A mighty storm rages around Bealtaine Cottage as I write.
The morning is filled with roars and whoops of wind as it smashes in from the Atlantic Ocean, enveloping the land with angry energy.
The gable end of this little cottage faces into the west and the worst of Nature’s wrath.
The trees slow it down, calming and sifting its robust anger.
I sit by the table near the window on the north-side, occasionally glancing out when the tempest noise rises.
Over recent days, the need to be with my mother has taken over, as she gently leaves this world, moving and shifting in little caresses of energy, back, towards the Divine.
Her rite of passage will be completed sometime very soon.
I have watched her quiet dignity hold sway over the comings and goings of support staff, family and friends.
My Mother greets her final journey safe within the home of my brother, her first-born child.
Her bedroom, where she grows smaller, like a womb, comfortable and quiet.
This week has been filled with indescribable emotions, but all relating to love.
During this time, my computer has gone on the blink and I have been unable to write and post as I need to…
I need to write… and having a fully functioning computer, that I can use in the warmth of the little lodge, where I over-winter by the wood-burning stove, will be comfort itself.
This will be the beginning of a portable Bealtaine Cottage too, as I will be able to write and post wherever I go.
I am grateful for that!
Thanks and blessings to you, my generous friends!
My mother in the early days of Bealtaine Cottage, surrounded by animals, her grandson and magic in the gardens.
This is where some of her lovely energy will be found, for me, in the coming days.
I found my father here after he passed and came to understand that energy does not disappear…we simply have to re-focus our eyes and listen with our hearts to recognize it. (Mum and Dad, on a visit to Bealtaine about five years ago. I took them to the top of Kilronan Mountain!)
The Celts believed in the Transmigration of the Soul.
Living at Bealtaine for almost ten years now, I have come to understand that belief.
Death is not the end, but a Rite of Passage.
Blessings and thanks to you all XXX
(My Mother passed away this morning. I spent yesterday with her.)