Lean In, Baby, Just Lean In

I used to believe that bad things happening to me meant I was a bad person somehow. The truth is, the reason so much “bad” stuff has happened around me is simply because I love so many people so deeply and because, well, that’s life.

I used to be afraid to tell you more bad stuff was happening in my life because I don’t want pity, and because I thought for sure I was doing something to “deserve” all this bad stuff. On some level, I think I believed I had not become enlightened/empowered/aura-fied/chakra-fied/fully present/fearless/brave/spiritual/positive thinking enough to transcend suffering.

I wanted so badly in my journeys these last 4 years to find a way to transcend suffering. I really thought if I read enough books, meditated well enough, shared some insight with others who were suffering and maybe wrote a book, gave a speech, that would also help you transcend suffering… then everything would be better.

But, that’s not true. There is no such thing as transcending suffering. In fact, the very revolt against it only solidifies and intensifies its grip of angst on your soul.

I have not done anything to deserve 20 deaths in 4 years, moving 5 times, watching my daughter grieve her best friend, suffering through illness after illness after illness, pay cut after pay cut, job loss after job loss.

I have not done anything wrong. This stuff didn’t happen because I didn’t think positively enough. It didn’t happen because I’ve been living in fear. It didn’t happen because I’m not doing enough to attract all kinds of great things to myself, or because I didn’t practice The Secret or The Laws of Abundance or The Laws of Attraction or The Power of Now well enough to create A New Earth. It didn’t happen because I was unable to Return to Me or find The Gifts of Imperfection or create my own Translucent Revolutions after fully practicing The Four Agreements through a good Conversation With God. (Don’t get me wrong, I have read and loved most all those titles and they all helped me, but they did not help me learn how to fend off life’s lemons – no one can teach that).

All this “bad stuff” happened because I’m human, and this is the human experience.  This is just life. This is the life of someone who loves deeply, and thus has much to lose, much to ache over, much to grieve. God, who would want a life that had nothing to miss? Nothing to lose? Nothing to be afraid of leaving behind?

Instead of trying to find a way to live without loss – turn inward, put up walls of solitude and shut out anything that might possibly cause potential pain, I have chosen to keep buckled in on this rollercoaster ride and try my best to embrace both its dips and hills.

I have found the greatest thing I can give myself is compassion. Compassion for ourselves is allowing and softening into whatever feelings arise – good or bad – instead of shunning them away because they are “bad” or “uncomfortable.”

Thich Nhat Hanh says we should cradle our suffering like a baby, so, when I am hurting and angry, I try to look at myself like I look at my 6-year-old when she is in the midst of a full blown meltdown. On the surface, there is anger, pain, tears – underneath, there is sadness, sorrow, hurt, frustration, and a little girl just dying to be heard and understood.

We each have that child within, who just wants her pain to be seen and heard.

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It would be easy for me to turn into a mean, angry, violent person. I have so much hurt and anger inside for all the shit I’ve been handed. It takes everything in me to, instead, try to let it out – breathe through it, lean into it, feel it, and go through it, not around it. I have learned that allowing myself to be in the uncomfortable space of anger, frustration, self-doubt, shame, loneliness, and sorrow, is actually the only path through suffering. Lean in, not away. Soften into it. Have compassion for myself, instead of anger at myself for not being a perfect human being who has somehow magically found a way to live a life free of suffering.

So, instead of telling you to feel better today about whatever you are going through, I am going to tell you, go ahead and feel like crap. Have a pity party for one for a minute. Cry, throw a temper tantrum, punch a freaking wall. Then, pick yourself up like a child who fell off his bike, and wipe your tears away with compassion – true, all-encompassing, non-judgmental compassion that allows you to feel whatever you are feeling now.

I’d like to think life will get “better” eventually, but it may not, so I try to embrace whatever is before me – even the pain, because I know more joy is just around the corner, and all of it is part of this crazy, mad, happy sad beautiful life. For everything I have lost, I have loved a whole lot more.**

Is Your Well Full, or Are You Running on Empty?

© Ashwin82 | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Bad things happen to good people.

I think we’ve all figured that one out by now, right?!

So, bad things are going to happen to you. Or, like me, LOTS of bad things might happen to you, over and over, with rare pause between crescendos of pain, and you may wake up one day and think, “Wow, really, is this life? Isn’t there something more than this to life?”

I’ve been asking myself that question quite frequently as of late, and I think I’ve figured out a key to finding peace and joy, even in barrages of hardship.

The question is, how to see beauty around pain? Or, as one friend said the other day, how do I see rainbows in the shitstorms? (Please excuse my language if you’re reading this, Mom and Dad, but, well, the profanity was elicited given the circumstances of late!).

I once quoted a story I heard shared by author Mark Nepo on Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday, and I’ll share it here again.

“The pain of life is pure salt; no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains exactly the same. However, the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the pain in. So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do is to enlarge your sense of things . . . Stop being a glass. Become a lake.”

~Author Unknown

I think I’m figuring out that when bad things happen, if my “well” is full, I can be more able to see the beauty around the pain, and “enlarge my sense of things.”

