On the Other-side

Today I woke up ready to cease the gorgeous weather and go on a day long hike outside the city. One of the activities on my sabbatical list was spending the day in nature, my favorite way to spend solo time. It brings me back to growing up in North Carolina – playing barefoot in the creek, exploring the innumerable shades of brown matter found in the woods behind our house, and watching the sun shine through the leaves, illuminating new shades of translucent green and yellow. Nature is my happy place. As I learned through a recent coaching experience, it’s also the place my inner child most gravitates towards when seeking comfort and freedom.

So how did I end up here, in my Brooklyn backyard eating a grilled cheese and writing on my computer? Well, that is the story I want to share with you today, or rather, that is the reality I want to process with you today.

After I got the three kiddos out the door this morning, I went up to my bedroom to get dressed and pack up a few things. I opened the blinds and light came flooding into the room – bright, spring-like light nestled gently between soft sporadic clouds. I cracked open my window to let in fresh air, and once again, spring-like air tumbled into the room – crisp, cool and warm all at the same time. Something in my gut flipped and unease began to settle in. Suddenly, without much fanfare, my body felt heavy and exhausted and before I knew it, I was curled up in my bed. With a canopy of natural light and the breeze as my lullaby, I tumbled into sleep only to wake up two hours later.

So what happened? After all, I was so excited to go hiking. How did I so quickly abandon “the plan” and succumb to sleep. At first my mind thought (half jokingly and half serious) “Geez, with this type of exhaustion, I hope I’m not pregnant!” Knowing that is not a possibility, my inner critic chimed in, “What’s wrong with me? Why is discipline so hard for me right now? Think about all the things you wanted to do this this time that you haven’t done.” Luckily, years of mindfulness practice kicked in and I was able to turn down that voice pretty quickly. Next, came self-compassion, “Maybe I actually just needed more rest, and that is okay. I have three kids, and have been working non stop for over a decade, it’s okay.”

But then it hit me, it was none of this. It’s the light and the air of grief.

Let me explain. In April 2013, my beloved, very healthy father died unexpectedly from a pulmonary embolism at age 56. It was completely unexpected and shattered my entire sense of reality. The weather of those first few weeks was just like it is today – fresh, bright light coupled with crisp, cool, and warm air all at the same time. While the world blossomed around me and new life sprang up in the form of yellow daffodils, I struggled to keep my consciousness in the land of the living. I was a newlywed living on the Upper West Side right by the reservoir at the time, and I remember walking for hours around that body of water with grief, confusion, numbness, anger, and disbelief as my companions. And always, this same weather. Something beautiful became haunting and an unspoken question that I can only understand clearly now arose inside of me,

How can the world emerge anew, when I don’t want to enter the new world?

Today, almost 10 years later, I can say with pride, I did enter the new world. I ceased this last decade with tremendous gusto. I built a career and a family, and I’ve stayed true to my values more than I have not. I am very proud of myself and I know my father would be too. And still, this grief lives in me and around me, and I carry it with me always. Especially on days like today.

And yet, this grief also cultivated a super-power in me – allowing me to connect with others experiencing loss and grief, and to stand as a living testament that life can move forward, that we can move into the new world.

So, to the handful of dear friends and old friends experiencing loss right now, I dedicate this writing to you. I send you blessings for ongoing healing and comfort. May you find safe passage to the new world on your own time and at your own pace. And on the days that the weather feels too heavy, too real, I bless you that you should know, deep in your bones, that the weather always changes and this too will pass. And in the meantime, there is always grilled cheese 🧀

Until soon, blessings friends ✌️