Stories about life, love, death, and what comes after.
I was huddled in the corner of the room crying, a blanket over my head. Brenda was next to me in an ER bed, crying from pain. In the midst of chaos and sorrow, a shiny sign from my dead husband. And only hours later, we were laughing so hard the nurses shushed us. “All our darkness will turn to light.” It’s true.
It is very rare that I feel led to share something like this — and I get nothing for doing so. Just hoping that others may find this as useful as I have. Peace, centeredness, connection with spirit. All of the good things are here.
I saw Mike standing completely still at the edge of the cliff, looking out over the rim at the surrounding landscape and I went to him. He was wide-eyed. He looked stunned. Alarmed, I asked, “What happened to you?” And I will never forget what he said, my rational-minded though deeply spiritual husband: “I don’t know but when I got to the top of the cliff, something swept me to my knees. I was overwhelmed with the presence of God and I knew that I had been here before, that I had lived here once.”
It was magic. A surprise. A divine being just standing there BEing, and me, oblivious, until I took the unexpected path. I don’t know what all of this means, but it brought a lot of joy. I know there’s something to breaking out of ruts, to trying new things ~ and old things, in a new way like that breathwork!!! ~ and asking for new experiences. It’s all just out there waiting for us. Patiently. Without judgment. There is no “why doesn’t she just blah blah blah” from the BFJLU. Only “oh my, here she comes!” when we break free and try something new.
My guides, my angels, and a world class spiritual teacher assured me all would be well. And then I fell flat on my face … Life is going to happen, regardless of what we do. I can chant and mantra and vision-board my hopes and dreams and expectations, and it’s great. Those efforts do make me more comfortable in this moment. But life will still unfold as it does, for reasons that will remain mostly unknown until we finally clear out of here.
“…then I fell flat on my face and heard every bit of that too. … And isn’t that the perfect metaphor for life? Peace, beauty, something fearsome, magic, seemingly at every turn, and then a wholly unanticipated wallop that lays us flat out.”
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the randomness, chaos, and utter unpredictability of life. We all have free will, of course. But alas, so does every other being we encounter. I may plan for a direct, sunshine-y, drama-free path, yet there all y’all are, out there in your bumper cars, driving all crazy and slamming into things.
“That was the thing in that dusty old building. It was the little something extra in the web Mike was weaving, a little lagniappe that led me to the certainty that these events weren’t simply by chance…”
My prayer right now for every one of us is that we can fully remember peace. Not faux peace, or a pretense, but rather the eternal peace that always lives within, no matter what storms life brings. I’m in grief right now and, per usual, I don’t see anything good in it. Experience whispers that … Continue reading a prayer for all of us. amen.
I can’t breathe. She’s not perfusing. Three words can mark the end of one life and the beginning of another, unwanted one. What do we do with that?
An Unexpected Mystic 