Ghost Dancing Into the Forever of You~

I will sing you to me.
As the days and moments and years pass by,
I will sing you to me.
As I gaze up at the mighty Universe each night,
From wherever my pink trailer happens to park,
I will sing you to me.
And as my heart wanders this land,
Seeking you, not finding you
But wishing desperately to connect with you and to you,
Somewhere, anywhere, everywhere,
I will sing you to me.
The words of Love our hearts exchanged
As we lived our years and our Love story,
I will sing you to me.
Where are you, my dearest Love?
On this night when the veil lifts between me and you…
Where are you?
As my hand reaches through the veil,
As my heart bleeds for you
And I lightly touch your picture your compass your wallet your moustache comb
Seeking to feel your presence again,
I will sing you to me.
As our music drifts lightly into the night air and my feet move slowly in remembered steps and my hands lift to just the right height, where the breadth of your shoulders wait for my touch,
And I ghost dance with you under these stars in this Universe in the world you left, where I am now, without you, my dearest Love,
Through the years and the moments and the days that stretch into Forever…
Into the Forever, my dearest Love, where you exist and I don’t,
My body will move with you and, yes,
I will sing you to me, always.
Forever sing you to me into the Forever of Time…

Angels and Odysseys~

Words.  Phrases.  Images.  All swirl through my body as a tornado, dipping and weaving in my consciousness, coming from long-forgotten spaces.  Voices murmur and rise up and linger in the air around me, dancing fairy dust.  I can feel them, though I sense that it isn’t intended for me to reach out and grasp these nebulous thoughts.  No, this calls for me only to close my eyes, trust, and sharpen my senses, standing open amidst the delicacy and shimmer of this….yes, magic, I think.

An awareness and awakening is within me in the last few weeks.  I’ve been watching dvds through the night, shows and movies chosen randomly to distract me through the night as I waken, only to nod off again.  Random.  Except maybe not so much.  There really has been no rhyme or reason to my viewing choices but scattered throughout all the dialogue skirting the edges of my mind are words and phrases that seem directed specifically to me.  Shows with angels, shows of loss, comedy that suddenly flips into intense messages for me, careless words seemingly, except it seems as if they are being spoken through a bullhorn, directly at me.

The words I hear in the night darkness are echoes of the words spoken to me as I’ve traveled this Odyssey of Love for Handsome Husband.  Do you know that you are surrounded by angels?  one woman said to me.  They are all around you.  Another said continue whatever it is you’re doing you’re on the right path.  Susan, at the very beginning of this, said he wants me to tell you he wouldn’t leave you without a road map.  Handsome Husband said to me I will always be with you.  Images of the hundreds of people I’ve met on the road leap and bound in my memory.  Giving and receiving hugs around the country.  Smiles and thumbs up as cars and motorcycles and trucks pass my pink car, towing my pink-trimmed T@b.  Notes left on the step to my colorful trailer, wishing me happy trails, accompanied by travel angels, little snacks, and other mementoes.

Have you ever felt chosen?  As in, you’re really not in charge of whatever this is and you resist because look at the horrible circumstance that brought you to where you are and you know what?  You need to do it anyways and worries and concern about the hows and whys of it can’t interfere because this is, plain and simply, your mission.  This has already been laid out for you, so go do it and all will fall into place.

I’ve never gone completely on faith.  Ever.  Maybe my word for faith is, instead, Love, and that has carried me since Handsome Husband died and it won’t leave me hanging mid-stride, will it?  How can it, really?

All I know is that my part in this is suiting up and showing up, keeping my heart open and…driving my rig in whatever direction I’m shown.

My Odyssey of Love, part two, on January 19.  Truly, nothin’ but Love~10387701_747603311961272_7235520015657922373_n



This Odyssey-and Magical People~

They seek me out.  I’ve no need to find a psychic or a medium and pay for them to fish in my life in order to give me reassurances about Handsome Husband or what I’m doing.  Not that I’ve ever been tempted; I’m actually kind of suspicious of anyone who receives payment in return for telling us about our loved ones.  Not that I have a problem with the entrepreneurial spirit at all-it’s just that in the case of psychics, I always figure that they’re very good with reading people and cast out such generalities that someone in the audience is bound to connect.

Here’s the thing.  Since I began this Odyssey of Love, following Handsome Husband’s death, there have been people I would term either intuitives, or actual angels (sometimes), who have sought me out, and the things they tell me leave me, most often, breathless with their accuracy.

My daughter and I are in Key West and while wandering Duval St yesterday, we chanced upon a shop and entered on a whim to browse.  She quickly found a few articles of clothing that are perfect for hooping and went to the dressing room while I continued to check the racks.  The proprietor, (Leslie by name, as we discovered), had been very friendly, bidding us hello as we came into her shop.  But nothing more, really.


