Father Earth, Daughter Sky

Father Earth,
Daughter Sky
Listening to Spirit in the Heart of Nature
Becky Gail
Copyright © 2012 Becky Gail
All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. No
part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or
by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval
system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.
DreamSculpt Media Inc., Petaluma, CA. USA
ISBN 978-1-937504-22-9 paperback
978-1-937504-23-6 ebook
DSP103
Library of Congress Control Number 2012941934
For more information, visit
www.DreamSculpt.com
[email protected]
Cover Illustration by Turtle Heart
Interior Design by Darlene Swanson
Produced and distributed for DreamSculpt Media, Inc.
by BackOffice Publisher Services, Worthy Shorts, Inc.
In Memory and Honor of Lloyd Evans
Dedicated to Austin, Jack and Grant
May your inner light guide you to a path of
truth, wisdom, awe, wonder and love.
Contents
Chapter 1
Wood Thrush / Legacy . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
Chapter 2
Earth Standing Bird / Out of the Nest . . 13
Chapter 3
Towhee / Taking Risks . . . . . . . . . . . 33
Chapter 4
Crow / You are With Friends Now . . . . 47
Chapter 5
Quetzal / Flying to Sacred Sites . . . . . . 61
Chapter 6
Chickadee / Synchronicity . . . . . . . . . 79
Chapter 7
Raven Spirit / Affirming Life . . . . . . . . 91
Chapter 8
Bluebird / Creating Sanctuary . . . . . . 109
Epilogue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123
Acknowledgments
I
thank my mother, Gail Evans, and sisters Julie
Wilkinson, Susan Murray and Keryn DeRubis and
their families for always being there for me. I cannot
imagine a more genuine source of constant support
and love.
Aunt Diane Vernon, I thank you for cheering me on
with your love!
I am in deep gratitude to my dear friend, Beth
Frazee, a fellow bird and nature lover. You have been
there through all of it!
Thank you to Jared Rosen. You encouraged and
coached me to write this book years ago. I have much
gratitude for your guidance, support, kindness and wisdom. I know it required a great deal of patience on your
part to allow the story to unfold.
To Judith Larson, my editor. Thank you for taking
this manuscript to a whole new level. The polishing and
refining contribute to the flow and clarity that I imagined from the beginning. I have deep respect and gratitude for your work.
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Father Earth, Daughter Sky
I would like to acknowledge the light workers, and
healers who inspired me to tap into awareness more
fully:
Turtle Heart, Silvia Santi, Erla Heyns, Thomas Steffen, Jennifer Vasilakos, Christine Allyson, Deb Foggio,
Marjolaine Arsenault, Doug Hubbell, Salome,
Ed Bastian, Sobyl Bunis, Eddie Ellner, Vijaya Stern,
Frank Stainetti, Ella Joy Foster, Sharon Mehdi, Julia Gonzalez, Lama Dawa Tarchin Phillips and Olivia Vicky Lee.
Heart felt gratitude to David Palermo for my photos
and for taking the time to give me honest feedback on
the manuscript.
I appreciate Derek Stettler for filming and editing
the videos. You are a gem!
Big thanks to Tom Dain, Donna Jean Carolan, Tom
Boyes and Karl Kras for turning my nature sanctuary
dreams into a reality.
Thank you Marie Larkin. What a blessing you have
been to me! I cannot even list all of the ways.
Thanks to Jim Downard for pointing me in the right
direction when I first approached you for ideas. That
first edit made quite an impression and I am grateful.
I thank Kelly O’brien for being a great teacher and
welcoming me into a new neighborhood!
Much thanks to Alicia St. John for your expertise
and feedback! Your generosity and creativity inspire me.
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Acknowledgments
Carole Klingbeil . . . you are always there for me! I
appreciate your thoughtfulness and support.
Thank you to all of my friends and relatives who have
supported me on my life journey. My life feels charmed
for having you there!
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Chapter 1
Wood Thrush /
Legacy
W
hen I close my eyes and picture him now, I see
him walking. In his suit and tie, walking through
the woods and countryside on his commute to work,
my father, Lloyd, kept his daily ritual. I believe his commitment to walking in nature made him more aware, patient, mindful, and compassionate with others. For the
president of a southeastern Ohio small-town bank and
father of four girls, this was his way of clearing his mind
to prepare for each day.
