Let’s celebrate Mary Magdalen’s Feast Day

Since writing LoveDance in 2003, I have celebrated Mary Magdalen’s feast day. Usually I honor the Magdalen in quiet ceremony, but in the summer of 2013, we took a family trip to Europe to celebrate our kids’ college graduation and our 30th anniversary.

On July 22nd, we happened to be on the Amalfi Coast in Italy. After a long day of visiting Pompei, we were having dinner in an open air restaurant in Minori. My son asked what I planned to do for Mary Magdalen’s Feast Day. I replied, “I spent the day with my beautiful family.”

Then the owner of the restaurant served us espresso and suggested we walk to Atrani for the “Parade of Roses” at midnight. A parade at midnight? I asked, “Is this in honor of Mary Magdalen?”

“Yes, the Magdalena! You will love it.” He smiled at me.

So we walked twenty minutes up the winding narrow Amalfi Coast highway to join thousands of people on the great seawall of Atrani. The Italians were laughing and singing and kissing each other, very excited for the parade to begin. The streets were so narrow and packed with people, no room for a parade. Then the churchbells rang and everyone turned to look out over the seawall at the peaceful harbor.

At the stroke of midnight, the biggest, most grand fireworks display began over the harbor! It lasted a good 45 minutes and ended in fireworks that landed on the water in the shape of red roses! The symbol of the Magdalen! The churchbells tolled for a half hour as we joined thousands of people dancing down the streets back home. The Italians honor the Magdalena with flair!


In the book, Mary Magdalen Unveils HerStory
In the video, I unveil the secret to living in sacred relationship with your partner, children, family, even the Earth.


“Love is eternal and since each of us is Love, then we are also eternal. Not the body.” Yeshua pats his chest. “No, the body will die. But who I am as Love can never die. I have always been Love and so have you.”

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May You Live Your LoveDance,

Deborah Maragopoulos MN FNP-BC
author, speaker, healer

6 Remembering Mary Magdalen: In the Mother Land

Oct 1st, 2003  Venezia—a true sea city, complete with waterways, canals, gondolas, narrow streets connected by many bridges. Fortunately we never get lost for Steve’s brain has more magnetite than the average human. Yeshua teases (Steve rolls his eyes) that it is as if the creator consulted with Steve on the four directions! Yeshua’s always with me if I should ask, frequently initiating contact, I need not even be in serious meditation.  It is as if my vibration is significantly raised to make audio contact, if I raise it further still, I’ll also perceive video contact, sensory contact is a given-that is just me. It was seven years after my grandfather died before Poppop came to me first in a dream. Then I would smell his old spice aftershave and feel the oiled leather of the back of his hand caressing my cheek as he whispered reassurance “It’ll be alright, poppy.” Once when the children were very little, I was driving them to see my family and had a flash of a car crash. Immediately Poppop came to me and they looked up from their books to ask what smelled so good.Sipping cappuccinos in an open air café with Steve—who’s not so keen with my casual communications with Yeshua—I must be more judicious. Can I help it if there is no silence, only music? My sense of smell even more acute, very sensitive to the European odors of cigarettes, sewage, and produce. Dank castle smells, eerily familiar, old tapestries on Catholic altars permeated with the dusty odor of worship and tears, the sharp odor of fear oozing from ancient walls, the cool smell of stone impregnated by many humans living in such close contact—it reminds me of back east.     

Oct 4th, 2003 In the middle of the night, I began to bleed profusely. Nothing I did would staunch the flow. When Steve found me in the bathroom, he was horrified by the hemorrhage but made the connection. “This is too early for your period. What part of the story are you on?” While he drove us through Ambruzio to the Amalfi coast, I wrote the birthing of Mary’s first child. “Does she die?” I shook my head—no. “Then, for G-D’s sake, finish it!” Sitting me on thick towels before my laptop, Steve wrung his hands as the delivery poured through me. And once I wrote that Mary awoke safe and sound—the bleeding stopped.