Are you filling your well by spending time opening up a connection to the Universe?

Your “well” is your spiritual energy input. It is the time you MAKE for yourself to be alone, to be in nature, to be creative, to write or paint, draw or bike, read or cook – whatever it is that refills your well. It is your coffee can on a string to the divine. It’s always there, but if you don’t pick it up and open a connection to allow creativity and beauty to flow into, out and through you, you will feel stifled in your life. You will feel unfulfilled. You will feel stuck. And when bad things happen, you will feel that bitter taste of being a glass, not a lake.

So, just as we must perform daily maintenance around our homes, for our bodies, etc., we must maintain our spiritual vessel daily as well. Every day you feed the dog, your kids, your spouse, but do you feed your soul – your spiritual well?!

We have to keep filling the well, so when a shitstorm comes to try and drain it, we have spiritual energy reserves. We have to have enough beauty in our lives coming in and out through self-expression, creativity, books, music, meditation, friendship and connection, and anything else that helps us feel we are touching the divine, that we can still see that beauty around the pain when it comes.

As Mothers, parents, spouses, employees, we are often sending all our energy out, out, out, out, out, and never taking time to bring energy in for ourselves. So, we’re too busy or broke to take a vacation or spend time in nature? Don’t worry, you’ll have a vacation soon enough when you get an illness and have to stay at home for a week. It’s your body’s way of saying, “NEED ENERGY INPUT!!!!”

I’m home sick right now, because I have not been filling my well, and through a lot more “bad stuff” this last couple weeks, I’ll admit, I could not see ANY rainbows in the shitstorms because I was running completely on empty.

I’m working on filling my well, right now, by writing, to you, because this is my coffee can on a string to the divine. What’s yours?

The next time you’re washing the dishes, fueling the car, packing lunches for the kids, or doing some other sort of daily maintenance on your home or life, remember your well, and please, make sure you’re taking time to fill it every day, too. You don’t even have to leave your house to open up a connection to the divine. Plan a vacation, read a book, call a friend, paint a beautiful picture, jam through a workout, climb a mountain, or just do something, to remind yourself, this is a beautiful lake…er…world, we live in, no matter what happens.

“To offer no resistance to life is to be in a state of grace, ease, and lightness. This state is then no longer dependent upon things being in a certain way, good or bad. It seems almost paradoxical, yet when your inner dependency on form is gone, the general conditions of your life, the outer forms, tend to improve greatly…”

~Eckhart Tolle

I Think Anita Moorjani Just Changed My Life

I am so excited and blessed to be preparing to attend a live event with renowned NDE (Near Death Experience)r, Anita Moorjani this upcoming weekend. A friend of mine encouraged me to read her book before the event, but since I don’t have it yet, I went to her website, and to Amazon’s preview and read about her NDE today. I think it just changed my life completely, totally, irrevocably. In a way I can’t describe, I feel lighter, brighter, greater, and more fearless, in an instant. 

Anita Moorjani literally died and came back from the afterlife and was instantly cured of the cancer that had ravaged her body for four long years. Doctors could not explain what had happened when every test result came back showing absolutely no signs of cancer just hours after they had witnessed her organs shutting down completely. 

While she was in a coma, tiptoeing the line of life and death, she experienced an intense sense of freedom and clarity, love and joy that she could hardly put into words. She describes the experience as best she can in her book, Dying to Be Me. 

I read the last two pages of it in the Amazon preview and this part specifically ignited my soul today: 

“Finally, I cannot stress enough how important it is to enjoy yourself and not take yourself or life too seriously.” 

She goes on to say, “Although you know I abhor creating doctrines, if I ever had to create a set of tenets for a spiritual path to healing, number one on my list would be to make sure to laugh as often as possible throughout every single day – and preferably laugh at myself. This would be hands down over and above any form of prayer, meditation, chanting or diet reform. Day to day problems never seem as big when viewed through a veil of humor and love.” 

Wow. 

I have been taking life WAY too seriously! 

It’s hard to accept responsibility for this, but I think that my limited beliefs of myself, judgements of myself, etc. have been creating my little limited reality. 

Reading Anita’s words, I suddenly feel so much lighter, like I can take everything less seriously, and just look at life through eyes of joy and humor and have fun. Her entire message is that we are here in this life to HAVE FUN, enjoy life! Why do we waste so much time judging ourselves? 

“Boy, if I’d only known that we were supposed to come here and feel good about ourselves and about life – express ourselves and have fun with it!” she says. 

My life has felt so lead-blanket-on-the-heart sort of heavy the last few years, I have really forgotten in so many ways how to just have fun and enjoy life. 

But, I believe that my perception can shift this entirely. 

It’s so hard to explain, but I feel like I just woke up and decided to make a choice to enjoy life. I don’t need to sit here and ponder on yesterday or tomorrow anymore. I don’t need to search my soul for answers, or dig deeper into my heart for healing. I just need to be…happy. 

