I’m missing you, my dear. How about a short visit, what could it hurt? How nice it would be if you walked in the door! Why not get back into your skin and come see me? We’ll catch up.
I wonder how that would work exactly. Would you return as your whole new self, or as your former?
It’s an excellent question, which I will pose tomorrow morning when I awaken. Will I open my eyes as my new self that day or drag along the usual suspects?
See? I learn so much from you and you’re not even “here.”
Don’t inform someone (whose loved one has died) about death. Don’t imply all is well or that time will heal. Don’t even be sorry.
Be with her, yes. But let death do the teaching.
Don’t assure a grieving woman her soulmate is still close. At first, she won’t believe you. Might punch you. Might send a gut-wrenching wail through your sorry bones.
Instead, let the veiled one reach. Let him touch, speak to her. Let him show he’s available, still loving. She’ll fall to her knees holding her heart and understand everything.
Nature, motherhood, death. Three teachers of deepest love.
Two from Houston said yes to buying this house. She Googled me, found my blogs, including and said it’s everything they’ve been looking for. The Light Story
August first, me and two furries are out wandering, looking for a place to land.
A favorite would be a writer’s quiet spot (no bustling city apartment for me, people above-and-below), a safe place for 11 lb. Jackson dog to fly, cat to lord over. Cabin in the woods perhaps? Collect a couple other writers and land in a sprawling farm house full of light, peace, surrounded by animals and nature?
That could work!
The more I step away from an old way of being, the easier it gets. At first, though, it can feel harsh, impossible, too difficult.
So, I breathe deeply, and sit with the change-swirl, inner opinions. There’s no shortcut. Into the water I go, not around it, and let the wise river take me.
Changing habits is drastic to all the parts of me that learned the old way. These parts need time to shift. I’m not just changing my mind. Every cell is learning the new way.
Be steady, I say to myself. Be aware, awake, drenched in light.
Life works when I don’t argue too much. I rise from writing and one word comes in — yoga.
So, I get on the mat.
I write more, pause, and again, one word — dishes.
Obediently, I head for the kitchen sink, to the dishes I made while preparing eggplant stacks, roasted vegetables, or baked greens with onions, mozzarella and a crusty top.
I do fine when I’m true to myself, follow simple inner instructions.
One time Eric asked me how I felt about the word obedient and I sputtered. Fumed. Spat.
Well, honey, I’m sure you’re smiling. Now I get it.