Memoirs of the Brightside of the Moon

by Ginger Gilmour

  The next day "Viking Girl' called to say that they were doing a photo shoot and offered for us to join. I had told Jill it was an awesome experience to be out, way out to sea and she should go. I said that I would keep an eye on the kids, so she could have a 'Mum, Time Out." After having four children, I knew the value of those moments. At the end of the day, Angela and Myles returned to our Lindos house where they were staying until Jill returned. Linda, the girls and I returned to Pefkas to be with Matthew as I was still breastfeeding him at bedtime. We would shower and meet later at Mavrikos.

  Then came the call, Linda answered to be told that Jill was in the hospital. The taxi had had an accident on herway home. I called Pavlos (Paul) to be my interpreter for he lived in Pefkas. We were very close since helping him and Christa with the birth of their daughter, Selena. We drove like the wind into Rhodes to the hospital. We had had many experiences there over the years and it was not a place to be alone without a guardian. I will never forget the time Robert Plant and family had an accident on their way to stay with Phil May (Pretty Things). The trauma they endured until the English paramedics arrived from London is quite the story and a very learning experience for us all.

  When I arrived, she was there in the corridor still in her bikini covered with dirt and dried blood. The sight of what I saw took me back. She was the color of deep purple, green and brown. There was not a patch of normal peach skin. Her eyes were like black pools pleading for help. I was in my early stages as a therapist and I was not sure how the Greek hospital would respond to me doing our healing procedure visibly. I had insurance to do work in public, but even so I worked silently, grateful that most of our therapy comprised of visualizing color and Love. I worked first by gently sweeping her aura as though I was sweeping away the flies, looking side to side for suspicious eyes, noticing all the while, the splatters of blood on the green walls from the dead mosquitos. My heart was pumping to work with the state of her condition and the limitation of my abilities. I prayed for her to live for her life force was just a whisper. I worked, asking for guidance, into the night holding her hand standing there in the corridor.

  ***

  Recently, Jill shared her side of the story with me. She had boarded "Viking Girl" in Lindos looking forward to having a day out on the sea. She did not realize that they would not return to Lindos. Nor did I. Getting off in Rhodes harbor was quite daunting as she wasn't properly dressed. Only wearing her swimsuit and sarong, she walked along the harbor looking for a taxi. She had great difficulty finding one so she walked and walked until she reached the main shopping center in town. Rhodes is a bustling town full of tourists where she then found a long queue of taxis waiting under the trees near the market place. However, taxi after taxi refused to take her. She felt so vulnerable in a foreign culture not knowing the language or their customs, wearing a bikini on the main street. Finally, she found a taxi that would take her back to Lindos. All the while she felt unsafe. The driver gave off a rather untrustworthy presence, so much so, that she called upon her guardian angels and guides to protect her. She huddled up as small as she could behind the driver on the back seat so she was out of range of his eyesight. As they drove out of the city, she found comfort watching the sunset. Her time out on the sea had filled her heart with such appreciation for being alive that her fear dissolved for the moment, its fragrance of Beauty sustained her.

  Suddenly, there was a loud bang and the force of a crushing impact. An oncoming car pulled out in front of a tractor into their lane and they collided head on. Car against car. The taxi was hurdled into the air. It rolled and rolled and rolled into the field. Grasping onto anything she could while being thrown from side to side and she screamed, "NO! I am not ready to DIE!" Then it stopped. Until she started to move, she was not sure if she had a body or not, if she was still alive or if she was on her way to Heaven. Still conscious she knew she had to get out in case the taxi caught on fire. She looked around for the driver. He was not there. According to her recollection, the passenger side window was open and she could barely squeeze out to safety. She crawled until she reached the side of the road, sat there in a heap waiting for her Rescue. She was still alive. At last, a car stopped and a most wonderful family came to save her. Within her delirium, she remembered my mobile number, which is how I came to know she had been in an accident. Otherwise, she was an unidentified tourist with no means of proof of who she was. Jill said it was an almighty relief when I arrived. She could surrender knowing that her guardians were close. Pavlos was my ally in getting us through any barriers of communication and red tape.

