It’s so hard to explain what happens in this grief-shifting work…

Let me try to explain what teaching this weekend’s grief-shifting workshop at Kripalu Center was like. It’s impossible to put into words everything we went through together and where we ended up. But let me try to take you on this journey:

Friday night 30+ strangers with enormous grief sat in a circle in a room. One by one each person shared their story of loss. We heard stories of police officers knocking at the door to tell a mom and dad that their 23-year-old angel daughter had died in a car accident. We heard that same story from the parents of her angel boyfriend who died with her.

We heard too many stories of parents finding their sons dead from an overdose. We listened to the painful grieving of wives whose husbands of 30+ years died in their arms after suffering the ravages of cancer – or sudden massive heart attacks.

We heard from wives and siblings of those who chose to take their own lives because their suffering was too heavy to carry another day.

After sharing stories around the circle our room was wrapped in Love – divine love – as we honored the deep connection of knowing that all humans share the journey of loss and that grief is our greatest spiritual teacher. It wakes us up like no other teacher can.

Everyone acknowledged that their lives have already been transformed by the presence of the extraordinary showing up in ways that the rational world does not embrace. We shared these stories of visits and dreams. We asked for the healing presence of our loved ones during the weekend to help us heal. We went to bed. Exhausted.

I was awakened that night by a twenty something boy with a huge curly Afro and intense blue eyes hovering over me intensely saying: You have to tell mom that the human experience is only a small part of the journey. You have to tell them this!

I saw other faces of twenty something kids floating past but they all seemed okay with allowing this one boy to give the message to me. And he did. He was quite intense. I said ok. I got it. Don¹t scare me. And they let me sleep.

Early the next morning I shared my dream and described the boy. One mom jumped up and down with joy and shared the picture of her son. He was the boy who woke me up. She said he was famous for his wild Afro and would never cut his hair and that he was very intense in a way that sometimes put others off. I said, “Oh yeah. That was him.”

Others shared their dreams and visits from the night.

We meditated to quiet the mind and open the heart. We shared guilt stories and tore them into the trash in honor of acknowledging soul agreements and soul lessons and the awareness that we do not and can not control the soul choices of others.

We acknowledged that the best we can do here is live in alignment with our highest self and become sources of divine love wherever we go. Guilt is an illusion of control created by the ego. It serves no one. It blocks divine love.

We denied guilt the power of knocking us off center and keeping us from living up to our divine potential. We released it. We affirmed the power of Love.

We cried some more. We named our pitiful selves and our brilliant selves and we denied sadness and depression any power to knock us off center and keep us from being sources of divine love as our departed would want us to be. We did the break your heart wide open meditation technique to release the pain.

I explained how all of us are capable of connecting to the other side for healing and guidance when we go into the silence and quiet the mind. We picked up pens and paper. I guided them through a meditation to quiet the mind and open the heart. I told them to picture a happy memory of being with their departed. To see it, feel it, smell it and get inside of the love of that memory.

I guided them to write quickly as they asked their departed these questions: Why did you leave me? What am I supposed to be learning from this? How am I doing with my grief? What should I do with my life now? They wrote and they wrote.

We went around the circle sharing the words we¹d received from our loved ones. Every single person in that room knew in their bones that they had heard from their departed who gave them loving but honest answers.

We laughed and cried by the poignancy and power of what had been written and shared. These departed messages were quite clear that their moms and dads could be doing a lot better to move on and get their lives together.

One mom was told quite adamantly to get out of the house and get over it; to start reconnecting with life. Another was told to quit the job she’d long hated and start a business. And on and on went the messages. All told in the exact wording of their departed.

We went to lunch and filled the dining hall with laughter and tears. After lunch we explored our unique soul missions and soul agreements and ways to create meaning and purpose in our lives and work moving forward. We shared what our departed would want to see us doing with our lives and what the gift of loss had taught us.

We met up in the cafe where I gave little mini readings to everyone to help them understand their soul missions and soul agreements. I was profoundly struck by the four-way agreements between the four parents whose two children had died in the same car accident. We felt the presence of their divine loving souls around us as we talked.

The next morning we met up in the cafe where our shared laughter and joy almost got us kicked out for rowdiness. Then we went to class where we meditated to quiet the mind and wrote and shared our baby steps for moving forward. Everyone promised to go into the silence once a day for healing and alignment with their inner divinity and highest selves.

We denied grief the power to knock us off center and we affirmed that we are all sources of divine love for ourselves and others.

Our shared laughter and love in that room was so powerful that no one wanted to leave when it was over. We looked like a different group of people from the ones who’d began the journey on Friday night.