Thank you for this http://www.verybestquotes.com

My heart resonated when I read, “Life is not supposed to be a struggle.” For me, life has been such a struggle the last few years through so much death (at last count, 20 people in 4 years have passed on), financial struggles, life circumstances and hardships. The last few days, I’ve honestly been so unhappy and dripping quite a few tear stains on my sleeves, wondering how and why did I get here? Why are we still struggling so much? When will it get better? 

I have felt like I was sitting on a precipice…a choice to remain still and stuck where I am, or move forward into realization of my magnificence as Anita calls it. I have felt that going to her event this weekend would change everything for me, and I had no idea how.  

I thought that going to an event about a near-DEATH experience would further boost my ideas/understanding about death and dying, after four years that have been, for me, largely hallmarked by life-altering experiences of grief. I was hoping that maybe in attending and being around like-minded souls, I would be opened up to possibilities – the possibilities to express my own truths around these experiences I’ve had. 

But, already, I’m realizing, I was not brought to Anita’s reflections to bolster my ideas about death. I was brought to them to recharge my ideas about life and living. 

I have been sitting on a precipice of wanting to step into my magnificence, but I’ve been so scared, so afraid of standing up and speaking my truth. So many what if’s. What if they hate me? What will others think of me? What if I say or do the “wrong” thing? What if I don’t know what to say or how to do it? What if I’m not educated enough, smart enough, old enough…enough, enough, enough?!

ENOUGH! 

Anita’s entire message from beyond is based on this: we are always, already enough. We are never less than anyone or anything. We already are all we need to be. 

Just think how much suffering we’d be spared if we weren’t always trying to be more than we already are. How much suffering could you spare yourself if you loved your body, your relationship, your life, your finances, your children, yourself…just as they are now? If you weren’t always striving for things to be a better way?

I realize now that even my choices to eat healthy were coming from a desire to be better than, that stemmed from fear of disease or illness. 

My self-loathing of this beautiful body that just birthed a baby and is taking it’s sweet time to get back to normal has caused me suffering, and thus, at times, my desire to make it better, were not FUN! Why not just work out and be healthy for the fun and joy of it? 

Ah, a morning full of ah-ha’s! Just what I needed – a good slap of sunshine in the face!

I hope you will go read about Anita’s near-death experience and feel a boost of sunshine in your day, too. 

As for me, I’m not sure what’s next…I would really like to believe that I was brought here for something great, and through all the death and struggle, I wanted/needed to believe it was not all for naught, that someday I’d make something of it, share it with the world, and then it would mean something because it helped someone. 

But now I see, that maybe striving for excellence, was simply my way of trying to create happiness “somewhere out there”, when instead, I could just choose to be happiness here and now. 

Right now, I am the Mother of three beautiful children, and the wife of a man who stuns and slays me daily. I am dead-freaking-tired, my house often looks like it’s just been robbed even though I feel like I spend all day every day cleaning it, I’ve begun to feel that make-up is pointless, and I’ve recently fallen in love with organic convenience meals. I’d love to write a book, host a workshop, plant a garden, win the lottery, or start a foundation. 

I could, and might, one day do any or all of those things. Right now, I choose to be happy, regardless. 

I’m going to hit “Publish Post” on this, go grab my two little boys (my daughter’s at school) and kiss them, have fun with them, have fun with myself, and create as many opportunities as possible to laugh at myself today. 

I know the “tough stuff” is still there, but like Anita said, it all looks a little less buggy and scary, hard and undertaking, through the lens of laughter and light. 

Perhaps my kids came to remind me of that…as much work as they are, one little smile or giggle from them makes everything beautiful in an instant, no matter how tired or sad or scared or lonely or angry I am. I am so thankful for that daily reminder. 

Might I also add, that if you are in pain right now, like I was yesterday when I was feeling so frustrated with our constant struggle of late…you often cannot just flip a switch to choose to be happy without acknowledging, comforting, and expressing your pain first. I spent the day doing that yesterday, and I think that’s the only reason why I was able to receive Anita’s message today. So, if you are reading this, in a space of feeling negative emotions, hurt, or pain, I encourage you to read these posts before moving on to reading Anita’s. 

Accepting the Unacceptable – The Path to Peace in Pain

And Part II to that post is here. 

Blessings to you all, my friends. It’s good to be back (in so many ways)! Stay tuned, I will try to post about the event with Anita this weekend! 

~Megan 

A Different Kind of Near-Death Experience

He reminded me to use my voice…so I did, for him. ~ Christopher Lane’s Memorial Service 8/25/12 ~ Photo borrowed from Christopher’s Facebook page

I thought I was doing fine, since the Memorial. I doused that place in a good storm puddle of my own tears on Saturday, and I guess I thought that’d do me for awhile.

But, today, it came back. Listening to this haunting, powerful, poignant, bomb-hitting-your-house sort of poem of Christopher’s. I’ve never heard anything like it in my life. I hadn’t heard it before he died.  The first time I heard it was at the Memorial – so now, hearing his voice is like putting a stethoscope to a grave and catching the waves of a heartbeat.