  The night was long and shared with the driver's family. His life was held in suspension upon the operating table beyond the grey doors. We waited together, with the sound of their crying and the clicks of their worry beads adding to the tension within the stillness of the corridor. Finally, the staff moved Jill to the ward where she would remain for days. They laid her in bed with sheets still covered with blood of the patient before. I had seen this before. I knew how to muster up the will to get clean sheets from the staff with Pavlos translating. I insisted on a bowl of water, towels and soap in order to clean the mud from her bruised body. To this day Jill says, "OH MY GOODNESS. It felt sooo goood!" She goes on to say, "It was such a gift to have you next to me during those very vulnerable hours and I know you were working your magic too. Thank you Ginger, we had an experience together that not many folks share." Andy, her husband, did come to get Jill. It is not any easy task getting a patient home to the UK. We have known many who have attempted to do this in the past. Her journey home was like a sketch from Monty Python as she puts it. She was on a stretcher, secure she thought, until she started to slide off while being carried up the stairs. She giggles now reliving the story.

  Fortunately, Jill did live to tell the story of a moment that changed her life. It changed mine too. Arriving back in England, she still wasn't sure if she was dead or alive. She wasn't sure whether she was really interacting with others, her reality was obscured. There seemed to be a time lapse. After several healing therapies, she discovered of how "Oh my God, I am dead,"had been planted deep within her subconscious from the horrific shock. So for many months she unknowingly believed she was dead. I think, if Lily had still been alive, she would have told Jill to get back into her body. Twenty-five years have passed and Jill's story does have a happy ending. She went on to study and practice Psychotherapy and lives in the States pursuing her soul service of helping others. Our friendship has rekindled and we have come full circle, re- united on the Bright Side of Moon, sharing more stories to come.

  ***

  David eventually arrived and we were all happy to have him back with us. He looked tired. The stress was showing, having taken on the main responsibility of the band on this last phase. He would stay out late. To some extent, I knew that this would be the case. Coming home off a tour of gigs and late nights does not make it easy to step back into home life. But my heart really yearned for him to be back. It yearned for the David I loved.

  One night David had gone into town and I would meet him after I put the children to bed. A knock came at the front door. It was Sue Turner our previous nanny, now secretary. It was nightfall and she flew in with some urgent papers for David to sign. She left as suddenly as she arrived to catch David in town. At the time, I was in the dark. But for sure, it had something to do with work. Later I was to discover that it pertained to the Record Company wanting another album. She brought the contract to sign. Our life, still being determined by the needs of owning the Pink Floyd name, and (I believe) our not so sure financial situation.

  The next morning while we were having tea on the veranda, with Matthew sitting on his lap, David told us that he needed more time to unwind. He therefore would not be coming back to the UK with us. The children had to start school so there was no way for us to extend our stay. He had promised that we would start to have more time together, but he really needed to have some time out. I could sense that there was more w
eighing on his mind. His silent repose was his pattern even though words of concern showed in his eyes. I had learned to wait, to get on with daily matters and keep praying for the best.

