Spirit Bird

You breathed hope, strength, and acceptance while soaring on the waves of fear and uncertainty, not knowing when that last breath would pass through your lips.

You asked repeatedly, “What will it feel like Angela?” “Will it hurt?” “Will I know it’s happening?” “Will I be scared?” “In the end, will I care?”

I struggled. I felt that I was supposed to have the answers for you. Clearly, you asked me. If I had the answers, then there was no unknown for you to wade through. You would be free to focus on what mattered in each moment, day by day, without the distraction the nagging questions and emotional turmoil brought.

I began to look for those answers for you. I took to a dedicated yoga practice for that 11-month stretch, intuitively knowing that was the course of action needed. I dedicated each practice to supporting you physically, mentally, and emotionally. I breathed with you, for you, and through you daily. Through that dedication, Spirit wove a connection between us, constructing a light bridge that, on August 9, 2013, would transcend space and time.

We spoke daily. Laughing, crying, remembering. We focused on forgiving each other our disputes, ill communication, and hurled demons over the years. We laughed outrageously at our ugly cries over the phone.

I focused on the vibration of your voice. There were days throughout that process Becky, when I would fall to my knees in grief, knowing inevitability a day would come when your voice would be silenced.

I kept focused on keeping you motivated, and supporting you though profound realizations every step of the way. Some days I would cry and demand that the heavens take you immediately to quell the pain. Guilt wracked my soul in those moments of selfish suffering. I prayed for your forgiveness of those unknown transgressions and for clarity. I had to be strong and open for you and the role I would play.

You called in mid-July. That call brought with it the crushing realization that you were ready. You were so strong in embracing your active passing process. You asked me to come, and I flew. We both knew that we had lots of energy work to do together to clear that pathway out of your physical body, through the stars, to be left in the bosom of radiant love’s all-encompassing embrace.

Day and night, I sat with you, holding a safe space while you painted hearts across the sky, becoming familiar with your new boundless freedom. I sang to you, as you would test the security of traveling out of your physical body, to be sure you were really ready to go. I cried in joy with and for you as you became more comfortable with each universal exploration in those passing days.

We came to realize that for you to cross over, I needed to go. I needed to be back in Saskatoon where I could be centered and focused on my task in bridging your soul’s transition without emotional interference. Where you would have the safe familiar environment outside of your home to consciously connect to, leaving behind the confines of grief from those surrounding you.

Our last cranial session before I departed was a brilliant, true gift. You left your body with such ease, allowing me to wash the layers of your being with unconditional love and blue light at your request. You told those present in the room, that you could see the world from above, soaring through the sky on the waves of love with blue light moving through your wings, lifting you home. You kept asking, “Can you see it, Ange?”

I indeed saw the portal of love that you were to pass through when it was time. We found it together. I was overcome with such joy and wonder. What a blessing and honour, to be trusted to deliver you into those loving hands. In that session, we went together so that you would know the way, have no questions, and follow your freedom out of this realm without hesitation.

When the time came for me to depart, you whispered in my ear, “I will call on you August 9. We will both be ready.”

I could not look into your distant fading eyes to say goodbye. I sat behind you holding my heart to your back, hugging you close, Becky. I spoke with the strong clear vibration of your voice from my heart for all in the room to hear. I proclaimed how much I loved you, how I was blessed to have you as an older sister, how I was so proud of you. I acknowledged your dreams, aspirations, and your accomplishments. I thanked you for teaching me the true meaning of compassion and unconditional love as tears of joy streamed down my cheeks landing on your right shoulder. I radiated love out of my entire being through my heart chakra through your frail body, breaking the last bonding energetic threads tying you to this plane of existence. As those threads snapped loose, I sang three times into your right ear, the kundalini yoga mantra ONG NAMO GURU DEV NAMO. Translated this means "I bow before my highest consciousness." I sang and surrounded you with the kundlaini yoga protection mantra of AD GURAY NAMEH, JUGAD GURAY NAMEH,
SAT GURAY NAMEH, SIRI GURU DEVAY NAMEH three times, to guide your way home. I walked out the door shaking with strength, never looking back, just as you had asked. I was heading home to my family to await the dawn of August 9.

The house was quiet the evening of August 8. Text messages flew back and forth letting me know of your condition. That night you traveled. You were here in the house. Singing to Tyl and Felyx, petting their heads and backs. I saw you at the foot of my bed.