His death has done so much to shake me up. I’m writing again…because he died. I’m unfolding my scared petals again…because he died. 

I often think, who am I to be so affected by his death? I can’t even begin to comprehend his family’s pain, his wife’s sickening grief.

And here I am, grief-stricken in my own way…but I’m figuring something out about myself.

I have chosen to put myself deep in the potholes on this road, right in the path of death’s river – because of something a bereaved parent, whose 15-year-old daughter passed away, said to me the other day.

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“It is not ours to understand the ebb and flow of life and death…impossible in a dualistic, egoic body. I know grief…losing a child is my awakening to the Unknown. I do know that there is something that is called ‘Mystery’ that knows the way to understanding if we are just willing to not tell a story of it being any different than what it is.”

She went on to say, “It is strange, but loss of this kind, if embraced, is truly the way of accessing something deep within us that would have never broken open.”

I could have distanced myself from many of these deaths. The night my Aunt died, I could have spared myself seeing her die. I could’ve stayed at home, not brought my Grandmother to say goodbye to her daughter, and just had a phone call to feel, rather than the aroma of death itself to haunt me. With many of the deaths since, I could’ve missed out on the last moments – I had all the best excuses in the world, but instead, I put myself right there, at death bed after death bed, for my own unique “near-death experiences.”

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about Near-Death Experiences, but in a different way than most. More and more people are coming forward, sharing the depths of wisdom to be seeped out of NDE’s.

I have been having my own NDE’s. Although I’ve never died and come back to tell the tale, I have been “near-death,” as in at its bedside, at its feet, in its hours and weeks and months preceding, in its final moments, in its post-mortem rituals, in its mortuaries, crematories, graveyards, obituaries and Memorials – too many times to count now.

I have meditated at the bedside of agony. I have whispered to the dying. I have sang a Hallelujah chorus’ into Heaven for a Christian. I have held Shiva for a Jew. I have felt the arm of my dying Grandmother on my shoulder from the other side. I have conversed with old friends in my wakeful dreams.

These “near-death experiences” have been my awakenings, as the death of her daughter was my friend’s awakening. They have thinned the veil between life and death, scooped out my soul into a cavernous, porous, eager opening, and reminded me of Who I Really Am, again and again.

Memorial services have become my platform (bet you won’t see that on Ms. America’s docket!) – the place where I, melted down to my purest form of Being, pour out ladles of unencumbered truth, transparency, heart and wisdom I could only have reached in the soils of grief.

And so, today, as I shouldered my bathroom wall like a dear friend, weeping into its arms at the loss of Christopher once again, I find I’m not grieving in this hopeless, senseless, aching, depressed sense of old. I’m just grieving. Grief does not have to bear merely negative connotations. It can bear that ‘Mystery’ – that opening to the divine – if we let it.

I trust that Christopher is still with us. I’m confused, and still trying to wrap my head around the “story” of his death – his young age, good health, lack of explanation for his death, and his beautiful family left behind. But, I know he is still with me, and I am at peace with his death, because I can feel him conveying that message to me from within. Still, it hurts, though, still I ache, and this is par for the course, no matter how much I’ve faced death, how “at peace” I am with it, how enlightened I may or may not be.

For the last three years, I’ve often been afraid to share how I feel, like I’m doing right now…so afraid you were so sick of hearing it again, and again. Sometimes, I post on here, or Facebook, and feel like I can hear my friends’ moans, “Another death for Megan? Oh geez.” I think those are my own insecurities. In truth, I know few people who would feel anything but empathy for the profound prickers of pain I’ve been picking out of my knees lately.

I’m realizing now, that I am who I am for a reason. There is no one like me. Only I have had these experiences, and only I have handled them through this filter of “Megan,” the girl who loves hard, feels deeply, bears her soul honestly, and thus…experiences loss on a profound level, folding in the petals in grief, but opening them again and again each Spring.

So, I’m not apologizing for who I am anymore. These experiences have shaped me and taught me Masters-degrees of wisdom. I may grieve but that doesn’t mean I am “depressed” or that anything is wrong with me at all. It’s just a process, one that is required of, and owed to the honor of every soul we lose in this lifetime.

My NDE’s have given me so much to share…and while the “stories” we tell ourselves usually bear only negative connotations to death, dying and grief, I believe I am living proof that opening ourselves completely to the great mysteries of Life and Death, bears promise in either direction. Why should we embrace one, and shun the other? Both are part of our experience. Grief deserves time, attention, honor and embracing, and a willingness to sit at death’s bedside – to embrace the loss experiences in our lives – while painful, can also give us a glimpse of “Heaven,” the one that we find glowing within, when we, like statues, are broken open.

“What, Where, Who Have You Helped Today?!”

“Christopher’s Legacy”

Written 8-26-12

Last night, I attended the Memorial Service for Christopher Ya’ir Lane, one of probably a couple hundred people who attended.

The service began around five and didn’t end until after 8. There were so many souls, who were given a voice by Christopher, or reminded to use their voice in his care, and so they did use their voices last night in his honor.

