My mother had a miscarriage. She did not know how to grieve the loss at the time. I, being 2 years old and empathic, took on that energy of grief that could not accept the natural losses of life. Fearing the possibilities of the life within each loss. Just as the life of spring emerges from the dead of winter, it appears there is a way to continue on without comprimising your life for a sometimes dreadful reality.
Recently, I’ve felt as if all my connections have been lost, but maybe not so. I’ve released the fear of loss and felt the heart that held no attachments to the longing of others. Which can be even scarier. Feeling so alone in a world of immortality.
I allowed myself to feel the weight of grief of myself, my parents, even my unborn children the other day. My imagination was enough to hold them all. Time has a funny way of believing we’re separate, but all spirits play with us in real time.
I need to write about the times my parents saw me. The me who knew I could give to others. There hasn’t been many, but I am in debt and gratitude to their belief in me. That I am able to support others when it counts. They have always done things themselves, never relying on others, but now witnessing them surrending to their crippling bodies, they ask for help. I reluctantly help because they ask in such a way that is unkind, but I help nonetheless.
I am in pain of all the times they carried me. That I was left in there hands to care for and remember my survival comes above all. And I am in the grace of God to play out a new role, surviving in the best of me. I recall a past life where it was nothing but survival. The black death plagued the ships, taking my family. I spent countless years in a cabin, welcoming death. No wonder I asked for this current life.
I grieve for who I was before. I was safe and secure. I loved to write fantasy stories through the shaped fiction of my suffering. Imagination was my fuel for living a grander life. But it can also be the fuel for a grander reality. I can’t give my mind to a full safety net of imagination anymore. I suffer no more and that hurts in places where I have known only suffering.
I am looking for a way to return, while I know that is not what I want. I am more alive than ever and that breaks the silence of everyone. Filled with compassion and loving to give a content heart. With peace in oneness, I remember the immortality of the moment. The endless sunlight fuelling the eternity to shine for all that have eyes to see your light. Living with those who tell you there is a world out there to explore.
My heart opens to the vulnerable, the ones who never grew past the soil to meet the sun. Knowing they are one and the same. We are held in this container, beckoned to become more than ourselves. Offered a way to thrive without the loss of love, for love has no end, and grief gives rise to love when we can love no longer. It reminds me of the mantra: “I am love, love I am.” Even when we can no long proclaim our loving essence, love embodies us in the darkest of times. Saying grow, touch light. It’s our decision to touch that light or not, to believe we are capable. We are free to feel into our capacities and decide if the light is too much to handle. For many it is, only because they haven’t known any better.
Grief will have its way with us, but we will feel through what life cradles in us. A world of growth, through to the iridescent specretrum of radiant light. We experince ourselves through better or worse. That’s all we can ask for, to be alive.
Lightfire Messenger 