I’m home now. Still floating in the love and joy of our divine connections. Truth be told it’s hard to be home. I miss them. I miss their voices, their stories, their laughter. I miss the profoundly deep love and joy we shared – something so rich and poignant that being back in the everyday world seems a bit… well … Ordinary.

And maybe I don’t do so well with ordinary. I’d rather dance in the extraordinary- as we did all weekend.

And that’s my truth.  And so it is. Namaste.

 

It’s so hard to explain what happens in this grief-shifting work…

Let me try to explain what teaching this weekend’s grief-shifting workshop at Kripalu Center was like. It’s impossible to put into words everything we went through together and where we ended up. But let me try to take you on this journey:

Friday night 30+ strangers with enormous grief sat in a circle in a room. One by one each person shared their story of loss. We heard stories of police officers knocking at the door to tell a mom and dad that their 23-year-old angel daughter had died in a car accident. We heard that same story from the parents of her angel boyfriend who died with her.

We heard too many stories of parents finding their sons dead from an overdose. We listened to the painful grieving of wives whose husbands of 30+ years died in their arms after suffering the ravages of cancer – or sudden massive heart attacks.

We heard from wives and siblings of those who chose to take their own lives because their suffering was too heavy to carry another day.

After sharing stories around the circle our room was wrapped in Love – divine love – as we honored the deep connection of knowing that all humans share the journey of loss and that grief is our greatest spiritual teacher. It wakes us up like no other teacher can.

Everyone acknowledged that their lives have already been transformed by the presence of the extraordinary showing up in ways that the rational world does not embrace. We shared these stories of visits and dreams. We asked for the healing presence of our loved ones during the weekend to help us heal. We went to bed. Exhausted.

I was awakened that night by a twenty something boy with a huge curly Afro and intense blue eyes hovering over me intensely saying: You have to tell mom that the human experience is only a small part of the journey. You have to tell them this!

I saw other faces of twenty something kids floating past but they all seemed okay with allowing this one boy to give the message to me. And he did. He was quite intense. I said ok. I got it. Don¹t scare me. And they let me sleep.

Early the next morning I shared my dream and described the boy. One mom jumped up and down with joy and shared the picture of her son. He was the boy who woke me up. She said he was famous for his wild Afro and would never cut his hair and that he was very intense in a way that sometimes put others off. I said, “Oh yeah. That was him.”

Others shared their dreams and visits from the night.

We meditated to quiet the mind and open the heart. We shared guilt stories and tore them into the trash in honor of acknowledging soul agreements and soul lessons and the awareness that we do not and can not control the soul choices of others.

We acknowledged that the best we can do here is live in alignment with our highest self and become sources of divine love wherever we go. Guilt is an illusion of control created by the ego. It serves no one. It blocks divine love.

We denied guilt the power of knocking us off center and keeping us from living up to our divine potential. We released it. We affirmed the power of Love.

We cried some more. We named our pitiful selves and our brilliant selves and we denied sadness and depression any power to knock us off center and keep us from being sources of divine love as our departed would want us to be. We did the break your heart wide open meditation technique to release the pain.

I explained how all of us are capable of connecting to the other side for healing and guidance when we go into the silence and quiet the mind. We picked up pens and paper. I guided them through a meditation to quiet the mind and open the heart. I told them to picture a happy memory of being with their departed. To see it, feel it, smell it and get inside of the love of that memory.

I guided them to write quickly as they asked their departed these questions: Why did you leave me? What am I supposed to be learning from this? How am I doing with my grief? What should I do with my life now? They wrote and they wrote.

We went around the circle sharing the words we¹d received from our loved ones. Every single person in that room knew in their bones that they had heard from their departed who gave them loving but honest answers.

We laughed and cried by the poignancy and power of what had been written and shared. These departed messages were quite clear that their moms and dads could be doing a lot better to move on and get their lives together.

One mom was told quite adamantly to get out of the house and get over it; to start reconnecting with life. Another was told to quit the job she’d long hated and start a business. And on and on went the messages. All told in the exact wording of their departed.

We went to lunch and filled the dining hall with laughter and tears. After lunch we explored our unique soul missions and soul agreements and ways to create meaning and purpose in our lives and work moving forward. We shared what our departed would want to see us doing with our lives and what the gift of loss had taught us.

We met up in the cafe where I gave little mini readings to everyone to help them understand their soul missions and soul agreements. I was profoundly struck by the four-way agreements between the four parents whose two children had died in the same car accident. We felt the presence of their divine loving souls around us as we talked.

