When someone I love passes, makes a transition to non-form, I feel a portal open. I honor the sacred time.
I listen, receive.
These words of T.S. Eliot in Four Quartets – Little Gidding, comfort me.
And what the dead had no speech for, when living,
They can tell you, being dead: the communication
Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.
“Tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.”
What vibrates now?