Felyx woke at 7 a.m. that Friday, crawled into bed with me, and hugging me tight said with big tears in his little eyes, “Aunt Becky will die today mom.” I simply said, “I know my sugar bunny. Today will be a beautiful glorious day to celebrate, for today will be the day Aunt Becky goes home.”

I went to work, feeling a little numb and in transition myself. At 11 that morning, you appeared at my office signaling it was time. I called Matt to bring my yoga mat. I needed to make the noon class.

I arrived at Moksha Yoga and informed the instructor Kevin that you would pass during our class. I asked him to help me stay grounded throughout the process, so that the emotional and physical sensations of your physical passing process would transit through me, your bridge. That was our agreement, to accept and transmute for you. I did not have the answers to your questions, Becky, when you needed them, but I had the means to process your physical death and ensure that you were not scared or alone in the universe in that moment of transition.

The class was intense, and heavy. The energy running from Spirit, connecting us through space and time, was palpable. Through that powerful class, my body and soul transformed into that bridge stretching from Ridgetown, ON, to Saskatoon, SK. I felt your physical, mental, and emotional essence meld into mine. With each posture, stretch, and release through breath, your muscles, tendons, and organs began to relax and release. I felt the last living threads release their hold from your organs through mine. I went into child pose as my diagram began to spasm and twist with terror and my kidneys flush with fear, feeling your lungs stop lifting and falling within my own rib cage as the final beats of your weak heart played in my ears. I screamed out in fear, and Kevin was right at my back to release the diaghram and kidneys.

The spasms subsided and the howling cries of grief mixed with joy sprang from my throat. You were with me now out of my body, free of your own body, Becky. We swirled, danced, and played together joyously heading towards that portal of love through the ribbons of blue light. Time ceased to exist. We hovered at the entrance of the portal. The grief escaping my throat was my reaction to watching you move through that portal to source beyond without me. The joy erupting from my being was centered in the truth that you were home. I left you there in the light and floated back to my physical existence, present on my yoga mat.

I walked out of that class to the phone ringing. It was your daughter Kayla crying, screaming, “Mom is gone, Aunt Angie. She is gone.”

While you found the strength to let go along the bridge in a Saskatoon yoga class, Becky, your best friend Leigh Anne held your hand in Ridgetown, watching as you took in one long deep three part breath, exhaling in one long last fluid motion. Eternal peace was what you found.

Now my journey continues without your loving voice as guidance. I hear you speak from my heart though, and it is still awfully raw to imagine what my journey looks like without you physically by my side.

I continue to use yoga as a tool to connect with you and that great love beyond. Through each practice, we redefine our relationship to one another, bridged by the stars and ribbons of blue light.

SA TA NA MA, birth, life, death, rebirth. The divine spark in me recognizes the divine love you have become.

The Gift

I always told myself I would know when the time would come. That I would feel his soul depart in that exact second that he chose. I guess I was not too far off, as I knew two seconds to be exact before the phone rang. The confirmation was seeing my sister “Becky” flashing on my call display.

I took a deep breath in and felt the change in vibration seeping through my lungs as I answered the phone.

“Are you sitting down”? Is always the first question one of my relatives will ask me when they are preparing me for “the news”.

In cutting her off, I simply asked “when”? She responded; “yesterday December 19th I think, one of his friends found him.”

No one had to tell me, although they tried to hide it from me. Why I will never know. Control of information I suppose. For them controlling a perceived dramatic crisis is an adrenaline rush, rewarding, and fulfilling somehow.

I knew though, hovering above the scene in real time as explored and detailed by the authorities. A hollow hole blew out through eternity, beer bottles littering the floor, and Elvis Christmas carols heralding the tragedy of every Christmas drama that ever existed in my childhood memories skipping year after year after year.

He found the courage and made the decisive decision to press the reset button during one of the most powerful transitional times of year; the Winter Solstice. This was not just any Solstice. It was the most powerful equinox in over 500 years with a lunar eclipse marking the gateway shift from dark to light.

Whether consciously or not, he chose the right time for him and I honor that.

Although I never walked a mile in his shoes, I know it must have been unbearable. For my path was at times, and was directly altered by his decisions long ago. I bore the sting of the last thing he every said to me when I was 17 as he left my life; “I was the first to ever have you Angela, you remember that!”

My healing journey was a struggle, but I fought through. I cannot imagine the torture he must have had internally bearing the cross he chose to carry. I can only suppose it was hard getting up most days knowing no matter what he could not forgive himself.

