Chloe, as someone who has always been afraid of the unknown after death (for myself, never for others) your words have a power to soothe my heart and make me feel like death is but a beautiful companion. Your closing lines gave me that feeling with such clarity. The belonging. I am always so grateful for your writing, which feels like a whisper from the web 💗
Sabrina, this means an awful lot to me. Thank you. That particular fear is so common, and yet rarely shared. Coming to relate to death as a companion serves as the most wonderful doorway into falling ever more deeply in love with life (and I have a hunch that the web desires for us to do just that!) Thank you, again 💗
This one landed particularly hard, as today I had to relinquish a wounded baby goat I had been tending, abandoned by his mother. But it’s best that he has returned to the Everything. You remind me, as you always do, that Death is not the enemy.
Oh Chloe! What a beautiful memory. What a stunning post.
"The pair shared a language spoken in glances, head tilts and the occasional whisper." – This sentence moved me to tears.
In the last two weeks of Josh's life, visitors wondered how I communicated with him, since he hardly spoke anymore. I hardly noticed the difference between previous communications, then and before (when all seemed 'normal'). We had developed a language spoken in glances, head tilts, gentle touches and the occasional whisper. ♥️ 🙏 🪶
Oh, Veronika, my heart. Thank you for sharing this. Love finds a way. Always. We are always in communication with the ones we love. The body, and the spirit, knows how to keep that channel open. Josh is lucky to be so fluently known by you. I'm sending you, and him, so much love. 💗🪶
I read this, enraptured, and when I got to the end I was in tears. I am not sure why. There is a way your words move me, change me, remind me of how life moves in its full beauty, and how I want to be a part of that without losing sight of the wonder. There are people that invite me into seeing it, and there is a gratitude that is almost overwhelming when I unexpectedly go exactly where I want to be. Thank you for inviting me in and accompanying me when I struggle to see and hear the beauty.
I so appreciate that you let the tears come without knowing exactly what they were about, Tonia. And I’m grateful to you for seeing, and accepting, the invitation! Big love to you.
I think I’m going to recommend ‘Death & Birds’ as a set text for all the patients I work with who experience fear of death. It’s unfailingly beautiful.
I'm just so honored to be a knot in the web with you, and the Blue Tits, and the noble hawk. Thank you for creating words that I feel like I can touch in a world that sometimes feels very flat. It is not flat, of course, but sometimes I need to remember. xo
The honour is entirely mutual, Kendall. And yes! The world is not flat, but sometimes we need one another to remember the texture of it. Which is part of why I write, I suppose. To remember. To remind. Grateful to you, knot to knot. xo
“The package delivered to the wrong address” — I’ve carried a version of that feeling too, and I’ve never seen it named so well. I wrote recently about watching a hawk from a small plane and hitting the same wall you describe — there’s an intelligence in these animals that doesn’t communicate through effort, only through being. We can witness it, occasionally be recognized by it, but never possess it. Somehow that’s exactly why it matters.
“Death is the knot untangling.” I’ll be sitting with that for a while.
Yes, exactly, it’s totally effortless. Which I suppose is, at least in part, why these types of encounters feel so clarifying, because they remind that we’re actually capable of that, too, if we stop trying!
Hi Chloe, yes the intelligence always knows when the conditions are right … so beyond our human conception, we trust. Thank you, another beautiful post 🙏🪶💖
Chloe, as someone who has always been afraid of the unknown after death (for myself, never for others) your words have a power to soothe my heart and make me feel like death is but a beautiful companion. Your closing lines gave me that feeling with such clarity. The belonging. I am always so grateful for your writing, which feels like a whisper from the web 💗
Sabrina, this means an awful lot to me. Thank you. That particular fear is so common, and yet rarely shared. Coming to relate to death as a companion serves as the most wonderful doorway into falling ever more deeply in love with life (and I have a hunch that the web desires for us to do just that!) Thank you, again 💗
This one landed particularly hard, as today I had to relinquish a wounded baby goat I had been tending, abandoned by his mother. But it’s best that he has returned to the Everything. You remind me, as you always do, that Death is not the enemy.
