October has been hard for me. I miss Woody every day, and it often brings me to tears, even though it’s been almost 2 years. It seems that the veil between different life forces merges together in this time of harvest and shortening days. We reap the bounty of our hard work over the summer, and the earth is entering shorter days and longer nights. I noticed this same thing last year during this month (2024). It was a year ago that I began to write “Woody, My Journey through joy, grief, and healing with a dog”. So much has happened during the past year.
This past week, Woody has been very present. When Wendi had Faith at work last week, and I was alone in the house, I heard him bark several times. I see him out of the corner of my eye. Last night I saw him standing in the hall. You can choose to believe this or not, but for me, it’s so real, and I feel his presence constantly; I accept it.
I’m reading a great book by the Irish Poet David Whyte called “Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words”. I can’t recommend it enough. One of the words he talks about is Haunted, here’s David’s words: “Haunted is a word that denotes an unresolved parallel, a presence that is not quite a presence, a visitation by the as yet unspeakable…..when we make a friend of what we previously could not face, what once haunted us no becomes an invisible, parallel ally, a beckoning hand to our future.” For the longest time, I couldn’t face the fact that I had lost him in such a sudden way; one minute, he was with me, the next, he was gone.
I’m encouraged and comforted by David’s words and my work with Ophilia Mandara. Even though Woody has left the material plane, he is still there in my dreams, an ally who helps me understand what I don’t understand. He appears almost nightly in my dreams. A couple of weeks ago, I dislocated a finger on my right hand. The pain was intense. As I got to my doctor, I realized I was having a PTSD moment of when I was 19 and living in my parents’ basement. I was carrying a guitar amp up the stairs and smashed my little finger into the wall, breaking the knuckle. I went upstairs and showed it to my father, who said, “I’m not paying for that, put some tape on it.” Cruel. As my doctor was setting my finger this time, I was in full flashback, remembering the smashed knuckle. I got little sleep that night because of the pain.
I talked with Ophilia about the flashback and my finger; here are her words of counsel, which I’ll share with you. “It makes me think once again of how much you’ve endured and the immense way that the body stores memories. I’m glad that there are no broken bones, but I do lament the painful way that your father interacted with you in this memory, and in so many others. It is so tragic—the degree to which some people never learned to be loving and compassionate. You deserve and deserved much better.
Sometimes, when I engage a painful memory, one with a painful interaction or harmful behavior, I’ll ask myself what I would have wanted and needed to hear at that time, or what actions would have been supportive to receive. I spend a little time imagining the ideal words and actions that would have come from a loving and supportive presence. Then I say those words to myself, write them down, or print them out and keep them somewhere I can see regularly.
I’m sure I’ve also shared about this before — but another practice I’ve done in the past is to call on the “loving, nurturing, and caring fathers and grandfathers” within my lineage, to show me what compassionate support from “the masculine” is like. I ask those who can show up in this way to support my days, my healing, and my work in the world. And then I tell all others —those ancestors who are still confused —to “get clear and align to love” before influencing my life. Essentially — if there are ancestors who are not yet in service to my love and wellness, they have to step back and make room for those who are.”
Her words immediately found truth in my heart, and they brought me a lot of relief. When I went to sleep that night, I had a dream that I was walking in a very undefined space, almost as if I was walking in clouds. Suddenly, a gigantic set of stairs appeared before me; they stretched up into infinity. Suddenly, Woody was beside me, and we both lay down at the base of the steps. I knew at this moment that Woody was there as an ally to help me through this. I felt that I was lying at the feet of my ancestors, and I asked them to please leave me alone unless they could serve the loving life I am pursuing.
When I woke up that morning, I felt calm, as if I had crossed a Rubicon that I had never ventured into before. Am I haunted? In some ways, yes, but I am not afraid to continue this incredible journey into a deeper understanding of my heart and my path; it takes courage.
