Even when we don’t ask for signs from spirit, we will get them. An anniversary gift from my dead husband, out of the blue. Still right here.
The ancient mystics knew the truth about death: crushing grief can lead us to healing, to alignment with what our souls already know. And then “we wake up laughing…”
Eight years ago I prayed to get out of this living hell so I could be with Mike again. Today, in the same Mike-free world, I'm prone to ending texts and emails with "I love this life!" We are here, our loved ones are Here, and it's all the same. There is nothing to fear. The heartbeat of Love is eternal.
“The process of muddling through this life, of awakening again, isn't finding some outside truth or healing experience, it is excavating the truth of who we are, of shedding the layers of untruths and stories and experiences misinterpreted.”
This is not mine but it is so delicious that I'm posting it on this extravagantly beautiful spring morning. This is from Danielle LaPorte, a spiritual teacher and author I don't recall ever hearing of. Yet this January 5 post rose into my Facebook newsfeed from out of nowhere. Gifts. They're everywhere. And this reminder … Continue reading you. me. some. one. now.
"That any of us get through this crazy human existence is a miracle. Best to hold tight and laugh and holler as much as we can. The waves ~ of grief, of trauma, of sadness, of all of it, the good stuff too ~ rush over us, but they also recede. There is joy to be found in sticking together."
"... I've been trying to comprehend why we come back. Truly, to listen to my loved ones from the other side, to read the accounts of near death experiencers, even to have been immersed in my own holy STEs, why? What kind of nitwit leaves that for this?"
When Mike died I became Homeless. I didn’t actually know what to call it then. I only remember how bereft I felt hearing the last beat of his heart, how it changed everything. The world at 3 pm on September 23, 2012, was vastly different from the world one heartbeat later. It even looked different. … Continue reading home again