How often are children our teachers, reminding us of the things we know?

Lily, one of the children in my life, is repeatedly my teacher. Most recently the lesson revolved around a bee.

Lily was allowed to come home with me. As we pulled into my driveway, I noticed something on the dash—upon taking a closer look, I saw it was a bee—a honeybee.

I held the bee in my palm as Lily asked if it would sting. I assured her it could not sting and asked if she would like to join me in honoring the bee.

The two of us stood in my backyard at the grave of Templeton, my cat of nearly eighteen years. I told the bee we loved it and thanked it for coming to earth. I then asked the other bee souls to come from the stars and take this bee’s spirit home with them so it could rejoin its tribe. I asked the bees to continue joining us here on earth.

We then placed the bee’s body under a leaf at Templeton’s headstone; Lily asked what would happen to the body and I replied it would return to the earth.

I didn’t do this ritual with Lily because she is a child—this is what I do with every living creature I come upon that has died whether it’s in my yard or along a neighboring street. I ask its kin to help its spirit find its way home to the stars and I ask that specific animal to continue returning to us if it is for our highest good. This is my way of bearing witness to a living beings presence and passing from earth.

I sense that any animal held in love will take into the earth the vibration of love and appreciation felt toward it. And, I believe its spirit takes the same vibration into the stars.

I regretted not telling Lily the full story of why I honor the animals this way—and I regretted not asking if there was anything she wanted to say to the bee. My forgetting to do this, I suspect, was based in fearing what she might think of  ‘Aunt Dawn’s’ ritual; would she think it odd or strange?

The next day, while rummaging through a journal, I came upon a drawing Lily gave me as I hurriedly rushed out the door of her family’s home to get to an event.

When she first gave me this drawing, I was quietly shocked by all the gray hair (not to mention my stern expression). I wondered, “Is my hair really that gray or did she just not have a brown crayon to add a few strands here and there?’

My concern was short lived after seeing the phrase written on my blue and green shirt.

“The Earth is Magic.”

Lily knows. The Earth is magic. I know we are magic…I suspect Lily does too.

Life on earth is meant to be magical. The honoring of the bee and asking its star kin to help it find its way home is part of that magic. We know truths such as this when young even if for an oh-so brief time.

Some people—especially artistic souls—hold this truth into adulthood and never let it go. Others, like me ,come back around to it later in life. Unfortunately, many forget and only glimpse magic while inspired by movies and music. Many I fear never remember what they came to earth knowing.

At times, I wonder if some corporate entity or persons controlling the world want us to forget what we know? Of course, if this is true I suspect they’ve forgotten what they once knew.

Fortunately as long as there is nature and children, poets, artists and folks filled with wonder, there’s an opportunity to remember the magic.

This Earth Day, I imagine the shift of remembering; we and earth are magic.

Dawn Kirk, LCSW is a psychotherapist, writer and social artist living in Nashville, TN.  She prefers to describe herself as a listener, tender, lover and wonderer as she wanders the world.  Previously she co-hosted “Wake Up & Live,” a local radio show, and is presently working on “Waking Up with Dawn.” You can learn more about Dawn at Imagine the Shift—Home of the Good News Muse.

 

 

 

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Ed: Bryonie Wise

Source: wired.com via Ester on Pinterest