As I moved hangars around on the rack, Leslie, who was standing not far from me, looked over at me and said You’ve been through a devastating change recently, haven’t you?  I was startled and didn’t reply immediately and she went on to say  You know you’re okay, don’t you?  Even though you don’t feel as if you are.  You’re okay.  And whatever it is that you’re doing, you need to continue doing it.  You’re on the right path.

She spoke to me for maybe another 20 minutes and I said nothing.  Really there was nothing for me to say;  I was just trying to take it all in.  At one point I almost reached for Rae’s hand to steady myself because there was a buzzing sound in my ears and I was actually seeing stars dance in front of my eyes.  Ultimately, I told her of my husband’s death and my Odyssey of Love and showed her a picture of my rig.  She was more than ever convinced of her message to me.   She told me (paraphrasing) that she had become aware of the energy around me when I entered her shop and felt compelled to speak to me and tell me what she did.  We left the store after an hour, with my head still reeling.  I didn’t seek her out.  I solicited nothing.  No money exchanged hands.  I’d never seen her before.

Last year as I made my way along the FL Gulf coast, as I took a break from driving at a Target store, an employee in the women’s section complimented me on my pink shirt and this led into a discussion of the color pink and my rig, etc.  We weren’t too far into the conversation when she took both my hands in hers and very earnestly said to me I have the ability to see things, and I want you to know that you are surrounded by angels.  They are all around you.

I’ve already written of the woman I met in NJ last year who, having no knowledge of my life, of Handsome Husband (other than to know that he had died and we’d traveled together), took my hands and looked directly into my eyes and said He wants me to tell you that he wouldn’t leave you without a road map.  And many other things that were…well…true.

I don’t know what to think about any of this, except to say that, as Handsome Husband was in hospice, I knew that something big was going on.  Not just his death, as huge as that was, and is.  But something bigger than his death and the grief that ran with it.  I termed it as something magical because I didn’t know what other word to use.

All I know, since he died, all I believe in, is that he and I were very much in love and I have to believe that the love is still present and that is what fuels me each and every day as I drive this Odyssey for him.  Meeting the people I have, being approached by messengers, the affirmations I receive from them, the messages they deliver to me, at no prompting from me…that is the magic and I can’t explain it but I know, I know, and I know, that I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing.  I don’t have much money and I wonder if I should fret and worry about it running out, as it will soon, and I’m new to this full-time trailer life-style, and there is so much that could freak me out.  And yet, it doesn’t.  I don’t know why;  I’ve always worried about money.  Always.  Except now.  Not because I think money will magically appear in front of me, but because I know that this Odyssey is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing and it will be okay somehow.

Our younger son, Fireman Nick, when I told him about yesterday, said to me, Ma, Pop said he wouldn’t leave you without a road map and he never broke his word.

This type of thing never happened to me prior to Handsome Husband’s death.  Never.  But even I can’t ignore that, in this Odyssey of Love, magic is very much afoot.  Somehow.

Love.  Grief.  Magic.  The open road…to what?



Allow me to introduce myself…

ImageMy name is Rachael. I am Alison’s daughter, or KamaHooptra, as most of you may know me. Handsome Husband (as most of you know him) was my dad. I miss him dearly- everyday. The stories of my parents travels, my dad’s time in hospice, and his death, have been told. You have all carried them/us in your love and support over the years. I was there when my dad died. Witnessing him take his last breath was the most horrific, sacred, and humbling experience of my life, thus far. I hated every moment and yet, wouldn’t change it for anything.

This is my first blog post since the Happily Homeless/MoonStruck blending, and it won’t be my last. My presence here will continue to grow stronger as it evolves. It didn’t start out this way. We were both happy going about our separate ways. My parents (well, my mom mostly- my dad really just wanted to be retired!) traveled about as Happily Homeless, documenting their adventures. MoonStruck was an idea that my mom and I started together, but I was the primary one behind the scenes. And as you all know by now, that has changed. Life had a plan of its own, so here we are- a couple of FWG’s learning how to maneuver through this vast new ocean.

