Nameless, Faceless, Empty

This past year has been filled with many interesting journeys, but none so profound and deep as the journey of participation in my mother's transition back to Source. Yes, I was by her side when her spirit was released from the body, but I have been traveling on this journey with her for much longer than that. The past few weeks since mom's passing on November 22, 2008, remind me of the following passage from Oriah Mountain Dreamer's, The Invitation:

"It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children."

That sums up what I had to be and do the weeks up to and following mom's death. Coming back home from New Mexico, where she had lived the past 18 years, I was fortunate to be able to attend a "Wild Woman Doll Making" class I had arranged and thought I was going to miss due to being in New Mexico with mom. Attending to her end of life affairs went quickly and smoothly and we were able to come home earlier than anticipated. It ended up being the perfect re-entry for me as the class was the day after we got home. Instead of diving into unpacking I dove into creative expression and healing.

For me, my doll is nameless and faceless and represents simply "being" without an identity, a blank canvas in the Void for the next journey of my life. She gazes into and embraces an empty vessel, ready and waiting to receive, and then offer, her gifts.

The element of no identity was heavily influenced by my mom who had been working for many years now on releasing identities, or "labels" (for me, those labels were an "artist," a "mother," a "bookkeeper," etc.), a theme that I have made other art pieces around. I've painted the face, hands and feet black to represent the Void, and the bowl is one of my moms that happened to find its way home with me, and fits perfectly. This doll will certainly bring more messages over time and will certainly speak to me in other ways as I/she evolves. I look forward to her messages of wisdom that are given to me from the chalice of repose.

Although I had been traveling a journey of participation in mom's final days on earth, I did not travel the same path as her, as clearly shown to me in the following dream from September 17, 2008, just over two months prior to her transition:

Different Path

Mom and I are walking in a forest somewhere, I believe Alaska, and we are heading to the same place. I take a different path than her, going through the middle of the forest, where she is on the outer edge, but then realize that I need to stay closer and call out loudly several times to find where she is. I finally hear her call back and change my direction to meet back up with her. Just when I am about to connect with her path, a large and deep gully stops my progress. I remember being here before with someone else and know that there is a tree limb I can use as a bridge to get across, but I have to find it. I don’t find the same one, but do see a large oak tree limb going across. However, its bark is peeling off and is potentially rotten and I don’t feel confident in its stability and being able to safely cross on it. I test the limb by pushing down on it a few times, and even though it MIGHT be okay, I decide to keep looking for the safe tree limb that I remember.

Yes, mom and I are heading to the same place - back to Source. Yet we are each on a different path. Mom was clearly on the edge, I am clearly in the middle, and not to follow her too closely. It is not my time. I know this and don't push the issue, recognizing that my well-being is important.

I am honoring the wisdom of this dream by resting and nurturing my self as I surface from the depths of this incredible journey.