I could almost feel Christopher standing over each one as they spoke, validating their voices, as he always did, pulling up a chair in the audience to give a resounding applause at their efforts, great or small, nodding at the MC, “Just one more…” after the twentieth, or thirtieth person spoke. He would’ve wanted every one of them to speak, to give gifts of words that birthed in their hearts and burned in the flames of grief and remembrance.

A strange sense of peace filled the air of Oak Creek Canyon, under the sycamores, as the candlelight bloomed glowing branches of remembrance to light our words at the mic. I didn’t expect peace, in a space filled with hearts ajar and open, salt still mincing into fresh wounds.

This loss was so sudden and tragic, so immense and far-reaching – as one woman said, “A man stopped me today and said, ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.”

She replied, perplexed, “Who, me?!’”

The man continued, “Yes, you’re an artist in Sedona, right? Then you knew Christopher Lane? I’m from Albuquerque and we all knew Christopher Lane there.’”

The night began with songs and friendship, and then Christopher’s beautiful wife, Akasha, took the mic. We all held our breath a little, waiting to exhale at the sight of her – what would she say, how could she speak? Here, the counterpart of a conspicuous, vociferous beauty – just as breath-taking in her shyness, and the quivering pauses between her phrases. She struggled to find any words fitting of a man who spit them with fire and eloquence, power and purpose, but her words were perfect.

She began by sharing a drawing and letter Christopher’s 8-year-old son wrote for him…Daddy, I miss you, what was wrong with you, I wish I could just give you a hug, I wish you could still read me stories before bed.

That letter was the hardest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

As she read, I glanced at my husband, who knew Christopher much more as an acquaintance then a friend, and saw his eyes overflowing with tears. I thought of our two beautiful children, and the one blooming in my belly.

Then Akasha began to speak about her husband. Her words came in waves, and after each sentence, she inhaled and exhaled long deep, shivering breaths…

“This doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream, or a movie.”

“I can just hear Christopher now, ‘So I had to die for you to finally get on a mic?!’” We all laughed.

Then, she continued, “God, I was so lucky to be married to him. I knew him 10 years and nine months, and I was a princess for every one of those moments.”

She spoke of what a doting father he was, and really, he was. There are few men in the world like him, that open up the Pandora’s Box of the world for their children daily, conveying magic and mystery in the mundane, parenting through powerful grace, gentle devotion, and quiet strength.

Every word she spoke made me think of my own husband, because every word she spoke could also be true of him. He lives his life for the kids and I. He adores our children, and would hurdle planets and platoons to bring back any small piece of Heaven on Earth for us. He’s a Christopher sort of Daddy in his own way, and I have always been thankful for this, growing up with a Dad who provided more financial strength, then emotional.

Every one of Akasha’s words will stay lit like a flame in the window of my soul. But, this sentence stayed with me the most.

“I loved you so much, Christopher,” she said. “And if I could go back, I would’ve loved you even more.”

And if I could go back, I would’ve loved you even more.

For Kory & I, 15 deaths in 3 years has certainly been enough to make us cling to each other like jellyfish on a surfer’s leg. It’s certainly been enough to singe indelible impressions on our hearts, marking the fragility of life. We’ve attended Memorials for children, friends, grandparents, aunts, second Mothers, second Fathers – and with every one, we’ve been painfully reminded, in fact, drenched in an overwhelming feeling of thankfulness for what we have. We know better than most, how quickly things can change. I know regret in so many ways, I’m like a diamond expert explaining the 4 C’s – cut, clarity, carat and colors – of regret.

Akasha’s words made me grip my husbands fingers in mine tighter still though, and vow to myself – in memory of Christopher, in honor of a love that gave her power to stand at that microphone he had owned with such exuberance, after losing the love of her life –  to love my husband, my children, my anyone…more.

I’ve made an invisible list in my mind of how many different ways I want to live my life as a small tribute to him. I figure, if I could be half the human being he was in my lifetime, I’d be doing ok.

The words from one of his poems, which they shared a recording of last night, hit me, “No longer should we be allowed to speak to another poet unless we have answered the question, ‘What, where, who have you helped today?’”

That’s the basis of my new commitment to life. What, where, who have you helped today?

Christopher helped someone every day.

I help my kids every day, and my husband, and that’s a lot, but like Akasha, I look back and think, could I have done even more? I don’t know, but, I’m going to try.

When I got home late last night, I was reminded, even in all my immense self-doubt of late, that being a full-time Mom is a pretty amazing thing, too. I returned home to find my own little letter awaiting. My five-year-old daughter had written it while I was at the service.

I guess the real message is…do as much as you can, with whatever you have, wherever you are.

___________________________

If you do nothing else with your day (besides reading this post, thank you!) PLEASE watch this video – you WILL be inspired to live and love more. 

Christopher Ya’ir Lane’s Most Powerful Prose

Dear Sweet Nephew: I’m Smiling at the Memory of You Today

Dear Sweet Nephew,

Hi, how are you? What’s it like living in the light you were on Earth?

