Love Like A Shield

“Be safe,” “Safe travels”, “Take care”, were frequent Facebook comments when the post about my upcoming travel to Mexico, Ecuador and Bolivia arrived on the platform last weekend. I recently said the same thing to my daughter Sarah when she set out in a blizzard to go ski in Colorado. I wished her to take care so as not to come to harm. If I could I would envelope her with love like a shield.

I understand others concern behind the words, and am grateful for the sentiments. In part there is precautionary warning because life has many uncertanties. In fact, when I told my brother I was going to Mexico he said he recently cancelled his trip there with his Mexican girlfriend because it is alarmingly unsafe. A Mexican friend of mine, an undocumented worker who I have hired occasionally for years also warned me. When I said, “I am going to Mexico Sergio!” he looked into my eyes for a second and smiled, then looked down at the ground and said, “Don't go.”

Buddha boy at Angkor Wat, Cambodia, Christmas 2015

It reminds me of 2008 as I prepared to journey for a year around the world. I knew I wanted to visit Egypt. As the day approached to fly to the middle east, I had some dark thoughts because Islamic extremists from Egypt flew the planes into the world trade towers. I almost changed my plans but went anyway. Now when people ask what is my favorite place in the world, I often mention Egypt.

External threats are apparent on the news. But what of threats from the inside? Years ago I remember seeing a news article in the local paper about a woman and her sick daughter. A photo showed them together in their living room. The woman had a long syringe in her hand and forlorn look. She had to inject her daughter with medicine to relieve pain. I felt pity that these two lives had become so narrow and miserable. Little did I know that within a few years this scene would play out in my life. A serial killer lurked within my daughter's body. No one knows how long this beast stalked her, but it grew and made itself known, wreaking havoc. Within two years of our discovery of cancer, it killed Naomi. She did not have to set foot out of her house. The danger was within. (A Heart Traced In Sand).

I believe everyone carries malevolent germs and organisms that given an opportunity can cause death. Our body holds them in check. My cousin went to Cost Rica, picked up a germ and died of spinal meningitis within weeks of returning home. Early in life he had leukemia and almost died. Furthermore, our brains and nervous system are highly tuned. People can become unhinged, mentally “ill”. Quality of life is severely diminished from trauma. How many are on prescriptions?

I learned when Naomi fell ill that there is no safety in life. We assume there is, but there is not. So I will go on my work/adventure and realize that anything is possible. Even death. But my body knows that already. And I do not want to live without thrill and discovery. That is worse than death. During her time of ordeal, Naomi always looked to the positive, to beauty and light as powerful allies that would enable her to overcome.

I leave January 11. The US State department lists travel warnings everywhere in the world. (See International Travel). There are many places in Mexico with warnings, but the place I am going is without apparent peril. From there I go to Ecuador for a month. I had planned to go to Bolivia for a world-class carnival but could not get a place to stay. It is so popular that people make bookings a year in advance.
Another time maybe.

Portal Experiences

Within the church of San Pietro, Corniglia, Italy

I am so happy, this life is so beautiful and intriguing, there is no room for being sick . . . this is what I said aloud, as I coughed and convulsed, walking along the narrow main street of Vernazza, Italy. The crowds were out in midday bloom, laundry hung to dry from lines strung by windows above, shops lined every inch of the passage to the city harbor and of course no traffic and no motor vehicles. I walked and thought, this cough has been going on too long. 

The illness began in Venice and was so surprising because I have not been sick in 15 years; not even a cold. I had developed an attitude of impermeability to sickness. A friend I have been corresponding with in the USA, noticed I was not getting better, so wrote that I must see a doctor.

When I arrived in Vernazza, the apartment owners, a darling older couple, Giacomo and Maria Capellini, helped get me settled. Giacomo speaks English and when the discussion turned to a doctor, said that the clinic up the street was always open—including weekends. He walked with me and I was immediately seen by a physician who took tests and heard my descriptions, then pronounced I have bronchitis.
Now I am on antibiotics and should be much better in three days.

I have been having what I am calling “portal” experiences. These are surprising moments of occurrences that usher in such sublimity that some ancient remembrance of a pure state of bliss results. A few examples of the last few days: Being alone in a 500 year old church at night, long past the time when tourists were going to and fro. Walking up the steps into the dark cathedral and passing over the marble floor to sit at a pew next to a beatific sculpture of Jesus, arms outstretched with nail holes in the palms of his hands, looking down serenely. At his bare feet, candles still burning from earlier visitors. The silence so evocative, and on the wall nearby, a painting of the virgin mother, with the dove of heaven arriving to tell her of the heavenly life to grow inside of her.
Another time, just a couple days ago, in Monterosso, outside my room in the street, a man passed under the window, singing in such a marvelous and melodious voice. Then later, he came back, still singing. It awakened my higher sensibilities.
And of course, the church bells that ring, and sometimes their ringing takes on a melody.
So I finally wondered if my cough could possibly be a “portal” experience.
In some simple way, I think it could be. But I am more inclined to dwell on the sublime experiences that lead me to consider writing a book.

One Soul In Two Bodies

“Oh God, break me into nothing so that I might be born again.” I silently spoke these words to the Creator, realizing that the hard places in me were like dead regions that could not be cultivated and needed something very powerful to break them so as to begin anew. Within two years I was in a doctor’s office with my daughter Naomi. When the physician entered the room where we waited and with a grim face announced she had cancer, and a huge tumor in her hip, my world collapsed and I was shaken to the core. All the hard places in me broke.
Naomi died ten years ago. She was an empath. We had always been so close as to be almost one soul in two bodies. Sometimes I have questioned, did she "hear" my prayer to be broken into nothing, and then offer her self as sacrifice to God to accomplish this impossible task? Also, an empath physically feels what others experience, and Naomi acutely felt her mother's mental illness. Or maybe, because I am also an empath, I anticipated future events, because I intuitively knew something was going wrong with my daughter. In fact, just before Naomi was diagnosed with her illness, I was not sleeping well. Vague feelings of calamity were plaguing me as I went to bed, and I felt them very close, but could not understand why.
When Naomi passed away, I had already died a thousand times over and was completely broken apart. The same day she died, as her body lay at rest in her bedroom, I felt her spirit arrive while I was resting in my room, and with an overarching and powerful grace, give me a message to love life unconditionally—and this was my new beginning.
Since then, I have barely ever been sick, and wonder if she took so much pain at the end of her short life that it was for the both of us, and that she swept illness from me for years to come.
For more about Naomi, death and dying, spirituality, go to: http://heartsand.com