During the last few hours of his life, I held his hand
and watched him breathe. He was the best father I could
possibly imagine, and I couldn’t believe this was it.
This was the last time I would see him. Exhausted from
crushing despair, I did my best to stay calm and supportive while he lay unconscious in his bed. My mother,
Gail, my sisters Julie, Susan, and Keryn, and I gathered
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Father Earth, Daughter Sky
around him during the week, grateful that he seemed
peaceful and free of pain.
What would happen to all of us? Would I see a white
cloud emerge from his body as he took his last breath?
Was his spirit already somewhere else? Would he send
me a message? Would he communicate something to
me so that I could be certain he was still “here” with me?
All day, I kept the vigil of holding his hand. I didn’t
want to let go of the father who made me feel loved,
supported, and nurtured all of my life. I thought that
since he had taken such great care of himself physically,
mentally, and spiritually, he would outlive all of us. I
memorized the shape of his hand as if I could use that
as a keepsake image the rest of my life. I reflected on our
special moments together. From all the memories that
surfaced, the times in nature were the most meaningful
and memorable: the time he carried me half way down
Mt. Washington in the rain when I was six years old; the
winter day when I was sixteen, the schools were closed,
and we drove to a state park to hike in the snow and icy
wonderland of Cedar Falls; and the time I woke him before daybreak for a hike along a wooded ridge top just
to watch a sunrise together. I’m certain it was how he
would want to be remembered, because those were his
dearest and most treasured times . . . in nature.
His breathing didn’t stop until I left his room. That
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Wood Thrush / Legacy
night, I stepped outdoors and took a deep breath in the
frosty air, and I spoke to the stars as if the sky was where
he resided now. I cried out, desperate for him to give me a
sign: perhaps a shooting star, a voice, a bird, something! It
was the first time I fully realized the impermanence of everything. I didn’t like feeling out of control. It was agonizing
to know that he wanted to live and had many dreams and
goals still lingering. I felt his torment of leaving family behind. I was determined to find answers and explore possibilities of re-connecting with him so that I could cope. Even
though I believed he was in a beautiful place, I couldn’t accept that he would not be involved with my life anymore.
As a mother of three grown boys, I knew that I
wanted to be an example of directing my energy toward
healing and taking responsibility for wellness. In the
following months, I prayed, meditated, read books on
metaphysics, examined dreams, kept journals, and gathered an enormous amount of information on recovering
from grief and understanding how to communicate with
his spirit. I became a seeker of truth; I wanted to explore
my true purpose and learn how to become the most
authentic person I could be. I wanted to connect with
Dad, but I also wanted to understand what brought him
peace. While spending a few days in a guided imagery
and breathing class, I met another participant, Tricia,
who sparked my curiosity.
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Father Earth, Daughter Sky
“You are able to see and communicate with people
that have passed on?” I asked. I hoped she would volunteer to “tune in” to see if my father had anything he
wanted to say to me.
“What was his name?” Tricia asked.
“You tell ME!” I teased.
She took a deep breath, and a few seconds later
asked, “Does his name start with L?”
“Oh my, you are good!” I said, “His name is Lloyd
Evans.”
Tricia left the room and focused on his name for a
while, and I took a break for tea. When we came back to
our mats, ready for the workshop discussion, she handed
me a piece of paper. With tears in her eyes, she said Dad
was right behind me. She felt that he was a gentle soul
and was near me often. The note read:
Blockages are not necessary.
Clear them my dear.
Live in love and joy.
We are one and the same you and I.
Big sky
You are all love. Your path has many
branches ~ feel into all of them and
you’ll know what to do.
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Wood Thrush / Legacy
Tricia said Dad showed her images of a top hat (perhaps as an entertainer or spotlight), a fork (silverware),
a sailboat on a lake, and an old-fashioned skeleton key. I
thanked her. I felt she was genuinely receiving messages
from Dad. And, of course, I wept! I wanted to know
more. What did those images mean? Why couldn’t I be
gifted with the same ability to communicate with him? I
realized I needed to tune in more on my own.
It was Father’s Day when I returned home. I decided
the best way to honor Dad was to drive to my childhood
home. Dad’s possessions, books, and journals were still
there in the den. I found a spiral notebook with KEEP
written in his handwriting on the first page. It was titled
“Morning Pages.” I also found the journal he kept when
he hiked the Appalachian Trail and a few other trails.
