Connections like rain drops

So today I went to a spoken word poetry event . One of my favourite venues chilled and friendly. Beautiful old church.

This is the story I told after I’d finished reading I was approached by a lovely lady who is possibly a relation of Matthew the man in the story.

As she spoke I was reminded of what I already know

Without doubt we are all connected. We are a circle within a circle with no beginning and never ending.

Read on tell me what you think?

Ancestor connection.

I worship the old gods of this land the isle of Albion.

I follow the wheel of the year. Tonight the wheel turns it is Samhain eve in a 13c churchyard.

Its 3am and almost a full moon. There is a avenue of yew trees and it’s without one of the most magical places I know.

It’s my favourite place for ritual. The place I come to give thanks, to show gratitude. To talk with spirit.

To think to read. To just to be.

I wonder from my usual path many of the tombstones are overgrown covered in ivy surrounded by knot weed.

Standing back from all the others is an old stone old coffin shaped base it is covered in ivy.

I’m always drawn to it but no details are visible.

I stand in the moonlight. I ask ‘who are you?’

Touching the base of the cold stone.
I start to pick at the ivy..

it has pushed its way into the grey stone clinging green fingers into the details of intricate carved words.

I chant and hum quietly to myself it becomes quite mediative

As I pull at the vines they come away in narly sharp lengths sometimes tiny pieces that cling with remarkable strength.

We are a circle within a circle with no begining and never ending. I sing to my yet unknown companion
Time slips by slowly and the winter sun begins to rise birds begin to sing.

The carved words become visible.
I read out loud. Matthew Goodridge. Age 43
Mellincreethin a shiver runs through me as I read the next line .

Died 31 Oct 1888 Samhain..

Further down I read the names of Matthews daughters .Sarah Anne 14. Tirzah 9.
I catch a glimpse of someone watching me from the avenue of yew trees a tall man he nods smiles politely lifts his cap as he walks slowly through the avenue of sacred yews.

Matthew I whisper.

The sun shines as Celtic new year is born.

I sit there beside Matthew his two young daughters .

I will remember you Matthew.

My samhain ancestor of this place I love.

We are a circle within a circle. With no beginning and never ending.

All of us connected. The stuff of stars.

That was four years ago Matthew.
Your stone stands straight and tall cleared cleaned and cared for.
I remember you often.
This poem is for you.

Your tombstone stands among the rest;
neglected and alone
The name and date are chiseled out
on centuries old welsh stone
It reaches out to all who care
It is too late to mourn
You did not know that I would exist
You died centuries before I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you. stardust connected
in flesh, in blood, in bone.

Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
entirely not our own.

Dear Matthew goodridge , the place you filled
hundreds of years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left

who would have loved you so.
I wonder of your life you lived of those l loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
and stand here to honour you.

Belief what is it?

Trying to explain my own understanding of the spirit world to someone else. A hard task

My belief that it really does exist here where we are now. Just a different vibration. Like radio channels.

Communication with spirit is like fine tuning a radio to the channel you want.

Spirit do the hard work we open up and invite them

No it’s not faith it’s a definite. I know without doubt. I suppose so much so that I have never really contemplated not ‘knowing’.

Although I didn’t have the best childhood I had the best Grand mother.

I can trace my acceptance and knowing, seeing, spirit to her. If you’ve always known something it’s normal I guess.

Well normal to you anyway

Death was never something to be feared.

Although religion was part of it for my Nan and my Mam both active spiritualists I went because they went, not because I wanted to. Thursday clairvoyance and divine service and healing on a Sunday. Charles Street spiritualist church a tiny church compared to some the organ a gift from sir Thomas beacham covered one wall.

The church stood at the top of a street of terraced houses in St Helens. The house next door ajoined after service it was used for healing and gathering of anyone needing a chat over tea and Buscuits or shelter from the cold northern weather until the bus arrived. Visiting mediums no pomp or robes just the same as you or I, mam or Nan

Yes we sat in circles in church or some folk ran closed circles in houses

People died services would be a life celebration in the small packed out church. I carried my Mam’s coffin in there 1997 a warm.day in May.

My children beside me.

Although I missed her physical presence her car boot sale finds watching the soaps with her I knew she was okay and life went on.

Her empty seat beside her best friend Dot in church wAs the saddest part they were like sisters and I remember wondering why Dot was so upset now that Mam was on the spirit plane?

It was another vibration but here around us I knew she was still about .

I had three young children to keep me busy a single mom with a barbers shop to run.

I moved away my belief was never dependant on a church I still worked with healing, tarot followed the moon and found my own way.

If I ever went back to my hometown or to Southport I’d attend church it seemed to have shrunk but it’s seats remained full.

I lost more relatives and good friends they say as you get older you attend more funerals than weddings. How true that is.

I work as as soulmidwife and funeral Celebrant so that’s a given.

I can honestly say I accept and respect other religions whatever gets us through.

But as I started by saying I’ve never had to explain my unwavering belief.

Until now.

My daughter in law to be. Mother of my grand daughter has recently lost her mother.

My best friend and she is desperate for ‘evidence of spirit.

Now I’ve had conversations about what I believe before.

I’ve done readings.

Received messages during a healing but this is so different.

I’ve known her since she was 13 she wouldn’t mind me saying she was a bit of a wild child. I loved her from the day we met.

No interest in anything spiritual.

Her mother and her were so close .

I know too much to give a reading.

And oddly or not this is the first death I’ve struggled with.

I miss her too beyond words could describe. So now as I remember Mam’s best friend Dots tears as she sat beside Mam’s empty seat in church.

It’s a lesson I’m sure it is.

Everything I’ve always known still stands firmly .

My daughter in law is the age I was when I lost my mother.

Maybe things were different because although Mam and me were very different people we both held the same belief?

She died in tragic circumstances but I remember thinking she would rather be where she now is.

It’s a fragile thing life I think.the only answers I have are to be the best that we can in the time that we have.

She rang me my daughter in law last night to share memories of her mother.

She said ‘ I can’t imagine not seeing her again for so long ‘

So I think.its that concept of ‘time’

Hours, days, years…. A life time..

Spirit don’t have it.. ‘time’ that is.. only we do on this earthly plane..

They are free

They are here they never left.

Just as my grand mother promised.

I needed you Donna to remind me and show your daughter the way.