last night, laura and i held our first gallery-style mediumship night in a private home. ten ladies, meg, libby and a host of spirits and assorted loved ones gathered in a new farmhouse on an ancient plot of land. somehow it seemed fitting, beside an old track that winds along a river, deep in the connecticut woods. a last-quarter harvest moon, hung low in the star-studded sky, fat as a gold crescent roll, as i drove home, reminding me that this is the weekend of the equinox. as summer's last twilight crept through the trees, laura and i sat shoulder to shoulder and peered beyond the Veil, into that (as shakespeare described it) undiscovered bourne from which travelers normally don't return in ways readily available to our five physical senses.
we got a lot of good hits, as they say in our business, though i expected that. when laura and i work together, we complete each other's sentences and thoughts. working alone, we are both as good as any of the well-known psychics out there, but working together, we're even more accurate. sometimes we even say the same thing at the exact same time.
meg and libby tagged along - meg because she has to do a project on a cultural experience outside her comfort zone for a class, and libby because she had nothing better to do. (yes, gentle readers, it amazed me, too, that meg could find sitting around listening to her mother talk to dead people outside her comfort zone, but children really ARE like little aliens who land on your doorstep. it was even more amazing libby had nothing better to do.)
yesterday was my aunt babe's birthday, today was my dear friend lorraine's.
my aunt babe is thrilled to have her sister - my grandmother - with her, at last. i felt them all celebrating on the porch at the Big House washed in the Summerland's coppery light. and my grandmother is so happy to Be There - she Gets It now, at last. be happy, nanny, i hear them whisper. live rich, breathe deep. the scent of the beach, of the fumes on tenth street engulfs me, i hear the shriek of the gulls and the screech of the sirens. i lit a candle for aunt babe yesterday.
today i light one for my friend lorraine. i see her sitting in her meadow, with her dog celtie by her side, watching her other dogs play under a cinnamon sun. and inexplicably, sam and buddy begin to frolic like puppies, rolling and snapping and arching and twisting, and i see that we are watching the very same thing, on different sides of the Veil.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.