Quiet Messenger

It is Monday afternoon and I pause in the parking lot of my office. A conscious infusion of Being between seeing clients and getting into my car to return to kiddos. The bright morning sunshine has faded but the hints of spring are in the buds of the trees, the back and forth of the birds, and the brush of the breeze. I close my eyes to feel it all. To allow my Self to be embraced by the pulsing rhythm of life that always surrounds me.

As I rest in a halt of the doing, a tightening in my chest and a knot in my belly roll in. A thought slinks in emerging from his camouflage. It is small and meek and afraid to form words to match with the sensations that have just arisen. But it presses on with courage and knowing. It knows I need to hear what it has to say. And so, it escapes into the acoustics of my inner being:

“This day… the air, the sounds, the smells… it feels like the day Thomas died.” 

In response to this observation, a heavy, thick arm reaches up with panic and overwhelm from the depths of unknown sorrow. I allow it to come toward me. I feel the mismatch of soft air on my outer skin against the inner body anguish wrenching upward in alternating claw marks.

There is room for all of it. Let it wash in, let it run through, feel what Is.

The glory of the power of nature outside meets nature inside.

As I continue to Be still – feeling what is and open to whatever will come next – more arrives. This time a different spring of crystalline knowing. A quiet, soft cooling wind blowing through the heat of my grief fire:

“Yes. And Thomas is not dying today.”

Right. That’s right. He is not dying today.

A rush of relief. The grip in my chest bursts free. The tightness in my upper back explodes into electricity and dissipates throughout the extremities of my body. I feel my feet again. Peace sits quiet and still at the center of my sadness.

I am back here. And here is good. Here is a place of honoring past, present and future through all of the hard and beautiful that has gifted my life.

Wisdom is soft. Wisdom is supple. Wisdom is simple. Wisdom is not sharp or gripping or complex. Wisdom is clear. Wisdom is spacious. Wisdom is forgiving. Wisdom is light.

And most magical, wisdom is patient. She will wait for us to let her in. When the grip lets go, we will always find her waiting.

Take good care,


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