Gifts from my Guardian Angels
Gifts from my Guardian Angels
Three men I love left this world, leaving behind words that, oddly, I hear in my head at random times. Put together, they sound like a cryptic message from the universe.
The first was my brother, Carl.
Carl was the closest to me of my 7 sisters and 4 brothers. He was my partner in crime. When we were little, he couldn’t pronounce “Cathy” and so called me “Mathy.” Later, that morphed into “Mathew.”
And so it was, “Matthew! Let’s fool the boys (our little brothers) into thinking we can shrink and travel through the registers.”
He would go into another room and I would call the little ones in and say, “Carl is in the register and wants to talk with you.” Carl would then speak from the other room, into the register, and the boys would be amazed that he was inside the ducts!
For hours and hours after school, Carl and I would toss a football in the street (I was the closest of the 8 sisters available to conscript into sport buddy). He taught me how to throw and catch a football like a total boss (I still throw and catch like a boss, btw). When he was a high school senior, and I just a lowly sophomore, he never shied at inviting “little sister” to parties with his cool friends. And, oh, did we get into some shenanigans…. Carl helped me buy my first car, a green 1968 Mustang, and taught me how to change the oil and install a bitchin’ stereo. And he always had my back, often inquiring to see if I needed any help when some guy was getting a little too friendly.
Carl passed away, in 2008, after a 10-year battle with cancer.
And yet, he still visits me occasionally…..
Shortly after his passing, I had a vivid dream of him. I was standing in a small town at dusk with my sisters when we saw Carl walking down the lonely street toward us. Excitedly, they all surrounded him, a gaggle of hens asking silly questions such as “What will the weather be like tomorrow?” and “Who will be the next president” as if he was some kind of gag fortune teller from the other side. I stood outside the circle, watching, heart full, as he good-naturedly laughed at their silly prattle. Then, he looked over their heads (easy to do at 6’2”), straight at me, and said, “Don’t you know your path?” and he pointed to the stars.
— — — —
The second was my great love, John.
John enabled my dream of starting up a flight school to become a reality by agreeing to become my chief pilot, a minor role for someone who had already had an illustrious career of his own, and certainly didn’t need the money. He became a mentor and role model to me on how to improve the business, do good service, and build customer loyalty. I watched people fall under John’s spell from his very first generous, two-handed, eye-contact handshake. I watched him teach numerous students, always with kindness and respect. I learned, from him, the power of being totally present and attentive with people. John also taught me how to be a skilled pilot, patiently instructing me for both my instrument and commercial pilot licenses and even teaching me to fly aerobatics.
Most importantly, John became a dear confidant and acted as a lighthouse, leading me back to shore when I was lost in the dark sea of an eroding marriage. Each morning, I would wipe my eyes from the midnight tears and get up to take my aching heart and body to work. John was there, compassionately willing to help guide my soul back home. Of all the beautiful and wise words John shared with me, these four, from a flight lesson where I was feeling completely overwhelmed by a simple task, still pop into my head frequently — “It’s not that hard.”
John passed away, suddenly and unexpectedly, in 2012, four months after my divorce, while I was recovering in Australia. Somehow, I had known, before my departure, that I would never see him again.
— — — —
The third was Costanzo, the educated olive farmer in Tuscany.
Costanzo opened the doors to me on Buddhist mentality and global hospitality. For decades, he had welcomed wandering pilgrims from around the world to his beautiful farm, Campo el Pero — for a day, a month, a year — whatever respite one needed on their life journey. They could stay and go with no obligation, other than to care for each other and help care for the land, if they wished.
He appeared in my life at exactly the moment when I needed someplace to go. I scraped together enough money to buy an airline ticket and I went, with no idea of when — or if — I would come back. His beautiful land healed me as I wandered among the ancient olive trees, the towering agave flowers, the stunning artichokes, the hidden flower patches, the random art-itectures constructed by other “pilgrims” over the years. I discovered the beauty of tame and wild coexisting in gentle harmony in this sunny land. I rode an old bike into town and along the shores of the sparkling waters of the Ligurian sea. I planted a garden and contributed my own quirky art to the land — a sacred circle for the goddess of the wheel of time, health and longevity, Anna Perenna. I meditated for hours as the cicadas sang to me, and I learned about Buddhist tenets of Right Thought, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Effort, and more.
Of all the quiet and thoughtful words Costanzo said to me, the ones that frequently pop into my head are these three mundane words spoken when we were talking about the value of drinking warm lemon water every morning — “It is Essential.”
Costanzo passed away in January of 2022. I had hoped to be there for his passing. Instead, I lit a candle from afar and sang him home in Italian.
These three men, whose presence in my life was so impactful, left me with a handful of words that, when joined together give me this message…..
Don’t you know your path (point to the stars)? It’s not that hard. It is essential.
I had never joined these phrases all together before today.
Today, when my spirit needs a little reminder of its mission, the universe spelled it out for me.
I imagine the three of them, my Guardian Angels, sitting together up there somewhere, Carl fist-pumping, John doing a spiritual aileron roll, and Costanzo nodding quietly.
“Yes,” they’re saying. “Yes! She finally gets it!”
Don’t you know your path (to the stars)? Its not that hard — It’s essential.
