On The Rocks..

 


      I think I live my life with a certain amount of optimism and gratitude..most of the time. I have learned to accept the cyclical nature of my journey but even then it’s shocking when obstacles appear and suddenly the placid rhythm of life has been disrupted. I am in uncharted waters.
      Sure, I get it, challenging times are to be expected but they certainly don’t have have to be welcome with open arms. I know that there is a lesson to be learned from each jagged and rough hewed rock obstructing my path back to the tranquility of the shore. I know I need to embrace the good and the bad.
      I’ve read and absorbed the extensive wisdom of the the Truth-Tellers. I know I’m to embrace the rocks, and acknowledge the challenges in my path. I need to get to truly know each crevice and barnacle so I can feel the sadness, frustration, and disappointment.

      Then I can begin to climb over, under, above, through, and around these impediments and with bloodied and scrapped hands, I will crawl back to the sea where my equilibrium and hope reside. That is where my spirit feels at home. It is how I heal.

      I know all of that but for now I’ll gather my senses, my strength, and my determination and just breathe. While simultaneously preparing for battle and praying for my soulful return to hope, faith, grace and peace.

        Knowing this too shall pass.

Distancing…

   Cocooned in my house with my family, I alternate between calm, despair, and panic..and back around again. I struggle to resist the siren call of vitriol and resentment as the nation lurches through these… More

On The Rocks..

        I think I live my life with a certain amount of optimism and gratitude..most of the time. I have learned to accept the cyclical nature of my journey but even then… More

Merry Holidays!!

 What a crazy ride this holiday season has been. As my sons get older, the day becomes less about stuff and more about us and the time we share. That being said, try wrangling teenage… More

Goodbye 2018!

 


I’m happy to say goodbye to 2018. It was a year of hard learned lessons. Some I suppose I should have learned a long ago and some I’ve struggled to accept despite all the evidence. In the end denial could only take me so far. Resistance is futile.

I have learned about pain so deep that it sunk into the marrow of my bones and settled into the fiber of my being. For me, grief is a solitary, isolating sorrow. A muted sense of melancholy that enveloped, cocooned, and finally consumed me this year. I couldn’t seem to shake it and finally succumbed to the pain, heartache and loss. In the end, that was my saving grace, acquiescence. The only way out was through the labyrinth of sorrow. I felt tired, weary, my spirit ragged and exhausted. Unexpectedly there was a stirring, a slight shift in the air. Which was slowly replaced with a thin veil of hope. A stripping away of the grief. Like a string of lights, each igniting the next light and so on until a path was finally illuminated. A way out.

Now it is time to unwrap myself from the silken tentacles of grief and begin to live fully again. So adieu, 2018. It was a rough and tumble ride. I’m grateful for the lessons along the way but sadness is heavy. It weighted me down and the only way back to the surface was to accept what could not be changed.  Life isn’t meant to be lived in the shallow end. 

Welcome 2019! The road was dark and deep but I have promises to keep. Pardon me, I think I see joy ahead.   

Grace has arrived…

A sure sign that healing takes its own sweet time but when it’s time to start blooming again the colors are deeper, richer, and more vibrant. Life resumes, sounds float effortlessly into my consciousness and my senses slowly return. The tear in my heart has been re-stitched and the tapestry that is me, moves to incorporate this fissure and make it part of the mosaic that is my life. I am not whole but I am no longer ripped asunder. Grace has arrived.

 

 

 

Riptide…

 

It’s been months since I’ve written and I wish I could have been able to express what I was feeling. I confess, my grief just wouldn’t allow me to do much else but ponder, ruminate, and contemplate…the desolation of nothingness and nowhere. I just didn’t have any words or ideas to communicate. My spirit had folded in on itself and I was working on putting one foot in front of the other, and mimicking some version of myself.

Mourning is an all-consuming process and it refused to ebb and flow on my command so finally I surrendered to melancholy and sorrow. I gave myself permission to activate my copilot, but inside my mind, I vacillated between frenzied hysteria and eerie, lonely silence.

For me grief reminded me of swimming in the ocean when I as a kid. I would dare myself to swim out as far as I could, where the water was dark and cold. My teeth would chatter and my skin would wrinkle and prune and with my eyes wide open, I would submerge my head under the mysterious swirling black water and despite the burning from the briny depths of the gauzy green sea, I would open my eyes. Under the misty water, the silence was soothing, aquatic life floated by seemingly oblivious to my anguished presence. There are no human sounds,  emotions are muted, distorted and insignificant. Looking up at the sky through the kaleidoscope of the foamy waves, the sun can be seen floating, glittery and hazily in the distance like a diamond. I felt removed and insulated from life. 

And just like when I was a kid, the need for air would overcome me, and with my lungs bursting, I would be forced, gasping and scrambling back to the surface.  I realize now that grief had clung to my skin, my cells and my heart, and swimming in the ocean allowed the water which had blanked, and for a while sustained me, began to recede. 

When I emerged this time, I found I no longer wished for the fickle darkness of the enigmatic ocean. I decided instead, to let the wind and brilliant sunlight soothe my soul and heal my grief laden spirit. It allowed me to release myself from the riptide of grief that had consumed me.

So with renewed vigor, I am swimming back to shore and to life with renewed energy. That’s the magic of the ocean. Despite its beauty, it can be treacherous and desolate. But if I relax, surrender and float, it’s like a beacon that always leads me home.

The shore…