The Star of Seven

I was at an estate sale yesterday and I found this little wooden bookmark hiding away in a corner that really intrigued me. I picked it up and read on the back something about The Star of Seven Day. Further intrigued, I purchased it and brought it home to research. It turns out it is a scene depicting the story of the Tanabata Festival. And this is where it got cool. This is the annual star festival in Japan that is celebrated on the 7th day of the 7th month each year. It celebrates the meeting of the deities Orihime and Hikoboshi (represented by the stars Vega and Altair respectively). According to legend, the Milky Way separates these lovers, and they are allowed to meet only once a year on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month of the lunisolar calendar.

If you're new to the story of my late-fiance and I - I will fill you in. Mine and Andrew's initials spell STAR. And the week before we began dating, we were out star-gazing on the beach one night and we saw seven shooting stars, making seven wishes a piece. We later learned that we both wished for each other, seven times. It became a beautiful part of our story... And crazy enough our first rela date and thus anniversary was the 7th. Stars and sevens continued to show up in other ways in our time together, and they still do for me. The web address for my photography business is sevenshootingstars.com because I couldn't think of anything better for it to be named since my photography is so deeply influenced by our story. In the entryway of the hospital where my first solo photo show was displayed, there were seven large blue stars hanging. Lots of things like this happen all the time for me now. So now when I see stars, particularly in combination with the number seven, I know someone is trying to get my attention.

There's no doubt in my mind that this bookmark - which I learned was likely brought home from Japan by the husband after WWII for his wife - was meant for me to find. It is our story - two stars, a galaxy apart. Maybe it was just a hello from afar. Or maybe, on the 7th day of the 7th month every year, we too are brought closer together like in this legend. I also can't deny that, since he died, I often get very clear signs that revolve around the direction I should go or decisions I should make in relation to my art. Which makes this finding especially cool...

While at this same estate sale, I was introduced to an interior designer who had seen my solo photo exhibit at the hospital and offered me a really exciting next opportunity for showing my work this fall. We hadn't said two sentences to each other before he was offering to show my work in his space. I was so taken back, and so honored that someone would offer such a thing so immediately to me based on the work of mine that he had already seen. For this bookmark to be right in the same space as where I met this person - I dunno, I like to believe in that sort of thing. And I like to believe I was brought there to find both the bookmark and the person today - and it was just one more sign that I'm going in the right direction.

Luck 'o the Irish

Us at the family birthday lunch for both Ian and my sister,

the week before Ian got sick. I have a clearer photo, but I look like a doofus in it.

Ian loved celebrating his birthday with his friends, so last year, on his birthday, we marked the one year anniversary of him getting sick by going back to the restaurant we had to leave so quickly in 2012.

Earlier this week I got a call from one his mates looking to see if I was planning to repeat the lunch for the second anniversary on St Patrick's Day, March 17 (Ian was very proud of his Irish heritage, and his birthdate).  We did it for the first anniversary, and it was a nice way of marking the day.  Many people were not up to attending as it was too raw for them, and others that couldn't come for Ian's lunch in 2012, came last year.

But this year, I opted not to repeat.  It's a great opportunity for his mates to get together and remember Ian if they choose to, but it just didn't feel right for me.  

So instead of me joining them, a couple of his friends chose to come to church with us over the weekend, and the anniversary of Ian's birth (which I suppose is the technically correct way of putting it) was acknowledged by the community.    The pews are not overly comfortable, and during the sermon one friend had to step out to stretch his back.  And found a stray dog wandering around, at risk of getting run over.  It had no collar, no id. 

They took this as a sign, as this particular group of friends called Ian by is nickname "Doggy".  I've had a couple of instances where Ian has come out of my mouth, not me, but no real signs like this. 

This morning was filled with medical appointments for John and I, and we went for a play in a playground, which John loved.  The day's gotten harder as it's progressed, but it's not been unbearable, just 'there'.  So the other grand plans for today, homework and housework are even less appealing than usual (and the housework never appeals highly!).

I did contemplate calling the church to find out if they found the owner of that dog, but if they haven't, I'd be tempted to take it in.  The other reason I didn't call was I also don't want to find out what sort of mess it made of the Minister's office - the only place staff could think of to put it where it would be safe!

Four years

Four years since you left me.
 Suddenly.
Violently.
Bereft.

Nobody could possibly begin to understand the soul connection we had. 
Anam Cara.
We two were so closely linked.

...and yes, I know we are still connected.

I have learnt to recognise the signs you send me.
I know you are near.
I know you miss nothing.

I am lucky that intuition comes naturally to me.
You always said that I could "feel" whether people were good or bad. 
I can't explain it. 
I just "know" things.
Like what you were about to say, or what you were thinking.
Or how my soul knew yours as soon as it saw you, standing there in the backyard of a friend's house.
Or how I knew that we would marry from that first kiss.