The next morning we met up in the cafe where our shared laughter and joy almost got us kicked out for rowdiness. Then we went to class where we meditated to quiet the mind and wrote and shared our baby steps for moving forward. Everyone promised to go into the silence once a day for healing and alignment with their inner divinity and highest selves.

We denied grief the power to knock us off center and we affirmed that we are all sources of divine love for ourselves and others.

Our shared laughter and love in that room was so powerful that no one wanted to leave when it was over. We looked like a different group of people from the ones who’d began the journey on Friday night.

I’m home now. Still floating in the love and joy of our divine connections. Truth be told it’s hard to be home. I miss them. I miss their voices, their stories, their laughter. I miss the profoundly deep love and joy we shared – something so rich and poignant that being back in the everyday world seems a bit… well … Ordinary.

And maybe I don’t do so well with ordinary. I’d rather dance in the extraordinary- as we did all weekend.

And that’s my truth.  And so it is. Namaste.

 

2018 is a sacred 11 year for us; here’s how to align with this extraordinary energy…

The year 2018 digits down to an 11/2 year for all of us collectively. Here’s how to make the best of this year’s world energy and move forward gracefully: This is a year for connecting deeply with others. You won’t feel so all alone as new partnerships form in your life and in the world around you.

It’s a slower, sweeter year; one in which we nurture what we’ve already started rather than pushing hard to launch something new.

Success hinges on opening our hearts, trusting our collective heightened intuition, and saying yes to collaboration. It’s important to be receptive.

We will all soften the forceful energy we thrived on last year. And we all might feel highly sensitive; but don’t let this get in the way. Your solution is to become the source of love for others–even when you’re feeling wounded.

2018 is also a highly charged year of personal illumination and intellectual achievement. We’ll be inspired to heal our relationships and accomplish our most inspired work.

Our collective intuition, inspiration, and artistic creativity are magnified and so is our sensitivity. Daily meditation or prayer will strengthen us and reinforce our connection to the divininity within each of us. 

Choose to spend time with highly evolved, conscious people who inspire you to create. Small talk and meaningless social engagements will feel especially draining in 2018 because of our heightened sensitivity.

Dig in to the raw, real you and share it as authentically as you can. This is the message of 2018 and we can all thrive within this inspired, intuitive highly-charged year.

This could be our best year yet for developing spiritual, intuitive, and artistic gifts to change our world for the better.


Join our Divine Reinvention Webinar Saturday Feb 3, 2018from 9 am to 4 pm MST.

2017 was a rough year for many people and as we launch into 2018 let’s clear out old frustrations and disappointments; and affirm and intuit our greatest path of success, health, happiness, wisdom and personal power for 2018. 

I’ll share a number of effective tools including denials, affirmations, meditations, visualizations, intuition, numerology, understanding highest use of personal power, writing our new stories and outlining steps for moving forward. 

Let’s shift ourselves and each other into highest good and divine illumination in 2018. We all deserve a reset. Let’s do this! Join us Saturday Feb 3, 2018 from 9 am to 4 pm MST.This is a webinar so you can join us from anywhere in the world!

2018 is a sacred 11 year for us; here’s how to align with this extraordinary energy…

The year 2018 digits down to an 11/2 year for all of us collectively. Here’s how to make the best of this year’s world energy and move forward gracefully: This is a year for connecting deeply with others. You won’t feel so all alone as new partnerships form in your life and in the world around you.

It’s a slower, sweeter year; one in which we nurture what we’ve already started rather than pushing hard to launch something new.

Success hinges on opening our hearts, trusting our collective heightened intuition, and saying yes to collaboration. It’s important to be receptive.

We will all soften the forceful energy we thrived on last year. And we all might feel highly sensitive; but don’t let this get in the way. Your solution is to become the source of love for others–even when you’re feeling wounded.

2018 is also a highly charged year of personal illumination and intellectual achievement. We’ll be inspired to heal our relationships and accomplish our most inspired work.

Our collective intuition, inspiration, and artistic creativity are magnified and so is our sensitivity. Daily meditation or prayer will strengthen us and reinforce our connection to the divininity within each of us. 

Choose to spend time with highly evolved, conscious people who inspire you to create. Small talk and meaningless social engagements will feel especially draining in 2018 because of our heightened sensitivity.

Dig in to the raw, real you and share it as authentically as you can. This is the message of 2018 and we can all thrive within this inspired, intuitive highly-charged year.

This could be our best year yet for developing spiritual, intuitive, and artistic gifts to change our world for the better.


Join our Divine Reinvention Webinar Saturday Feb 3, 2018from 9 am to 4 pm MST.

