Running Fox
Papers
December 2002 ~
Lessons from the other world
| Try
to realize |
Quotation
of the Month |
| Preface |
Hans
Brockhuis |
| Devotion |
Marian
van Lier |
| The
Heron |
Hans
Brockhuis |
Quotation
of the Month
“Try to realize what
it is to be light and to feel it and to give it away. Try to be aware
that the heaviness and the darkness that you so often felt are only
apparent, and that the dualities that you experienced are only a means
to be able to recognize the existence of light. It is the light to be
able to see, the light to be, the light to grant. Sometimes you look
upward to the heavens and inside you then there is this question. You
want to know what is the light that exists in those heavens. And now
I ask you: did you find what you were looking for?”
Judith.
Voorwoord
The quotation
of the month that is printed above originates from our deceased daughter,
Judith. To my great pleasure, it is possible for me, and for my two
other daughters who still exist on this earth as well, to make contact
with her on the inner planes. The above is part of a communication of
some time ago and because of certain circumstances, yesterday came on
my path again in such a way that I knew ‘for certain’ that it would
be a good idea to share it with you. Furthermore it fits in a great
way to the theme of these Papers, ‘Lessons from the other world.’ The
two other articles in this issue are written in the same sense as well.
For
now there is nothing more to be said than to wish you a very good Holiday
Season and to speak out the hopes that we will be able to meet each
other again in some way in the future. May that be in the form of an
addition tothis medium, all of you are welcome to send in your contributions
to the well-known e-mail address.
Espavo,
Hans
Devotion
Marian van Lier
I
had a dream in which I wore a light blue dress and walked up a white
stairway. The next day I drew what I had seen, and while I was busy
a voice said to me “devotion.” “What?” I replied. The voice repeated
“devotion.” I had never heard of this word before, and after a few days
I wanted to know the exact meaning of that word devotion.
At first I looked
into an occult dictionary, but it wasn’t mentioned there. Then there
was an esoteric dictionary, but it wasn’t mentioned there either. At
last I took up a common Dutch dictionary and there the word was included.
It said: piety, devoutness. I did not understand. What was I to do with
this?
About two months
later I walked in the town of Eindhoven near the V&D Department
store. I spotted a white ghost in a white gown and with long white corkscrew-curled
hair. “Are you going to shop as well?” I thought solemnly. I went to
the right and entered the store by way of the side entrance. Directly
I ran into a stand with many discounted books. Almost automatically
I took out the book by Mother Theresa, ‘The way of Simplicity,’ for
only 2.25 Euros.
That evening I told
this story to my husband who said, “Surely he wanted to show you a way
or a goal.” The next day I unwrapped the book and started to read. The
amazing thing is that the word ‘devotion’ is printed all over the book.
Still a day later I finished it and went upstairs to my room. Some time
earlier I had bought a book about religions, but had not yet read it.
I opened that book randomly, and on that page it was written in big
fancy letters:
DEVOTION
AND MEDITATION
Coincidence?
One way or the other
something will be told to us humans. In fact, there is often a message
in the little things that happen to us. We humans, only have to open
our eyes, to be able to see.
About ten years
ago I attended a chakra meditation day. We were told to go outside and
pick some flowers to be put on the table. In the small field many flowers
grew in a random way. When I joined the others some time later, I had
a little bunch of flowers with me. In between the big flowers I had
deliberately chosen the smallest ones. Often little things are hidden
within the big ones and it helps us people to look once more.
~*~*~*~
The
Heron
The Nada Chronicles, part 13
For
the December issue of the Running Fox Pages, it seemed to be a good
idea to create something in which the mood of Christmas would be expressed.
For a while I had to think about this, but seemingly effortlessly my
thoughts went back to that which what happened during the holiday season
of 1998. It is a golden memory that I want to share with you – reader
– by means of this little story.
After a turbulent hard working life and following a long period of illnesses
and peevishness, my mother died a few days before Christmas, now four
years ago. We saw it happen beforehand. A number of times prior to this,
there had been moments that we, the offspring had thought, “this is
it,” but in all those instances it turned out that it wasn’t yet time.
