A Love Story by Teresa Taylor
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In Honor of my mom
Susan Frances Robinson Possner
August 20, 1921 -- June 12, 2016[/caption]
Greetings to our friends & community,
And then the day came when my mother’s spirit/soul uncoupled from her body. The body returned to earth, the spirit/soul inviolable, timeless and infinite continues its adventure. It is such an honor and privilege to be present at the comings and goings of human beings, to engage in that liminal state between worlds. I have such admiration and respect for those whose work it is to initiate us in arriving and departing.
The Mother is our common story and our individual arrival portal. I am so deeply appreciative that I have/had such an extraordinarily vital, vivid, free-ranging, black-eyed-Susan’s-by-the-roadside-kind of mom.
There is a profound disorientation as she and I recalibrate. We have a deep habit of being with one and another in a particular embodied form/frequency. The migration from gross to subtle bodies to formless has engendered a deep still quiet within me. I am like a spider sitting quietly in the middle of her web, attuned to the slightest vibration from the far reaches of the web anchored in source.
And then there are the gifts that have arrived, and the ones that I know will continue to unfold. One of the greatest gifts from this last time with her in form, was the rediscovery of what I am thinking of as ‘original language’. Crawling into her hospice bed, I begin massaging her hands and then she begins massaging mine; then arms and then a soundless choreography of movement and mudras. A glorious dance of soft animal body communication begins between us. An intimate wordless transmission takes place and precious, unspeakable knowledge is imprinted. Gratitude. Gratitude. Gratitude.
And in the meantime the crows nest and cherries are in season. Sweet. All is well.
To my mom, to your mom, to all the moms—infinite love and appreciation.
Teresa, spirit of Thule, Tucker, Huxley and all at Paradise Found
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