2017 was a rough year for many people and as we launch into 2018 let’s clear out old frustrations and disappointments; and affirm and intuit our greatest path of success, health, happiness, wisdom and personal power for 2018. 

I’ll share a number of effective tools including denials, affirmations, meditations, visualizations, intuition, numerology, understanding highest use of personal power, writing our new stories and outlining steps for moving forward. 

Let’s shift ourselves and each other into highest good and divine illumination in 2018. We all deserve a reset. Let’s do this! Join us Saturday Feb 3, 2018 from 9 am to 4 pm MST.This is a webinar so you can join us from anywhere in the world!

My Shared Death Experience

Loved speaking at the IANDS conference this weekend. I shared an except from Water Oak: The Happiness of Longing that describes what’s being called a “shared death experience” – something that many people experience when a loved one dies. Here’s the excerpt:
Paul appears to me now in a dream, wakes me from a deep slumber on the floor beside the hospital bed. He’s vibrantly healthy, happy and smiling, pulling me to stand up. “Wake up” he says. “Wake up and hold me like you said you would.”
 
 I open my eyes and realize another day has cycled in through the hospital window, illuminating us with rainy light, dappled and glowing. His labored breathing hasn’t changed. 
 
“Paul was just with me. He’s ready to go,” I say to his mother, moving to stand by the bed. She nods. We ask everyone to leave and we stand beside him, looking out the window at the soft summer rain, the green gentle foothills sloping upwards. We rub his arms and legs. “Go play outside my baby, I’ll always love you. I’ll be okay. You’re free to go,” I whisper in his ear. 
 
At those words, his tortured breathing stops; he takes one peaceful sigh and the light leaves his body. I watch it rise and travel up through the window and out to the green hills. We move to the window watching; the rain seems to lift briefly, then sprinkle again, sunlight peppering in through the clouds, shining in on us – a golden surprise.
 
This is a moment beyond words. My logical mind can’t understand it. But my heart and soul know. I’ve just witnessed a miracle; an everyday miracle, a soul lifting peacefully from a body, slipping into the invisible. It’s not a death. What a very wrong thing to call it. He shifted gracefully into something, purposefully, lovingly towards – not away from. He freed himself, leaving like a gentle kiss, slipping blissfully towards what I once called heaven.
 
I feel giddy, without borders, lifted. I know in an instant that there is a rule, a law, a purpose to everything, to my life, to Paul’s pain; that I’ve always been guided, held to the task I came here to accomplish. This sense of knowing follows me for days and weeks. 
 
I see the divine order within each moment; signs that all is well in every conversation with a friend, in the magical apartment that Paul reveals to me in a dream and I rent the next day. I feel light and free, untethered and joyful, without appetite for food or sleep. 
 
Living in the invisible realms now, my true home, I’m aware of the briefness of earthly lifetimes. I feel held by the angels who cherish me; they whisper in my ear at night when Paul visits, wrapping his fuzzy legs around mine in bed; holding me close until an angel calls him away. This physical world is truly not real and it’s such a relief to know it. Fully. Vividly. Through my senses know it. Costumes peel away. I see spirit everywhere. Paul has taken me with him.
 
Until my body pulls me back down to this weighty realm – the one I agreed to live in. But I don’t want to feel this heaviness, don’t want to be fully back in the body. I want my awareness to perch above it, heart soaring in the invisible. Everything I want is there not here and yet my body comes tumbling down, crashing into the earth with such force that I dry heave all night. It’s been four weeks, maybe five, since Paul died.
 
The lack of food and sleep, the exhaustion from months of changing canisters of bile, adjusting tubes, filling syringes, measuring fluids, giving shots, counting pills, sleeping on the floor beside his bed, praying, cheering, living fearlessly in dark terror of what awaited.
 
Those vivid pictures of Paul’s disintegration pour back into my soul now poisoning my once sweet dreams of him. I feel sick, sicker than I’ve ever felt. Friends grow concerned over my weight loss, take me to dinner. The smell of food sends me running outside of every café, every restaurant, every kitchen. Dry heaving in the grass. Embarrassed. Just want to go home. Finally I eat grapes and they stay.
 
I need to write, to tell this story, the story of Paul. I spend hours at the typewriter filling in the details of pain. I write 90,000 words of torture. No one can read it. Too much suffering but how well I’ve documented it. Perhaps journalism school, they suggest. But it’s what happened to Paul, I tell them. Doesn’t matter. Un-publishable.
 
But I must tell it. Start journalism school. Get a job at the paper. Profoundly wise editor pushes me to write an article about the Boulder Hospice. I finally do. It breaks me wide open.
-By Sue Frederick