When you are ultimately confronted with the inevitable, and all of a
sudden the woman who brought life to you isn’t here any more, it is,
to say the least, a shock. I am sure that many of you are able to recognize
this feeling.
My mother’s life
could be read as a poem. Sometimes rippling on the rhythmic rustic lyrics
of a calm word flow. Sometimes violent and longing for better times;
the strophes struggling to reach the sweet slope of a tranquil seashore.
Always there was this forest with its many trees of which she was unable
to make a choice. Her life was a vivid word game, penetrated by a powerful
belief and always searching for the satisfaction, the completion, and
a well-chosen cadence.
During her younger
years she discovered the unseen worlds. She was spiritual avant la lettre
and soon recognized herself in the Pentecostal church. Krishnamurti
came to the Netherlands and on Paasberg Hill she listened breathlessly
to the message of this enlightened little man from the east. Later she
came into contact with the Anthroposophical movement, in which she found
happiness for many years. It was the love for a loving God, love for
human and animal, eurythmics, drawing and painting, music.
This accompanying
philosophical belief system gave her a lever to come to terms with the
things of life. In this way, she sometimes was able to release daily
bothers, so that she could lose herself into the great thinker that
once was Rudolf Steiner, in a conviction.
She also was a poet
not without merit, who in 1953 wrote the following prophesying poem:
“Oh to bear
and to die, not
to suffer time that presents life,
and tread from the cross of time and void
to feed with wine, of bread the crumb, to take
harvest of abundance in eternity.
God take us for himself and has got plenty of time.”
During the spring of 1992 a small collection of poems by her hand was
released: ‘Probes of language and sign,’ which was circulated among
a small group of interested persons. She considered this to be her life’s
work, but unfortunately her health suffered a great deal while Parkinson’s
disease started to meticulously waste her. Throughout her last few years
she took comfort out of the poems by Ida Gerhardt, a renowned Dutch
spiritual poetess.
All the time I have
been able to look at her life from the sideline and what I saw was an
eternal quest. It was a longing for that one tree that would be able
to give her everything that she was looking for during this life. Many
times she found one who was benevolent to her for a shorter or longer
period of time. But always came, early or late, the disappointment,
the turning away and again the yearning for something that would exist
beyond the horizon.
Then all at once
she wasn’t there any more. All of a sudden she didn’t take part any
more in this sublunary world. She and I had been contemporaries for
54 years. Her last years had been a hard struggle with Parkinson’s,
several cardiac arrests, lung embolism, a broken hip, and breast cancer.
She certainly wasn’t spared!
A few days before
Christmas my wife and I found her dead in a secluded room in the home
for the elderly where she had spent her last months. A few minutes before,
she had closed her tired eyes for the last time, yet round her calm
face played a half smile and in that moment I knew for certain that
at last she had found her one tree.
After the cremation
ceremony Annie and I, together with a score of friends and relatives,
went to our home to drink a little bit and to talk about the occurrences
of the last few months that had led to this sad event. As often is the
case after funerals, it became an animated happening with people one
tends not to meet very often in our hectic daily lives.
Suddenly one of
us discovered that a heron was perched on the roof of our little shed
behind the house. The bird was quite settled there and looked – as herons
are wont to do – with an intense gaze, its long pointed beak aimed in
our direction for a considerable time.
By and by conversations
subsided and then there was this moment when all of us were looking
in the direction of this heron, and it was clear that it was pleased
to receive the attention of us all. At that precise moment the stately
bird flew up again and winged hither. I can assure you that the silence
in the room was long-lasting and deafening. Everyone left with their
own thoughts, interpreting this occurrence in his or her own way.
Looking back I can
only assume that this valuable golden moment was a penny from heaven,
in which it was made clear that all was well and that my mother had
not made this transition to the other world without intention. Furthermore
it made it possible for us to get along with this loss in a positive
way. I thank those on the other side of the veils who have been responsible,
for the possibility to re-member that life does not end at the moment
of transition, but all the more can be seen as a rebirth into a world
that is not tangible for us.
That Christmas time
has been one that I shall never forget and which made me realise that
the common Christmas message sometimes goes beyond to something much
deeper. And yet, do we not each year celebrate a birth at Christmas?
~*~*~*~ |
