Piercing the Veil
I’ve been on a path, and it requires a lot of focus and determination to simply get things done. That feeling has been intensely satisfying. That said, intention plays a main role. “Intention meets attention,” is one of my key phrases, and linking them is an embodied action. So, when something catches my attention that seems beyond simple explanation, I want to record it. It’s part of my journey and mission to share a few of those unexpected “awe” moments with you, and encourage you to see them in your own life. They are moments of magic, and they can happen every day, at any time. One happened to me last week.
I call these moments “piercing the veil” because it can seem as if we’re connecting with another reality, another deeper fathom that might be unfathomable to us. John O’Donohue has written about it:
“The days when the veil lifted
And the soul could see delight;
When a quiver caressed the heart
In the sheer exuberance of being here.”
This is what life’s about, when it all comes down to it. That sheer exuberance of being here. Right here, right now. What a miracle.
So, let me tell you what happened last week, and we can make of it what we will…
I was having dinner with a friend, and it was not just any gathering. This was a grand meeting of minds and heart-centered celebration. Humans in the loop. Humans in the spiral. Time for delight and launching dreams.
I had shifted a flight to meet her, and she had been traveling, and the two of us created this opportunity to meet out of an intentional spirit of possibility. It felt to me like a ceremony, because we were practicing something together. We were paying attention and celebrating a rite of passage, using a metaphor O’Donohue understood so well: the threshold.
I had just finished a book. Quite literally that day, at 11:11am, I had submitted my final approval and review back to my publishers for the book to be delivered to the printer. Delivering the manuscript, seeing it through each stage, has been a journey. My friend and I were meeting to honor that event, and to celebrate moving through that threshold. Crossing through… it’s more than passing through a portal. A threshold is where there’s invitation and also an honoring of past and present, as the future calls. How will we choose to enter it? What about the “threshing,” that natural separation, also allows for wholeness and integrity as we pass through?
When we met in Los Angeles at an exquisitely beautiful restaurant on the water, the sun was setting and the light was bright, along with a soft breeze. Summer carries a freshness.
When you haven’t seen a friend in-person for a bit there’s a natural lift, mirror neurons firing, the body so uplifted by presence of another… it’s exciting to simply be sharing in-person in these times. So we had begun sharing news, tidbits, stories. We had ordered… and, out of the blue, as I was sharing about my book and some of the journey, I heard a noise like a hum, a distant helicopter, something approaching behind me.
My friend said to me, “Don’t be nervous,” because she could see it: a very large insect buzzing behind my head, and I could hear it behind my ears. I wasn’t nervous at all, just curious. I wanted to see where it would land… I knew it was attracted to me and coming up behind my left ear.
As it was closer, the drone was quite loud, impossible to ignore, and it lifted up, landing gently on the brim of my hat.
It was a gleaming, green-gold scarab beetle. I couldn’t see it, I could feel its beauty as my friend was marvelling at it. She took two pictures. In one, my eyes are closed. I’m feeling a sense of wonder and delight at this unpredictable visitor. In the second, my eyes are open and I’m smiling wide.
I don’t know the full meanings of scarabs… but I do have a story about them, and they are quite special to me:
In my fall semester of my sophomore year of college, I went to Egypt. The trip impacted my life in a major way. I was travelling with my father, who was working on a project there at the time. It was one of those trips where we talked about so much, as friends and fellow explorers. My father passed away two years ago, and our time in Egypt is one of the special experiences that gleams in my mind and memories.
While I was there, I studied the architecture and art firsthand… I drank in the details, celebrating every piece of history and iconography. The layers of cultural past and present, sights and sounds. Such an incredible place.
Of all of the symbols, the one I remember the most is the scarab. It is sacred. It is life, and birth, and rebirth. It meant rejuvenation, hope, and a divine sort of vitality.
I’m writing what I remember from memory, without research yet. I kept a journal, so I can go back and look for the details and fill in after this.
My father and I were on the banks of the Nile river, near Karnak, and we had been learning about Queen Hatshepsut. We traveled to the side of a temple, on the side of the sunrise, opposite the Valley of the Kings, the side of sunset… we traveled with the sun, symbolic.
A large pedestal was in the center of a circular path. It had been tread down many, many times, by the soles of locals and visitors. In the center of the circle, at the top of the pedestal, was a large sculpture of a scarab. It looked so beautiful. We were told to circle it three times. It represented a ritual about fertility in many senses.
The Nile represents a fertile valley. Spiritually, birth and rebirth can take many forms.
I bought a scarab during the trip. I keep it with me, as a reminder of what we can source inside of us… a reminder of the “mindful moveable feast” we discover along the way and keep with us.
The scarab is symbolic of the wonder and mystery and imagination that are simply waiting to pour out of each of us. We are so connected with the world. We are meant for it, and this birth and death and rebirth are part of our active process of renewal and belonging, in a world where we are each part of something larger. Our calling is to keep sourcing, and to stay open to those moments of “piercing the veil.”
It can happen at the most unexpected times. And, now, it feels completely fitting.
In wonder,
Caitlin
“May your spirit feel The surge of true delight When the veil of the visible Is raised, and you glimpse again The living faces Of departed family and friends. May there be some beautiful surprise Waiting for you inside death, Something you never knew or felt, Which with one simple touch, Absolves you of all loneliness and loss, As you quicken within the embrace For which your soul was eternally made. May your heart be speechless At the sight of the truth Of all belief had hoped, Your heart breathless In the light and lightness Where each and everything Is at last its true self Within that serene belonging That dwells beside us On the other side Of what we see.”
― John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings
