In late October 2011, I saw the familiar stones at the Stonehenge Golf Course east of Nashville and thought, '
That looks like pi.' I had golfed there previously and never thought this. I wasn't even sure what pi meant. I mentally made a note of this thought that some would call random. To me it felt like a sign.
Two weeks passed and I felt compelled to drive to the country overnight for the 11/10/11 Full Moon.
Early the next morning before my drive back into Nashville, the moon still hung in the southwestern sky. I had never before made a quick round trip like this and was only returning to the city because a friend invited me to join her for an 11-11-11 ritual at the Bicentennial Mall.
Two hours later, a traffic jam forced me to take an exit I had never taken as I tried to wind my way into downtown Nashville. For some reason at that exit I felt led to invite any lingering energy related to sorrow and suffering to join me for the ritual. When these ideas show up, I don't question. I trust. I spoke aloud asking that the residual pain of the Native Americans, slaves and civil war soldiers in this area join me.
I felt like I was on a mission that I could not have anticipated moments prior. The road curved slightly and I was suddenly on a street leading straight into downtown. I was running late. To my surprise policemen were stationed waving me and other cars through at each red-light. It was as if they knew of the mission I was on.
I finally arrived at the Bicentennial Mall and became more late due to cars parked everywhere. I found a parking place and had a choice. I could run ahead and join my friend who waved to me half-way down the mall or I could start at the beginning where Tennessee's rivers and towns are mapped out in stone.
With a vase of summer's last zinnias in hand, a bottle of Glastonbury water in my pocket and great love in my heart, I started at the map of Tennessee. I honored four communities to which I feel connected by placing a zinnia one each one's name. Then I gave one to a homeless man bearing witness to my ritual from a nearby picnic table.
Next were the fountains representing Tennessee's rivers. At that time the fountains had not been working since the May flood of 2010. I hurriedly walked past each river wanting to catch my friends before remembering the sacred water from Glastonbury, England in my pocket. I stood at the Eastern end of the state and blessed every river especially the Wolf River because wolves are such teachers and have willingly suffered so much and the Buffalo on which I grew up.
When I arrived at the grassy area that fills the mid-section, I realized the policeman were on a mission. There were clearing traffic for the Veteran's Day parade. Before me were civil war encampment scenes with cannons, costumed people and pyramid shaped tents. Something about this was perfect for 11-11-11 as we began the shift from control and conquest to greater cooperation and compassion.
I walked through this scene and offered zinnias to many of those in costume. Each person accepted my offering. I placed one on an old ironing board that was part of a homestead and another on a cannon, symbols of the feminine and masculine. I was born a bit late to be a flower child yet I felt like an emissary of Mother Earth leaving the beauty of love evidenced by flowers at stops along the Mall.
By the time I reached the bell towers, it felt like the zinnias were my loaves and fishes. They seemed to multiply as I had given them away. I reached the bell towers and joined my friend and two others who were already meditating. We sat in the center of the towers with the zinnias, water and other honored objects in the middle of us. My friend played her Peruvian flute as I quietly invited the suffering I gathered to be transmuted and leave this plane.
As I sat receiving love from below and above and sending it out to all, Spirit sent a test to ensure I was clear of judgement and fear. A man announced at the small stage down the mall in front of us an artillery demonstration.
Speaking into a microphone between different guns being fired, he spoke of "warfare maturing" in order to "neutralize the field." This was the perfect. Love is the greatest neutralizer. Throughout time it has neutralized hate and fear.
To make this even more perfect, my friend played "Amazing Grace" on her flute. This experience truly was Amazing Grace.
We parted ways and I drove home. That afternoon while still in Nashville as I went through the mail, I saw the symbol for
pi (II) on two different things. Then as I sat in the car awaiting Jerry and flipping through a home goods catalog, there it was again. The pi symbol was on the face of a clock.
When I receive messages synchronistically like this, I intentionally don't research them. To do so usually puts me in a heady thinking space which takes me from an intuitive listening place.
Late that afternoon for the first time in all our years of leaving Nashville, Jerry drove out of town on a state highway rather than the interstate. He didn't know of my driving into town on an alternative route. As we left town, I again invited the energies of suffering from this area to join us.
Under the 11-11-11 moon, we offered a ritual honoring all souls that have known earthly pain. With sage, lavender, zinnias and Glastonbury water, we honored the French and all those burned at the stake. We called in the Native Americans torn from the Mother land they loved as well as those killed in the Holocaust. We called in those connected to the land we now live on whose prior lives have been hard as well as veterans who have died in wars. We honored the dark man, all those from Africa and other countries who were enslaved and we honored the dark man within - the shadow of humankind that has caused harm to others as well as ignoring Mother Earth and her children.
The winds were fierce as they often are that time of year in this particular area. This was exactly how it is suppose to be as winds cleared the energy of suffering and sorrow that had joined us and came up from the valley below us. I sensed the ancestors above us joining in this profound ritual that spontaneously unfolded through listening to intuition. And I remembered those zinnias at the Bicentennial Mall. I had left powerful little flowering portals with starry centers all along the mall.
The next morning we drove into Cookeville for the
Art Prowl. I should have known since this was the
11th Annual Art Prowl that my story had not ended.
The first piece of art at the first venue I entered
, Poets on the Square, took my breath.
Pi in the Sky is by Kevin Courtney Delaney could have been the only piece I saw that day. The Universe and God through this man affirmed the entire last twenty-four hours from Nashville's Bicentennial Mall to my rural yard.
I ordered a print and spent the rest of my day somewhat distracted wondering what pi really meant. Upon arriving home, I broke my rule and went on-line in hopes of gaining an understanding. I still didn't get it. I could not cognitively make connections. There was something missing in my brain or in what I read.
Two weeks later at Thanksgiving dinner in Iowa, I sat by Jerry's teenage niece. I asked what she enjoyed in school. As soon as she said, "Math" I asked if she knew about Pi. Her eyes brightened. We went to another room. With pen and paper, Abbey explained pi in her way and it clicked. I go the message I needed when she said, "Pi goes on for infinity."
Infinity !
That's when I knew the beauty of Pi in the Sky and the rituals for transmuting sorrow and helping it pass on 11-11-11. I was being shown infinity really is in the sky.
To solidify that I GOT this, the next day in a rural Iowa bookstore I found a paperback of which many had read but I had not. It's title? The Life of Pi.
There is life in Pi. Life never ends. Love never ends. We change form but we and love go on and on. Those who leave us are never really gone. We are connected through Pi throughout infinity to all we have loved.
-Dawn, The Good News Muse 14 March 2014
I sat on the sofa this morning and wept. A backed up river of tears came pouring out of me. Some small portion of this sadness was even related I suspect to my negligence in letting the hyacinths freeze. Why did I not think to cut them a day earlier?
I kept my nose buried in that simple purple bouquet as ribbons of sweetness found their way within, wrapping themselves around my heart.
