Set me a seal upon your heart,
As a ring upon your arm;
For love is as strong as death...
Its flashes are flashes of fire,
A flame of the Eternal.

Song of Songs viii 6-7

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Saturday, March 26, 2011


Taking a break from my 2004 journal entries, I stop to pay homage to the Supermoon, at its peak (in terms of perigee and syzygy) on March 19th. Then, the unexpected….

Saturday 3/19/11
10:17 p.m.

I’m gazing at the aptly named “Supermoon” from my dining room window on the east end of the house. Its wide, hazy ring holds such a mystical quality my breath catches in my throat.

Captured, at last I shout, “The moon is so close to me, Max!”

And, in less than a twinkling, I “hear” the words, As am I….
I turn as if I might actually find the face of the one I knew so well, all lit up in “moonglow.” But all I find is Tiggi, curled up in the wicker chair behind me. Now she’s bleating like a newborn goat.

“Oh sweetie, of course you are important to me, don’t you know?” I pick her up as wisps of fur tickle my mouth and nose. Blowing it away, I stroke her behind the ears and a familiar verse begins to echo through the nooks and crannies of my brain.

What was it?

Oh yes…

… a poem I’d written not long after Max had left our earthly plane.

Unlikely Triad

The moon is my connection
as fading summer's eve mystifies

The moon holds my reflection --
in shallow pools of silt, I see the eye

While autumnal gatherings ensue,
I drift by scattered leaves to find the muse.

The moon is my redemption,
though drear the winter days without your sigh

The moon holds my attention
as vagrant thoughts and melodies arise

Until the spring's renewal sets them free,
the moon is my connection with Thee.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Winking Eye and Untangled Necklace

Journal Entry
Friday 02/27/2004
Around 7:00 a.m.

Half asleep, I found a pixel-like eye “winking” at me. Strange, I’ve never seen anything like it – an eye winking while my eyes are closed. What’s this about?

Even so, my mind is drifting and I begin to wonder if one eye winks or if it actually blinks.*

Suddenly, I open my eyes and look around. Oh, it’s too early in the morning for this.

“After all, it’s Friday, and I have to go to work. So let’s get on with it.”

After some toast and a shot of café au lait, I return to the knots in the necklace I’d planned to wear today. Due to another riotous week at the office, my eyelids had begun to “clamp shut” way early the night before. And as I continued to work on the knotty (naughty) necklace, my head began to bob like a buoy lost at sea. Thus, it wasn’t long before Magoo tossed the wicked chain on the coffee table. “Ach, no luck there.”

Oh well, I’ll try again tomorrow.


So I put my mug down on the coffee table and pick up the necklace, only to find something startling if not downright impossible: for the chain is smooth. But soon I feel a lump… the one in my throat as I say to the walls, “Wow, all the knots are gone.”

This is just plain weird. Before I went to bed last night, I was sure the chain had several tangles in it because, despite the ensuing delirium, I struggled for almost an hour to remove them… to no avail. Sure I was frustrated, I couldn’t even get one knot out!

Now beyond baffled, I turn the necklace around in my hands and start to wonder: Could those little knots have come undone as I tossed the chain on the table?

Well, I suppose one tangle might have worked its way out, but several?

Nah, no way. Flopping down on the sofa, I sigh remembering how I used to leave my jewelry for Max – right there on the coffee table. He had a knack for getting the kinks out of almost anything. In fact, he just seemed to enjoy the challenge of fixing things and would have most any kinky piece ready in a snap.

Well, we must have been a match of sorts because I was always finding things for him to fix… week after week. Yet, he never seemed to mind.


Hey guy, I hope my smiles said something about how I felt when you fixed my jewelry. But just in case, I want to say thanks, hon… not only for being so adept at repairs, but because you never seemed to lose your enthusiasm in doing things for me… year after year… after year.


*Reminds me of the “sound of one hand clapping.” Does one eye wink or does it blink? I leave this madcap question for the reader to sort out.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Max "Curls Up" with Mandy

Journal Entry

I labeled this journal entry “01/xx” because, when so many wild and curious events began to take place, I hadn’t been keeping a record of everything. I do remember, though, that when the following event happened, I’d been meditating a lot – praying for peace, fortitude, knowledge and understanding.

And so, right around this time, I’m lying on the sofa when out of the blue, I get the sense that my husband, now a disembodied spirit, is curling up around me. I am barely awake. Even so, I’m able to discern powerful thought-forms and emotions surging toward me in waves. I doubt this will make much sense to anyone, but this is the only way I can describe it: I can hardly hear Max’s voice as if it is light years away, yet I distinctly hear him cry out, “M-a-n-d-y, I love you! Mandy, I love you!”

Then, without forethought and certainly without any effort, I find myself screaming, “Max, Max! I love you too!”

“Where are you? I mean, I feel you, but where are you?”

Then, I hear him say, “Mandy...” but I am unable to hear the rest of his words. Like the blips from a bad radio signal, his sound simply fades into a hum… then nothing. And as his voice drifts away, so does his being.

Still, I do not feel alone or empty, and I glide into a bottomless sleep.


These incredibly heartfelt, if not impassioned moments happened about four or five times over a three-week period. Nevertheless, I am at a loss because I cannot fully comprehend what took place. But in light of all that has happened since December of 2003, I decided to try to capture and make note of these beautifully compelling thoughts and feelings coming through to me. Sometimes the forms arrive as symbols and visual patterns, sometimes as emotions, and other times as words of the English language – all having Max’s unique, resonant quality.

Regardless, my words do not and never will do justice to these overpowering experiences.


Post Script

As the receiver and object of the above thoughts and feelings (in essence, a part and parcel of the not-so-scientific study at hand), I am unable to verify what I have seen or heard. Nevertheless, I do not believe these visions, sounds and sentiments are coming from me, i.e., solely from my mind. In general, this puts me into the dubious category of “object” of the event in question.

Is Max, then, the subject? It would seem so. However, some would say that I am the subject and object as well, i.e., the only “creature” playing a part in the entire scenario. Apart from any commentary at large, I find that as these sounds, sights and sentiments arrive in my field of consciousness, they appear to be extraneous to my being. They are “flying” toward me in what I can only describe as shock waves, soft yet loud – another contradiction – at least on the surface. These waves are filled with an intense energy (or perhaps a consciousness) of their own.

Forgive me. It is difficult to talk about these notions in any humanly intelligible way, but I do hope you will bear with me. It is my best effort at explaining such awe-inspiring yet incomprehensible encounters.