There was a period in my life filled with hard work and hard play. In the midst of that, my mother died.
While I was surrounded by friends, marriage, loneliness, my mother died.
As I confronted numerous tangles and potholes, my mother died.
My mother lived 35 years before she met me. I have lived 35 years since she left me.
What have I learned (or learned more deeply) in these 35 years on my own?
Life works better when I can let go of my feeble attempts to control things.
Time filled with substance is preferable to time filled with substances.
Humility and honesty are essential.
My shadow is an interesting friend.
Time spent dancing, constructing poetry, and dabbling with various forms of art is fulfilling and enlightening. These activities allow me to express ALL my emotions. Emotions no longer scare me.
The ocean enables me to breathe.
Dogs are the best.
Bits of joy and simple contentment enhance each day. I look in the corners to be sure I don’t miss any of it.
I learned how to untangle some of the tangles.
I learned how to face and fill some of the potholes.
My mother was kind and wise. I hear her gentle guidance through the silence. Perhaps she (proudly?) witnesses what I continue to learn on my own. There is comfort in my vision of our infinite alliance—our shared peace.
May I cultivate patience, humility, stillness, and kindness. May I pay attention to my inner truth. May I keep my focus wide and soft so that I never lose sight of the big picture. May I nourish my hope and gently soothe my despair. May I keep my anticipatory dread at bay and just do the work.
Resilience is a trait I have always been grateful to have in my repertoire. It keeps me going, keeps me “strong.”
Resilience is also a trait that encourages me to put my sadness, my vulnerabilities aside. Even when I acknowledge and think I “sit with” those uncomfortable feelings, I still put them in a box and add them to a “past stuff” pile very quickly. Of course there will still be a charge to those boxes and they are not filled with “past stuff” at all. I would like to open those boxes and welcome that stuff back in.
Instead of being the victor, perhaps resilience can be the companion to my sadness when I have lost someone or something. Perhaps resilience can be the protector of my tender vulnerabilities. I can keep my precious human feelings with me as gateways to the sacred.