Ashes to Ashes
Thank you to everyone that acknowledged the passing of my dear Ginger Bear. Her remains arrived yesterday in a small box with her name on it. I’ll share with you several “coincidences” for you to ponder:
When Ginger Bear first became ill months ago, I consulted an animal communicator as to what she felt would be my role. She shared that “a tuxedo cat will see her through ‘the veil.’” I have a tuxedo cat named Chester, who did just that.
She then said, in a lyric, sing-song voice, “I love you, I love you.” The day after Ginger Bear passed, I went to QuickChek for my ceremonial morning coffee. For two straight days the song “Rosanna, I love you” was playing. The intonation had the same vibe that the communicator offered in her reading.
A day later, a random song was running through my mind. I walked into CVS and that song was playing. Later that day, I felt movement on my bed pillow several times… nothing there. Or was there?
I was trained as a Biology major and have one foot firmly in the world of science. Since I’ve lived a fairly long life since then, I’ve learned to remain open to the vast invisible. If it was good enough for Einstein and Hawking to contemplate the mysteries of life, it’s definitely good enough for me.
Years ago, my Ginger Bear was a gift of love from my dear friend Connie in Florida. She was part of a barn litter, a fuzzy golden kitten. She saw me through almost 19 years of twists and turns. Her passing left a big hole in my daily life.
Along the way, her vet Dr. Rebecca Stock and the staff at Montclair Animal Hospital, bridged science and heart work to see her to the finish line surrounded by caring and compassion as well as great science. I am incredibly grateful.
As consciousness unfolds, neither science nor heart work are enough. Both together are sacred.
With love and gratitude,