The unfortunate thing is I never got to tell him I forgave him personally. I never got to thank him for being my father. The harsh beautiful reality is that having Malcolm John Moore as my father provided me with the experiences that shaped the strong, forgiving, loving, joyous woman that walks this planet today.

Keeping Moore as my last name even after marriage was something I chose to do to mark the identity I transmuted out of unconditional love.

I remember one of the last conversations I had with Matt before he left for his tour to Brunei December 3rd with his return ear marked for January 17th 2011. We laughed about having a Christmas miracle on Adie Place that would bring him home to surprise the boys and I on Christmas Eve. I remember hugging him goodbye and stating “it will take someone dying to bring you home for Christmas Matt, god forbid that should happen.”

Matt arrived home on the 22nd late in the evening. The morning of the 23rd we headed to Ridgetown for a private visitation with my Father in the funeral home. There I connected with him and thanked him for being a force that contributed to bringing me into this world. I thanked him for providing me with the experiences and upbringing that shaped my incredible character. I thanked him for being the villain in my life’s play that ultimately pushed me down the path of powerful healing and resolution. Lastly, I thanked him for the best most glorious Christmas present of all, Matt being home with our family for Christmas morning.

As my Father and Grandfather to two children he never knew, he gave us the most special gift. He gave my children a wonderful Christmas with their father; which in it’s own unique way made up for every Christmas he destroyed for me as a child.

Thank you Dad. The true gift though is in the change in vibration I feel in the entire world and universe now that you have found your solace in source, you are the light eternal that was transmuted through the gateway in that fateful moment. This change in vibration has set me free, no longer tied to your personal suffering. Free to truly be me in the vast expanse of unlimited possibility.

Dad you do rest in peace among the stars finally and I am proud of you.

Blasphemy

I think at some point in our lives we all begin to dabble in the alternative “spiritual” arts realm. How can you not, in this day and age with it being pushed on you through the alternative mass media marketing machine, it is like the eye of Mordor. We the poor sure footed little hobbitses trying to fumble our way along the path fraught with the impending peril that is our lives according to CNN.

I mean, I don’t think everyone and their dog will end up picking up one of those sappy over processed Doreen Virtue Angel books. But I think at some point we all begin to wonder, just what the hell is out there “watching, guiding”.

I saw Doreen Virtue speak in Toronto once years back, and was amazed at the sheer number of people looking to her for some angelic guidance. It was like being submerged in that scene from the movie The Life of Brian, “blessed are the cheese makers, or any such producers of dairy products”. Christ the “meek not the Greek, will inherit the earth”. I remember Steven, Matt, and I thinking “this is a cash cow for this woman” why not keep manifesting that gravy train baby.

So after seeing this display, I was no way inspired to dye my hair angelic blonde and join the angel covenant, but I did want to experiment with this communication aspect. I thought perhaps one of her books would at least be entertaining. So hence the purchase “Healing with the Angels”.

I read it and waited for the signs and communication to begin. Once I was able to drop my sarcastic edge, something did happen that was indeed profound.

Here is the raw version, straight out of my diary that I was keeping at that time which came across my path in our boxes shipped from Saudi.

04/23/01

LOVE! I don’t know what happened but it is all gone! Washed away last night. I began thinking about all of the pain, hurt, tension, stress, confusion that I needed to let go of and my body became very warm. Seething, with sensation starting in my hands and pulsing through my body slowly like a current. My body began to lift off of the bed. I could see my hound Stuart standing below, watching intently, like he was holding space and witness to this absolute miracle. I had no idea that reading those simplistic Doreen Virtue Angel books could set the stage to such a grand meeting as this.

My body was being lifted and rocked slowly and gently by the most glorious Archangel Michael. I began to let go and trust. Trust in those giant wings for support. I began to ask for love and cleansing. Asking my angel to show me the way. With every breath, my body would rise and fall in those enormous wings like a dance. I can still feel the residual pulsing of unconditional love and solid foundation.

When I opened my eyes, I was contorted into an awkward position, one that would have been normally, very uncomfortable and painful. As I lifted my head all I could say was it’s gone! It’s all gone!

My reflection against the wall did not look like me. For the first time in months, I felt happy, loved, and supported. I felt like I was in a daze. The hardships of the past years of my life did not matter anymore. What people thought of me did not matter anymore. I think that I had just learned to love myself, accept who I was. If I was worthy of this great experience, I must be worthy of my own love and support. More guidance please, more guidance please was all I could think.

