Sunday, September 21, 2008


My friends in Miami, Pepí and Laida, are going through it right now. Pepín has had not one, but two MAJOR heart operations in the last week to repair a congential heart defect that went unnoticed throughout his life until recently. To make a long story short, his weakened heart along with the trauma of the surgery has taxed his body tremendously, and after the first surgery last week (9/15), the heart did not respond as the MD's had hoped, and Friday (9/19), he was back in the operating room for another 7 hour surgery. He's stable now, but still in ICU and still assisted with a ventilator and other sustaining mechanisms.

At the same time, Laida's mom is in a frail state with many things happening in her body and mind. She's bedridden, unable to care for herself. Normally Laida goes to visit her every day, but Pepíns urgent situation has prevented Laida from being able to see Liana, her mom, as much recently.

I wrote this letter to Laida and Pepí yesterday. In my heart of hearts, I'd love to be there with them to assist however I could. Once again, for me, the opportunity presents itself to support from a distance, and I invite Namasté readers to hold two of my very best friends in their thoughts and meditations.


September 20, 2008

Dear and beloved Laida and Pepín,

If I could wave my magic wand, I would transport the two of you to The Farm to be here with me right now on this beautiful early fall day. The sun’s bright in the sky, and huge, soft, puffy clouds slowly drift by. It’s the sort of day that began with a gentle fall chill in the air and has matured over the afternoon into a classic Indian summer day. In just a little while, I’ll go out to water my plants since there’s no rain in the forecast and they’re looking a bit thirsty.

At this very moment, a juvenile red-tail hawk is soaring over the front pasture directly in front of the house. It’s obvious he hasn’t had much experience in the upper wind currents since he lets out a squeal every time he gets caught in an updraft. The blue jays and crows are competing in a calling contest off in the distance. I’d give the crows the award for being a bit more melodious than the blue jays since their squawk carries no musicality at all. The last of the summer’s hummingbirds is checking out the feeders to see if I’ve filled them lately with sugar water they drink by the quarts. Pepín, you’d be fascinated by the yellow warblers as they flit about with their last clutch, the mom and dad teaching the young ones who’re just learning to fly the ins and outs of being airborne before leaving soon for warmer climates as fall approaches here. The yellow warblers always remind me of your canaries.

The cats sleep soundly on the deck at my feet, moving from time to time to stretch and yawn before drifting off to sleep again. They live a life of luxury here…sleeping all day, mousing all night, and occasionally chasing each other in bursts of play. The two white cats rally to swat at each other’s tails and pester lazy, lazy Hendrix as he snores on the rail. Loonis, the farm grump, keeps her distance and hisses quite nastily if anyone dares invade her special place on the deck.
Annie and Molly are beseeching me to take a walk so they can head down to the stream at the back of the field to wallow in the mud and cool off. The goldenrod’s in full bloom now, and the ironweed, a deep, pure purple flower, mixes in beautifully with the brightness of the goldenrod’s yellow. There are a lot of butterflies about now, and the dragonflies are really numerous as well. It’s so dry the grass really crunches under my feet, and in the distance, the trees show signs of reds and oranges in the tips of their leaves.

When the dogs and I go on a walk, we’re always accompanied by at least three of four cats. I talk to all of them as I would to Samuel or Eliza if they were along, and I’m always amazed by what we experience when we’re out in the fields and woods together. So many times only the animals and I have experienced really amazing things on our walks. I can’t wait for you two to spend some time with me here. It’s always quiet and peaceful at The Farm, even during the day. This afternoon, only the songs of the birds and an occasional car passing along the road in the distance interrupt the stillness of the afternoon.

At times when I’m so surrounded by certain creatures in nature, I look up the Native American lore on what they signify on the level of spirit…Today I chose to read about butterflies, dragonflies, and hummingbirds. I like what I’ve found: butterflies remind us that we are always in the process of transformation; dragonflies remind us that change in our bodies and spirits are necessary for our transformation, and hummingbirds bring us lightness of spirit to assist us as we renew the magic in our lives. As I read this today, I thought about the two of you and your process at this time. It might take a while and a good bit of patience, but on the other side of this ordeal, there will be amazing transformations, all of which will redefine your lives in the best of ways.

My prayers and those of many, many people all over the world encircle and embrace you all. I’ve called out everyone I know who has strong prayer and healing connections. I so wish I could be there in Miami with you to do whatever I could to ease the intenseness of the moment. For now, I stay connected with you in prayers and in the space of peace that The Farm offers. I send the energy of the Earth, the sunshine, the flowers, and the fields to you to deepen your breath and assist you both with strength, peace, patience, and courage.

I love you both.

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