A book called The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron inspired Dad’s journals. Ms. Cameron suggests writing
three pages longhand each morning strictly off the top
of your head - whatever floods into your mind, including
complaints, dreams, observations, reflections, or whatever! Dad disciplined himself for a year and kept morning pages. I was excited, but a little apprehensive, about
reading his journal because these were his personal, intimate, private thoughts. I opened the notebook somewhere near the beginning and read:
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Father Earth, Daughter Sky
6/8/95
I wish Becky could/would talk about
something other than her boys or
self. L.P.E.
The following day he entered:
Becky really is a beautiful soul. I
would just like to see her stay more
in touch with that part of herself.
L.P.E.
Stunned and heartbroken after reading this passage,
I could barely see to drive home through all of the tears.
Even though it was written six years before his death, I
didn’t have a clue he felt that way about me at any point in
my life. I couldn’t face the thought that I had displeased
or disappointed him in any way. So many other times in
life, I could improve a situation or do it over! “I lost my
chance,” I thought. I also began to defend myself against
what he wrote; my thoughts went something like this:
I was busy raising three boys,
taking care of all their needs. I was
involved with all of their activities
and projects, and my husband’s
needs and activities. I thought that
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Wood Thrush / Legacy
since I was perfecting my way of
being the best mom and wife I could
be that no one would be disappointed.
What was it about me that he
detected I wasn’t in touch with?
Why didn’t he tell me? Was I overly
involved with my three sons? Did he
feel that I could have listened better?
I knew Dad loved me, and after a few days, I decided
to gather his journals and read them so that I would have
more insight into how he felt about nature and his family.
I realized how lucky I was that he recorded his thoughts
and left them behind. If no one read them, what purpose
would they serve? In time, I was able to start reading
more passages from his journals, and I was surprised
to find that my thoughts were similar to his thoughts.
Reading his words began to give me the comfort I was
looking for and to feel connected with him again.
There is a wonderful thunderstorm
overhead. One clap of thunder
rumbles and echoes as it bounces
around the heavens. Then, stillness
for a while when suddenly the
thunder, remembering, cracks the
sky wide open, followed by more
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Father Earth, Daughter Sky
echoes as the energy spent dissipates
with a gentle rain.
Earlier, I discovered a wood thrush,
dead by my window. Only
yesterday I had heard its heart song.
Such a beautiful creature, even in
death. I buried him/her under a
hickory tree where I will continue to
feel the song. L.P.E.
Dad gave me all I need to know about handling any
kind of death in his paragraph about the wood thrush.
I recall the time he took me into the woods and helped
me identify their ethereal flute-like call. It’s a sound that
melts the heart. I had no doubt that I would come to appreciate nature as he did and continue to feel my father’s
song. I decided from that day forward, I was meant to go
deeper into understanding nature and communing on a
regular basis.
Dad resonated to the works by Emerson and Thoreau, and I found passages in his journals where he
quoted them. This Thoreau quote reminds me of how
Dad spoke of the wood thrush:
The thrush alone declares the
immortal wealth and vigor that is
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Wood Thrush / Legacy
in the forest. Here is a bird in whose
strain the story is told . . . Whenever
a man hears it he is young, and
Nature is in her spring; whenever he
hears it, it is a new world and a free
country, and the gates of heaven are
not shut against him.
I realized Dad’s recorded dreams and journey were
his gift to me. My gift back to him was to carry his
dreams with me and share them with others. With this
gift, I began to feel what it was like to be truly passionate about something in life. I realized that the passage
he wrote about me was his hope that I would discover
authenticity and passion. He probably recognized that I
had become distracted with children and family, and had
moved off center or out of balance. He was observing
the potential in me, and I’m grateful now that he wrote
this in his journal. It served as a catalyst to my seeking
and my desire to understand myself on a deeper level.
I knew it would be a process, but I was impatient
to feel whole. I initiated a routine of walking around a
hometown state park, Lake Alma, every chance I could.
The spring after Dad died, I bundled up to walk the twomile bike path around the lake. The cold wind deterred
most people, but I found that by wearing a down coat
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Father Earth, Daughter Sky
and wool hat, I was quite warm and could actually enjoy
the walk. I loved having the place to myself for a change!
