Nora is fast forwarding in this moment. She knows that kindergarten is approaching and yet at 4 ½, she has very little concept of it being six months away. We are driving in the car in silence to pick up her brother and sister from school and out of the silence emerge her crisp and yet halted words.

“When I think about kindergarten, I’m feeling kind of excited. And I’m feeling kind of nervous. I feel somewhere in between.”

Wisdom in its imperative smallest of nutshells.

“I feel somewhere in between.”
I feel both and.
I feel all of that. And more.

Nora is brilliant. As are all of us.

This work that I do is about letting it all in.

The good stuff is easier to let in. Kind of. Most of the time. Because we can also do a hard stop “Woah, horses” pull on the reigns of life when we realize how good things are. Or perhaps even that they are better than they used to be. We can spin into wonder of “When will the other shoe drop?” meanwhile missing the beautiful Is.

The harder stuff is… well, harder for most of us to let in. We don’t tend to like the heavy that comes with it. And without skillful practice and support in leaning in, the harder stuff can also bring “hardening.” A toughness. A resistance. A stickiness.

Yet the hard stuff for me has inevitably held the most magic as well. When I touch it, I touch the overwhelming, earth shattering joy that is its flipside. The joy rests in the slipstream of the timeless moment. The moment that is always Now. The grief rests in my attachment to what was or what I think should have been.

And there is room for all of it.

Somewhere in between. Where the rivers meet.
Both and.
All of that. And more.

Grief is the death of a loved one. Expected or unexpected. Grief is the loss of a job or a home. Grief is a child leaving home. Grief is hardship in health and body. Grief is in our helplessness as we witness suffering of our children and our loved ones and our world. Grief is not making a home cooked dinner when we are sure that is what our family most needs. Grief is not being able to “do it all” in the way we envision.

Grief is the past not going how we thought it would. Grief is the future not going how we thought it should.

Grief is wrapped into all of this. Big and small. It is a visitor that reminds us of our choice in this matter of life. It is a visitor that kicks us in our bum and says, “Choose wisely.” Grief is Big Love waiting to catch us when we let go into the fall.

On this Saturday, December 21st, I’ll provide a virtual gathering room on Zoom in which any and all are welcome. We will move a bit in a short all levels practice (beginners welcome) and then we will sit with each other. We will listen to one another. We will see one another.

Please know that I am not an active social media person. Instead, I ask you to honor any niggling feeling and to forward this to anyone who comes to mind as needing it. Do not ignore that wise and quiet whispering.

Saturday, December 21st
1:30-3:00pm Eastern Time
Remembering: From Grief to Gratitude
A Virtual All levels Yoga Practice & Share Session
Link will open 15 minutes prior to start time:
Needed: A chair, a comfy blanket, & a warm beverage
Suggested action: A donation to a charity of your choice in honor of your grief

We will speak to and of something bigger than our grief. Memory weaved with Now. Hard weaved with heal. Close in weaved with coming out.

We all have pain. We all have joy. And our deepest connection and sense of belonging is built in the trenches of shared hard and joy. As the soldiers in the trenches, as the rebuilders following tornados, as the mourners side by side after loss. As the humans in joy and sadness.

May we gather and Be all that we are. No shame. No remorse. No apologies for our stumbling splendor.

I send my gratitude and deep joy for your eyes on these words.
I hope to see you soon.

Take good care,

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