Pigs On The Wing... and Healing...

Painting by Charles Christensen

This goes with the video below, Pigs. It would not let me post this with the video so, if you like, read this and then listen to the song, they were meant to be together.

Pigs... the universal symbol for Pink Floyd, for those who aren't informed, there. Flying, floating pigs... their concerts were, quite literally, a gas!

I didn't discover this song, Pigs, till my husband died. Being a Pink Floyd fan, I shouldn't admit that, but hey... I just missed some things, and Pigs was one of them. Now I'm onto Pigs, so no more shame, being a Floyd fan.

I will probably repeat some things, in this story, that I've said before. I can't remember all that I share, but the events keep spilling out, through different tellings, here and there... so please bare with me, as the pieces continue to fall back together, that were once scattered to the winds.

When my husband died I was in a bad place... well, he took his own life, you see. That did leave me in a very strange space. I should feel bad that I have the nerve to talk about my own pain, then, seeing as his was much more, so much that he didn't want to be here, anymore... but... well, he's not in his anymore, so what the hey ... and I had to live in that space for quite some time. Now I'm free, though the aftermath is like a tide that sometimes still comes rushing back in, and then gently fades away, back to the sea of everything, where all emotion lives. There was not just pain, there was guilt. Guilt for words that could not be taken back, guilt for actions that could not be rescinded, before he did the deed... guilt and pain for events that could not be reversed. Guilt and pain, guilt and pain, guilt and pain... what a nightmarish echo.





Painting by Charles Christensen



I needed help. I needed help really bad. I was crazy... slap crazy, damned near entirely mad. I couldn't stand to go out in public, I couldn't stand to look into anyone's eyes, it pierced my soul, revealed more than I could stand to share, to do so... and though I hated the light, the darkness frightened me even more. I curled up in bed at night, fetal style, as the darkness filled the room, just waiting for the dawn. I'd never really been afraid before. Now I was. That's a bad place, that's called not living... that's stuck. Stuck in some indefinable hellish place.

My beliefs were such that I wouldn't and couldn't seek help from just anyone. I had strong beliefs in Native American type spirituality and was familiar with shamanism. My chiropractor, who is a really cool person, referred me to this Shaman guy she knew. He had a practice and he took very few patients, only those whom he felt he could help. First visit, I was able to take a deep breath and begin breathing again. He felt led. I felt hope. He was awesome. He was inside my head. He was inside my heart. He understood my spiritual beliefs, he also understood the space I was in. He didn't think I was crazy, even if I was. He understood that I believed that spirit lives on, as did he. He understood that Tim and I had experienced many awesome spiritual connections, outside the fleshy body ... he understood that I wanted to stay connected to Tim, in that same way, as we had connected, spiritually, in our living, together... that I didn't want to let go of his spirit, not ever... I knew what was possible, at least I thought that I did. Remember, I was crazy... but, I also wanted to let his spirit go on, into the realms where he needed to be. His journey here was done, but for a few loose ends he needed to tie up... and I needed to help him do that, just as he needed to help me, from beyond the wild blue. Oh the stories I could tell, there.

After only 3 visits my shaman guy decides he's cutting me loose. I never really understood it. He said that he was afraid he would harm me, rather than help, because our belief systems did not match, exactly. This did not seem right, to me. Before, he had felt led... now, he was letting me go??? I felt abandoned, again. First by Tim... now, by this person who had said that he would not leave till he had seen me through the entire process??? I couldn't believe it. What would I do now? Anyone else would think I was crazy, I couldn't let just anyone in. I could, but they wouldn't know what they were looking at, if they got in, what would be the use.

I turned to the only place I could. To some online acquaintances that Tim and I had known from our early spiritual/shamanistic/dream-time healing experiences. I didn't stay with them long, either, because some of their methods were those that were forceful and uninvited by myself... but there was this one guy, named Jack.

Jack was a musician like Tim. With a heart of gold. He and Tim had known one another, from the online communities, as had I. We had all learned from the same spiritual teachers, for some time.

Jacks way of dealing with my pain was to bring lyrics to me... from Tim. He sang songs to me, this way, and this manifested a level of healing like none that anyone might imagine. These were not songs that I could hear, but lyrics that were posted, hanging in cyberspace, for me to see... and that I could only hear in my heart, but that was good enough. In fact, it was awesome. He sang. I sang back. He sang some more, I answered with more song. He sang, I sang, we sang and we sang and we sang, songs I didn't realize I even knew. This went on forever. My sister, who witnessed this, was amazed. You can remember all those lyrics? I can't believe it, I can't remember like that! Wow! "No, silly, " I told her... "we google them." :-) I can't tell you how many songs were sang, but there were over 80 postings on that thread, between just he and I. You see, music was everything to me. It always hit the right spot. And music had been everything to Tim. In fact, our lives were lived through music... and our very first communications with one another had been through the exchange of lyrics. It was almost as if we didn't have a voice, at times, just music that played in our hearts, and which we joyfully shared with one another.

Finally, he brought Pigs to me... the simplest and yet the grandest of them all. Pigs may not seem all that grand, but it is a grand song, to me. When I first heard it, I couldn't hear the tune, just reading the words, you know, not even a tune in my heart, as the other songs, because I'd never heard the song, before... but the words, they made me cry, as did many of the songs he sang to me, but this one the most of all. After all the pain and guilt, these words... to me? I didn't hear the song, until I download it, almost immediately... and when I did hear it, I was even more moved than before. This song speaks of two people loving one another. You know, when people take their lives, the ones remaining are left with the thought that they must not have loved them, else they would have stuck around. And when those left behind feel responsible for the loss of life, all they want is for the one who is gone to, somehow, someway, know that they were really and truly loved. This song said it, beautifully... in short verse, in simple cords... touching deeply... and gently.

Pigs will always be special to me. Such a healing thing, it was. It was just what I needed to hear, from Tim, floating out there in some other space and time. And it will always sing in my heart.













There are so many things that can bring healing, and music is one of them... in this case, it was mixed with love. Tim's love... my love... and Jack's love, that he would be such a beautiful and giving vessel for spirit, at such a time as it was. Jack always emphasized this, regarding the singing of songs, "I'm not doing this for me, I'm not doing this for you... I'm doing this for Tim." It seemed, then, that there was something even Tim needed to say.












And that's the story of my Pigs. I hope you will enjoy.


Peace & Love,

Shimmerrings