So why am I sharing this? So you know, you don’t’ just have to read Doreen Virtue books to have a brush with the angels. I thought I would let you know that reaming out the angels with blasphemous statements also works to get their attention! Perhaps I should write a book called “Ass kick the Angels: Angelic Blasphemy By God it Works!”

I was having the shittiest day ever still grappling with the transitions and move back to Niagara. Matt had been gone now almost a week to work in Manila, the start of his 6 week tour. I was firmly entrenched in the perils of single parentdom with the boys who are no easy piece of cake crying and asking for daddy every five minutes.

Then comes the call form Canadian Customs who would not release our household shipment; which sets in motion, reschedule of movers, drive to Pearson which takes 7 hours in total on the hottest day of the summer, and 3 hours of reorganizing a storage locker on the third floor of a tin covered storage building in 46 degree heat.

So while driving back to Niagara, I decided I had had enough.

I entered back into a hysteric why the hell has this all happened to me, “fucking embezzlement, fucking Saudi, I just want to bite someone in the face” break down and began to call the angels on their shit!

It kinda rolled like this, with snot and tears flying, and swerving all over the road:

Where the hell are you Brigit and Michael anyway? Have you not been listening? Where the hell do all of my apparent “Conversations with God” go? What happened to your reassuring voices stating this new phase of my life will be better than I could have ever imagined! Are you aware I am on my own, raising two small children under the age of five, in a place I did not want to return too, while fighting with Canada Customs agents about my choices to move to Saudi Arabia because as a good sensible Canadian I must clearly be out of my fucking mind to move to a place like that. So I should expect to be hairy assed by these uneducated Customs freaks that have never experienced life outside of their little red neck I work for the government-fucking box.

Please remember I did say blasphemous!

I did finish up with “if you are really there, get your angelic heads out of your Asses, and pony up bitches!”

Well, one hour later when I walked in the front door of my home you would not believe what I found, and I sent this email to my beautiful niece Alexis to thank her for providing the card, which was the vehicle for which Brigit and Michael chose to communicate with me after I reamed them out. I don’t think she would mind me sharing…

Alexis,

I wanted you to know how loved and special you are!

I have been having a very difficult day, struggling. As I drove home I had a very long conversation with Spirit, Brigit and Archangel Michael. I asked for a sign that I was being guided and supported through my tears of sorrow, and through these difficult transitions.

When I arrived home, the little "Thinking of you" card, which you left for me, which I had put on our corkboard with a pin was miraculously lying at my front door. (A whole other side of the house btw) I looked down and saw "Thinking of You".

This made my heart sing, because I know that I am being loved and supported from beyond and the miracle of the card being moved just for me to find is my sign!

Know that I love and adore you and think of you always. You are my angel... :) Anytime you would like to come stay with me or go shopping you are most welcome. I would love that. It gets a bit lonely with only the small boys here with me.

Angela

Alexis’s message to me verbatim was this:

“Thinking of You”

I know you have been struggling with a lot lately, and I just wanted to congratulate you on still working hard to be the best mom and wife you can be.

Alexis

My point: Screw the Doreen Virtue books, Ass kicking the angels appears to be just as effective!

Convergence:

The whispers of this word licked my ears and plucked my heartstrings when I was presented with the opportunity to move to Jeddah, KSA.

It was as if reflections of myself danced through time weaving in and out of my consciousness pulling me toward the desert.

As explained by Wiki, convergence is the approach toward a definite value, a definite point, a common view or opinion, or toward a fixed or equilibrium state.

Following my intuition has been my formula in life, my barometer for staying true to myself and in the flow of life, my way of leading by example as a parent.

Convergence of what, I was not sure, but I was open to finding out and integrating the experience.

I melted into the landscape there like I truly belonged. My time there was surreal on all levels, and I vibrated with the hum of the infinite grains of sand in the brilliant sun.

When I break the definition apart and tackle it bit by bit now that I have returned and have had time to reflect on this experience from a clear, grounded position, this is what I have gleaned:

Discovering Definite Value in a being Mother:

I never saw myself having children. I knew I was too selfish in my own desires and aspirations with respect to my career, personal, and spiritual development. In that order exactly when I rewind back through the tapes of my mind ten years.

