George Harrison Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Buttercup – Photo: L. Weikel

Mother’s Day Message

Since I finally revealed just the other day the most profound and reliable way Karl uses to communicate with me since he drowned on 11/11/11, I thought I might share with you my most recent experience of this connection.

Mind you: I never know when it’s going to happen, although he almost always ‘comes through’ on days of special meaning or when I’m feeling particularly raw or vulnerable. So it wasn’t as if I was expecting to hear from him today. In fact, since the communications seem to be getting fewer and further between as the years go by, I rarely expect and only sometimes hope to hear from him anymore. I guess, deep down, I feel his soul has moved on and is busily engaged elsewhere.

Setting the Scene

I was driving to the local health food store this morning to pick up my weekly milk delivery. As I was driving up the road from my home, about a mile away, I received a text from my middle son, wishing me a happy Mother’s Day and telling me he loves and appreciates me. I see the text and my heart swells. Of course, I don’t respond; I’m driving. I just…smile to myself.

I do not have any idea what song had been playing on my iPhone at that time (through my car’s stereo system), but it ended. Right then. And a new song started playing. As soon as I heard the first chord, I felt it in my heart. And then I heard the words:

Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?

Moby

Why does my heart feel so bad?
Why does my soul feel so bad?

He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors

He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors

Why does my heart feel so bad?
Why does my soul feel so bad?

He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors…

Source: LyricFind

Whoa.

I’ll be honest. I played it twice. OK. Maybe three times. Whatever. It got me up to the store, where I went in, got my milk, and returned to the car.

The Journey Home

Yeah. My heart was hurting. But I felt that Karl’s heart was hurting too. In fact, it felt like he sent that to me to hear, right after M sent me that text, because Karl couldn’t reach out and touch me, hug me, again.

But I have to admit – reading the lyrics when I got home and started writing this post, I’m sort of, well, in awe.

As I drove home, though, I decided not to dwell on how much either of our hearts were hurting. So I just let the next song play.

And there it was. Another message. Exactly what I needed him to follow up with: Give Me Love, by George Harrison. And I venture to say, we all need as much hope and help coping with this heavy load as we can get.

Give Me Love (Lyrics)

Give me love
Give me love
Give me peace on earth
Give me light
Give me life
Keep me free from birth
Give me hope
Help me cope, with this heavy load
Trying to, touch and reach you with
Heart and soul
Om m m m m m m m m m m m m m
M m m my lord . . .
Please take hold of my hand, that
I might understand you
Won’t you please
Oh won’t you
Give me love
Give me love
Give me peace on earth
Give me light
Give me life
Keep me free from birth
Give me hope
Help me cope, with this heavy load
Trying to, touch and reach you with
Heart and soul
Om m m m m m m m m m m m m m
M m m my lord . . .
Please take hold of my hand, that
I might understand you

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Shahin George / Rainey Fatima Lorencz / Rakascan Marko

Give Me Love lyrics © Universal Music- Mgb Songs

Thanks, Karl. I love you – and your brothers – so very, very much. Your communication was a gift of heart and soul.

I’m doing my best to listen – and I hope I understand you.

(T-565)

For You, For Us

It’s been a week.

Actually, I’m pretty sure we can all agree the ordeal’s been going on for far longer than a week (and will undoubtedly spin out into the foreseeable future). But this week, in particular, has been especially brutal. And this evening’s climax, albeit both predictable and foreseeable, was nevertheless searingly disappointing. And deeply worrisome.

A Respite With and For My Friends

While I was noodling around FB a little, contemplating what I might write this evening, I came across a ‘share’ from a friend of mine that shifted my perspective. It immediately made me think of you – the people with whom I share myself, my thoughts, my joys, my worries, my peeves, and my devotion.

Right away, I knew I wanted to share his share that shifted my spirits, with you. Why? Because of this truth: a joy shared is magnified exponentially, just as a sorrow shared is halved.

What I find especially fascinating, though, is that I call this man who touched my heart with his FB share my friend. The truth is, we barely know each other. I live in Pennsylvania, he lives in Salt Lake City. We met eight years ago and spent maybe ten days total in each other’s company in Iquitos, Peru. We’ve not seen each other nor spoken since the end of February, 2012.

We rarely, if ever, communicate directly, even though we’re FB ‘friends.’ But FB does give us the ability to stay in touch tangentially. And one of the greatest blessings, for me, are the thoughtful and often fascinatingly beautiful or poignant posts he shares. They’re often insightful in some way, provocative of a different perspective, or simply loving or peaceful.

This friend I made eight years ago when I was in the throes of grieving for my son makes a difference in my life. His posts often touch my heart or make me think or perceive in a different way. And yet, as I said, we (he and the eight or so other people in our group) only spent a total of a little more than ten days together- albeit ten intense days.

The Briefest Encounters

My point is that the briefest encounters can make a huge difference in our lives. Kindnesses, smiles, words of encouragement, gestures of hope…they make a difference.

We make a difference.

Here again is the song my friend Brock shared on FB this evening that shifted my perspective. I needed to hear it. I bet you do, too. I hope you feel what I did when I listened because we need to carry on and not lose our heart.

It’s all right – we have each other.