Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Building Bridges

“HEY, don’t cancel the party! Get those cookie cutters out and start baking!!!”… That was the way the evening started when a father, in Spirit, blurted out his holiday directive for his daughter.

I was working with a small group of successful, amazing women, who patiently waited for their opportunity to talk to dead relatives.

We were all taken back by such a powerful personality, and we wondered "who" was making himself known?
It was Karen who raised her hand to tell us her father had passed and she had planned a Christmas cookie baking party, but because she was grieving over the loss of her dad, she considered canceling.
He loved her so, and even though he was now in Spirit, he still maintained his special personality, love and humor. Yep, he wanted her to share in the family's traditional joy of the holiday, and bake those cookies! He popped in again, "Tell Ginny to sell the house"."Ginny" was not one of the women in the group. Karen said, "my mothers name is Virginia"..
Apparently the family had struggled with the issue of selling the house, it seemed the father was now giving his blessing for his wife, to move on.

A father, his daughter and me were carving out a path; building a bridge. It was a stellar evening of women and Spirit connecting love.

The women asked me. “how did you get to the place where you can hear him-- see and feel him? We think you are a Gateway-- a Bridge".

I learned personal re-construction after finding my own family foundation was faulty and dangerous. I dug deep into my historical muck, fearing annihilation and drowing, yet I continued to surface with sustainable wounds.Through this personal renovation, with the help of Spiritual Engineers, we have been able to construct a way from one side to the other.

Last year, my husband, the cat and I, moved into an apartment in Brooklyn, NY. We had a spectacular vista of lower Manhattan to the Brooklyn Bridge. For days, I marveled at the Bridge’s stature, grace and strength. I had trouble however, looking at South Manhattan.

There seemed to be a deafening echo, a spiritual reverberation, that was much too loud for me. I couldn't even unpack our dishes. It was the anniversary of 911.

Where the World Trade Center previously towered, were now two enormous frozen search lights blasting vertical shafts into the night. The lights reflection off low lying clouds gave the ominous appearance of a nuclear mushroom. Periodically when the clouds would part, the light would stream into the heavens in a defiant four lane freeway, bridging us to unknown realms.

What would I do if I heard Spirits that wanted to talk to me? Maybe I could help. I was compelled to make the pilgrimage to Ground Zero.

As I walked closer to Ground Zero, I could not take my eyes off the mangled debris compressed into the subway grates and cracks of the sidewalks. There was a distinct smell I could not identify. There was a scream inside my head. I was no help to anyone.

Where the towers once stood, there was a massive hole.Valiant attempts from courageous workers, whose lungs will never be right, were trying to make sense of it all in a silent vacuum. How will we all rebuild from this chasm of different beliefs, prejudices, hatred and greed? Each of us forced to rethink our "connections".

We moved to another apartment on the other side of the building where our sunsets gave us a glimmer of the Statue of Liberty. Though she is comparatively small and oxidized green, with her hope, she is still standing strong.

This vista now turned our focus to the reminder of what our country was built on. Not greed and corporate corruption, but freedom, liberty and the pursuit of a Spiritual life without the fear of tyranny and persecution.

Now, I'm back on the west coast doing what I can; helping fathers and daughters, shedding light on darkness, remembering love and building bridges with one divine connection at a time.