With my career booming, I began to focus on my personal development through an integrated healing approach spiritually. Wow what a shift! Next thing I know, the belief that I could not concieve children fell away; the floodgates opened, and along came Felyx Steven entering stage right.

This child was such a blessing in disguise although I was not aware of it at the time. He pushed me to the edge of my soul daily and really was such a catalyst for my personal and spiritual development.

The rub was this deep inner conflict on how to define myself now as a full time mother, with no booming television career to shape my worth in the ‘real’ world. I really did feel worthless. The sleep deprivation made it worse, and the post partum depression really put me on the edge for the 2 years following.

The discussion followed, with the thought of while we are in the thick of it we should just hit the wall running and reproduce with the intention of balancing our family life with the foundation number 4. Enter Tyl James stage left.

I spent the first 4 and half years of my career as a mother avoiding being perceived as one, although I was truly a brilliant one according to Matt. I saw the whole mother archetype as weak and non-contributing. My head was so far up my ass, mourning the career I thought I should still have that I failed to see the contribution I was making to society in raising consciously aware children.

It took going to Jeddah KSA, to what the world perceives as the most restrictive country for women to find my peace with being a brilliant woman and mom.

My environment gently forced me to look within, to become introverted and dissect my belief system about being a women, a mother, and our roles in the universe.

I was planted firmly in a compound full of children and mothers that where Queens of their domains, while their husbands worked. All of the mothers I had avoided in my motherly career to date, were there staring me in the face with no escape. If I were to find balance, and belong, I would have to embrace this screaming aspect of myself whole-heartedly.

The transformation was incredible! Going to Jeddah stirred my feminine energy and through the process of developing loving relationship with other mothers, I gave birth to and permission for myself to embody the value in being a strong, balanced, intuitive and emotionally accountable woman, partner to my husband, and mother to my children.

The Definite Point:

The name Jeddah meaning “Ancestor of Women” and is believed to the burial place of Eve. The spiritual draw that I felt to this place on earth had nothing to do with organized religion, but I knew that this was the cradle of civilization. My guidance has never failed me, and although this place did not satisfy our worldly financial ambitions, it transformed the four of us into a functioning family. We collectively learned how to be a balanced family there, not separated by individual ambitions and agendas. The stress level surrounding Matt’s employment made us rediscover our faith and trust on a level that could not be measured or fully comprehended to date.

I will forever be grateful for my brush with Saudi Culture, the Saudi Women who I believe to be the most powerful I have ever met, and to my Expat Moms who loved, and supported me through my blossoming experience.

Jeddah KSA will forever be the point on the map that represents convergence for me on all layers and levels of my feminine being. I can now grow exponentially personally, as the break that had existed between my consuming parallel lives has merged and my personal roots are strong and flexible.

The Compound Common View:

We were so blessed to be surrounded by 63 different nationalities from around the world, residing in Al Basateen Village.

Basateen truly was a garden in the desert that produced blossoming life long friendships and small-scale world peace.

It was so easy to fall into a family focused routine when you had 800 families as a mirror images of your own. We where all rowing the same boat, with the same ambitions, and values, trying to raise children with the best intentions from the confines of the safe buffering walls, with a global village perspective.

The mutual support we all had for one another was profound. Something that transcends anything I have ever experienced in North America.

Everyone there had a similar experience to our own, with the strife of employment in the Kingdom, daily kiddie chaos, and the usual expat family challenges.

I thank the heavens for this Mirage that reinforced our bonding under the hot desert sun.

Equilibrium:

We all arrived back in Niagara with this deflated sense of loss. It was so overwhelming, although drunkin blogging allowed me to let go of my sorrow and loss, clearing the path for me emotionally to move on.

In reflecting back, I see now we are balanced and happy as a family as a result of that experience, confident in our ability to weather any storms that may come our way in the future. The relationships between the four of us grew out of individual acknowledgement, acceptance, faith, and trust in Jeddah. This is now our foundation as a family, and will serve us all well in our journeys to come.

I have found equilibrium within myself personally, which I am grateful for. I no longer feel inadequate in any respect as a women, mother, partner, or individual operating in the vast universe.

Shukran for the convergence that occurred in Jeddah KSA.

Dankeshane

I sit bewildered in St Catharine Ontario, wondering how I was lifted out of Jeddah, that magical place. In’Shallah I suppose.

It is rather painful to think of those I had made a true heart connection with that I had left behind. One of the hardest things was driving away in our motorcade as everyone dried their eyes and buried their heads.

