Earlier this week I received news of a beloved satsang member’s daughter transitioning at the young age of 14. I immediately felt my heart break in a reverent silence for the family and friends, the one’s left behind. Like so many, it is hard to wrap my head around the unbearable and sudden tragic exit of such a beloved young soul. I don’t quite understand the why, but my faith in divine order and soul’s karma assures me this bright shinning star was needed to shine her light on a place much more vast, somewhere our minds can’t even quite conceive of. Our hearts know of this space and when I find myself slipping into anger of this event, I take a deep breath and rest here.
Having been through my own up close and personal experiences with death, I know the importance of grieving and feeling every feeling, for as long or brief necessary. The mind, body, and spirit have a process for this time, all unique to each individual, however none less sacred or less intense. We grieve and we discover a sweetness of life that I believe is only tasted once we have looked death in the eyes through another person’s journey and roar! We are human, therefor a roar is expected, kicking and screaming as well. We fall in and out of the net of hope, we taste the bittersweet tears that fall from our face, and we feel pain like never before. We begin to feel alive in a way we never have.
This is the pivotal point, the moment when you begin to see glimpses of life, real and honest life. Filled with tragedy and death, but beautiful none the less. In these moments, allow yourself to rest here for however long possible. It’s a lot like meditation or yoga, or any practice for that matter. You take baby steps, as long as it takes, but you arrive more whole then you when you started. Trudging this crazy mystical journey of life, for the day when you will look death in the eyes again during your final hour and say “I’m ready”.
For those who transition, they expand. For those left behind, we expand too…it just takes time, love, and human touch to lift the fog and reveal a world in which everything is sweeter.
I have walked this path of grief before, it’s not easy but all we have to do is extend our hands and reach out to the one’s left behind.
I leave you with a poem written by Anna M. Lytton recently posted in the East Hampton Star:
After one camp canoe trip she wrote a poem about the experience that shows its profound impact on her as well as her talent as a poet. The poem, which her parents shared, closes as the canoe reaches the shore:
The dry land welcomes us.
I have soaked up the water like a sponge
And now it is draining out
Along with my remaining strength.
We have reached our resting place
After completing our work.