Transforming Loss–John of God

There is a commonly held belief among those who participate with John of God at Casa de Dom Inacio that the entities begin working with a person as soon as they make a commitment (like purchasing airfare) to experience the healing currents of the Casa.  Mostly, the reference is about the emergence of physical symptoms that might indicate a healing release.  In May of 2012, I experienced this phenomenon to the extreme when I was in the horse-riding accident two weeks before my scheduled visit (see: Abadiania, Here I Come)  Surely, that experience transformed my life and opened me into a whole new level of experience when I arrived in Abadiania.

I am sitting in the airport in transit to Abadiania right now, reflecting on the month’s events that prepare me for this visit.  I thought I’d covered this reflection in my previous post: Abadiania On the Horizon, but I was mistaken.

Since then, Baby, our Labrador who we lost to cancer in the first part of the month, returned to us in a new puppy body.  Can you imagine the joy we felt to recognize his gorgeous being shining through the eyes of a new puppy?  Can you feel the delight we took in every nuance of welcoming all his puppy expressions of vitality and curiosity as he playfully engaged with everyone and everything?  I think it was almost impossible for anyone who knew us at all to miss the way our hearts overflowed in every direction through the love he brought home with him when he returned to us.

We schooled him well and were well-prepared for our house sitter to take over his lessons for the duration of our time in Abadiania. We were packed and set to go in the wee hours of the morning–one last visit to the barn to check on the horses and set up their breakfast feed, and we would be poised to head to airport with all of our four-leggeds prepared for our absence…and our return.

Baby Boodinki, our new puppy, always went along to the barn for late night barn visits.  He always stayed close and was responsive to our call.  Why on this night did Alan feel the nudge to put a leash on him?  Why on this night did Baby Boodinki dodge away from Alan as he leaned down to clasp the leash to Baby Boo’s collar, run like a cannonball through the gate, and out into the road…where he was run over and killed instantly, his little puppy neck broken?  One moment a vital puppy body, shimmering with joy and animated with vigor and Life.  And, in the next instant–cold and lifeless.  Dead.

Why?

Loss is like a tidal wave.  We never see it coming   It comes too quickly to escape. It overwhelms everything.  And when it pulls away, what is left is a void.  A void of devastation and grief.

At first, we could not wrap our minds around it.  “He must just be stunned, ” we thought, “He’s only been with us for three weeks.  He’s a puppy.  It’s our Baby returned.  He can’t be dead.”  But he was.  The day after we completed Big Baby’s memorial garden, we buried Baby Boodinki amidst the lilac bushes and peonies that Big Baby’s ashes fertilized.

In shock, I wished for the chance to go back five minutes before it happened, and “redo” the events; to write a different scenario.  I wished with all my might.  But time, like change, marched to a different drum than the passion of my wishes and only moved forward.  I tried to make meaning of the event–put a sense of order to it that would bring some comfort to the void of loss where I found myself.  What is the Greater Plan in this?  I confess–if the Greater Plan were an elephant, then all I could see was the big toe.  I was not able to connect the dots…only wander bereft amongst them.

Finally, I let go.  I surrendered to the current of loss washing through me.  And, in the surrender, I remembered that the Greater Plan always serves the Will to Good…and that’s all I needed to know to let it be.  I was able to fall asleep for a few short hours before it was time to leave for the airport.

When I awakened, I felt Baby/Baby Boodinki all around me, loving me.  His invisible eyes followed my movements.  As usual.  I “knew” his understanding that it was only a matter of time until I would see his adoring gaze through the eyes of another puppy.  I realized another layer of truth in Rumi’s statement:

“You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.”

I am on my way to Abadiania.  I am sitting in the airport as I type.  I am staying afloat in the current and riding it as best I can.  This I hear in depth of my being: As the earth revolves around the sun and the day turns to night to day again and again, be comforted in knowing we revolve around Love and are never far from turning toward it again.

Abadiania.  I am coming.  I am “there.”  How will you transform me this time?  The adventure continues.

Thank you.  I love you.