My Life is Beautiful

On May 7, 2015May 7, 2015 By Alethea KehasIn Animal Messengers, Dreams, Gaia & Elementals, Memoir, Reflections6 Comments

In fact, it is infinitely beautiful. This, quite simply, is Truth, all else is an illusion. Let me show you why.

Like you, I am the embodiment of Light. This is the the truth of all life, yet sometimes we choose the path of shadows. Years ago, I made the conscious choice to walk the path of light. It’s the path we have all agreed to walk, whether we realize it or not. A shadow is a barrier of illusion, its purpose is to give definition to light.

Yesterday was a beautiful day, as each day is. My day brought me the gifts of friendship and the love of family. It showed me the infinite glory of life in the state of becoming. Spring blooms abundance and joy bursts forth in song from winged beings. Each moment holds everything offered, and since that is all there is, it is always enough.

I was reminded of this yesterday. If you asked my ego, it would tell you how it suffered two major blows. That the hopes it held onto for weeks had been crushed. Two punches to the gut. And, I crumbled into its energy of defeat, until my dreams brought me back to reality. I woke this morning remembering that my life is beautiful.

Mother Nature called to me to join her in the state of becoming, and I listened. I walked into her embrace. Here she showed me life is always beautiful when we choose to see it. to feel. To allow. That at any moment we can choose to embrace the light, or stay in the illusion of shadows.

There is even humor, and therefor light, in the symbols that show us shadows. Today, I laugh at doubt, knowing that it is an illusion. That I can shake its frumpy clothes free and run naked in the light. This is my destiny of becoming, and it is, always, in each moment, enough. It is beautiful. My life is beautiful.

And then there was Peace

On February 19, 2015 By Alethea KehasIn Animal Messengers, Memoir6 Comments

Hers was the only aura I saw without trying. Violet, like the energy of St. Germain, extending from the tips of her fur in soft flames. It was four years ago, and we were walking in the woods. I began our daily journey together distraught. My physical and emotional worlds were burning in a dark chasm I’ll call fear. It was February, that month that tests the limits of endurance. Within the span of a few short days, every heating system in my home and in my body went on overload. The ancient furnace in the basement stopped breathing warmth and started emitting the poisonous gas that silently consumes the oxygen of life. The wood stove followed suit, deciding to search down, rather than up, for air, filling the house in a matter of panicked seconds with thick gray smoke. Fearing flames, I rushed my children, coatless, outside with Daisy and called the fire department. Then, the pellet stove decided it wanted to play the same game, vomiting an over-abundance of fuel that caught a fire that decided to breath in, instead of out, filling the house, again, with gray, suffocating smoke.

Sometimes the world outside mirrors the world inside, testing our ability to heal and release to the point of near collapse. That February day, after I safely shuttled the kids on the bus to school, I desperately sought release. Daisy, my faithful companion and guide, calmly led the way to the forest. Although it would have been impossible for her not to feel the fires raging through me, she was the epitome of peace.

It was the walk of dreams, where time stands sentinel to bare witness. Sound disappeared into the blanket of snow and waited for me to emerge whole again. Yet, the air was electric, so alive I could feel each silent heartbeat I passed, and the Earth held me in reverence, as I walked her body in sorrow.

Each footstep brought with it a memory of the little girl afraid of forests and the secrets hidden in shadows. I wept memory to release her, and in my pure and open need, Nature held me in the full, unconditional embrace of love.

I can recall the moment my eyes turned down to gaze upon my guide and caught the purple fire of her aura. She had quietly, with the energy of pure love, led me along the path of peace until the forest outside replaced the fear-filled forest of memory.

This is the energy that filled the space when she passed 8 days ago. When her soul released from her tired body, peace took over, filling the sorrow that pervaded our home and bodies. My children stopped weeping and quietly entered the energy they saw mirrored on my face. In those moments after release, we were filled with the joy of her surrendering to pure love. “Can you feel it,” I asked them, “can you feel it in your heart.” “Yes,” they whispered as they clutched their hands to their chests. She was there already, always, our Daisy, restoring us to peace as she had some many times before.

