Love is stronger than death

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Love is stronger than death

It's been 15+ years since my daughter died. Her picture, next to the bed, gets a kiss most nights. Long periods of time will go by with no dreams of her, no mention of her name. And then suddenly there'll be a burst of Lena-energy to boost my spirit.

Over the last week, I received a surprise gift from a new friend who just learned of how much we miss Lena, a Facebook message from one of Lena's high school friends who's still coming to terms with what she meant to him and took the time to share his thoughts with me, and hanging her violin Christmas tree ornament brought a flood of Suzuki lesson tunes swirling through my head. All these things add up to a heart full of love.

What touched me the most though was the lengthy, heartfelt, and detailed message from her high school friend. There is nothing a mother loves more than hearing stories of how her child loved the world and left her mark on others. I'd never heard from him before and yet, he'd been showing up throughout his life with guidance from his memories of her and the impression she had on him.

This season, tell your stories. To the mothers, to the siblings, to the friends. There can't possibly be a reason to hold back. Any tiny tidbit can spark memories, joy, love, and laughter. If there are tears, not to worry. Those are good for the soul too.

So please, tell us your stories. It's a free act of kindness that feels priceless and so very precious.

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Choosing love over fear

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Choosing love over fear happened to be the central point of a chapter I was reading today in “May Cause Miracles” by Gabrielle Bernstein. Although her point was concerning the ego’s role in body perception, I was more interested in applying this sentiment to everyday life.

Because until I choose love, nothing gets done.

Fear stops me in my tracks with the ego saying, “You can’t do that. You know there’ll be problems. It’s not worth the effort. Save yourself the disappointment. Go have a nap.”

Of course, when I choose to love my work, every roadblock or problem finds its resolution even if the result doesn’t closely resemble my original vision. I love how the work evolves along with my learning, acceptance and problem-solving.

This happens all.the.time. And still, the work can be satisfying, sometimes extraordinary, and always magical.

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Connect with others

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Connect with others

"Connect with others whether or not they love you." 

Another excerpt of my manifesto has me thinking of my reactions when discovering someone doesn't "like" me. It could happen for the things I talk about or some quality they find me lacking or I don't fit their target audience, or they just liked me in a use-me way and then dumped me once I've met their needs. 

And, to be honest, perhaps this is how I've created frenemies too? So the challenge is to recognize when I'm complicit in the lack of love and my response to it. 

Love anyway. Love always. 

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Born to die

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Born to die

How shall we sing our love's song now
In this strange land where all are born to die?

--Madeleine L'Engle

This. 

There are days when it is crystal clear how to sing my daughter's love song, of birth and of death. On this day, my heart is full of gentle memories of her birth. She barely made a peep when her life first began. Although she certainly made up for that later, anyone who knew her will wholeheartedly agree. 

Lena loved life, needed to experience it ALL, and wanted to have fun. As she says in her children's story, "and everywhere you could hear the laughs of us."

And so, today I am reminded to love better, to experience fully and to enjoy it. 

Ms. L'Engle's poem in its entirety ...

“The earth will never be the same again
Rock, water, tree, iron, share this grief
As distant stars participate in the pain.
A candle snuffed, a falling star or leaf,
A dolphin death, O this particular loss
A Heaven-mourned; for if no angel cried
If this small one was tossed away as dross,
The very galaxies would have lied.
How shall we sing our love's song now
In this strange land where all are born to die?
Each tree and leaf and star show how
The universe is part of this one cry,
Every life is noted and is cherished,
and nothing loved is ever lost or perished."

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Love everything

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Love everything

It's true. Love outlasts everything. It is mysterious, It is painful. And oh so wonderful. Looking with soft eyes (a technique learned in equestrian school a lifetime ago) applies to everyday life. It lets me see for the first time or see anew. 

Fyodor Dostoyevsky's full quote says, "Love all God’s creation, both the whole and every grain of sand. Love every leaf, every ray of light. Love the animals, love the plants, love each separate thing. If thou love each thing thou wilt perceive the mystery of God in all; and when once thou perceive this, thou wilt thenceforward grow every day to a fuller understanding of it: until thou come at last to love the whole world with a love that will then be all-embracing and universal."

Universal love, uh huh. 

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It's OK

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It's OK

I almost didn't go. Pulling on the first knee-high hiking sock triggered a muscle spasm halfway up my ribcage, causing me to catch my breath and I may have cussed a bit. It is always a surprise when my body misbehaves since my mind still thinks I'm twenty-something. 

After retreating to the yoga mat for gentle stretching and breathing through lots of child's pose, on went the other sock. Out the gate I went, intent on my mission to Google map my daughter's name at a natural, cosmic, enlightened and, not surprisingly, favored hiking path near the vortex of Bell Rock. 

Having sampled a few spots for lighting, slope and a magnificent backdrop, a young hiker paused on the trail nearby as her father consulted the map, and said, "That's a golden eagle." I checked the sky and seeing nothing, decided she was mistaken. But as I turned back to the Bell, there it was soaring near the center of the rock's height and breadth. When it landed, I knew I'd found the perfect spot. 

I'm assisting with getting "It's Ok That You're Not OK" on the map in unusual ways and places least expected. Have you purchased your copy? No need to wait until someone dies to read this useful guide. It's full of profound insights whether you are grieving, supporting someone who is or preparing for the inevitable. Click the link to learn more. 

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If, then

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If, then

I remember my mom telling me how the nearly unbearable grief I experienced from my daughter's passing was a reflection of the depth of my love for her. Not in the sense of measurement like the more grief, the more love was present because I'm not sure it is possible to measure love.  So Elaine Mansfield's comment reminds me how the two, love and grief, are inseparable, congruent, and necessary. 

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How sweet it is to love someone

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Often we focus on the feeling of being loved and its wonders, joys, and impact on our lives. Certainly, there are many benefits to knowing one is loved. It is a gift to be on the receiving end.  This came to mind as Mother's Day approaches, with this year being the first time without my mother and my daughter. Two women who held me up, held me accountable and loved me without conditions. 

I've been noting more recently, the sweetness of loving others and the good feels of being on the giving end. Mom's and Lena's physical absence doesn't change that. I'm still loving them in my heart and any action on my part will be directed to those still here, distant or near, family or friend or stranger. 

Yes, how sweet it is to love someone. 

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