I had one of the most pivotal realizations / revelations to date in my life in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. It came to me while I was sweating out 3 liters of fluid, climbing the mountain, with ass burning on the dance floor in Diana’s Wednesday morning spin class. I knew in that moment, that if I could truly be happy as a pig in shit, at peace, and overflowing with joy in Jeddah Saudi Arabia, then I could be happy, at peace, joyous, and comfortable in my own skin anywhere in the world.

The guidance and divine will that placed me there would support me on my lifelong journey.

This knowingness still however does not however alleviate the heaviness of my heart as I wash through the waves of emotional tides that have been tsunamis over the past couple months.

I hope that everyone has the opportunity in their lives to embrace the raciness of a Russian Lucy causing cans of Red Bull to pop up in pockets.

There was the sweetest most beautiful Brazilian Sylvia, who is the envy of the whole compound with her perfect Brazilian bottom. She has been the inspiration behind my dream of walking on the beach in Rio in a thong. I only hope I get there before my ass hangs to my knees. ☺

There was Lebanese Diana, who I pretended was my personal trainer full of pizzazz and motivation.

MariChu, was my Filipina sister who always called me Darling.

Amani was my kickboxing partner, who stretched it out with me on more than one occasion. She was intriguing to me, and I loved her level headedness and quiet nature.

Bulgarian Bobby and German Sven, our weekend party warriors, we shared many laughs, and hangovers.

I was so honoured to be embraced and an influential part in Samantha, and Krisztina’s spiritual quest. Working with both of them was such a blessing beyond belief.

Abu Talib our driver was the most gracious person I had ever met. He was a real cracker behind the wheel in a pinch as well, which comes in handy in Saudi. Talib you have touched our families heart, and are part of our family now and always.

Sepali you will always be a part of our hearts and home, bless you!

Ayah and Bassam were our Saudi family whom we broke all the rules with.

Mr.Saad what can I really say. You beamed with positivity and love daily. You truly are my brother from many lives gone by. We send you love and light daily in our prayers. Your godly voice echoes through our home to remind us of our love of call to prayer.

To the members of the PFJ: British Richard in particular: splitters!

I could never forget the South Africans, who are never phased by anything. Karen and Johan throw a mean bri while bullets ricochet and grenades breech the compound walls. Their friendship, and support carried us through a few difficult up and down months to which we are truly grateful for. You are both very special to us!

Last but not least the lovely Irish Tracy, the channel of Saint Rita herself. I catch myself believing I see you everywhere here in Niagara. You welcomed us into your home and heart without question, your kindness, understanding, support, and unconditional love where an inspiration to our whole family. I light a candle nightly in honour of our friendship, and Tyl sings you Happy Birthday at the top of his lungs with his blond hair brilliant as the desert sun.

I suppose this is really a thank you note to all of you. It just began to be a bit of a run on ramble while consuming a bottle of Australian Shiraz. Which I am sure you will all appreciate and envy. I can say in confidence I do not miss the ribena homemade wine hang overs one bit.

Just know that somewhere in the world there is a family of Canadians who will forever be changed by your kindness, support, and generosity. We hold you all in such high regard within our hearts.

Bless!

The Tree of Life: Bahrain

The trip to Bahrain on May Day was perfect! I could not have planned it any better, even though I was not consciously aware of the dates and their significance at first.

Where to start? I have kept relatively silent on the most traumatic experience in my life, muttering the odd bit of information under my breath to those in the close circle while under the influence, asking why we left Fiji.

One can never really quite explain an experience such as this, and one only hopes that no parent will ever have to go through it.

Thank goodness I have walked through fire literally and figuratively many times in my life, for I think those moments prepared me for the stillness that would fall from above and beyond May 1st 2009.

It all started back in Fiji November 2008. We arrived in Nadi set to live in paradise for the next 3 years. Matt was flying; I was crowned the Branding and Product Consultant for Air Pacific, Fiji’s International Airline. It was our dream, both of us working and traveling with our children. This was to be my big career launch into the great reaches beyond.

Matt shortly went off to fly a Search and Rescue contract in the Solomon Islands mid April. Both of my children have a tendency to get sick when Matt leaves home. They react physically to their Father leaving, which so many parents report. I have grown used to it.

Felyx is a very gifted child. Not in the sense that so many other parents brag about. This child is a brilliant manifester, lives completely in the now, and could teach the author’s of the Secret a thing of two.

