Monday, April 18, 2016

Waking from a dream

I wake up having forgotten
And then I remember
My dream
A tall man gave me a piece of a star
It was smaller than a mini computer card
Iridescent and translucent
Like tiny swath of cotton made out of blue silver light
Buzzing quietly in the darkness

He held it between his index finger and his thumb
The mudra position for fire and air
And transferred the star piece to my own fingers
I placed it onto my desktop
A download from the universe
With answers to all my questions
And questions to all my answers
A white light to keep with me
Various wavelengths combined
The wisdom of the ages
To access whenever I need it

Thank you for the dream my brother

Saturday, April 18, 2015

7 Years

Dear Ned,

I wish I could see you.
I wish I could grow wings to fly up into blue skies, the soft white billowing clouds protecting me from the sun’s heat.  The view of the Earth, the granite steep, the rocks, river, redwoods and lake become tiny splashes of color as I ascend to meet with you.

I wish I could fly to you and be with you for just one day and then more.
I wish I could find you in my dreams to say that it is going to be ok.
Where you are there is a brotherly love that has no conditions, no rainchecks, no venturi effect.

I wish I could turn back the hands of time to that day. Perhaps your brow was furrowed in distraction, thinking of your life, your challenges and unknowns, last night’s conversations with your sisters, forgotten birthdays, the death of another brother, the need to call your parents, the coming weekend when you would be with your family, your little boy, your beautiful wife. I wish I could have given you the presence you needed. And how could I have?

I wish I could slowed the wind that whipped through the canyon that afternoon, the air flew through the narrow rock space speeding it up and dropping the pressure making the little plane struggle to gain momentum. And yet that would have been impossible for me to be there!

I wish I could have been there to slow your attention to check the instruments,
to correct the error of that split second when you were caught off guard. But how could I have been there?

You were caught in the awe of the Sierra Nevadas, into the wild at Cherry Lake. Over your head with the beauty of the forest.

The summer before last, we traveled there to see what you saw and to be there with your spirit.

A brave pilot. A father, son, husband and brother, a man fully alive in this world.

You are always with me,
Your middle sister

Monday, August 19, 2013

Ned Hike August 2013 by Jerry Snyder, Ned's father

The sky is no limit; your dreams should be big. 

Connect with your Friends; but Family is core. 

Golf with your buddies; smoke a cigar while you do. 

Celebrate friendship; enjoy things that you have. 

Seek comfort in music; hear sounds that you like. 

Swimming a race sucks; but Water Polo is great. 

Aviation was his passion; made life exciting and challenging.

Cooking and eating is foremost; don't skimp on a meal. 

Tip a Sierra Nevada; toast to those that you know. 

Share joy, insight and wisdom; communicate with all. 

Don't forget to be supportive; never think small. 

Don't look at me but be introspective; find peace in your life. 

The sky is no limit; but time can be short. 

Superman he was; superman to all of us. 

Live life to its fullest; no moments to spare.

Trek to Cherry Lake for Ned

On August 17th and 18th, 2013, ten of us gathered together to make the trek through this magnificent wilderness in the Sierras where our beloved Ned - Edmond Thomas "Superman" Snyder -and his copilot Dave Cunningham made their last journey. We made it to the area of the April 2008 crash site and saw the beauty of the majestic granite peaks and the awesome wild through Ned's eyes. It was an amazing experience. This first set of photos were taken by Jerry, Ned's father.

Friday, August 16, 2013

Wendy and Ned, about 1971

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Embrace Life

I put a picture of Ned on my desk where he is standing under a waterfall, the lush green of trees and vines surrounding him, his chest bare, his arms outstretched upwards in a sun salutation, although I never knew him to do yoga, a huge smile on his face from ear to ear. I love the way he embraced life.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Coming through to say thank you

Last night in my dream, Ned came to an event in NYC. He was much younger than he was when he died, maybe in his twenties. He gave me a pin to wear that said Ned on it and it was rainbow striped with baby blue in it. He was going to make a presentation of thank you to all his friends and family for celebrating his life and then he’d be on his way. I guess that's what I'm doing too, to anyone who might read this. Just coming through to say thank you. Ned Snyder still lives on even if we don't talk about or blog about him as much.