I thought today I would write to you, because today it’s been 10 years since you left this Earth. I know you are still nearby, and all around, but, losing the chance to hold you in my arms and run my fingers through your beautiful blond hair again, that was the hardest thing I have ever had to let go of.

Marking 10 years today makes me look back on the last decade of my life without you. Of course, I wonder how things would be different if you hadn’t left. I wonder what an almost 13 year old version of you would look like, be like; how you would fit into a space in my life, how you would be a big brother, a son, a cousin.

But, I try not to dwell on thoughts like that, because obviously I can’t change what happened, I can’t bring you back. In my mind, you’ve stayed almost 3 eternally. In a way, that is a joy, because you were such a bright, beautiful, innocent beam of light in your short little life, and you’ve stayed that way in my mind.

These anniversaries have always been hard for me, but strangely not today. Today, I felt nothing but joy in remembering you. I can’t believe it’s taken 10 years to get to this point, where I can think of you and feel more joy then sorrow.

For the first few years after you died, I ached for weeks before March 15, every year. I wanted to hold a memorial service or plaster a huge sign on my roof, “I LOST THE BEST THING I EVER HAD IN MY LIFE!” I wanted the world to see my pain, I wished every person on this planet had known you, and known what they lost when you left this Earth so soon.

Then came all these ridiculous grief experiences these last few years, and each one has reminded me of you. So, I thought it was about time to deal with the pain of your loss. I started writing my book. I know you’ve been watching me write it – you’ve been right there in the pages of it with me. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to publish the parts about you or not – but I was meant to write them.

I know some people might think it looks like living in the past, but I think, actually, it was the first time I could look at the pain of your death with eyes of compassion for myself, with awareness, and courage to face the depths of the pain.

I wrote out every last detail of you – I put to paper every single piece of you I could remember. I wracked my brain for memories, so I could put into words exactly what it felt like when you ran your fingers through my hair, what it felt like to chase you to the Ice Cream Truck on a warm summer afternoon, what it felt like to hug you for the last time.

There were a lot of memories of your death that I had buried, and they were painful to dig up, but I faced them, courageously, so I could get past them. Writing about you seemed to help heal the wounds, leave them there on the pages once and for all, with all the ugliness and betrayal I felt over having to say goodbye to you forever.

Now, 10 years later, I’m not stuck in the pain of your loss anymore.

I’ve been reminded of how blessed I was to pay witness to your little life, your curiosity and zest for observing every little thing, great or small.

Now, I realize, the best way to honor your life, would be to live like you did, and to help others live that way – to live in pure JOY.

So, that’s what I want to do. I want to help people find a way to joy.

The pain of your loss was so hard because I thought I had lost that joy, but now I’m realizing, joy is not something that can be lost forever. It is simply lost, then found, again. It disappears, and reappears in other forms. When we hold no attachment to how we receive joy, we open ourselves up to receiving it from a gazillion different abundant sources. But, if we stay stuck in the sorrow of a loss, we lose out on seeing the joy that always exists around us.

After my Grandma died last week, I decided, I’m moving forward, just for the joy of it. I keep hearing those words over and over and over in my head since that day I sat at her bedside and felt her, as if she were standing behind me. I could hear her saying, “Just for the joy of it!” With that much exuberance, too! She was telling me to live just for the joy of experiencing every moment.

I needed that wake-up call because these last few years have sent me to Hell and back, repeatedly, and each time, I’ve come back with the fire and brimstone ashes of Hell’s fire on my feet, treading pain and anger everywhere I go.

I don’t want to live like that – in the pain and suffering; the lack of loss. I’m realizing, joy and sorrow are on two sides of one thread, and it’s up to me which ends of the threads I want to use to weave my life together from here.

So, today, on a day that has always made me wistful and melancholy, all I can do is smile at the giggle-busting memories of you. I usually cry on this day every year, but today, I don’t feel an inkling of a tear in me. I just remember how much I used to love to play with you – I lived to be invited into your little Universe each day. I would follow your breadcrumbs anywhere they took me, because I knew every moment with you would feel magical.

I've been trying to spread the smiles with my own two kidlets - looks like it's workin'!

I want to try now, to create those giggle-busting moments in my own life, with my own kids, and the people I encounter each day. I want to try to be to my kids as a Mom, what I was to you, as an Aunt.

I want to push myself to expand in joy, instead of contracting in fear and pain. I want to spread joy, not just to my family, but to tons and tons of people all the over the place. Will you help me do that? Nudge me with a little inkling of your light every now and again so I don’t forget it? Help me keep this promise to myself and my little neck of the world?

You are not a part of my past, sweet boy, you are part of my present, and always will be. The joy you gave me, the light you filled me with – it’s still here. You’re still here. I can feel you. Thank you for all the indescribably perfect memories you gave me, for making me feel so special in your world, for two years and ten months of joy I’ll never forget with you. Thank you for loving me then, and loving me still. I’ll see you in my dreams and giggles, sweet boy. I’ll see you in my smiles. 

