Message 36 – I’m Right Here


Jason lives. He’s right here. He’s always been here.

I received that message from him clearly a few times this past week. It has helped me resurface easily from moments of deep pain, missing his physical presence, missing the adorable 17-year old that I used to share a house with and a life with, that used to help me relax, inspire me, and make me laugh.

He was right here with me when I was listening to his music the other day, after cutting two new CDs with 2 hours worth of songs he wrote that most people haven’t heard yet. We discovered many of them after he died, and now he is showing them to us with the familiar excitement he shared with so many showings of his photography and music.

He is right here showing off his photographs at his art show in Zumi’s coffee shop and cultural center in Ipswich. I cried at first when it was all up on the wall, a symbol of who he wanted to be in this world. I wished he were there. He lived for his art and music. Now he lives in his art and music. He is right here, showing his art to the world. He sees people coming in to Zumi’s, drawn to the photos, amazed that someone that young could have that advanced an eye, captivated by the colors, unique perspectives, and dream-like images. I get to sit and watch this happening, with a caramel cloud latte. I’m the proud mom and biggest fan. And the best part is I get to be with him in his excitement, celebrating what he lived for.

Jason has told me many times he is right here with me, and I’ve needed reminders. He told me to let go of my child a month ago (see Letting Go of the Future). I got the clear message this past week to let go of more than the child – to let go of any idea of his form, and to trust he is here.

I did a shamanic drumming journey in Essex last Sunday. We were instructed to find our spirit guide in the upper world and ask him/her about any impediments to my growth. It was the first time I had done a journey since Jason died, and I expected that I would see him. Jason has always been my teacher, since he was a baby. I shot up to the sky, my hair and gown flowing back in the breeze, and felt Jason’s hands holding mine as we soared up to a beautiful place. It was a scene he would have chosen in life – the Arizona desert, with Saguaro cacti and beautiful turquoise blue waterfalls.

As we floated, Jason looked into my eyes with that peaceful, strong, confident presence that had always reflected his wise soul. He told me firmly and lovingly to stop remembering him as the 17 year old boy and young adult. He no longer has that form, that sweet, tall, lean, pony-tailed artist. He is formless and limitless. Thinking of him in the old paradigm is impeding my growth. He wants me to be open to being with him in any form, and in the formless. That’s how I will know he is always right here. That’s how I will stay more connected to him and to the other side, where there is so much for me to learn and take back to others. This is my path of service. It always has been, and now I have a more direct channel, by staying connected with Jason.

I’m assisting others to connect with the other side, to trust that there is so much more than the physical world, and to know how much we can benefit by that knowing. We aren’t afraid of death, and therefore we can be more fully alive. We trust in the unknown, and have less expectations about how things need to be. We know how to surrender to what is, appreciating the beauty of all we have, attracting more beauty.

It has been wonderful connecting with Jason in so many ways. I enjoyed being in the Arizona desert with him again. This time we got to play by soaring together and jumping from cactus to cactus. “See, mom, we get to enjoy this even better now, without getting pricklies in us!”