I'm so sorry, Beth. And so grateful that he had you tending to him in his final days here. Sending love to the both of you.
Oh Chloe! What a beautiful memory. What a stunning post.
"The pair shared a language spoken in glances, head tilts and the occasional whisper." – This sentence moved me to tears.
In the last two weeks of Josh's life, visitors wondered how I communicated with him, since he hardly spoke anymore. I hardly noticed the difference between previous communications, then and before (when all seemed 'normal'). We had developed a language spoken in glances, head tilts, gentle touches and the occasional whisper. ♥️ 🙏 🪶
Oh, Veronika, my heart. Thank you for sharing this. Love finds a way. Always. We are always in communication with the ones we love. The body, and the spirit, knows how to keep that channel open. Josh is lucky to be so fluently known by you. I'm sending you, and him, so much love. 💗🪶
what a beautiful response Chloe! To be fluently known... We both felt incredibly fortunate and grateful to meet each other in such love
I read this, enraptured, and when I got to the end I was in tears. I am not sure why. There is a way your words move me, change me, remind me of how life moves in its full beauty, and how I want to be a part of that without losing sight of the wonder. There are people that invite me into seeing it, and there is a gratitude that is almost overwhelming when I unexpectedly go exactly where I want to be. Thank you for inviting me in and accompanying me when I struggle to see and hear the beauty.
I so appreciate that you let the tears come without knowing exactly what they were about, Tonia. And I’m grateful to you for seeing, and accepting, the invitation! Big love to you.
I think I’m going to recommend ‘Death & Birds’ as a set text for all the patients I work with who experience fear of death. It’s unfailingly beautiful.
Graham, that means a hell of a lot, and I truly hope it serves anyone you share it with well.
I'm just so honored to be a knot in the web with you, and the Blue Tits, and the noble hawk. Thank you for creating words that I feel like I can touch in a world that sometimes feels very flat. It is not flat, of course, but sometimes I need to remember. xo
The honour is entirely mutual, Kendall. And yes! The world is not flat, but sometimes we need one another to remember the texture of it. Which is part of why I write, I suppose. To remember. To remind. Grateful to you, knot to knot. xo
That's a beautiful photo of you and the hawk. I'm trying to understand the look in your eyes.
“The package delivered to the wrong address” — I’ve carried a version of that feeling too, and I’ve never seen it named so well. I wrote recently about watching a hawk from a small plane and hitting the same wall you describe — there’s an intelligence in these animals that doesn’t communicate through effort, only through being. We can witness it, occasionally be recognized by it, but never possess it. Somehow that’s exactly why it matters.
“Death is the knot untangling.” I’ll be sitting with that for a while.
Yes, exactly, it’s totally effortless. Which I suppose is, at least in part, why these types of encounters feel so clarifying, because they remind that we’re actually capable of that, too, if we stop trying!
Chloe, I'm running out of supertatives my friend. So deeply moved by this, thank you from my core.
You are very kind, my dear friend.
Beautiful. In that photo, you and the hawk are mirrors if each other, it's uncanny and really moving.
Thank you so much, Carys.
My thoughts exactly!
Thank you Chloe - your words have wrapped themselves around my aching heart.
I am so glad, Maria ❤️
Your photo with the Harris hawk is gorgeous!
Thank you!
Hi Chloe, yes the intelligence always knows when the conditions are right … so beyond our human conception, we trust. Thank you, another beautiful post 🙏🪶💖
So, so very beyond…Thank you, dear Simone 💜✨
Everything you write moves something inside me that is tender and hopeful.
I am so glad to know it, Judy Ann
Your words Chloe, are unfailingly beautiful. And these particularly so. Transportive, moving and grounded in deep wisdom. Thank you for this.
Thank you, dear Nicole, for taking the time to read them!
Intelligence web
“moves through life”... all beings, we’re “knots,”
untangled by death.
Lovely! So grateful.
Thank you Chloe, in a world where evil seems to dominate, your words reflect the decency and
humanity that is so essential.
Thank you, dear Lionheart!