Musings on Awareness of Spirit

The instructions for this week’s sit have been very interesting for me. To meditate on the fact that I am not a body with a spirit, but a spirit with a body has raised so many interesting ideas for me.

First of all, it really raises the question of transformation and reincarnation. This is a subject I have long wondered about for many reasons.

I expect many of us have experienced thoughts that we’ve been somewhere before or that something never seen before is familiar to us although it just doesn’t really compute with the reality in which we live.

For me, it touches on the subject of my father‘s first wife. Her name was Marjorie, and she died a few months after they were married when she was only in her early 20s. I didn’t know about her until I was about 12 years old, but I’ve had a real interest in her; almost an affection for her or an affinity… a connection of some sort, and I’ve felt this for many years.

I have her dresser set, a brush and mirror which my dad had kept. I didn’t know they were Marjorie’s until my mom told me they had belonged to her.

After my parents died and we sold the house, I was in the attic cleaning out my dad‘s stuff. He was a very private person and his belongings were sacred; you did not go near them in the attic unless you really felt like risking a lot that particular day.

In his things, I found the information about her burial plot. The cemetery and the “street” in the cemetery where she was buried. I was moved to go visit her grave, and so I did. On the way there, I stopped and bought a pink rose. I felt, after all these years that Marjorie, who died so very young, deserved a rose.

That day it was cold and damp and raw, and it began to rain. I arrived at the cemetery in Winthrop, Massachusetts. Marjorie had died in the early 1930s. I walked around in the rain for quite a while until I was really cold. None of the rows were marked as they should’ve been; the markers were all gone, and I lost hope of finding her grave.

Finally I got so cold and it was starting to rain even harder. I said to myself I just have to realize I’m not going to find the grave, so I turned around to leave and the headstone behind me caught my eye. It was Marjorie‘s grave!

It was a beautiful headstone. Quite an extravagant investment for my dad who came to this country with nothing and who had grown up very poor.

I stayed a while in the rain just marveling at how I ended up directly in front of the grave just as I was about to give up. I took a photo of her headstone, and I gave Marjorie the pink rose I felt she’s so richly deserved after all this time.

Another interesting thing about my dad that I want to share here is that when I cleaned out his things, I found an old book. It was written by one of the great thinkers of the early 20th century. I was so sure it was a book by Wallace Wattles, and I determined to find it to check. I wasn’t sure where to look, but eventually I found it in one of our bookcases.

The book I remembered was not written by Wallace Wattles but by James Allen. The title is “As a Man Thinketh”. It is old and worn; well used with my dad‘s name written on the Inside page. It’s now on the coffee table waiting for me to pick it up and read it, but I may buy myself one I won’t mind handling. This one is old and fragile, and I want to keep it just as it is.

Interesting musings as a result of this week’s “sit” instructions. Interesting to me anyway.

See more about what I have learned in my Master Key Experience by clicking here.