This past week I have been gone to North Carolina to bring home my uncle D. The weekend we spent at D's friend's home in the mountains was such an incredible healing experience that I want to share it. But I know no one else will know, really, how incredible it was, and thus, here is a continuous dilemma I have had for years. I wrote an undergraduate thesis about it. There I called it "Religious Experience" but that will get me on my semantics soapbox and I don't want to go there right now.
Except to say this: To me, there was this palpable, unspoken, spiritual-ness to the weekend. There we were, in the mountains at this beautiful house that was tucked into the valley and surrounded by christmas trees. Just us, the wind, and the trees. The premise of this meeting was to send my Uncle D on his way down the New River. He passed back in March but we still had not fulfilled his request to be placed in running water. So I traveled with my mom and met with family and friends for a celebration. We shared songs and food, wisdom and wine, and all around had a good time. Then on Saturday afternoon we caravanned down to New River with D's ashes. There, again we all sat together and shared stories, writings, songs, memories. We opened with a reading of the Turtle Totem and closed out the sharing with this song about the New River by the son of my uncle's friend who graciously welcomed us into his home.
The song was written over a year ago but it was so perfect. We then walked over to the river and got in it. The rocks were slippery but we all steadied each other and one-by-one we each let go of a handful into the water and said our goodbyes. Even one of my uncle's friends, who needed to stand by the banks due to wearing prosthetics, was brought the bag by his wife. At the end, my mom and Uncle D's daughter emptied the bag. Just as we were done, 6 beautiful women in bikini's approached the bank. My uncle's friend started to tell them what we were doing and realized D must have set this up, because he would have loved it!
Once we got back to the house there was a clear change in the energy. It was lighter. Everyone wasn't crying after someone would play a song. That closure that was necessary had occurred. I heard someone say on the radio years ago that we forget that the funeral isn't for the dead, it's for the living. I think it is true.
It was so beautiful to see this celebration unfold because we didn't have any formal plans. It just evolved as it needed to and when we look back we can see that it is just as D would have wanted it. Friends and family reunited, hard workers relaxed, artists inspired. Everyone healing. Not just from D's passing but from lots of things. It's kinda like once you open up the healing space, it all can emerge at once.
Even myself. A long and difficult phone conversation with my significant other that weekend turned into the perfect foundation for a wonderful getaway. Following the Memorial Mountain Weekend, we met up in Asheville and visited this place, Mountain Light Sanctuary for a night. A most amazing night. We spent the night next to the bubbling creek and got to listen to the music all the time. The property is right next to a hiking trail so we spent the afternoon exploring. He took my off the path to walk or crawl up the creek, finding the places where the water picks up splashing on rocks and moss. I started to wonder where all this water comes from. He told me that rivers are essentially all the rain that the higher elevation gets. It rolls down through tributaries and such until it comes together.
So now I can see how this works as a metaphor for our beliefs of the unseen. We don't know what is true in terms of Ultimate Reality, but we all think we want to know. I will propose that when we can put down our own particulars, get in the flow of just being who we are, and be present for others, we can create a new river in which to float down together. How many times have I heard, "They all mean the same thing"? Why do we still struggle with this?
I decided to write my own poem about New River and for Uncle D. Here it is:
New River
I will wade in the New River
and let your ashes drift out my hand.
This land knows you and you know me
and I am so glad to set you free.
I will see you at the New River
the next time that the sun sets.
I know I need to know the dark of this town
if I want to see the sun again.
So, follow me to New River,
where the laughs out last the mourning,
where the women and bees, the songs and the trees
sing to us all, Welcome Home.
