A big, black, dog curls up by my head as I toss and turn in the heat of the night, duking it out with all that remains unsettled, the dangling carrot of peace just ahead… always just ahead… taunting, tempting… patient, present.
God bless Parker, all 60 lbs. of him for behaving like a cat, and Oliver, for demonstrating this too shall pass as he sleeps through all that I think matters. And Margot, alas, dear Margot, an expert in diversion tactics, for the mischief only she can create when I’m trying to be a superhero from dusk until dawn!
Like everyone else in the world, life has had its way with me. I’ve been living the meandering path of loss and exhaustion, saddened by world events, saved by grandchildren, and embraced by the garden… in other words, reacquainting myself with myself (Out Here on My Own) since Peter’s passing (yes, the song is poignant and funny all at once.)
I find myself swirling in the delicate balance between holding on and moving forward, with the questions of ‘what’s next?’ and more importantly, ‘what’s now?’ hovering overhead. This dance that engages our sense of past, present and future can make both head and heart spin, intensifying our resistance to the teachings of Father Time, a formidable companion, and an unwavering mentor.
Regardless of how any experience is packaged - an unexpected diagnosis, the reality of years lived (old, older, aging, simply annoyed, full-on curmudgeon,) dreams intercepted more often than we’d like, long held secrets ready for new light, natural or man-made disasters, or even the mildest of disappointments fueled by unmet, and of course what we would each consider reasonable, expectations – the lessons can be exacting, the coping strategies quite creative, and the opportunities abundant.
In the beginning…
The tears found me in every hiding place I had, bound to dreams that ascended with him; thick and salty, they had their work cut out for them. There were other tears as well, gathered over decades and lifetimes, tucked away in a hope chest of why didn’t I? or I could have … anything attached to the neon sign of doubt hanging over my head, that longed for redemption or acknowledgement, or better yet, was waiting for a stronger version of myself to sift through the question marks, if sifting was even necessary.
And now…
Little by little, my wings are beginning to dry. The tears hint of sweetness shared and all that was gained, rather than what was lost. Until it’s dinner. Then all bets are off! It’s me and the stove and a grand ole’ hissy fit, with some well-placed F-Bombs sprinkled in for flavoring!
Surrender hasn’t come easily, yet life pulls me into her current, flowing me forward, cleansing the unnecessary stories that keep me tethered to antiquity, stories that offer just enough truth to make them stick. I feel aflutter – my soul whispering in my ear, gently rocking this next leg of my purpose awake – Spirit’s jet stream reminds me there are still dreams to explore and curate – I AM intrigued.
Sneaky Little Helpers
A volunteer tomato plant emerged this Spring, growing like it has acres to hug, so abundant with fruit that I am giggled and awed each time I visit with her. I choose to believe that Peter is remarkably busy perfecting his angelic manifestation skills – either that, or he’s challenging me to make peace with the kitchen and do something with the bountiful. The towel that says I only have a kitchen because it came with the house adorns the stove once again! Missing him is easy.
I wander the sanctuary immersed in the scent and sounds of all that is green and colorful, and resplendent, even in moments of struggle. Internal spaces seeking realization are filled with breath and peace, the dangling carrot of the night having gained entrance to my heart, even for a moment. I honor the power
of two.
As I rearrange words repeatedly, seeking perfection before I hit send, I miss him all the more. It was tradition to give him each draft, each thought, each everything – a collaboration of heart, of being received and heard, of being understood, even on those rare occasions of not understanding a single word!
What a quintessential mortal to practice with! His solid earthly countenance, an anchor for how the spirit moves me and moves through me – a friendship between heaven and earth, with every kind of mud and lotus imaginable. To be all in is to knowingly invite the beauty of chaos to sit at the table. Who do I share this beauty and chaos with now, save the sanctity of my own heart?
I see it. I send the invitation. I AM still here. I know this.
Flowing forward with mission and purpose and calling - to align with the highest and most Divine, to partner wisdom with fresh ideas, to share this with, and guide, those who are curious to explore – their place in the world, who they wish to be, where they are headed, and how to get there.
Although difficult to describe, what happens
here at the sanctuary is profound. It is Sacred Medicine. It is the story of your life, of my life,
of our ancestors and those waiting in the wings –
It is the truth of humanity, the stuff of legends,
of all the ways we fall apart and find our way forward – that we live this cycle one breath to the next, is both miracle and blessing. To participate in it is unquestionably bigger than our attempt to explain it.
In the Grace of Life Itself, there is space. I look forward to exploring it with you.
Always live in the direction of your joy!
We flourish because we can,
We soar because we said yes...
- Dr. Lauren
ⓒ Dr. Lauren Nappen - Please share these words of wisdom with the author included.
Dr. Lauren Nappen
Office: 215.794.0606
Text: 215.815.2729
Beautiful!! Hugs 💗
Wow! I loved reading your soul-bearing essay. Where are the casserole-bearers when you need them?