Just Added Another Angel to my Heaven…

My Grandma passed away yesterday.

The last week or so watching her go as been pretty painful – one of the most painful losses I’ve had to witness yet, even in all the death I’ve experienced these last few years.

This is the third grandparent I’ve lost in 8 months. Wow.

And, she is number 13 in 3 years. Can you believe that? Thirteen deaths in three years?! I shared that number with a friend yesterday and he responded, “If I lost 13 people, I wouldn’t have anyone left. That would be all my family and friends.”

That made it hit home for me. It really has been quite a thing.

I told myself the other day, “Wow, I must have some really wonderful friends and family – God seems to want ‘em all back!”

I had a really horrific weekend, hence the reason I didn’t come and post. I did journal though, but what I wrote in my journal would need lots of black “censor” tags over it! I always say, a good journal is a best friend in times of grief. You can tell it anything, be honest, uncensored, horrific, angry, scary, mean – and it doesn’t judge you. In fact, if you read it back, it even gives you a good little dose of empathy, if you’ll have it.

I’m not feeling as angry now. I’m just taking this all in and trying to find the “Gifts in Grief,” as I always do. That’s such a funny term I’ve picked to use, because, really, at this point, fresh off a loss, it’s a hard thing to think of – finding gifts in grief.

But, I did find gifts, believe it or not.

This was the first time I really felt at peace with someone leaving. You might think, “Well, it’s easier to let go of someone in their 80′s who’s lived a long, full life,” and in some regards, you are right. But, on the other hand, this loss snuck up on us, when we thought she had years left with us, and it was a very hard loss to watch. I was angry and sad, and when I first heard she was dying, I decided to be angry at the sky/God/the Universe for handing me another death because, well, seriously, haven’t we had enough here lately?!

I sat at her bed side and my whole body held itself against what was happening. I was angry for myself, having to sit at another death bed. I was angry, again, for knowing all the signs of death. I was angry at my circumstances of kids, stress, work and life getting in the way of spending more time with her before she went.

But, again, I forced myself to get quiet and go within. I sat next to her bed, and closed my eyes, and did something very unusual, for me – for anyone, at that.

I smiled.

In my quiet, I could feel my Grandma’s spirit. I could feel her becoming a piece of the Earth, the sun, the sky. I could feel her almost splitting her spirit into a billion pieces and spreading herself out over the entire cosmos. There, there she is in the blade of grass. There, there she is in the warmth of the sun on my skin. There, there she is meandering down the creek in a flood of water. There, there she is, standing behind me, whispering, “You have been such a joy to me, dear.”

A feeling came over me that I could not describe. Something I had not identified yet, even in all this death. I could not name it, until one of my best friend’s named it for me, in a text message, the next day.

Friend: How are you doing today?

Me: Strangely, ok, somehow. Can’t explain it, but just feeling really at peace with it.

Friend: It took me 40 years to figure out that the “somehow” is the answer for a lot of my problems. Sometimes (a lot of the time) I wait it out. Something changes, everything changes. It is not my will activating anything, that much I know. Grace is a nice word for it.

Me: Nice way to put it. Thanks for sharing that.

grace:

1. a : unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification

b : a virtue coming from God

c : a state of sanctification enjoyed through divine grace

2. a manifestation of favor, especially by a superior:

Synonyms: forgiveness, charity, mercifulness.

3. mercy; clemency; pardon

Synonyms: lenity, leniency, reprieve.

Yes, I do believe it was Grace that swept over me as I sat there at her bedside and found a smile in me. I felt unspeakable joy, peace…and grace.

The day before, I had read my Grandma this passage out of “You Are Here” (take notes, I want this read at my funeral!). As I sat there, I felt the words become powerfully real and true in this experience.

This body is not me.
I am not limited by this body.
I am life without boundaries.
I have never been born,
and I have never died.
Look at the ocean and the sky filled with stars, manifestations from my wondrous true mind.
Since before time, I have been free.
Birth and death are only doors through which we pass, sacred thresholds on our journey.
Birth and death are a game of hide- and seek.
So laugh with me,
hold my hand,
let us say good-bye,
say good-bye, to meet again soon.
We meet today.
We will meet again tomorrow.
We will meet at the source every moment.
We meet each other in all forms of life.

~By Thich Nhat Hanh, Chanting and Recitations from Plum Village. Page 188.

It was in that moment, that this feeling of being the Grim Reaper Girl seemed to dissipate in me.

I’ve called myself that, because I’ve felt like death was following me, and that I somehow, always end up ushering people out of this life. I don’t like all the ugliness of death in it’s physicality – it’s uncomfortable, unspeakable, hard to witness, hard to be fully present to. But, I am able to be present to it, and I think if I can be fully present sitting at death’s doorstep, I can pretty much face anything.

And, it’s not all ugly. It’s really how we look at it. I’ve been blessed to have people come into my life and remind me of what an honor it is to be with someone in death. In Buddhist teachings, they say Death and Birth are interconnected. We could not have one without the other.

