Dancing with Death

Thank  you for your condolences. You are a spiral of beings, a DNA-Dancing Network of Artfulness. If I visualize my relationships as a vertical spiral, looking from above, we appear close together rather than scattered far and wide. This comforts my heart.

We are not alone. Isn’t it curious that Together is “To Get Her.”  One friend said to me, “Now we are each other’s mothers.”

How do you relate to a mother who has departed? Please comment. Thank you as well for your provocative comments about ways to grieve.

Mom died two weeks ago.  I am watery. I’ve had two small home memorials and continue to find ways to make grief holy. Ritual grounds me.

Today I bought a skull on a staff. It was an impulse buy. I was on my way to get a black armband embroidered with Lurley Katherine Wentworth at Eclipse Alterations (perfect name). I walked by a shop and a woman was holding it. I couldn’t resist.

I fantasized about taking the skull staff to Minnesota this weekend for High Play: InterPlay and Ritual to lean on. Will I be able to lead, guide and dance in a state of grieving? I’ll report next week. Fortunately, I will be surrounded by friends in the spiral dance.

Meanwhile, I need to postpone the launch of Mystic Tech community sharing until March. I lost my hard drive. Can you believe it?  Death slows things down. I’m on divine time and mystery has me by the heart.

Are you interested in a community of mystics engaged in deep imagination body wisdom and creativity? Click here to see more.

See the side bar to the right. Scroll through the Mystic Tech members to see the levels of participation. March 1st will be the new subscription date. You can pay by paypal or send me a check.

If you have already indicated interest I’ll email you. If you don’t hear from me let me know and share any feedback about interests or desires as I move forward. Your wisdom is invaluable.

In the dance of life, death, and great love,

8 comments

  1. Johannas Jordan says:

    Dearest Cynthia,
    When my father died, I went out to the pig feedlot and climbed up on a cattle shoot that was old but still useful. It was a cold SD March day and i was all alone with God, the sky, the cold, and the pigs. I hung over the edge, I sang, I danced, I made up verse. All ways that I exformed my grief. I drizzled tears on the old boards. I was close to him because I was with the land he loved and owned. With the livestock. With old established tools of his trade.
    Now I visit his grave and chat. And I remember—the fun, the tears, the aloneness, the fear, and the love. And so much more. That was almost 13 years ago. When I look at my teeth I see my Dad, when I look at my legs, I see my Dad. When I hear my voice I hear my Dad. He is with me in my very cells and fiber.

  2. Johannas Jordan says:

    I just realized I told you about how I dealt with and am dealing with my Father’s death not my Mother’s. Still after 3+ years I am numb around Mother’s death. Maybe- – – someday, but not today, not this minute.

  3. Lila Morisee says:

    After my mother died we were closer than we’d ever been when she was residing in this dimension. I talked to her frequently and she was always right there talking back in the sweetest most reassuring way and then after a year or 2, when I was ready, she was gone. And somehow there was sweetness in that as well.

  4. Dyck says:

    Oh yea, all along and even after 11 years she comes… in unexpected moments in all places, with certainty with swiftness of light, wisdom, and laughter splitting sides.

    How can it be I keep getting deeper and richer lessons from her gentle smile, as I approach the end of the my own body’s useful time? Because the occupant of her body, her spirit, continues to affect me. And passed-on lessons others undoubtedly will experience long after I drop my body too. Could it be that this love is the only reality?

    —————
    Written by Dyck at age 67, August 27, 2010 at 8:25 pm
    Oh Ma
    Dey tryin change me
    ‘be more like dem
    dey wan me have wid dem value
    follow dey rules
    say no do waves
    Jus like Ma say

    Dey don’t know
    I jus inside out
    from dem
    wid da same pieces n parts
    but no steerin wheel
    no top n bottom
    ‘less sometime I say

    Feel me charge-up
    on nuttin
    run fast wid no gas
    to find dat ting
    dat God ting
    all ‘lone yet I be
    in da same soul dem

  5. Edmond says:

    Hi Cynthia,

    A mutual friend of ours (Dorothy Finnigan) suggested I attend your Interplay weekend experience. I’m definitely interested and am going to try to make it. While exploring interplay, I found your site here and saw that you are recently grieving a passing. I’m sorry.

    I lost my dad last May and have discovered the grief process first-hand. It sucks. It’s also beautiful, but mostly it sucks. I wrote about grieving my dad a lot on my blog and thought I’d share with you about our “new” relationship now that he’s gone.

    Peace and comfort to you, Cynthia.

    http://www.edmondmanning.com/2011/09/27/i-dunno-pops-what-do-you-think/

    • cynthia winton-henry says:

      Thank you each and those of you who may comment here in the future. Your wisdom and truth shines through. I am inspired that you each find a way through this passage and to finding connection in new, powerful, and sometimes challenging ways.

  6. Harriet says:

    It’s Friday evening, and I’m imagining CathyAnn has already given you several big hugs. Fred and I watched a documentary tonight on Tibetan Buddhism, and of note, one of the many practices monks and nuns are taught is a certain kind of hand dance accompanied by chant that deepens their devotion and concentration. Beautiful, intimate, flow of images to witness.

    BE your teaching this weekend, however, that is.

    Love and hugs,
    H.

  7. Susan Mix says:

    Mom died when she and I were both too young. It was years before I truly grieved her ~ coming finally when I realized as I participated with my own daughter in her wedding and birthing that I never was able to share those things with my mom. I still relate to her though because I know her to have been wonderful. A delightful person with an imagination that allowed mine freedom to discover a world in my own back yard. It was also helpful that my terrific step-mom allowed me to talk, ask questions and know my mom through another of her generation. Today both those amazing women are part of who I am as a grandmother, step mom, lover, and special human being.

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