  CHAPTER 68

  DAVID LEAVES THE FAMILY

  David returned home, but instead of fulfilling his promise to be with us, he had to go back into the studio. He would work late into the night. Our home life filled with broken promises to have dinner with us time and time again. I asked him if he were to be late, please just call and tell me. He said, "Yes" but didn't. He promised to take the children to school, but couldn't get up. I covered for him with more stories. They listened with a pout. He was not there. What had once been Roger's story was now ours. There was no one home in his being. It seeped in and suddenly there it was. I had no idea which way to turn. The coldness went deep. Caught in the briar sang in my heart. Stuck between the thorns. What happened to the Joy, the Love? Not knowing when David would arrive home - repeated itself again and again. I had no idea what to expect next. This was not the David I knew. When on another night he did not come home at all, I could not sleep as the hours went by and no word. He was not at the studio. He had already left. I called Steve O'Rourke. He had no idea where he was. I called Melissa, she laughed. I was hurt by her jovial light hearted response, ''That's Rock 'n' Roll." I said, "Melissa! I am worried. It is 4:30 a.m. in the morning and he is not home. He has not called AND the other night the police picked him up for drunken driving! It could be serious this time!" I was fraught with worry. In the morning the children asked, "Where is Daddy?" I lied and said that he had to work late at the studio. After the school run, I called the studio. Phil Taylor was there and said that they expected David around 11:00 a.m. Something inside me broke. No more stories. No more lies. No more waiting. I exploded. So I packed a suitcase and drove to the studio. He was there. "Where have you been?" I shouted, holding my tears. No answer. Our eyes stared into the space between us. He was Comfortably Numb. The song had become the man. "You promised! I cannot cover you anymore with the children. I need YOU!" I dropped the suitcase before him and said, "Come back when you are ready to be with US!" He never came back.

  We did have a chat with the children about the state of affairs weeks later, but they continued to hope he would come back. Months went by when he sent Jerome with some separation papers for me to sign. From time to time David did come to see the children and get more belongings. One day when he came, I was writing at our desk upstairs. The door was open. I could feel him standing there held in silent desperation, watching, searching for something to say. I did not turn to draw out his thoughts as I did in the past. I waited, but he left. I really don't remember much of that period. My mind was empty. My heart hurt. It is all a blur. One thing for sure, I was amazed how much room in my mind was a vacant space, once filled with thinking every day as a wife and mother.

  Our house, Monksbridge, overlooked the River Thames. We had a huge chitalpa tree with a wooden swing. In those days, I would swing in quiet reflection while the children were at school. Sometimes I would wander and sit by the river. There was a little island with a bridge, which led to another part of the garden closer to the river. It is said that King Edward and Lady Simpson used to stay at Monksbridge. In fact, they gifted the property with a Teddy bear shaped topiary tree as a present, which someone planted on the island. Most days I would go over the bridge and sit. I would watch the leaves pass by in the current moving downstream.

  One day when I was sitting there with such remorse, I was not sure whether there was any life for me after David Gilmour. I contemplated ending it. I saw through my grief, the place where I was free. I had seen this place before as a teenager. I just had to let go. Just jump. The current would do the rest. But just when it was almost a reality, I heard the laughter of my children in the garden. They were home from school. I went into automatic pilot and picked up my battered body, for that is what it felt like. Crossing the bridge, I entered into my future as a single mother with four lovely children. Little did they know that they saved their Mom that day with the sound of their Joy.

  I shared my story and thoughts with Dr. Barot, who had become our homeopath after the passing over of Dr. Sharma. He gave me a bottle of remedies and said, "If you find yourself in that situation again, take two of these pills and wait ten minutes before jumping, if you can." I never used them. The children were my panacea. Mothering was my strength. Their laughter helped me to remember how to laugh for my Joy was clogged up. I have since discovered the healing power of Joy and Laughter. It's a gift from God. I now know, from my own experience, that Laughter breaks down the walls of sadness. It strengthens our immune system, clears the brain, reduces our blood pressure, but most of all it brings healing. Since, I try very consciously not to let my laughter get rusty. Giggles keep me going.

  CHAPTER 69

  SIR JOHN TAVENER PASSES OVER

  12 November 2013

  A great composer, a great spiritual leader passes over. Sir John Tavener died on 12 November 2013.(1) His passing over changed my energetics of life on a very deep level. My heart grieved and yet I knew he was with the Angels. I felt the doorway of where he was. I had known him for many years and his music still holds a special place in my heart. His vision and his path inspired me along my journey.

  I remember the first evening we met. Cecil and Elizabeth had invited us both for dinner at their home in Paulton Square, London. It was long before he became World famous on a grand scale. I had never heard of him until that night. We all shared our individual stories. Then towards the end of the evening, Cecil commented to me, "Ginger, I think you have been surrounded by Angels all your life to have survived and still have your wings!" He chuckled in his very Cecil way.

