The Moon and Those I’ve Loved and Lost

Remember when we were kids how tossing pennies into a fountain, making wishes just before blowing out our birthday candles, and looking deep into the night sky as we wished upon a star felt so real, so magical?

Our imaginations were just as big and full as that night sky.  Our hearts completely open to our faith in knowing that wishes really do come true.  Our inner world was miraculous and full of wonderment.  We didn’t know any different.  So we tossed our pennies and made our wishes with such innocence, zest, and zeal, never questioning the validity of our faith or rational. 

To this day, I still throw pennies in the fountain and I still wish upon a star.  The birthday candle thing I gave up because it’s more like The Three Little Pigs . . . I have to huff and puff and act like I’m blowing a freaking house down because there are so many candles these days!!

I figured out that trading my birthday cake for the moon made it a bit easier for me to stay on the path of self love.  🙂

Like so many people, I have a great affection for the moon.  In her full illumination, she is incredibly bright but doesn’t burn.  The brilliance of her beams are piercing but never cutting.  And the power of her presence is firm but not demanding.  Joining her in the wonderment of the night sky, I have always felt safe.

When my dearest friend in college took his life, who also happened to be a marvelous short distance runner, I found myself sitting in the stadium stands of the track he used to treasure.  It was his safe place.  As I sat there trying to make sense of it all, I found myself in my safe place, looking up once again into the night sky.

The moon was extraordinary that night as she was in her waxing crescent phase.  It’s the phase that always reminds me of the Dream Works Logo of the animated character sitting on a half moon.

There I was, in my happy place and his happy place.  As I gazed at the moon, wondering where the hell he was, he appeared . . . there he was, sitting on the moon.   He spoke to me as clearly as my deceased Aunt Sharon spoke to me in the Oak Tree when I was eight years old.

It was incredible and heartwarming!  Each night I would return to the stadium.  He met me at the moon and we chatted about so many things.

To this day, I leave messages on the moon for my loved ones in Spirit.  Sometimes they meet me there, sometimes they don’t.  But in the times I feel alone or really needing to make a connection with them, I always look to the moon.

She soothes my soul and embraces me with an unyielding compassion for the places in my heart that still feel broken.  And just before we part ways for the evening, she always reassures me that my messages will be delivered.

I share this story because this time of year has a way of amplifying the absence of our loved ones who have gone to Spirit.  For many people, it’s a bitter sweet time.  We realize we have so much to be grateful for and often times we feel guilty for still wanting the physical presence of our loved ones in Spirit.
I get it.  I sometimes feel that way too.

But let’s be clear . . . the things we are grateful for in our physical life are a very separate issues from matters that pertain to our heart.  It’s what the great Buddhist Master Teacher said to his student, “I cry because I am sad.”  Period.  End of story.  No explanation needed or anything to justify it away.  It just simply is what it is.

Allow yourself to feel both – the fullness of gratitude and the ache of missing your loved one.  We are multi-dimensional beings.  We can feel many things all at once.  Some of us can do many things at once, just ask a new mom or dad!
And when you feel like you can’t get the level of connection that you would like, go talk to the moon.  Ask her to hold your messages and should your loved one want to leave messages for you, ask her permission to hold those too.

Often times, I leave my messages and return the next evening to see if I feel any communication being returned to me.  I will honestly say, more times than not, I do.

You just have to let yourself return to the magic of throwing pennies in a fountain, wishing upon a star, and making a wish before blowing out your birthday candles.  It’s in you.  It’s in all of us.  Because it comes from such a divine and innocent place within us . . . our hearts.  That is where love lives.  And love reveals, like a black light, what can’t be seen with our physical eyes, but rather, what can only be seen with the eyes of our soul. 

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