Taking the lead #loss #grief

On February 16, 2015March 22, 2025 By Alethea KehasIn Animal Messengers, Dreams, Memoir3 Comments

Recall the Bird of Spring who appeared to me on the the 24th of January. I have not forgotten her, nor have I forgotten how she appeared in the days before the 11th. She often watched in silent vigil from the bush filled with winter berries in the neighbor’s front yard, while I waited for Alex to get off the bus. You were usually inside.

There was the flock of robins, Dad said there must have been 20, if not more, outside his office. Did you send them after you came to him in a dream, telling him you were leaving? I already knew. How could I not? I felt you release the tug on the orange nylon that bound us together months before you finally let go. I knew last summer you were patiently urging me to take the lead, knowing well before I did that I was ready. In the heartbeat of 5.5 years, you showed me how to walk the path of love, and to take the lead. The last 6 months were a gradual letting go, your final gift to me in your physical form.

Oh, but you knew I would weep and rage. You knew I would cling fiercely to the memory of the brown silk of your fur pressed against my lips, and feel of home when I wrapped my arms around your body. You knew that I would miss the tug-of-war, the constant test of who was in charge.

You knew I would hold on, even after I let you go. So you sent me robins and hearts. I saw the love that you wore on your face everywhere, in the days before you left, and even more now that you have crossed the rainbow bridge without me. One thought, and you are back. I see the symbol of your love burned into snow, etched in ice on windows and carved into the lifelines of wood. I saw your love two nights ago, when you sent me the barn owl (whose face is a heart) in the cypress tree. I see it each time I remember your face.

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Your rebirth into pure spirit was my letting go. To become my own spring and bloom new. Even though I still shed the waters of sorrow, my garden is ready to birth strength. How many nights, as I was preparing to let you go, did I dream of a home, my home, surrounded by the rebirth of life? I woke happy, filled with hope. Filled with promise.

Even the 3 crows that caught my eye, circling the invisible wheel, made me think of the magic of birth and not death. You were the 3rd, though, in a close trinity of passings. My days and nights were filled with the numbers 3 and 7, even when they appeared with the numbers 10 and 11. The 10th was the day I knew for sure you were leaving, the 11th, when I opened the door to let you go.

On the 8th, two days before I decided it was time, I saw two robins. That evening I fell into dreams of rebirth. I played through the game of life, recording scores, which reduced to the number 9, the cycle for birth. I searched tables of food and ate. I took the driver’s seat and drove, with the top open, over a bridge where above me a green wheel turned. I watched my child (who looks so much like me) let go and felt only peace as he released his hold. I turned back time and became a young woman again. It was summer, 74 degrees (reduces to 11), and I was among a crowd of peers heading down a hill to swim. At the intersection of paths, I decided to walk alone. I went to the rocky shore, instead of the sandy, sun-filled beach, and stripped bare of my white shorts and flowered blouse before I lay my body on the pebbles and let the water wash me clean. Here, I felt freedom. I felt release. I shouted back, fearless, to the girls who taunted me, calling them out for who they really were. I swam away from the boys who followed my naked form through the water, and pulled my clothes over my wet body before I walked back up the hill, alone. Later, in another dream, a messenger hugged me and told me it was time to surrender. To let [you] go. So I did.

Each knot holds a memory that seeks to be free

On February 2, 2015February 2, 2015 By Alethea KehasIn Animal Messengers, Dreams, Energy Healing, Memoir6 Comments

Remember the robin in my last post, appearing blatantly bold outside my window during the snowstorm? The only bird to be seen by my eyes that day?

Somehow I had forgotten her, amid the daily struggles of life this last week. Yet, she was there, a silent reminder as I opened my blog to write this morning, showing me that her message had come full circle. Yesterday, without thought given to my friend the robin, I reclined on a couch with my left hand cradling the orange energy of my womb, my right, the blue energy of truth held inside knots along the right side of my neck.

The robin, I am reminded on this morning as I watch another snowstorm fall outside my window, is the bird who welcomes rebirth each spring. She wears the color of creation without fear as an apron of feathers that spreads from her upper chest down to her lower abdomen, where it meets the purity of white. Here, in this lower region, she releases into her half-moon nest, a brood of sky blue eggs each spring. Her creation in the beautiful hue of truth.

When I saw the robin a week ago, my neck felt fine. But, as I think back now, it was a prelude of what to come, as soon after that last snowstorm, my neck formed a rope of knots connecting the base of my skull under my right ear, down into my shouldere where it wrapped into a pile of more knots.

