I feel rushed this morning. Hurried. Rain presses down upon morning’s awakening, a sodden blanket of sleep lingering long past the hour of awareness breaking through my dreams.
Lesson 2 of my course material waits in my Inbox. And I lay in bed listening to the rain and the wind chimes in the backyard.
Get up, Louise, my mind encouraged me at 5:30am.
Sleep some more the critter whispered. You don’t have to get up yet.
The critter won. I lingered in bed drifting in and out of wakefulness.
And morning rose and I held my eyes closed.
Time is running. It is time to greet the day, to get busy.
This morning’s lesson included a photo of a spiral staircase. Looking down from above it, looking into the well of its spiral, there is a light at the bottom.
And my mind quickly carries me into the light. I look up and find myself rising. Stepping up through the tiny pinprick of light curving up into the open expanse at the top of the stairwell.
What awaits above is a mystery greater than what lies below, my mind whispers, and I breath deeply into the expansion of this moment right now.
I am not rushed. Hurried. Time does not change because of the slowness of my awakening. it expands out into each breath, opening me up to wonder and awe and mystery.
I stop racing. Stop trying to fit it all in and breathe again into this place where all I am and all I need are all that is present.
Letting go of searching for the light at the end of the tunnel, my heart hears dawn’s breath awakening within me. And my eyes open to the beauty of the rain falling, the wind whispering and the chimes tingling in anticipation of another day opening up in mystery and wonder all around.
My eldest daughter, Alexis, returned to the city where she lives by the ocean last night. She said a final farewell yesterday to her father’s mother, her other grandmother who turned 94 at the end of July. Two days before her birthday she was told of the cancer that would steal her life within a week.
Alexis’ gratitude for her holding on until she got here to see her one last time is palpable. She got to visit every day. To spend time with this woman who was the first ‘other woman’ to care for her on the day I got out of hospital after her birth. She has been there for both my daughters throughout their lives and now, she is in hospice. The end approaches, shrouded in mystery, in finality, in darkness and in eternal rest.
For my daughters, with both their grandmother’s life-breath growing shallower, this has been a time of uncertainty. Of sadness. Of letting go. Of recognizing the delicate hold life has on each of us is only as strong as time’s willingness to hold on to our beating hearts, the deepness of our breath moving in and out.
Time passes and soon this woman who shared so much love and time and care and attention on my daughters will pass away in time’s hands moving beyond her last breath.
And I breathe and take time to honour this woman who has meant so much to me and to my daughters. This woman who has given so much time and love and care.
Fare-thee-well Jill. Safe journey to the other side.
May we all travel safe today. May we all be held in loving hands, our hearts beating freely in the knowing, we are loved. We are loving. We are love.
Dare Boldly 
Very we’ll written, I went through this when my parents passed away 28 yrs. ago. Grieving is an everyday process and gets easier everyday. My parents r gone but I still cherish the many memories of them.
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Thank you Cristl for your kind words and reassurances. You warm my heart.
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What a loving and lovely tribute to your family. In the midst of loss, your post has connected to a bit of my heart in your statement, “Letting go of searching for the light at the end of the tunnel.” When we were asleep, striving is all we knew, so we sometimes bring that old attitude to our mindfulness practices. How can I…what should I…alway striving for a new way to create the next best version of our new selves….when the current version is absolutely perfect.
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So very true Willow — we strive only to discover, striving is not necessary. We are absolutely perfect just the way we are, right where we are at. Hugs my friend.
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Oh Louise. My heart is sad for your Beautiful Mom. My heart aches for the tears & empty void that is yet to come for you and your loved ones. A life well lived. A life shared with the warmth of loving hearts wrapped around her. She is Blessed as are each & everyone of you to have witnessed and to have shared
in the highlights and lows of her life.
LIVE OUR BEST LIFE! Many, many Hugs & Beans toyou Louise
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Absolutely — Live our best life! So very important. Thank you for the healing and loving balm of your words. Lovely to see you here! 🙂
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As Peter and I age, w e know our life on this earth is running out and wonder how it will all end. So sorry for what you and your daughters are facing, It is sad but inevitable. Live your life to the fullest – it is a comfort. We were talking about you this morning as I drove Peter to his golf date. We talked of all the good times we had with your family and how wise you have grown to be. Love, ME
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Ahhh Mary Ellen — I feel so blessed to have had people like you in my life — who knew me then and see me now and who share with me such wonderful memories. We definitely had amazing times together! Love to you too. C.C. and I probably won’t make it there this fall — I have a busy, busy october and can’t seem to find the week to get away! But… there’s always spring. Hugs to you both.
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Beautiful thoughts. My mom passed last year – the grandmother who raised me – and it was a gift to spend her last two weeks with her and share her last words. Yes I felt grief, but it was oddly fulfilling. My sympathies to you for your family’s loss, but also my hopes that you and they will continue to find gifts within it.
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Oh Cara — your words are so comforting. I am sorry for your loss — and glad you had that love to support you and to be supported by. Hugs
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Its such a heart swelling time. Filled with love and loss.
I love how you let yourself embrace it and share the opening and beautiful insights.
Take it slow. Take it easy … and breathe into each moment.
Val x
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Thank you Val — I shall breathe into each moment. Much love to you.
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Sorry for your pending loss– 94 though is really a celebration of life- your daughters are lucky to grow up with grandparents! Hugs.
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Yes they are Lisa — 92 for my mother, and 94 for their other grandmother — very blessed to have them both in their life journies.
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Oh this was bloody lovely
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Hugs Joanne
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Truly heart-warming, oozing with love…thank you! ❤ ❤ ❤ NadineMarie ❤ ❤ ❤
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Thank you Nadine Marie. Many blessings
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Your words speak about those palpitations, those loving memories that we treasure! May she meet her end peacefully!
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Thank you Balroop — she is surrounded by love — and that is all she can carry with her. Hugs
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It is a hard time for you. You walk this transition with grace and dignity.
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