I have a farm in Brazil.
At night as I move between this world and the next, I visit. I walk barefoot in the darkness, feeling my way across the warm, wide floorboards. My ears strain to hear the crickets in the night air, singing in time to the sway of the dancing eucalyptus trees.
I turn down the dark hallway into the living room and everything is illuminated. The blue light of the full moon glides through the glass, and my entire body glows.
I stand there, shimmering, until the light becomes unbearably bright. I cannot bear it anymore. I turn to retreat back to the quiet bedroom, and I realize that I have lost my wedding ring.
I wake up, feeling my ring finger with my thumb. I rub the place over and over, knowing that an essential part of me has been lost.
When I left Brazil at the end of November, I kissed Helena goodbye and said, “I’ll see you in 5 weeks.” I brought 2 suitcases and my little Zuca. I would be back soon.
Since that time, Helena and I have learned that there are some things that time and distance can’t heal. During the past year something was broken. Try as we might, despite so much love, we can’t seem to put it back together again. It was only yesterday that I finally accepted this truth.
Now the grief begins in earnest.
I am living in a small town in southwestern Arizona, close to the Mexican border. My parents spend their winters here, and it has been good to be reconnected with them after 20 years apart. I live in a small, neat home a few blocks away from them where I am able to do my work.
Until my parents left to go back to NY at the beginning of May, they fed me almost every night. I will always be grateful to them for this. I am grateful we picked each other.
Many of you have written to ask how I am. I hope that you can forgive my silence, but I have needed for my life to be less public for a time. I want you to know that I have read every single one of your letters. I treasure each and every one of you.
My homeland has embraced me. I am writing and teaching, and this gives me a sense of joy and purpose. Clairbook was literally “dropped in” one day during Current at the Casa in September: business concept, logo, name, and vision. I know now that it was a gift for my future.
Clients often call me when they are in crisis, and I’m grateful that it’s Leigh-Clair who provides them with the answers. My Lower Mind is still working to understand the patterns of my own life. All psychics will tell you that they are absolutely “third eye blind” when it comes to their own lives.
For now, it is much deeper, soul-searching work that is required of me, in all of my messy humanness.
At night I sit on my back porch, staring up at the endless desert sky. I gaze in wonder at the stars, knowing that through the vastness of space, they are linked to the constellations of the southern hemisphere. The air here is dry, but it shares the same fragrant air of the deep red Brazilian earth. I breathe deeply, listening to the howl of the coyotes, and I travel.
I imagine that the water that will soon pour through the arroyos during the monsoons in July has spent time playing in the golden waterfalls near the farm. It has returned again to be blessed at the Casa in Brazil. It is healing meu grande amor as she shares soup with her friends.
The sun rises and sets. The moon is the same, still moon.
My heart thumps a quiet prayer, taking comfort in the things that cannot be broken.
A final note: This is my last post before Live Your Bliss takes its resting place in the blogosphere. Before I go, I want to encourage you to send your love and support to Helena as she continues her miraculous journey in Abadiania. Your prayers matter.
To my brother-in-law Marcelo, thank you for your kindness, love and strength over the past year and a half. You you have my deep gratitude and admiration. I miss you, cunhado.
Mom and Dad, there are no words that could say how grateful I am. You are my rock.
To my family members, cousins, aunts and uncles far and wide–thank you for always loving me. We’re stuck with each other, and I’m sure not complaining.
To my “Mama E,” your love is limitless. You are the High Priestess of my soul family.
Anne, thank you to you and Clairbook for giving me a reason to get out of bed. You amaze me.
Paul, my brother and friend, you know.
To my fellow “Lighties” out there…it’s the collective intention that keeps us all going. Thank you for being the lightkeepers.
To my beautiful and courageous Heleninha: eu te amo, amor, sempre.
To all of those out there who have written to tell me that your stories have touched you—my bliss is your bliss.
Blessings and light to you on your path. With each step, a flower blooms.