Good Morning, Generous Universe!
Snow and frozen mix is in the forecast this morning, as this unusual weather continues. Maybe this is just the new normal. Another reminder from you, Sweet Universe, that it’s all changing, always.
Dear Reader, a couple days ago I shared my thoughts on navigating through the loss of loved ones. What I offered is my vision of A Way that fits and suits me. It is based in openness and authenticity, so really just an application of my broader vision for how I live my life.
In loss, I have feelings that come up – I want to allow myself to feel those feelings, without clinging to them. I have thoughts that come up, as well – that I also want to allow myself to think, without clinging to them.
The loss hurts, but I choose to experience the hurt, rather than miss out on sharing all that love. The loss burns, but I believe I am strong enough to survive the fire; I am not strong enough to live without loving or being loved.
The fire of lost love is the final step in a process that transforms me. It starts by recognizing a kindred soul, risking vulnerability to connect with and open ourselves to each other, and then daring to love and be loved in return; all in an alchemy that opens our heart to our own freedom. The painful fire is our forge, a test that requires us to continue holding our hearts open, through the pain.
When we can do that, we are truly free. Because we reach the realm of truly unconditional love. We are in a place where the love we experience, giving and receiving, exceeds and transcends any pain that may be connected to it. The love blazes forth, whole and true.
In the days right after my father died, I went out in the evenings to the local golf course that he played most of his life. Alone in that beautiful space, with the sun setting, I felt closer to him; I felt some comfort.
He spoke to me, out there. It may seem silly, but what he was telling me had to do with my golf game, as I was just a mediocre golfer looking to improve my game.
Deep down, though, what he was telling me was actually good advice for life, helping me through that crucial period in a way I could hear it and apply it.
I still remember his voice, calm, from slightly above, saying things like – “Take your time. Be patient. That’s okay, just let that shot go; it’s all about the next shot. Play each shot where it lies. It’s just one shot at a time. Put a good swing on it. That’s it, just relax, focus on what you want to do right now, and just let it happen. You’ve got this. There you go. Nice shot! Just like that. Stay calm. Nice and easy.”
It was so helpful to have my dad’s reminders in those moments, those days after his death. To just stay calm and present. That, however we got here, we accept our reality and move forward with faith and best intention.
Most of all, it was important to hear his voice and know he wasn’t gone; that he was with me. That the pain and challenges of our relationship, at times when he was alive, and now, was just pain – The Love was constant, was Always!
Here is Today’s Prompt:
Write a letter to a “lost love,” and imagine that person’s response. There’s no “right” answer; just hear the response in the moment. Reconnect with your loved one and experience the love between you, through your letter.
Amen, Dad! Together, with Love flowing, in a World full of Love!
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