In less than a month, I will join the rankings of Happily Homeless, but this time with a twist. I will take my place next to my mom in the newly restored Pink Magic, and we will hit the road together for 6 months (with the intention to not hit a deer again, or any other animal for that matter!). Most people hear about what we are doing and think it’s wonderful and amazing. Other people look at me like I have two heads- “I love my mom, but there is no way I could travel with her for that long!” “Your husband is going to let you be away for 6 months?” “You’re going to be offering what?” Here’s the thing- my mom and I are great friends. Like, the best. She was my maid-of-honor in my wedding. People who used to call our house often got us mixed up. My dad always swore that we were a couple of witches (in the best terms of course). We both love pink and glitter. We have the same sense of humor. We share clothes- minus pants, as I have a number of inches on her. We gossip and chat like two girlfriends who have known each other for lifetimes. So yes, we will be fine. As for the husband thing- my husband doesn’t “let” me do anything. We have a discussion, and come to an agreed upon decision. He knows if I really want to do something, I am going to do it- and vice versa. He has been wonderfully supportive of this venture from day one. Yes, it will be a challenge to spend so much time apart, but we will make it work because that’s just who we are. And finally, FWG workshops, blessing ways, and moon circles seem like a foreign concept to some, but to us they are things we feel driven to offer. They will connect us with (mostly) women across the country, and will continuing spreading our love story. We were given so much during our time in hospice and it is now our wish to give back.

This entire partnership as Happily Homeless and MoonStruck, and as mother and daughter, is a mission of love. It can’t NOT be. Our time together will be filled with laughter, tears, storytelling, dancing, grieving, magic making, and adventure. And it will absolutely extend beyond these upcoming 6 months together. I look forward to seeing how our relationship deepens. I look forward to seeing how my relationship with myself deepens. I am not the same woman I was before my father died. I can’t be. I now allow myself to sit in the shadows when I need, I love more fiercely, and I speak more freely. It is my desire to unfurl magic and light into the darkest corners of the universe. And I am more determined than ever to leave my mark of love on this planet.

Will you join me?


Is Co-existence Possible Here?

Handsome Husband was magic in my life.  He brought magic into my life.  Not in a oh everything is perfect way, but in very tangible ways.  When the kids were small and he was paying child support and college funds and we had, at the end of payday, after paying bills, maybe $1.00 to split between us, he’d conjure money out of nowhere so that we could have a fun time somewhere.  Or, during the time after he retired from active duty, and was unemployed for many months, a time during which my brother and mom and various extended family members were seemingly dropping like flies, he came up with airline tickets or money for gas for the car so that I could fly out to be with my brother or drive up to New England to be with my mom, as they were each, in their time, dying of cancer.  He made things happen and I oftentimes told him he was a fucking magician.

The thing is, he wasn’t a magician because of the tangible conjuring he did, though that was pretty damn impressive.  He was a magician in my life because everything he did, he did from love.  That was his only motivation, ever.  For me, there was magic too, in the way he gazed at me across a room, or winked at me flirtatiously.  After 24 years together, my stomach still fluttered with butterflies when I felt his energy in a room.  I didn’t even need to see that he was in the room with me physically to know that he was around.  Every one of my senses went on high alert in the most wonderful way when he was around.   He used to tell me I was a witch because I could tell when he was coming home (wherever home happened to be at the time), and I would meet him at the door, opening it before he even got to it.  His arms around me-magic.  In the time since his first cancer, when he hugged me I would lean into his chest, taking a breath deep from within my heart, inhaling his scent, memorizing it.   His kisses were magic-he would put one hand behind my neck, or hold my chin in his hand, one hand on my hip, or one arm wrapped around me.

He brought so much magic into my life, and the lives of our kids.  Perhaps magic is just another word for the love he brought with him, the love that he had for me, as his wife and lover, for his kids, near and far, for his grandkids, his mom, his siblings, so many people whose lives he touched.

As he was ill, as he was dying, my wish for him, my intent for him, was to return some of that magic to him, to surround him with that magic he so freely gave.  Whenever I spoke with family and friends on the phone during those days, I’d always end the call with “It’s nothin’ but love here.  Nothin’ but love”.   I believe that I made that happen.  He felt loved in every way.  It wasn’t always easy, ensuring that it was nothing but love energy around him;  there were moments and circumstances in those 3 weeks that threatened to change that energy and bring agitation into it.  But he wasn’t aware of it and that’s what mattered to me.

So now, what I wonder to myself is:  in the midst of this overpowering, immersive sharp shards of shredded glass cutting into my body and my heart and mind in pretty much every minute of every day because he died and I can’t bear the thought of it- in the midst of this, can the magic that he brought into my life, share space with the grief?

I don’t know and so I’m asking you, my dear readers.   Tell me from your hearts.  Can magic and grief co-exist?  And, if so, then how?

My daughter read me this quote today, and I’m going to write in on my forehead so that I will see it every time I look into a mirror.  “May I release my resistance and lean so far into grief that I am caught by the arms of its fierce love.” ~Abra Bankendorf Vigna”