Our Common Bond

My central daily prayer of late has been simple. “Our Father.” I don’t remember what turned it on – pre-election tensions, some conflict with a loved one, or maybe just a general anxiety about the human condition. But “Our Father” – the prayer of my childhood – rose in my throat in the middle of one restless night. The “OUR” rolled around on my tongue and seeped into my bloodstream, releasing the floodgates on what may be the biggest prayer I’ve ever breathed.

“Our Father. Our. Our. OUR.” I can bask in the “OUR” for hours! Our Father… Our Mother… Creator of ALL of us – of all that is. There is no other! We are all born of the same source. We are quite literally brothers and sisters, sharing one common heritage, and it’s completely inclusive! Any sense of ‘other’ or ‘outsider’ simply has no place in our lives now.

Two simple words unleash worlds of wholesome, practical Love and Truth. Two simple words holding the keys to unity. Can we resolve now to clear anything within us (and between us) that keeps us from embracing our full humankindness? Can we please learn how to initiate our words and actions through our one original source, Love?

Making a Place

What if grief is nature’s way of creating even more space in our hearts for love? With grief, we are stretched, sometimes beyond what seems possible.

When my old dog, Shams, left this world a few days ago, I was surprised by the depth of grief I was invited into. I’d been preparing for that moment for years really, because he lived such a strong, long life – some 16 or 17 years. I thought I was ready, but you know, grief has its own agenda.

Shams’ death cracked open a whole new layer of unexplored material from the death of my young sister before I had the capacity to process the material. With grief came an added element this time: abandonment. I hadn’t been quite so consciously aware of it before – how thoroughly the child in me had to close down that frightening experience, impossible to digest at nine years old. Now here it was in full force, and I was being offered the chance to feel another layer of the vast, scary realm of abandonment that came with my sister’s passing – not only her disappearance but my parents’ emotional disappearance, too.

These crises in our lives are also our best teachers, though. Through years of working with this material, I’ve internalized the wisdom of my dear friend and mentor, Peter, to “make a place for it.” Whatever rises is here to be experienced fully – and we will only open to the degree that we can in any given moment. Our hearts are armored to protect us from the unbearable, and with time and much loving attention, the armoring is sloughed off. When we make a loving place for the depth of emotion that rises, the unbearable becomes bearable.

As I’ve been moved by the waves of grief these past days, I’ve been making a place for what until now has seemed unbearable. I’ve been moving through it as it moves through me. To make a place for grief is to go gently but courageously into the dark world of once forbidden and sometimes forgotten feeling. It is to say yes to the possibility of healing. And with each opening, comes release. With each opening, come surprising discoveries and growing wisdom. With each opening comes more wholeness.

The world is different without Shams’ physical presence here, but signs of his ongoing presence are coming in. Raven, wild geese, generous sunsets, and rainbows on the floor where he used to lie. I went for a walk down our rural road yesterday, the first since his death. As I walked I ‘heard’ him say, “What if grief is my way of stretching your heart so there’s room for my big spirit–love presence in there? What if grief is nature’s way of creating even more space in your heart for the love I came to share with you?”

His message makes the grief more bearable… more meaningful. I am making a place for it.

 

(My book, Reclaiming Wholeness, explores the healing and whole-ing process in greater detail. If you’d like to know more, it’s available on Amazon.)