  It would be years before we were to meet again; it was after David and I had separated. I was organizing a charity concert for Lily at Westminster Central Hall called Christmas Carol Fantasy. I asked him if we could use one of his songs. John was very moved that Lily had dedicated her life for humanity with so much love. So instead, he composed a song and even played the huge organ on the night. His song, titled "Today the Virgin,"was sung by the Allegri Singers and conducted by Louis Halsey. At the time, the song was held in the memories of my videos, waiting. Chester Music (John's Publisher) recently said it has now been recorded commercially and sung by the US male voice choir Chanticleer.

  In the spring, John and his wife Maryanna came for lunch once at my home in East Grinstead. We ate out on the terrace under our big umbrellas beneath the magnolia. John went for a walk in my garden after, while waiting for our coffee. I had a wonderful Japanese style waterfall around a pond covered with large rhododendrons of many colors, designed in the Victorian Era when the rich and famous brought back plants from around the world. It was a period of English History, which valued the Beauty of the gardens.

  Before he returned, Maryanna shared with me how unwell he was but his creativity kept him alive. John was not well, for he suffered from a hereditary condition, Marfan syndrome that causes heart defects. His life was always in balance between pain and the angels. She insisted that I should come and visit them, which I never got the opportunity to do. We spoke on the phone periodically and shared visions of a spiritual and creative nature. He oscillated between bliss and suffering in the world at large. He had found refuge in the teachings of the Russian Orthodox religion. Which from my limited understanding supported creativity as a path to God.

  Lily had once given him a treatment and said, "John you are so in heaven that you need to come down to earth occasionally." I think having Maryanna and his three children served him to do just that. I do know they had a great love, love for each other and their common interest, music. He had just composed a new love song for her that was performed at the Southwark Cathedral in London the Friday after he passed. He meant to be there. Over the years, I kept in touch by going to his concerts. Chester Music regularly sent me his schedule of performances. He had the most incredible ability to lengthen t
he sound of a stanza without technology like the one Floyd did with their Sound in the Round. The Tallis Scholars worked often with him (as did other choirs) who specialized in sacred and secular music under the direction of Peter Phillips. Often the music would start on one side of the stage and then travel to the other still moving without a breath.

  John was deeply spiritual. His music seemed to be born from the Heavens. I often asked him to request the audience not to clap at the end of the performances, for unknowingly, they scared the invocation of the angelic beings away. His music transcended the noise of the street and within our hearts. My wish was that we should just sit there in silence and allow the beauty of the evening to drift deeper into our being. To all walk into the night carrying not the sound of the clapping but our union. Sadly, that is not in our culture to understand or value, yet.

  There was one summer when David and I were in Lindos. I was feeling isolated from everyone and vulnerable. The gossip and judgmental attitudes placed an uneasy distance within our friendships. I was never one to feel comfortable about name calling and segregation into packs like wolves. Though wolves have more integrity. I sat on the beach with headphones playing "Ikon of Light" over and over again. I listened to John's song of the celestial choir all day while the tourists frolicked in the sea. It was my salvation from the maddening crowd that year.

  I was secretly somewhere else, safe from the brewing storm. Screaming and loud noise were becoming a problem as I went deeper into the "Silence that Sounds." It seems to be the nature, part of that process, until one is established and united with your spiritual purpose on Earth. I am glad it is lessening. Just in time for Matthew to be on stage playing his own compositions and guitar! One of my most memorable concerts was when John, the Tallis Scholars and Sting worked together in 1998 at the National Gallery in London. I escorted Elizabeth as Cecil had passed over many years before. We had become good friends by now. Cecil said that Elizabeth was his muse and so did John. This concert at the National Gallery was an experiment, where many forms of art would come together to touch and uplift us all. The paintings, the music, the poetry with the architecture would demonstrate the power of art to bring the sacred to Humanity.