Help – or, the musing of a magic mountain Wonder Woman

She’s not your usual human being. She’s a humane being. One single letter – e – at the end of a human changes everything. If there were more humanes, we humans would suffer less at the end.

That letter means everything. So, should you have any ideas of how to help or should you like some help, Raven’s cottage by the sea could be a place to deposit yourself or some help.

There’s an intensity to Raven’s life story. No half baked cakes, no give up, no matters of inconvenience. People of love come to our lives only once in a while. Their stories are so truly amazing they inspire by simply being. They’re not embarrassed by anything you could say, do, excrete, or eat. They’re accepting of differences and invite them into their own lives. Their kind lived on the fringes of our planet until recently. There wasn’t a place for them to ring in new seasons for us or to take the soul from the dying by the hand and help to bring them gently to the place no one of the living can possibly know.

I picture her standing on the shore of the River Styx waiting for the boat to peek out from the fog – no one for her to see as she above all understands what limits are – and her boundaries and boarders create room for us to trust her either the most important part of life – after birth – which is death.

Death isn’t discussed in my part of the world – but perhaps it would if more soul midwifery were performed and more discovered a way to find comfort without stress and guilt of leaving people to mourn so many of us can leave this pain body behind like an old cloak.

Here’s her post reaching out for some assistance. There’s a great bit of information on what she offers her clients at her free retreats to pamper people with cancer who are in or out of treatments. People who need to feel loved, touched, and like a human being. Far too often we forget, because of fear and guilt, they it’s okay to need. To need a quiet place to heal and to feel.

I think even if you don’t live anywhere near Wales, her stories alone are reason enough to visit her blog and share your thoughts. She found me on my blog – and I’m glad she did. If you can buy one of her cool gemstone pendants on Facebook every little bit gives her the resources to help one person at a time with the loving kindness that shines with every word she writes. Even if you just read I think getting a little something from her spirit is enough support to encourage her to keep on going.

Heroes are everywhere.

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I need help. There I said it! I run a cottage retreat offer free breaks for cancer / end of life patients. Im a soul midwife end of life companion and advocate for anyone who needs me. No charge free. Therapies visits support all free. Im also a wedding and funeral celebrant this service is…
— Read on ravenwordsmith.wordpress.com/2019/11/07/help/

Cancer, My Jailor

Born with a scream, die with a whimper. Between those bookends, the self somehow develops. Perhaps it’s because we exist at the bottom of an empty well, waiting for the drenching rains of knowledge to float us up and out of the darkness. The more I know, the less I know, yet the more I’m told. How unsatisfactory.

Do you somehow quench a long thirst, find how to know yourself, somehow climb out of that well to find your soul?

Probably not. And not exactly where I’d hoped to wind up at stage 4 of my life. No, not like a pitcher winding up on a baseball mound, but wind up the ends of a life spent pursuing “right” actions. By ingesting information, sharing love, giving as fully as possible, I found no answer to my great questions. And if the unknown creates a thirst, I remain in a state of dehydration. My consciousness lacks something, and I belive I’m not yet done.

When I’m alone with my thoughts, I know there’s not anybody else who exists outside of my mind. Am I fearless in my self-consciousness if this doesn’t scare me? Descartes be damned with your cogito ergo sum, and screw the existential problems of a Danish prince or a French novelist who’ll always be a stranger to me.

On the eve of attending the week-long Cancer Help Program at Commonweal Commonweal Cancer Help Program I sit on a bed surrounded by words, paper, buttons, beads, clothes, books, and thoughts instead of someone else. The embarkation of discovery. What’s bothering me about this cancer thing?

I’ve lost my freedom. My free will in some sense. Thinking about my health, my ability to work, earn, travel, run, freely move about the world as I have for decades, I gave my freedom to a disease that’s beginning to travel around my body again. Now my liver and onto chemotherapy and other fun stiff drinks Stanford has in store when a changed me drives back over the Golden Gate Bridge next Sunday.

Walt Whitman said it far more concisely so I’ll leave him to you and say, “adieu.”

Wisdom is not finally tested in schools;
Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it, to another not having it;
Wisdom is of the Soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof,
Applies to all stages and objects and qualities, and is content…
– Walt Whitman