When all else fails, take 2


Turning into the light | September 8, 2016, Alaska

Take 2. Arrived home tonight, and while I made a salad, a friend and I bounced ideas and experiences about the value in letting go, #LetGo. I texted how my life lesson over the past six years has been about holding on to myself, exploring what’s true and authentic, and with no apologies, trusting me. I recalled a story I’d written that I knew contained insight. It was 2010, and about being stuck, holding on, and letting go – lessons from my birch tree. I was certain it had been a cover piece for Listen: A Seeker’s Guide to Spiritual Direction. a publication I’ve been writing and editing for ten years now. So, I checked the cover stories from 2009, 2010, and 2011 issues, to no avail. Apparently I’d never written it there, but I’m positive it’s hand inked in a journal from 2010.

Then I thought to self, maybe it was a blog post. Began a hunt there. Happily I’d retrieved and fixed my web homepage today (it went missing last night in cyberspace). However, in tonight’s hunt I discovered that of my three blogs [to-do list: consolidate and integrate digital sites], the most recent one that lives on my website has now disappeared. What? #LetGo #focus

Here’s the thing: the time is now for me to streamline blogs and multiple story ideas into time and form. All week, and earlier today I’d thought since it’s National Suicide Prevention Week that I would read the stories and pieces I’ve written since my son died ten years ago, and compile them. Perhaps choose one or two to share. September 10, is International Suicide Prevention Day.

Except instead, by 9:00 PM I talked to a friend, texted with another friend, watched a rainbow grow, and light flood the landscape. Sitting here now though, in my chair, a laptop on my thighs, I’m getting after it even after electronics crash and malfunction [again, really!?], blogs disappear, and I’ve reset the wireless router. It’s getting late. Things are not as they appear tonight.

Flash. A line of poetry from David Whyte tickles me, “Turn sideways into the light …” ripples in me, commands my attention. Okay, I’ll follow the inspiration.

I Google in search of the poem. Read the rest of it. A bit blown away — the full text will become my prayer and post tonight. You can read it here: TOBAR PHADRAIC by David Whyte

and in the niche above, notes to the dead
and supplications for those who still live
But for now, you are alone with the transfiguration
and ask no healing for your own
but look down as if looking through time,
as if through a rent veil from the other
side of the question you’ve refused to ask.

So curious. 

On this note, I will call it a night. Let go. Over the Rainbow, a song that reminds me Justin is close, begins to stream on Pandora.

I stand tall, hold on, let go. Give permission. Turn into unfathomable mystery, life.



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