Wrapped up in my own thoughts, I noticed a man walking toward me with a large Rottweiler. I did not feel
threatened in any way, but he did look unusual, almost
like a mystical Merlin with a long white beard. His fast
pace with wide steps and his sweet smile reminded me
of Dad as he passed by and commented on the unseasonable weather we were having. It crossed my mind
that he was the type of persona Dad would reincarnate
if given the choice.
A few minutes later, when this man was at least a
hundred yards away, I heard him call out to me to look
up in the sky toward the island: “There’s an eagle . . . an
osprey!” I scanned the sky hoping to spot the bird, and
sure enough, I caught full sight of the magnificent soaring osprey just in time to witness his dive and plunge into
the water for his morning meal. My heart nearly stopped!
What an incredible sight! Grateful that this man took the
time to share this with me, I looked across the lake to see
if he was still there, but he disappeared from my view before I could shout back across the lake to thank him.
How was it timed so perfectly? How did this man
know to engage me? Not everyone appreciates birds, I
thought. Most people might see the osprey, keep it to
themselves, and probably not yell across a lake just so
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Wood Thrush / Legacy
someone else could see it. But, this man did! I couldn’t
help but think that Dad’s spirit was around, reminding
me to be aware so that I wouldn’t miss out on this exquisitely orchestrated event. Dad was passionate about nature, and it was becoming more evident how important
nature was to me.
Carole King sings about the stars at night putting
on a show for free in her song, “Up on a Roof.” For free
- imagine that! Not many things in life are free. How
many times in a year do people actually take the time to
look at the stars for even five minutes? A friend of mine
had never stood still long enough to watch the sun slip
below the horizon until I invited him to watch with me.
I had assumed everyone had done that!
Later that spring, I hiked on a trail at the same park.
With the place to myself, I savored the warm sunshine
after a long, gloomy winter. I decided to sit on the hillside in a pile of leaves and listen. I had the image in my
mind that I was the only person in the entire county,
sitting in the middle of the woods on the ground, and
thrilled to be there. I tuned into the sounds of the forest
and felt a soft breeze across my face. I was completely
dumbfounded when I heard the sound of rainfall. How
could that be? I kept staring at the incredibly blue, cloudless sky, perplexed by the sound of rain. Suddenly, a drop
splattered on a brown leaf beside my feet, and I imme11
Father Earth, Daughter Sky
diately had the urge to taste it. I placed the dried leaf on
my tongue; it was as sweet as maple syrup. Of course! It
was raining sap! How privileged I felt to experience this
for the very first time! It was as if the tree was anointing
me to a new experience. I’ve walked in the woods in the
spring before but have never witnessed this phenomenon. I wondered if anyone else in the world knew it was
raining sap!
As I drove home in this impassioned state, I thought
about the people passing me by in their cars, wondering
if they were noticing the wind in the trees or the delicate scent of the woods lingering along the roadside. It’s
funny how we wish other people could share in the experiences we feel are meaningful. I thought about how
much Dad’s journals reflected his appreciation of life:
I love life as it is—every bit of it, and
wouldn’t dare the audacity to even
think of how it could be improved—
and yet I yearn—only that others
would appreciate life as it was
presented to them! L.P.E.
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Chapter 2
Earth Standing
Bird / Out of
the Nest
All wrongdoing arises from the mind.
When the mind is purified, what trace
of wrong is left?
After repentance, my heart is light
like the white clouds
that have always floated over the ancient forest in freedom.
– Thich Nhat Hanh
O
ne year after the death of my father, my husband
collapsed from a seizure at work. After a series of
grueling tests and opposing opinions from renowned
physicians, it was determined he would undergo brain
surgery at the Mayo Clinic to resect a tumor. As if that
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Becky Gail
B
ecky Gail is both healer and artist. For the past ten
years, she studied with healers around the globe.
She is certified in Reiki, InterSpiritual Meditation, and
sound healing. As an artist, Becky photographs the far
corners of the earth, paints on canvas, and performs
sacred ceremonies and labyrinth walks at her home in
Montecito, California. Proceeds from this book will be
contributed to the GATE Foundation, Audubon Society, Appalachian Trail Conservancy, Native American
School of Sacred Ceremonies, and Ojai Raptor Center.
To find out about retreats, journeys and private consultation with Becky Gail:
www.FatherEarthDaughterSky.com
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