The energy held inside the knots seemed to tighten with each day of a week filled with surreal reminders of the cycle of loss. Within the space of a few days, two children passed in my town. The loss of a child, even if it is a child not well known to you, can unearth a well of emotions and memories inside of you. There is, arguably, nothing quite as poignant as this form of loss.

I will not enter into the details around the passings of these two children, as their stories are not mine to share. For me, and my family, they were triggers, as all death is, impacting each of us in individual ways. My son, who wears the open cloak of an empath, struggled I believe the most. That is his story, but I will share its effects on me.

My son, is in many ways my mirror. His eyes are mine, and when I look into them I see the little girl I once was. In his moments of struggle last week, I was brought back to that child inside of me as I watched his over-taxed body attempting to process and release an emotional burden that was mostly not his. I was thankful, in the midst of feeling heart-broken and helpless, that he did not swallow his storm, as I had so many times as a child.

What brought me to the couch yesterday, was that desperate need for release. My emotional limits were crumbling, but the rope of knots that held the right side of my neck in traction was stronger than ever. I thought about hiring help to release the tension, but it wasn’t until two of my friends, in separate messages, spoke of going inside, that I allowed myself to acknowledge what needed to be done.

Even though it was a Sunday, and I was sharing the space of my home with the rest of my family, I retired into a semi-quiet room to enter the energy inside. Here, as I channeled healing into my body, I found myself returning to that little girl named Truth.

“You were a beautiful child, so open to love.”

These words, I knew where not mine, but there was a part of me that cringed before I began to release. This was not a truth I held onto for long as I grew in this life. Instead of lingering on this notion, I let these words unfold into memories and the tears that come from release. Scenes flooded my consciousness, each one gently unraveling a knot. Each memory was a mere snapshot of a larger plot, but there were themes I could not miss.

Each memory was formed outside, where walls do not exist inside the expansive womb of Mother Nature. Inside these snapshots from my early life, I was welcomed by the energies of freedom, peace, beauty, magic and love. Each held my truth before it was changed.

Bird of Spring

On January 24, 2015January 24, 2015 By Alethea KehasIn Animal Messengers, Dreams3 Comments

There’s a theme running through my dreams these nights. Springtime. I find myself in houses, and when I step outside spring is unfolding into gardens abundant with the colors of rebirth. These dreams bring me hope – the promise of new life and all that it promises.

Today we had a nor-easter in New Hampshire, and life is still outside my home, save for this robin who has boldly braved the snow to remind me of that promise of rebirth.

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The flying squirrel as a metaphor for thoughts #flyingsquirrelsymbolism #dreamsymbolism

On January 23, 2015October 19, 2021 By Alethea KehasIn Animal Messengers, Dreams6 Comments

medium_15549799756 photo credit: makitani via photopin cc

I almost dismissed the dream. Another release dream, I thought as I woke with the lingering emotions of irritation and frustration. Then I began to examine the metaphor of the flying squirrel and why it took the leading role in my dream.

I was in a large, multi-storied house. It was my house although it was not the same as the one in which I reside in. And, it was undergoing renovations. The renovations where absorbing a lot of time, finances, and physical, and emotional energy, as they often do. My recollection of the dream begins on the main where I watched a flying squirrel fly and land throughout a white room. My family was with me and we were all trying to capture it, but it managed to evade our attempts.

It is worth noting, at this point, that I have experienced the challenges of having a flying squirrel inside of my present-day home. Not once, but twice. On both occasions, the flying squirrel had made its way to the basement, where it quite successfully evaded capture by my two cats. Flying squirrels, if you have had the mixed-pleasure of meeting one, especially in your home, they are rather cute little critters in an unnerving way. They have huge black eyes that stare unblinkingly into the very depths of your soul as you try to maintain the stance of a brave warrior. When you look away, and you will, they fly, soaring to their next perch in a blink of the eye that causes your heart to stop and your body to arrest into panic. It doesn’t matter that you’re dealing with two pounds of furry cuteness. This foe is silent, unpredictable, and quick. And, did I mention those eyes?!

