The feelings inside of me seemed to match the grayish monotone color of the outside world that morning. As I boarded the bus just outside of Asilomar and took my seat midway to the back, I could feel my jeans cold and wet, drenched through the pant legs between where my jacket and boots protected me from the downpour. The crystal clear blue waters and sun drenched seas of Bora Bora, where we originally had imagined doing what would be my final responsibility of taking care of J-R’s body, was now just some distant daydream. It seemed more fitting that we should choose a place with the same level of beauty, but with greater depth of range and ruggedness. Somehow, this land reflected my life with J-R, having weathered many stormy seas together yet all the while held by the depth of his strength and loving.

The bus pulled up to the docks where we were to board the chartered fishing boat. Our small group, dotted with umbrellas and rain gear, made our way from land to water, in the still rainy weather. Before leaving the bus, Phil recounted how he had recently heard a recording of J-R saying that he hoped it was raining at his funeral so he could see who showed up. All of us showed up, and had there been a place, I have no doubt many, many more would have come as well, instead of just this small group of representatives for all those who loved J-R. We boarded the water vessel as Jsu was trying to convince the captain to go around the point so we could be in front of Asilomar where Living in Grace would start later that day (as it had for decades with J-R attending). The captain couldn’t make any promises due to the severity of the swell and storm, but he would do his best.

As we reached the open sea, the reason for the captain’s hesitation to commit became evident. Our little fishing vessel seemed small in comparison to the rolling masses of water, which our boat would climb up, then slide down…up then down. It was invigorating and expansive for such a clear outer feeling of being at the mercy of the rough natural elements, and I was grateful for having taken my motion sickness pills beforehand. Those on the deck seemed transfixed by the magnitude of the storm, and the thrill of being in the middle of it. The journey continued.

We eventually did round the point, and slowly came to an idle directly out from the beach that, for so many years, those at the Grace retreat have walked while listening to J-R. We were too far from land to see any of the initiates on the shore, who had been called inwardly to be on the beach at that moment, without knowing what we were doing on our little boat until much later.

As our boat stopped moving forward, the rain stopped and the clouds cracked enough for the sun to shine its rays upon us like a spotlight on God’s stage. A rainbow appeared on the horizon and the heaving mounds of water calmed down, as if the Lord was demonstrating what one man said to calm the raging waters 2000 years ago: “Peace. Be Still.”

As we gathered at the stern of the boat, a flock of various seafaring birds flew in and landed in the water, facing us as if to witness the occasion. Drawing our bodies closer and blending our light to a point where J-R’s ashes were given to J-R’s brother and sister-in-law, Delile and Elda Hinkins, Jsu started a blessing that Delile would finish. As I held onto Elda and Delile, I felt the warmth of everyone behind drawing closer and closer just as I had felt the support for Jsu and myself from all those initiates, ministers and spirit beings who stood by us for all our years supporting J-R. As the words blessing J-R in whatever heavenly spheres he was traveling were being spoken, a couple of whales breached the water and a sacred mystical energy field descended upon us, extending out to sea and shore.

I have been out in the waves many times surfing when a pod of dolphins would swim by, and I have felt a similar though less intense energy which transports the environment and those in it to a calmer, more magical place. It is fitting that the one who was known by his walkie call sign for so many years as the Green Dolphin, transported us in that moment to a magical world as we drifted in the ocean with his remains.

As the ashes fell from the bag to the sea where the gulls floated, I felt my heart was being poured out, dispersed into the water…my final act for his body…the finality of the moment…I had fulfilled the mission I had been given to do…we had a good run J-R…my life forever changed in that moment…and though the seas were now calm the convulsions swelled up from deep inside of me and the storm seemed to have moved into me trying to get out through sobs and tears. I had as little control over my own tempest of emotion as I did over the sea on our way to this moment.

As the engine of the boat started for the journey away from where different planes of existence converged, the sun radiated its beauty on the water, reflecting to the point of J-R’s ashes floating away in the currents of time and water. My tears still continue now, and as I tell J-R inside of me that I love him, I still hear the echo of his voice saying, “That’s how this all works.”

O Captain! my captain! I miss you.

O Captain! My Captain! By Walt Whitman

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

                         But O heart! heart! heart!

                            O the bleeding drops of red,

                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,

                                  Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

                         Here Captain! dear father!

                            This arm beneath your head!

                               It is some dream that on the deck,

                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

                            But I with mournful tread,

                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,

                                  Fallen cold and dead.