the PDF of her book - National Aphasia Association

Tales from the Other Side of Language 105
An open temple appears to my inner mind on the flat rock plateau before
me, scattered temple pillars, like ruins in Greece. I’m in a sacred place, and
I wait. The Great Mother Kali speaks into my mind: “You have done well.
You will serve in my temple.” She has come, but there is no Faustian givingup
of my soul, no loss of identity I feared. She comes as part of the larger
Mystery. She is the brave, strong qualities of a One God: constancy, clarity,
justice, cutting very clean.
In the ceremony for my daughter I asked for the presence of my three
guides. None has come to me spontaneously, except actual crows in the sky
as reminders of my connection to their spirit. Seeing the temple spread before
me and hearing her words, I feel deep blessing.
That the Great Mother Kali comes to me here this bright afternoon on this
high promontory of rock affirms that my relationship with her is reciprocal
and that the alliances with the other guides are also. This encounter with her
is a reality to me.
When I lost speech language, I looked for non-verbal ways of relating,
first art and music. Then I found non-verbal, sensory friendship with the
crow, the poodle, became willing to sense non-ordinary relationships with
trees, my house, the landscape, and to experience different realities in many
meditations with the spirit guides. Finally in the ceremony for my daughter,
I experienced Oneness in all things working with me, against me, and with
the layers of larger relationships around the healing.
All of these encounters are part of a wide mystery. They are ordinary
and extra-ordinary realities.
Another door has opened.
I’ve been on the sunny beach for more than three hours in the hottest
part of a summer day, with no thought of sunscreen. I’m suddenly worried
about that and move right along to my beach home. My feet swelter from
the hot rocks. I get to the sandy beach and walk in the water, shoes and all,
indulging in the wet, frosty water. When I return to my apartment, I’m as
pale as when I left it.