A Message from Hunter

Dear Mom,

Tune your instrument... you're going to need it. Your body, your voice, your fingers and toes, your heart-- they are all instruments I can come through.

Spend more time by water-- fast-moving, aching and rolling water. And birds-- you need to be surrounded by birds. You will learn from their song, from how they use their voices, from the ease with which they soar. There is a substrate of connectivity that we need more of... how can I describe this? The moist air of solitude in wild places is necessary for the work we are doing with you. Stillness and water, birdsong and wide vistas... these are the ingredients of the next leg of this journey you are on with me. And you must... and I mean must sip slowness. You must bathe in slowness. There is time for all the longings that your creative heart keeps showing you but hear me, Mom... NOT now.

This is your time. Don't skip this part. Don't give it away. Don't avoid or distract or squander your precious vitality. The seed is still preparing. It has not cracked yet. Spring is everywhere, I know. The cherries and magnolias are blooming, the tulips are leafing out, the air is sweet with the nectar of new beginnings. It's ok to be a late bloomer this time around. Attend to the life inside the seed, inside the cocoon. Angels are helping from all sides, we are holding space for you. There is no rush. Do not fear, mama. I will not leave your side. You have plenty of time.

Make a mess. Paint with your fingers. Roll your body in yellow and orange and the deep red of Pele's volcanic eruptions. Feed the seed. That's how you can best explore this dark fertile space hidden beneath the earth. Feed the seed. Tune the instrument. Tend the fire. Walk the land. Immerse yourself in the mess of becoming something new.

Remember the long email I sent you a few weeks before I died? I was mad that you felt you'd lost me... that the Hunter you knew and loved had disappeared into addiction. I wrote, "your son is still here and has always been here." I meant that you and I have always been connected and that is what can't be lost. I love you, Mom. I'm walking with you. I've entered your cells and merged with your soul-- I'm separate yet part of you. Allow this to be true and your heart will be soothed. The world needs you... but not quite yet. Not quite yet.

Love, Hunter