Our nights were like any other, cuddling in bed and telling stories from our imaginations, and visualizing the things we wanted to attract into our lives. After all, that was how we landed in Fiji to begin with.

P.S. If you do not have a visualization board, I suggest you make one!

Anyway Felyx’s story built daily as dad was away, and climaxed May 1st 2009.

It began with, I am gonna get really sick, so sick, that Dad will have to come home to get me, and we will fly across the Sea to Sydney in an air ambulance, and I will get to eat all the ice cream I want and play with all the toys I want without sharing.

As the story would build and evolve daily, I would redirect him drawing his attention to the fact that what we focus on we draw to ourselves, it is the law of attraction. However, the story never really changed to my satisfaction.

He woke the morning of May 1st, with a very high fever, one that would not break with Panadol. I knew it was bacterial and very aggressive, and became a bit nervous thinking about the third world Fiji healthcare system. I immediately put the worse case scenario out of my scope of reality, and found solace in the fact that we lived next to a Gynecologist Dr.Naidu who we trusted implicitly. He was no pediatrician, but was the best Doctor in Fiji and was a close friend.

I loved the fact that occasionally as I would have my morning coffee, I would see heaving pregnant bellies slip into his office, and come out after their labours with a bundle of joy, sometimes two. Birthing with a view of Wailoaloa beach, amazing!

I spoke with Doc and we agreed the best course of action was the strongest antibiotic Cipiro to nip anything in the bud.

After two doses, no change, and a listless child, it all went down hill in a matter of moments.

I went to get Felyx water, and as I stood at the sink chills went through my body. I ran to his bedside without questioning, to find him blue, not breathing, and no heart rate.

There was no panic, only instructions. “Kristine take Tyl and get Doc, tell him we need the oxygen tanks in his office, Felyx is VSA.”

With super human Mom strength, I gathered him up supported down his spine by the length of my left arm. I began breathing, compressions with my right hand, while walking calmly to the office watching from above, never losing time.

To Doc’s examination table we descended, oxygen mask in place, compressions pumping. I felt him slipping; he passed through my body like a breeze, and hung around my head. I was aware of having many levels of conversations with him. Before I knew it Doc grabbed my arm tears steaming down his face, saying “Angela it is been longer than ten minutes.” “He is gone.”

I did not speak, I merely reached down looking at my feces covered skirt, to push his prolapsed anus back into his body and asked in a calm clear voice aloud to that great being beyond, “What must I do.” I heard a resounding echo of many voices saying, “Let go”. I knew in this moment that child was not mine to have, but only came through me to bless this world. I had to let go. I had to find the strength to acknowledge him and love him to a place far beyond my comprehension.

It took all of the trust and if you can believe it, joy to step into that moment in that place and time which I was clinging to deeply whole heartedly in order to let him go.

As I let go, I looked at his grey lifeless face for what seemed like an eternity. I visualized him running on the beach chasing crabs shrieking with laughter and joy. From that special place on Natadola Beach, I found the courage, trust, and joy to release the final traces of his breath that washed through my lungs then, the same force that had passed through me once upon his birth. That exhilarating exasperated cry reverberated out of my whole body shuddering, and then miraculously I felt him fall back passing down through me, my uterus, filling into his own body once more.

In a jolt he sat up proclaiming, “I’m still here”. He did not speak again for five days, except to ask for Dad and to listen to Pink Floyd’s Division Bell album, which was my private ipod escape, that he knew nothing of prior to his departure above. It took five days for Matt to get back to us, with the International Medivac Service in tow, which was scheduled to take him to Auckland NZ. It however was inadvertently diverted to Sydney Australia due to weather conditions.

Those five days in Lautoka Hospital were the longest toughest of my life. They suspected bacterial meningitis, but did not have the blood testing capability to diagnose him, and a spinal tap was out of the question initially with his fevered delirious state upon arrival. Once he settled, I would not allow them to puncture his spinal column to withdrawal fluid. With his ant infested bed, and rusty tub for bathing there was no way I would allow a direct entry for further bacteria to take hold into his little body.

Once Felyx was airlifted to Sydney, he spent a further four weeks in isolation with all the ice cream he could eat, and all the toys he wanted to play with without sharing. That is the one great thing about an infectious disease isolation ward for a little kid!

It was never determined that he had full-blown meningitis. However, after his full recovery, we checked our “this will never happen to our healthy kids attitude” at the Nadi International airport, and boarded the plane home for Canada, leaving paradise and grand career deigns behind.

