Chill Time

Grief is an interesting thing.

We all have it but it’s not an experience we’re taught to have, at least not from my perspective. It seems to be an inherent part of our human experience that just “shows up” one day when we get our heart broken for the first time. No one can ever teach us what it will feel like – the depth, the physical ache – or where or when we can expect it to wash over us. We all seem to be built to have it and logic would say we’re therefore built to not only survive but transcend it.

Yes, there are billions of words written on the subject – both ubiquitous and esoteric – and I suppose I’m contributing a few more as I go through another layer of “process.”

Today, my grief is not of the “ouch” variety, but more of the “WTF?!” brand. Yes, I’ve had moments of indignant denial today. White-hot flashes of “This is frickin’ weird. I can’t believe my Mom is gone.” It feels crazy, ’cause the facts is the facts. But its completely normal and expected, I’m told.

Sometimes my intellect wants to do spiritual by-pass but thankfully, I have enough “been through the fire” masters in my life who keep reminding me that being vulnerable, doin’ the ‘ugly cry’ and just allowing myself to be “human, for God’s sake” will grow me exponentially. Or at least lead to complete enlightenment.

There is a deep inner wisdom telling me this is true.

Sigh…sniffle. I’m listening.

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