I’m not religious, I don’t know what happens on the “other side.” I’d like to believe in a Heaven that looks a little like Robin William’s painted heaven in “What Dreams May Come” or Susie Salmon’s “dogs dancing” heaven in the book, “The Lovely Bones” by Alice Sebold.

It does comfort me, though, to hear what people who’ve had NDE’s (near-death experiences) say – it’s always this overwhelming sense of peace, light and love they describe.

Believing we are all headed for that unspeakable joy and grace, I decided this time, to see the honor of celebrating someone into the afterlife, not just the hurt. It doesn’t take the hurt away, it just holds the hurt in that state of grace. I don’t know if I could do this again with death, and I don’t think I could ever go back, say to my nephew’s loss, and be able to find smiles through the tears over a loss that cruel. But, this time, for a girl who has certainly felt enough of the pain of death, it was nice to feel a little grace, too. 

A thought came into my heart as I smiled, “I’m NOT the Grim Reaper Girl. I’m just an angel on earth (as we all are!), helping other angels find their way home.”

What an honor that is, don’t you think?

So, what’s the morale of my story, my dears?

Celebrate life, every day, in every way.

Celebrate life, even ’til it’s last breaths on this Earth.

Celebrate life, even into the afterlife.

Wake up each day, and celebrate your life.

Always remember, there is joy unspeakable to be found, in every moment, in every experience.

For every sorrow once brought joy, and every death, large or small, to the afterlife, or just a new life on Earth, is a rebirth as well.

Thanks for sharing this journey with me.

Facing Another Loss

#13 is looming on the horizon…

Not going into details to respect my family’s privacy in such a hard time, but just thought, seeing as this is my place to share on life and loss, and my journey through it…I’d come here in the rawness of grief and tell you, think of me.

It’s been a hard couple days, but yes, the piano practice of grief has made me a beautiful composer.

I forced myself to get out in nature day before yesterday, and had the most blissful amazing day of “seeing the beauty around the pain.” I hiked all the way up a mountain, unprepared, not intending to. I had to carry books in my hands up steep cliffs, in the wrong shoes, with only half a bottle of water on a wind-whipped day. But, I forced myself to do it, to remind myself how strong and capable I am, how I always have everything I need within me.

It reminded me of the journey through grief. We often feel unprepared, but find, we have everything we need within to get through it.

On the way back down the mountain, butterflies danced with me. Butterflies are my sign from the other side, that my angels are with me. Yes, I do have lots of angels. Lots of angels on heaven and earth with me. That is one thing I have in abundance.

As hard and numbing as this space is, I feel so raw and pure, so unadulterated, unfettered, innocent and hauntingly vulnerable. I am proof that there is beauty in pain.

Maybe it is my job to BE the beauty in the pain.

Maybe it is my job to simply SEE the beauty in the pain.

I’m not sure, yet, because right now, I feel more pain than beauty, but I am trying, trying, trying…trying to be the beauty, see the beauty, and not let the pain consume me.

Thanks for listening to my grief ramblings.

Today I Will Choose Joy – So There!

Every day we have a choice. Choose joy, or sorrow.

Even in the depths of despair, we have this choice.

I have been at the lowest of my low, in a space where I’d given up on life in so many ways, and still I knew, it was up to me to make this choice.

There are times when it can be the hardest choice you have to make – when staying stuck in the pain and the sorrow, the fear and the anger, seems so much easier.

I think there are times like this that we use our fear and anger to protect us from more hurt. Whether we are lashing out at the world or retreating from it, we are hiding, because we’re scared of more pain.

Here’s what I have to say to that. You can run, but you can’t hide. =) (Insert devilish grin here!) Sounds cliche but, oh, so true. Pain, change, death, are all part of life. We cannot avoid it.

Do you see the darkness, or do you look for the light?

Living in the pain and sorrow, and choosing to stay there, is robbing you from the opportunities around you to experience joy.

This is not to say we should not express our sorrow, because that is vital. The only way to get past it, is to go through it.

But, even as we are working through our pain and sorrow, I have found it is always possible to experience joy – in the simplest ways! Sometimes the simple things become magnified, in fact, in this space.

I know it’s hard, trust me, I do. I could be standing in a field of lilies and only see the weeds around me.

But again, this is where we make the choice.

Choose to see that the beauty of life is still happening around you. LOOK for it, ask for it, investigate the world around you for it – make it the scavenger hunt of your life every day to find beauty and joy.

It will make the pain feel less like it has taken you over. It’ll put that pain back in it’s place – as a PART of your life experience, not ALL of your life experience.

Even a tree, empty of it's leaves, can be beautiful sight, in the light of winter.

Today, I choose joy.

How ‘bout you?!

Like this post and share it if you choose JOY today! 

___________________________

Photo  ”Today I Choose Joy” courtesy of Epicchristianliving.com posted by Eve, thank you!

Avoid Having Ulcers: Check Your Pockets

See the fish?

You can avoid having ulcers by adapting to the situation:

If you fall in the mud puddle, check your pockets for fish.

~Author Unknown