Well, you’ve got the picture by now. Back to the dream. I’m not sure if we managed to catch the intruder, and it doesn’t really matter. When we walked to the attic, which was quite large and expansive, with high, peaked ceilings, what we discovered was much worse that what was happening below. There were nests everywhere, hanging from the ceiling, and I knew we were doomed. The task of recovering the house from the squirrel invasion seemed overwhelmingly futile. I was about ready to throw in the towel when I woke up.

Naturally, those emotions lingered as I was pulled into the waking dawn. The day progressed, and I began to think about those flying squirrels and why they had made their way into my dream and, well, into my body (as the house metaphor). And that’s when it hit me. They were thoughts. Thoughts that begin in the attic, or the mind, and find their way of invading the lower floors of our bodies, evading capture as they find a place to hide. I couldn’t think of a more perfect metaphor if I tried.

The flying squirrel is a nocturnal animal. The owl is its primary predator. As you ponder this, consider how they invade our houses (and bodies), often coming in through trees (as they had in my dream) and making their way down from the attic into the lower levels in their attempt to hide, and ultimately to escape capture (even though what they really want is a safe, warm place to call their own, while also trying to get back to their natural habitat).

A thought also follows this pattern. First it invades the space of our mind, often nesting before it breeds more thoughts that are related to the first one. Eventually, those thoughts, when we choose to keep them, and breed them, make their way down to the physical body, finding dark, warm places to hide and live. But, like the flying squirrel, they don’t really belong in our body-as-home, they are meant to fly free, outside of the mind. They are meant to come and go, but never take up permanent residence. When they do settle into our bodies, thoughts turn into emotions that stagnate and cause discomfort. When these thoughts-turned-emotions arise from those dark places of fear they become attachments of energy that create dis-ease.

My dream was a warning. My mind’s way of saying get rid of these fears before they breed and travel. It seems at least one had already escaped. Although it’s not a pleasant “thought” to linger on, I’m okay with it. I’m going to let it go. I’m going to trust that in each moment we are offered the choice. We can hold on, or we can let go.

My Guardian (Angel)

On January 6, 2015 By Alethea KehasIn Animal Messengers, Memoir15 Comments

For six months my body has held the tension of an attachment so strong its feared letting go. In many ways, our life journeys are all about letting go of our earthly attachments, those things that keep us bound and tethered, preventing our souls from soaring through the clear air of our truth. Yet, some attachments, those formed by love, are so fiercely imbedded into our being that we cannot imagine taking another breath without them. When the physical body leaves, though, love remains.

That is the concept that has held me up for the past six months as I have wondered each day if one of the greatest teachers and loves of my life will survive her next birthday. To tell you how she has transformed me from a life filled with fear to love, from dis-ease to healing and from the limited sight of the ocular, to see through the eyes of the soul, would take me hours that I cannot now count. She is still here. She will always be here, I know, even when she is not. We are bound together beyond the corporeal. Together we share love in the purest form.

What a gift it has been to share this part of my journey with her, to yield the leash and allow her to guide my hand. She is like no other love I have known, and I will, inevitably, miss her form when it is time for her to return to the home where all souls one day go. My face will miss the silky down of her fur, my eyes, the soft wisdom of her gaze, and my hands will hold onto the feel of her pull, urging me forward.

These past months, I have struggled to hold the finite limits set on life, to reign them in and never let them go. I have attempted to deny the inevitable giving way, even though my heart knows that together, Daisy and I have traveled the end of our life path together. The rest is bonus time. The gifts we have shared cannot be measured through time and its limitations. They will continue when her body returns to the earth. She was my guardian for 5 and 1/2 years of this life, and I have no doubt I will feel her love long after she travels across the rainbow bridge.

Today, as I struggled through a morning of inconclusive exams at the veterinary office, then brought Daisy home to watch her eyes hunger for food that her throat would not swallow, my body gave way the trappings of tension I had been holding. There were tears, there still are as I write. There will be more. That is how we heal. But for now, Daisy is still here, barking her guardianship for the surrounding world to hear. And that is enough.

Before I wrote this post, I walked into another room and the feather shown below dropped from the ceiling from an unseen source, directly into my path. Although it is small, there was no way I could miss it. As Doreen Virtue often reminds us, the gift of a feather is a sign of love from our guides and guardian angels. What a perfect gift for this day.