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More Shall Be Revealed

Inside this week’s meditations, I’ve seen a whirling dust storm, an avalanche of crashing rocks, a roaring waterfall.

This extended period of social distancing and change in routine - the not knowing when things will turn around, or, when they do, how that will look - is disruptive (to say the least). And then there’s everything else that disrupts our sense of inner peace. Hormones. Interactions. Inner dialogue. Growth. Grief.

Lately, I’ve been riding ‘grief waves’.

Most of my neighbors started gardening weeks - even months - ago. I watched them. I was impressed. I wanted to be motivated by their get-up-and-go. Yet, I was not moved enough to do my own garden prep. My garden space remained buried.

For some months now, stewing in a deep pot, warming on a backburner in my mind, there have been a couple of fuzzy, persistent questions bubbling up: Why don’t I want to think about or celebrate holidays ‘till the day of? Why don’t I start prepping for my garden till mid-April? This week, as I uncovered the ground that I call ‘my garden’, the answers to my queries began to emerge.

I was raking. There was a thick layer of moist, mulched leaves covering my small garden space, so raking felt like hard physical labor. As my physical body strained to uncover the forgotten ground beneath the leaves, my mental body worked just as hard to uncover unattended thoughts and emotions.

In the back of my mind, a grumpy soundtrack of complaints was laid out - about each unkind transgression my neighbors (past and present) have said to me - each insensitive and unloving word spoken by family members - each time I was unkind: to people I care about and strangers alike.

As the inner terrain unfolded, the outer terrain was uncovered too. I could see more and more ground… more and more of the large, smooth stones I’d quarried from the West River after Michelle died (the West River - where my kids swam every summer). I could see more and more patterns.

About two-thirds of the way through raking the garden, the first of the circle of stones began to appear. The mulch was so thick, it took quite a few rake pulls to reach the ground.  The inner dialogue was changing, different emotions rising. With each pull, anticipation was building - a thunderstorm brewing. The clouds in my head and heart were getting heavier, and a few tears began to drop.

I was going to uncover the plaque.

I knew ‘the plaque’ was there; it’s not like I’d forgotten. Every year, the plaque is covered by leaves and snow. Every year, as I rake the garden, I uncover it. Yet, uncovering this object - every time - feels intense, like a new discovery, a catalyst. The physical act of uncovering this particular object pulled memory, thoughts and emotions to life - alchemizing them into conscious presence.

And then… there it was: the whole thing. A marble stone with carved words, marking the reality of loss and letting go - of the tumultuous emotional rollercoaster and pain of grief. And BOOM - the crest of the wave hit: a slobbering mess of hot tears and snot released.

April 19, 1981: the convergence of the first day of Passover and Easter Sunday. March 21, 2005: Spring Equinox. My girl was all about rebirth. For me though - the bereaved - Michelle dying on spring equinox caused the arrival of ‘new life’ to feel very confusing. Starting a garden feels confusing. Celebrating while grieving feels confusing. Mixed emotions feel like a raging storm.

Ash picked a movie for us to watch the other night and said “it will make you cry”. I responded “that’s ok. I’ve been crying a lot the past few days, anyhow”. “Why are you crying” he asked. “Because I miss your mom” I said. “Why do you miss someone who left” he asked rhetorically, in a rather angry tone.

Someone said: “When men are being angry, they’re often covering up sadness. When women cry, they’re often covering up anger”. That makes sense, at least in our culture, where (generally and historically) boys are discouraged from crying and girls from expressing anger.

Now it’s April 19th - Michelle’s birthday.  She would have been 39 years old.  Instead, she is forever age 23.  She left her body one-month before she would’ve turned 24 - two weeks before Ash would turn age 2. She had planned the party and sent the invitations to family and friends, the morning of March 21st. Later that day, she left. It felt surreal for us all to celebrate anything, two weeks later, yet we did.

Michelle was not at Ash’s 2nd birthday party. She was not at Ash’s 17th birthday celebration last week.  She is not parenting him.  I can not ‘give him back’ after being “Bop-Bop” (Grandma) for a weekend.  Yes - I’m feeling angry.

And… I’m feeling sad. I’m feeling both. Feeling angry and feeling sad are equally true inside me.

And… there are more emotions than ‘angry’ and ‘sad’ swirling about inside.

And… there are a lot of thoughts inside my head. There are a lot of memories of the past, fears, and hopes for the future.

And… I feel lots of body sensations. Raking made my hands sore. My body is holding a lot of tension; lately, I feel like my head is being squeezed in a vice grip. ‘Cabin fever’ is setting in. ‘Spring fever’ has hit.

And… whether I’m consciously aware of all that’s happening inside me or not, I know there’s a lot going on inside this ‘self’.

And…

While emotions, thoughts, & sensations are (extremely) worthy of my attention - I’m aware that each (emotion, thought, & sensation) is a (smaller) part making up the whole of me. I experience and have parts (emotions, thoughts, and sensations) and the whole of me is larger than each of those parts.

And…

There’s something even larger (than the larger sense of my Self). I hear my thoughts, see the emotional storm, feel my body sensations and experience still-periods of peace and connection.

I feel connected - with other people’s stories, thoughts, emotions, and gifts. I feel a connection with Nature - breathing in oxygen that the trees have exhaled; breathing out carbon-dioxide they breathe in… walking over their roots, inter-tangled and touching each other below Earth’s surface - connected to trees on the other side of the woods. I relate to water - raging, flowing, calm, evaporating, lifting, moving, and raining down. When I’m experiencing deep presence, I feel connected with the Energetic Field that holds All - all that there was, is, and will be. When I’m in a state of deep peace and gratitude, I often feel connected with the Source of it all. Whatever you call ‘it’ is cool by me. These days, I call it ‘Love’.

In these ways, I know that the personal me - even the most synthesized, largest sense of personal Self I know - is a smaller (integral) part of an immensely larger Whole.

I hope that you, too, experience, or at least believe, that you are larger than your parts, and that you are part of a larger Whole. I hope this for you because negative thoughts, emotional upheaval, and physical discomfort can feel overwhelming. I hope this for you because, if we think that our parts are all we have and all we are - well, it’s just not true.

For we who think, feel, and sense strongly and deeply, there is a lot going on right now. Our reasons for emotional upheaval may vary, yours and mine.  Whatever the details of your personal story, they’re gems to grow from. Think your thoughts. Feel your feelings. Pay attention to your sensations.

And… observe your self without judgement. Try to be gentle, curious, and compassionate with the one-and-only YOU-in-process. More shall be revealed. You are in the exact ‘right’ place. You are absolutely OK as you are, right now!

3 helpful tips that I like to think of are:

  1. Our nature will unfold naturally. 

  2. Thoughts, emotions, and sensations are like weather: they rise and fall, move and change. You (and I) will not get stuck in the storm. Thoughts, emotions, and sensations (in and of themselves) do not need to be feared. It’s ok to pay attention to them. They are opportunities for growth. Let them grow you (and me).

  3. We have thoughts, emotions, and sensations AND we are more than our thoughts, emotions, and sensations.

Lastly, I love you. Beyond my cranky moments, that’s the deeper truth.