I am sensing a subtle shift in the way the world works, and the way I exist within it. I could use the word manifesting. I’ve probably overused the word as though uttering it would speed the process. Now that I am in the midst of it, this feels less like it has anything to do with effort, with making something happen, and more like connecting to what is already there and oh so simply, receiving.
I have a thought, let it go and days, or moments, later an answer appears – an email, a potential new home, an inspiration. The people I need are appearing in my life like magic. When I get out of my own way, when I connect to the deepest part of my heart, the path seems clear.
Then my head gets involved and clouds roll in like the marine layer over my beach-front home. I get lost in old habits, old thought patterns, old fears. Grief plays an interesting role in all of this. When I allow myself to stay present with it, when I stop fighting, it opens me up and hands me beauty alongside the tears. When I dig my heels in, disallow trust, or look the other way, the clouds thicken and I crave chocolate, red wine, escape.
Something deep inside me started to move today. A violation that has lived in my body for over three decades began to surface in a new, visceral way. I went from a place of pure love, to great fear, to deepening understanding. While my daughter is the teacher, perhaps the healer, I know that my son paved the way. The ravages of grief have stripped me of layers and years of protection so that my core is being touched. My innocence was twisted, darkened, abused. The innocence I see in my daughter, the beauty and purity of her being is pulling monsters to the surface in a way that no therapy can do.
What is dying to be born? is a question that was asked by Danielle LaPorte in a post this past March. Her words turned up in a random email search I did yesterday, unread all those months ago, waiting patiently for the moment I could ask it myself.
What is dying to be born?
So much. Deep breath. So much.
While the specifics begin to take shape the big picture is clear. Benjamin died so that I could be reborn. I will honor that gift until my last breath.
I think if we are open to it all us mommas who have experienced this loss can be reborn. Can learn something from our child/children’s death. I believe that there is a reason that it happened and we may never know why but staying open to how life changes is importnant. (((hugs))) Benjamin is proud! <3
Oh … this is gorgeous. I remember that post of Danielle’s, and Kelly Diels’ post that is similar (check it out if you have not) … so right, so true, so difficult, so sad, so hopeful.
I’m sending love.
xo
Yes, when death meets unmeasured love it’s a shift like no other. Having it rock your world is an experience that is mind boggling. It creates a gap that let’s a light shine and you become addicted to it. There will always be the moments whether self induced or from the outside that will try to dim the light. You are addicted to the light. Benjamin is the fuel for that light. Burn brightly many life times over.
oh, tears. we love you so much, alana.