Catrien Ross on Giving the Light in Your Wound Time to Work

March 11th, 2018 - 2 Comments
Catrien Ross on Giving the Light in Your Wound Time to Work

The Light in Your Wound


The words of Rumi, the Persian poet and mystic, give an instant lift: “The wound is the place where the light enters you.”

But the painful reality of wounds is that the light needs time to do its work.

When the wound is profound, like grief at the loss of someone you love, the darkness does not brighten at once.

Instead, the light works in ways you do not know and for a time cannot even feel.

Daily life continues, of course.

You take care of your tasks. You walk. You talk.

But the dance has gone out of your rhythms.

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Dr. Hans Laetz – Catrien Ross Obon Letter:Cucumber Horse, Eggplant Cow & All Our Memories

August 16th, 2015 - No Comments

Dr. Hans Laetz Obon with Catrien Ross, 2015

August 13-16, 2015
Obon Letter for Dr. Hans G. Laetz from Catrien Ross

Dear Hans:

In Japan, it is Obon, the August 3-day festival of the dead.

So I am grateful for this unusual way to honor your returning spirit.

I especially want to observe this first Obon since your death last year – your so-called nibon.

At the front door, a lighted fire points the way, welcoming and guiding your spirit here.

Cucumber and eggplant have been picked fresh from the garden and your spirit animals stand ready.

The cucumber horse serves to carry your spirit here as swiftly as possible.

Your departure on the eggplant cow is meant to be much slower, a reluctant leaving when Obon is over.
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Catrien Ross on Dr. Hans G. Laetz’ Death, Owl As Messenger of Transformation

December 14th, 2014 - 2 Comments

Owl Visits Catrien Ross after Dr. Hans G. Laetz Death

Hans – Dr. Johann Gottlieb Laetz – died on September 23, 2014.

On December 2, 2014, I experienced a mysterious encounter with an owl.

At about 8:30 am, a short-eared owl flew directly down into my kitchen window and fell to the ground.

I immediately ran out to cradle the stunned bird in my hands.

When the large orange eyes closed I thought the beautiful creature might be dying.

Stroking its neck and feathers, I murmured, “Don’t die, don’t die.”

But the owl was not dead – it suddenly energized and sat up along the thumb and index finger of my left hand.
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