REMEMBERING: THE SACRED CALLING

by Jim Mullin-Norgaard

“In memory each of us is an artist: each of us creates.” – Patricia Hample
One year ago today my dad passed away. In the weeks before his passing he did a great deal of remembering. Some of his remembering was in the company of family and with our aid: we brought him flowers and old family albums, watched yellowed and fading films of family vacations and gatherings, shared tales of those living and dead. At other times Dad’s remembering was a solo act that took on magical qualities – the vivid dreams he had of all his loved ones standing with him around his bed. He began teaching me then, and continues even more strongly today that remembering is a sacred act.

To remember - to “re-member” - means literally to reunite those “members” who belong; and on this planet we are all members who belong. All the great prophets, all the great avatars say this is so. I still belong to my dad today, as he still belongs to me, one year after his passing. I know this now even more powerfully than before he died. Perhaps he is teaching me now from another place. Here is where the sacred and the numinous intervene. I was asked to write this article on the theme of “remembering” at this time, by some good folks who were unaware of my family’s circumstances. And today – the one-year anniversary of my dad’s passing - is simply the first day I’ve had available to write. So before I began, I went down to the river and sat by the oak to remember Dad. I felt his presence there guiding me with this endeavor.

I recall Arthur Norgaard one morning in the weeks before he died, excited and sitting at the breakfast table with Mom and me. He was beaming with enthusiasm. He had some of his loved ones with him and was surrounded by birthday cards sent to him recently by others. And it seemed almost too much to him: “I have you, and all this here” he said gesturing to us and everything around him, “and I’m overwhelmed. I’m confused – no I’m not confused, I’m bewildered” his smile as radiant as a child’s. I marked inside his careful choice of words.

One of the gifts from my dad I hold most dear to me today is the gift of the wilderness, a gift he unfolded before me and other family members in our yearly camping trips to the North country. He guided us there, packing everything we needed, steering our boat to the far islands between Canada and this land. Out there Dad was content and alive and so were we. It is only a city man who ends up “confused” with his Parkinson’s. A man who knows the wilderness understands a bit more about the place he’s headed. In his final days he sees the valleys greener than ever before, the flowers more vivid, and succumbs with grace to his “be–wilder–ment.”

I feel my dad most strongly now when I’m in nature. In those quiet places he comes to me, as if he’s helping me learn the sacred calling of remembrance. To re-member is to reunite that which belongs together, loved one with loved one, this world with the next.
Everyone needs remembering today. No labeling of “communist” or “terrorist”, “sexist” or “racist” can place any one of us beyond the pale of humanity. We are all family, and we all continue to belong. This is what the great avatars came here to teach us, and what we all urgently need to remember today. So I thank you Dad, wherever you are today, for helping me with the greatest lesson yet.

Jim Mullin-Norgaard is a peacemaker, life coach, and carrier of the Celtic Spirit. He welcomes guests “on spiritual sojourn” to his home and retreat center, Tara’s Meadow on Beaver Island, where he enjoys co-mentoring with others in the arts of peaceful warriorship and remembering.