Or how I had a premonition of your death, right before your death.

 I have  realised that you have never left me, that you hear me, that you are actively leading me forward.
... to a new life.
...to the people I needed to meet.
...towards the light.
... Towards hope.

...and my love for you is stronger than ever.
XA

The death march part 4: signs

Angel Danbo by the immensely talented and all-round nice guy Aaron Aldrich

Here I am in the final week of the death march.  March 1 is racing towards me like a freight train. 
To be honest, it can't come soon enough so I can put it behind me and then maybe my subconscious won't feel the need to see 2am come in each day.

But 2am has seen me think about all the signs I have received .... some of them, even before March 1, 2010.  I am not going to list them here, but I will say that there have been so many, many specific instances of contact that I can not ignore them.
...and on talking to others, it seems I am not the only one who knows, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that they are here with us.

As many of you know, before I was a teacher, I was a scientist.
I have a PhD and a string of other qualifications. 
I am trained to be skeptical of anything that can't be backed up with hard data.
 ..... but at the same time, I am trained to entertain novel ideas and I am trained to understand that just because something can't be measured with current technology, it doesn't mean it isn't happening. 
But then again, I have always had a Bayesian weight-of-evidence view of science over and empirical one.

....and for me, for my own personal beliefs, the weight of evidence is overwhelming.  It may not be overwhelming enough to withstand peer review and publication, but then I don't really care how others view the eternal .

So as I sit here, writing the last of the death march posts, I remind myself of my own, hard-won knowledge that he never left me and is part of my life everday.

Signs of Flight

Since Drew was a helicopter pilot, helicopters and anything to do with flying are always the biggest signs I get from him. I even found a tiny toy helicopter in this shack on the island of Barbados last spring while vacationing there with his family. It had washed up on the beach and the guy collected it to sell in his shop. No joke!

And just a few months after he died, in the fall of 2012, I stumbled upon this artist's creative business e-workshop that was called "Flying Lessons". Drew was also a flight instructor, so it was all too obvious that he was telling me something. I signed up immediately. The Facebook group for the course truly carried me through those early months. Because of the theme of the class, all the women in the group would write cheesy encouragements to each other like "keep flying!" or "I'll see you up in the clouds!". It always made me smile, and confirmed he lead me there for a reason.

All things flight definitely seem to follow me around now, but it's been a while since I've had any signs that made me stop in my tracks. Until yesterday…

I was tinkering away on a new sculpture at a local clay studio I just started working with. It was midday and pretty cold, so the place was empty. After about an hour, I took a break to take some process photos of my work, and as I framed the picture, I noticed something written on the worktable just a foot above where I was working. As I read it, I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped to the floor…

I was speechless. For those who aren't aware, Drew died in a helicopter crash. Of all the places for this message to be… on the work table in a clay studio??? In front of the exact woman who's fiancé had died flying? And it wasn't even the spot I usually work at. Because it was so cold out, the owner told me to work in that corner because it was the warmest spot in the studio. So I took his suggestion and moved there. For about 20 minutes after reading it, I just sat there totally stunned. I kept looking around the room - my mind saying a bit humorously, "Are you SURE you're dead?!?". When I first read it, of course my interpretation was something like "flying is pointless unless you die doing it". Well, what a totally demented and Drew-like thing to say, lol. Of course as I sat with it longer, I realized it was really talking about living life. If you don't die really living life, then what's the point of living? Damn. That's SO HIM to say. And SO how he lived his life. 

I realize someone else's hand wrote that message - but somehow, that message found its way to me… in the far corner of an art studio an hour from where I live, out on a 20 acre ranch that I'd have never even known about if it wasn't for Drew's mom having taken classes there and introducing me to the owners.

For me, it is a sign to keep doing the things that make me feel alive. To keep taking big chances and doing things that maybe totally scare me, just to see where they take me. It is definitely the sort of advice he would always give me. And what's also crazy, is that I had that exact talk with my counselor a few weeks ago. I've been in a real slump since my job ended a month ago, and he recommended I focus on things that make me feel alive - not happy - but ALIVE… which is somehow way easier to focus on in the midst of grief than the idea of "happy". There isn't much that makes me feel truly happy since he died, but there are lots of things that make me feel alive. That I can do… in fact,  that was the reason for going to the clay studio to begin with. Man, you can't make this stuff up!

And then of course today I am promptly slapped in the face with an opportunity to leap into the air and try to test this message out: A job opening to teach art lessons to a young boy. I have no experience teaching AT ALL and am completely terrified of stepping this far out of my comfort zone. Despite that, I cannot stop thinking about how much I want to share art - my deepest passion - with other people. So, I guess I'm gonna listen to the writing on the table… here's hoping I fly.