Receiving the fullness of life
A reminder to live now
Hello sweet friend,
Months ago I joined a workshop on a whim. This tends to happen. Impulse or intuition? Often a bit of both I think.
The woman leading the workshop warned us we would go deep, so I heeded her instructions, closed my eyes, and let her words guide me into my imagination and onto my deathbed.
My children, grandchildren, family, and friends, my truest heart companions, all surrounded me.
My well-lived body, worn by the fullness of my life, rested deeply on a cloud made of linen.
I sat at my desk, eyes closed, in the company of strangers in tiny boxes on my screen, and watched a future version of myself face the greatest unknown.
Tears began to gently fall making tiny saltwater rivers on my cheeks, my hands found their way to my heart and the woman’s voice pierced through this vivid vision as she uttered a spell that could change everything:
“You have one last chance to live it all again. What will you do?”
I’ll hug you first thing in the morning and when I do, I’ll sink into your arms, breathe in your body, and feel the warmth of your being permeating all the way to my bones.
I’ll laugh at all your jokes and ignore the misplaced Tupperware lids and the socks that never seem to make it into the hamper, abandoned right next to it instead.
I’ll kneel down with my arms outstretched to receive my children’s tiny bodies in a crash of joy and tangled up limbs at every pickup.
I’ll take my mom more flowers and tell her how I love her so.
I’ll let my heart break open again and again.
I’ll let the tenderness of loving deeply break down all my barriers.
I’ll let vulnerability guide me to the core of my deepest feelings of grief, sadness, love, joy, connection, and wholeness.
I’ll stop trying to always “figure it out” and let myself rest when I’m tired.
I’ll believe you when you say I’m worthy.
I’ll forgive myself when I forget that I am.
I’ll stop worrying about the future and missing the past.
I’ll sink into the tenderness of now.
I’ll arrive at my deathbed knowing it was all it was meant to be because it was.
And when I worry that I’ll lose this (this day, this moment, the feeling of a first kiss, the tiny hands, newborn smells, and first words) I’ll trust that I won’t.
I’ll remind myself that each moment lives within me forever and I’ll let my heart continue to crack wide open as I receive the imprint of the fullness of life.
We began Thanksgiving day with acknowledgment of the history and painful truths of what led to this “holiday.” Gently sharing that with my children and holding space for both the desire to celebrate one another with gratitude, and the truth of the pain, suffering, loss, injustice, and genocide that is as present today as it was all those years ago. To move in truth is so often a balance of duality. I hope so much to help my children cultivate the capacity to feel both the grief and the joy, the love and the sorrow, the anger and the compassion. To not be afraid to look at the horrors of the past and present, to acknowledge and learn from them, and to move towards creating a kinder more just future.
This song. A gentile sweet embrace.
More riverfront walks. Almost always providing the medicine I need most.
A moment of light after a moment of much-needed rest, and so much gratitude for a safe and peaceful place to do so.
With love and gratitude,
Raina
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