My beloved familiar

 Journey done on 24.8.2021

This morning I thought I was going into a journey/meditation that would give me some profound insights into what is happening with the world/me.

I found myself in the usual cave like place (I've not been there for years). I saw the tube-like structure that I've spent time in.

I was told to climb inside. It was amethyst with silver shot through. I felt 9D Athena with me, the one whose eyes are purple and silver.

The lid closed. I found myself in two places at once, inside the tube and also sitting outside on a chair.

Leonine people appeared. A striped male stepped forward indicating he wished to speak. Me being me thought wow what revelations will I hear.

At this point my other cat, Oddbod jumped up next to me meowing really loudly several times, which is unusual for her. It brought me out of myself to check what the issue was. She simply sat with her back to me, waiting. I wasn’t sure what for.

Going back in, the leonine dropped a bombshell. It was time for my lovely familiar, Mini Me to return home. It was a huge shock. Mins has been with us for 17 years. He's been part of my journeying and meditation since he arrived at our home. I cannot imagine working without him.

Vaguely I've been aware that his time is drawing close, but to be honest, I pushed it aside. He has been getting frailer but he is still the big gentle loving kitty that he's always been. I'd taken him to the vet to discover that he has hyperthyroidism, kidney disease and a heart murmur. We'd work through this and get him back to health so he can live another 17  years.

How wrong was I?

He's tired, very tired. It's time to leave.

The grief that hit me was unbearable. I'm crying  as I write this.

Mins jumped onto my lap and sat there patiently waiting, loving trust pouring out from his beautiful ailing heart.

Let him go.

I can't. The human side of me won't. But here he is, trusting me to do the right thing.

I have so much grief to work through.

The thought of not seeing him greet us daily when we arrive home from work, jumping up to sit on my lap, kneeding my belly, rubbing his head against me, pestering me for food when he is hungry, his weird little antics that make us laugh, his gentle loving nature, his beautiful silken fur, his complete trust. The list goes on.

Then I thought about the devastation the rest of the family would feel.

I cried that I would spend as much as it takes to help him out. The gentle answer was: it's time.

No, I can't bear it. My life would be so empty. My journeys will not be the same.

After some time I asked whether we would be here when he transitions. The answer was no. That made it worse. I want him to feel loved as he transitions, rather than dying alone when we're not here.

It is my job to cut his ties with the family. 

I cannot do this. The grief is too much.

Mins sits there observing, purring and loving me without judgement. He's not forcing anything. He will wait patiently, trusting me to do the "right" thing.

Eventually I came out of the meditation, but before I left, I looked inside the tube. That part of me is to remain there. I heard the words "emerald tunnel". On querying I found out that the tube changes according to the needs of the person. Emerald gives emotional and mental support as I work with my heart.

This is going to be the most difficult thing I've ever done.

*********

Fast forward to 27 November 2021

Part of me, has since this date denied this passing.

Mini Me's heart condition has progressed rapidly. An echocardiogram done on Tuesday shows he has restrictive cardiomyopathy. The prognosis is not good. He will not be cleared to travel back to the UK with us. His hyperthyroidism is under control with medication, but now his kidney disease has pushed itself to the forefront.

The vet does not believe he will live until March next year when we are leaving. Until then we can only make him comfortable. He still has a good appetite, curious, loving and follows us around the house and garden. I have been given (by the vet) the signs and symptoms to look for when the end is nearing.

We want to make sure he is able to go when he is ready and we don't influence this in any way.

The whole family is devastated by this news. I find myself tearful at the most unexpected times. 

Neither Ashlee or Traevis are able to make their goodbyes in person as New Zealand's borders are shut tight to all except ex-pats.

 

Time to Leave

I created this draft in April. Kept coming back to it on a few occasions, but had no ideas, lacked the energy, felt no urge to put pen to paper and yet there was something pulling me back to this draft again and again.

I was going through a process so profound I was unable to organise my thoughts. And so I just let it be, experienced it, learned the new me, railed against the injustices, hit the doldrums, bounced up again briefly, only to shut down once more.

Leadership has taught me so much about myself. I've gone through a huge growth similar to that which I experienced being a young mum.

A few months ago I came to the understanding that this was my 40 days in the desert. Similar to a dark night of the soul. 

Running alongside exploring my leadership qualities, I've surrendered to those aspects of myself both not so pleasant and truly amazing. 

I've loved being a leader but I'm ready to let go. 

I attempted to step down in April but the timing was not right. I had a little more to go through - we both did - before we came to the realisation that it is time to leave New Zealand and return to the UK. 

Many factors have come into play to create this, but what keeps coming back to me is that I knew it would be a brief visit to NZ, completing the cycles of many lifetimes. I was in denial for years. 

We both went through the emotions that come with a relationship break up (with NZ) until finally in August, I was able to discuss it with the amazing family that are my work colleagues. They nodded in understanding but I could see the shock which really broke my heart - I was dreading this. I get asked if I'll change my mind. One colleague often says a she passes me in the corridor or when I walk into her office "KC please don't go". Even the doctors express their regret. 

Just writing this makes me tearful.

I gave the hospital management my notice of 6 months. I will be leaving in March 2022. 

They asked me to decide on my replacement by shortlisting and interviewing the candidates who applied. Last week we interviewed both local and international candidates.

I'm not sure that we've found anyone suitable, but that may just be me not wanting to hand my baby over to someone else to look after. 

It has been an eventful journey. One neither of us regret. 

NZ has been the safe haven for us to explore in isolation those aspects of ourselves that were hidden, both the dark and the light.