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I knew at some point I would lose my parents and
be confronted with the cycle of life. It’s
quite rational when all are healthy. This life cycle
spins backwards when terminal illness is diagnosed
as was the case with my mom in 1998. I was “preparing”
for her death by spending more time with her and
getting her things in order. Yet when the call came
at 5:25am, on July 12, 2000, I was shocked and spiraled
into an unknown territory—GRIEF.
After five plus years of missed birthdays and dreaded
anniversary dates, I was still experiencing much
grief around the death of my mom who passed away
at the age of 55. I felt like I needed to do some
ritual in order to break free of the grip of grief
and the heaviness in my heart. The thought that
my mom was gone forever seemed unbearable. I thought
of her each and every day. I wasn’t afraid
I would forget her. I was afraid I would not remember.
It’s the moments of remembering where the
greatest longing occurs.
I received all sorts of support in various forms
from therapy to shiatsu to energy healing. I enjoyed
studying the traditions of healers and devoted time
to a Medicine Wheel based on the Andean Traditions.
I decided to study Shamanism, a way of accessing
altered states of consciousness while also being
connected to earthly elements. Deep inside, I firmly
believed that my greatest pain could be transformed
into my greatest gift. I learned many processes
such as how to transform stones into medicine stones,
shed parts of my past that no longer served me,
and to walk with beauty. I knew how to call in the
winds of each direction and cleanse dense energy.
I knew how to create a sand painting and make an
offering at a fire ceremony. I just had no idea
how to transform this unyielding grief.
I wanted to rid myself of this grief and put “it”
in the ground. I thought if I did a despacho, a
burying ritual, I could bury and transform the grief
into new life. I ordered a Mastana (birthing cloth)
from a Shamananic Healer that I knew in Minnesota.
The Shaman told me he would bless the cloth over
a fire and send it to me. It arrived in the summer
where I kept it on my Altar along with other sacred
objects. I left it there for almost two months without
doing anything except perhaps occasionally smelling
the fiery smoke on the cloth.
Finally in September of 2005, I sat with my mesa,
medicine bundle, and this new cloth and meditated
about the kind of burying ritual I would need for
my grief. I asked my inner, deeper, quieted self,
“What should I bury and how should I do this?”
The answer that came to me was clear—I have
been buried for too long and I need to come out
of the earth from the grief and bring it to the
heavens—come up and RECEIVE—become REBORN
within yourself, body and spirit. By coming up and
out from the ground, I could be open to receive
the gift of my highest VIBRATION. In this meditative
trance, I felt and knew that I was to create something
that could be shared with the world. I needed to
create a new medicine bundle, called a White Mesa.
The White Mesa would initially be filled with all
white stones and/or sacred objects, which represent
the color of the highest vibration. In this mesa,
stones, objects, and other things are put in with
the greatest of love and light. The second part
of creating the White Mesa was to discover the color
of my heart and my rebirth. Right away I saw the
color turquoise. It is the color I vibrate with
in physical form. Before placing any objects into
the White Mesa, all that is needed is breath and
prayers. Items will not need to be buried in the
earth beforehand; instead fire, moonlight, and the
sun’s energy clear any unwelcome energetic
attachments of the stones/objects. The White Mesa
is created through a personal story and is completed
with a universal story, a global consciousness,
and a raising of our vibration.
Creating the White Mesa has brought forth great
joy to my heart and it is still in process. The
White Mesa is about sharing one’s greatest
light as I did by holding a drumming meditation
circle on the anniversary of her death, July 12.
The White Mesa is more than my own personal journey
of pain. It is a rite of passage of stepping beyond
the darkest moments and remembering the light.
I never knew such transformation was possible.
I never experienced death into life and darkness
into light. It’s the experience of stillness
right before you blow out a candle. My mom’s
death has carried me and the path of the White Mesa
has released me into who I have always been, a shining
light. In the absence of the physical form of my
mom, I have discovered a new remembering of her
light and new life, always.
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