the silence, I created unnecessary ritual as a distraction to keep me from being in stillness in the present moment.
As the sun came up the following day, Mom was still breathing, twitching and dying. There were no choirs of angels, no rainbows and no ancestors showing themselves to validate me in the way my ego desired. Yet, even in the absence of signs, the world hadn’t collapsed. In between my gestures of magic I experienced moments of tranquility and stillness. It was in those moments that I felt triumphant and I realized that on my own merit, I could see Mom through. I can hold space in this plane for her without hoopla. I can be silent and still and Mom will know that I am hers.
As her body winds down to unbind her high vibrational Spirit, I am entranced by the process of her transition. I found an interesting web page that gave a timeline of the dying process in brain hospice. It is comforting to see that Mom’s body is doing exactly as it is supposed to. The appetite changes, the fever, the involuntary movement– these are all a part of the collective consciousness that is cancer. I am witnessing God having a human experience. I am witnessing Goddess transitioning from “Donna” back to Source of All.
And now, I hold my position of stillness and silence and realize that when I take away all the drama of ego’s ritual, I am a torch bearer. I never knew what a torch bearer really did until now. Torch bearers hold the Light of Truth so that someone else can move forward with the program in their own way. The torch bearer’s job is to simply and quietly hold the torch– not multitask by trying to fix a problem, drum up support, or by creating a production. By holding the light, the torch bearer breaks through the limitations of the collective consciousness and keeps Light as the stage on which life’s drama is played out. While we live in the matrix, the Torch Bearer always remembers the Truth: we are divine beings at one with Source. In my mom’s transition, I have but to hold the Light of the Shaman and the Light of Alchemy by being still and remembering who we are.
So with appreciation and humility, I carry the torch for mom as she eases gracefully out of this dimension and into the Light.