Exactly a year later, with the post traumatic stress put behind me, we ventured overseas again and on exactly May 1st 2010 found ourselves at the Tree of Life in Bahrain.

Felyx climbed the tree and sat firmly supported in her branches with a huge smile across his face. As I held his hand he asked, “Have you figured it out yet?”

I replied “what?” Although I knew full well to what he was referring to in that moment, as I swayed with the tree in complete gratitude remembering this exact day a year ago.

He asked, “Have you figured out why I left?” “I left so I would know that you truly wanted me, I needed to know.”

I asked, “Do you know now?” He said, “YES!”

I Held him tight and whispered into his hair, “I have always wanted you and loved you. I just needed to figure out HOW to love you.” “Now I know, to let go!”

As we walked back to the car from the tree of life in Bahrain, he said, “I saw the world through the layers of the tree, and she hangs by a thread!”

And the Division Bell rang and echoed out through the High Hopes of my child.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tree_of_Life,_Bahrain

Saudi Stages

People ask me how I have managed to find the grace to wait out this situation that we have found ourselves overcome with here In Jeddah.

It has been a very long four weeks believe me, and we have taken it like champs, literally and figuratively.

Yesterday as I was having a nervous break down bawling fit, head rotating 360 degrees, with snot flying in each direction, minus the pee soup, and I was suddenly hit with a brilliant realization! I began to laugh hysterically through the wailing and tears, as Matt watched horrified, giving me the holy shit she has finally snapped look.

I proclaimed to Matt, that our past four weeks here literally emulated the Five Stages of Giraffe Death, from Robot Chicken. I screamed at the top of my lungs, “UURGGG I wanna bite someone in the face!”

Matt dropped to his knees in hysterics as we rolled on the floor together laughing until our eyes were dry, our bellies hurt, and our newly acquired Saudi street cat named Rita farted.

I somehow forgot the easiest way to dissipate painful situations is through genuine, joyous, laughter.

So copy and past the link and watch the Five stages of Giraffe Death, then note my version, and see if you have yourself a good laugh.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XCoaBN6iOu0

Angela’s Five Saudi Stages:

Dramatic Organ Music

Stage One: Denial

“Uh oh”

“It’s no big deal, but everything my Sister said was true about Saudi contracts, bribery, and non payment.”

“Boy I am gonna have a good laugh with Tammy on the phone over this one while I drink myself blind on Sid grain alcohol homebrew.”

Dramatic Organ Music

Stage Two: Anger

“Well this is just F@@king Perfect, stupid bribery, stupid Saudi Arabia, urrgh I wanna bite someone in the face.”

“MuthaF@@@er, MuthaF@@@er, MuthaF@@@er.”

“Stupid Saudi Arabia.”

Dramatic Organ Music

Stage Three: Bargaining

“Are you there Saint Rita, patroness of hopeless cases?”

“It’s me Angela of Arabia.”

“If you would just give us a mulligan on this whole being bent over and screwed in Saudi Arabia, I promise to adopt a wayward Saudi street cat, name her Rita in your honour, and take her home to live with us in Canada in the lap of luxury.”

Dramatic Organ Music

Stage Four: Depression

Complete and absolute uncontrollable bawling, with lip quivering and stuttering as previously mentioned.

Dramatic Organ Music

Stage Five: Acceptance

“You know something, I’m cool with this.”

“I bet Saint Rita, has something even more amazing and abundant in store for me and our family.”

“Get my ass on a plane out of Saudi Arabia, I await my incredible abayaless traveling wilbury fate.”

THEN THE PHONE RINGS:

Dramatic Organ Music

“Matt, the Prince, The Red Crescent, and Action Aviation have agreed to restart the Saudi Arabia Air Ambulance Program in spite of the investigation. You will be paid your two months withheld wages and expenses, plus a month salary will be paid up front in advance. “Insha’Allah.”

Well that is all well and good, but this is the real world people, and Saudi time does not work for our family through this imposed current financial, and emotional position.

I will believe it when I see it, and the money is in the bank sucka.

Until then Insha’Allah, and we wait for the next job interview to pass bringing with it the excitement of our next adventure brimming on the horizon. Stay tuned to find out where the wind will carry us on our next global trek.

Beginning to feel a bit like Mary Poppin’s, only a bit more jaded, hung over, and emotionally devoid.