On Living and Dying
My baby is coming in a month now.
I know my call right now is to surround myself with positive, loving energy. To harness that place within that is both powerful and peaceful. So I ask the universe, my friends, and family for love, courage, and positivity.
I call on the strength and wisdom of all the mothers who came before me.
Thank you for holding this space with me.
Damian and I celebrated our 14th wedding anniversary this week. I'm so grateful for our love through the ups and downs of this soul-stirring adventure.
He spent the week before our anniversary in Ireland, where his family is from, because his maternal Grandmother passed away. She was a wonderful woman and is deeply missed.
I'm grateful he was able to make the trip to be with our big and beautiful extended family to celebrate her life.
As I've been feeling into the celebrations of life, as well as the losses, I am filled up with the intensity of it all.
The horror of the greatest mass shooting in U.S. history in Las Vegas.
The continued devastation in Puerto Rico. The beautiful people of this U.S. territory are still not receiving the aid they need and it's devastating to see our president so callous about this dire situation.
The deadliest week of wildfires in Californian history rages as I write this. I have some dear, dear friends who live in the affected region. We've been talking and texting all week and I can only imagine how terrifying and heartbreaking it is to watch your hometown go up in flames.
We are all holding so much in our personal lives. And we are all holding so much as we do our best to navigate these tumultuous times in our world.
This baby keeps calling on me to go to the quiet space of womb wisdom within.
And while I feel that we're collectively being called to take right aligned action as citizens of this earth, I also know that we're lost without the quiet inner well of our own peace, wisdom, and knowing being filled up every day.
This brings me to a poem I read last week by John Pavlovitz. I believe it speaks so beautifully to some of the simple things we must be awake to as we journey forward.
I ask you to take a few minutes to read this poem. Feel into your own wisdom and knowing as you do.
On the Day I Die
On the day I die a lot will happen.
A lot will change.
The world will be busy.
On the day I die, all the important appointments I made will be left unattended.
The many plans I had yet to complete will remain forever undone.
The calendar that ruled so many of my days will now be irrelevant to me.
All the material things I so chased and guarded and treasured will be left in the hands of others to care for or to discard.
The words of my critics which so burdened me will cease to sting or capture anymore. They will be unable to touch me.
The arguments I believed I’d won here will not serve me or bring me any satisfaction or solace.
All my noisy incoming notifications and texts and calls will go unanswered. Their great urgency will be quieted.
My many nagging regrets will all be resigned to the past, where they should have always been anyway.
Every superficial worry about my body that I ever labored over; about my waistline or hairline or frown lines, will fade away.
My carefully crafted image, the one I worked so hard to shape for others here, will be left to them to complete anyway.
The sterling reputation I once struggled so greatly to maintain will be of little concern for me anymore.
All the small and large anxieties that stole sleep from me each night will be rendered powerless.
The deep and towering mysteries about life and death that so consumed my mind will finally be clarified in a way that they could never be before while I lived.
These things will certainly all be true on the day that I die.
Yet for as much as will happen on that day, one more thing that will happen.
On the day I die, the few people who really know and truly love me will grieve deeply.
They will feel a void.
They will feel cheated.
They will not feel ready.
They will feel as though a part of them has died as well.
And on that day, more than anything in the world they will want more time with me.
I know this from those I love and grieve over.
And so knowing this, while I am still alive I’ll try to remember that my time with them is finite and fleeting and so very precious—and I’ll do my best not to waste a second of it.
I’ll try not to squander a priceless moment worrying about all the other things that will happen on the day I die, because many of those things are either not my concern or beyond my control.
Friends, those other things have an insidious way of keeping you from living even as you live; vying for your attention, competing for your affections.
They rob you of the joy of this unrepeatable, uncontainable, ever-evaporating Now with those who love you and want only to share it with you.
Don’t miss the chance to dance with them while you can.
It’s easy to waste so much daylight in the days before you die.
Don’t let your life be stolen every day by all that you believe matters, because on the day you die, much of it simply won’t.
Yes, you and I will die one day.
But before that day comes: let us live.
~ John Pavlovitz
People are birthed into this world every day. People are leaving this world every day.
The only guarantee we have is this very moment right here. Right now.
How do you want to live today?
How do you want to be?
How do you want to feel?
What do you desire to give your attention to?
How can you be of service to what is right and true today?
Wishing you love, strength, and peace as you answer these questions.
Wishing you that abundant inner well that brings such joy and awe to life as you move through each and every day of this precious journey.
With warmth & light,