Catherine Black.

So, I'm in a transitional mood today. Everything's a little dark, a little moody. I get this way before big energy shifts: school starts again tomorrow, I'm battling work again. Stuff like that. A scene from West Wing tonight reminded me of my grandfather's illness when he was alive.

Usually, when I get in this mood, I get imagery and energy from a dead "past" life. I use the term "past" in the non-conventional sense because, although this past life occured in a different time framework, that life is a part of my "now", so I can tune into it at any point in this past life's timeline. Typically, this life presents itself toward the moments of death. The person is Catherine Black.

She is/was a woman living alone in a cottage in the woods in England somewhere. It's near the middle ages or later centuries. Her house is painted grey with many vines on it. She has a big black kettle out front that she cooks in.

She was killed by wolves: actually torn apart. But, she was ok with it because she understood the great cycle of life and natural grace where her flesh was used by the wolves as a part of their living lives.

Catherine laughs at me, slightly mockingly when I feel "down" - she was a caring woman, but hard in the way lonliness and separation from others will cause. She sends me images of her final moments: the smell of the leaves burning under the great kettle, the creaking sounds of the forest as the trees swayed, the light snow all around. The cold was very deep and from a long path in the distance a pack of wolves runs into view, spies her, and races toward her. She never shows me her actual death, but I see her stand still, resigned and accepting until the wolves reach her and pull her down. The leaves burn on still in the very dry air.

She reminds me that death and change is a cycle--and that is her message, not of my death but of the way I deal with change. I resist, resist and she laughs because I do. "We are eternal" she reminds... yet I am too focused to notice, often.

There's another little twist in this reality. There is a song by an artist I admire: Kirsty Hawkshaw, called "Orange". This song perfectly captures the essence of the death of Catherine Black and her interchange with me. There's a phrase, "We are moments in the flow, here to witness the seeds we sow, then to fade into the beautiful unknown, never to forget, never completely alone." Then, the refrain: "Move on into everlasting joy, like the times we felt, dancing in the sun, it never makes sense to say goodbye, so I'll just close my eyes."

Orange is a moving song. Kirsty's beautiful yet haunting voice adds the right dimension. And Catherine is moving me into resisting change less. But for tonight, I'll feel the way I want and tomorrow will be a new day.

P.S. Worked out 4 alternating days in a row. :)