Body and Soul

 

     Awoke to a bright, blue sky morning. A walk in the sunshine along the ocean later today wins out over an indoor swim at the local pool.  The sun lights up the floating shelf in the den, dedicated to pictures and mementos of Michael, as well as Kelly. Knowing it had been quite some time since I last dusted up there, I grabbed a cloth, and one by one, removed each piece in order to clean them, as well as the shelf itself. 

     I reflected on the memory of each precious item: the photo of the two of them at our oldest daughter's rehearsal dinner, a candle I had lit for Kelly at a Compassionate Friends event, a picture of Michael as a young teen, another of him as an adult, a starfish decoration representing "as above, so below" from a dear friend, a silk butterfly from a floral arrangement sent by a salon owner I had only met a few times, the framed Post-it Note Michael had written to remind the two of them what had to be dealt with before they departed the cabin that fateful morning, and a tiny crystal bowl cradling found pennies, feathers, a baby picture, and more. 

     Midway through this process, it dawned on me that the sadness that had been creeping into my body and soul over these past few days was most certainly due to the fact that the anniversary date of the accident was looming. In nine days, we will be at the ten year marker. A decade since he passed. The word decade has weight, representing a significant span of time with respect to human life, but of course, with respect to grief, it means little. One year, five years, ten years, it hardly matters ... none of the anniversaries really feel much easier than the others.

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Skeletal Perspective

     I love deep tissue massages; nurturing, healing body work enhancing my physical and emotional well-being. However, I know people who, after completing a session, described it as being akin to torture. And no doubt, others would describe their deep tissue massage experience as falling somewhere between heaven and hell.
     During our hour-long appointments, the therapist and I may engage in conversation, but often, the massage occurs in silence. This way, I can consciously tune in to each area of my body as it is being worked on, adding a serene meditative aspect to the experience. 
     Near the end of my last session, while lying face up on the massage table with eyes closed, covered only with a thin blanket, the notion of being on a gurney in a morgue came to mind. It occurred to me that the position I was lying in on the table will likely be the same one my body will be placed in once my life force has departed. Adorned with a toe tag, there may be some poking and prodding before being whisked away to its final destination. And for those choosing burial rather than cremation, their body would be buried in this same position, and years later, only their skeleton would remain.
     This observation came without any sadness or fear; a neutral perspective positioned between the macabre connotations of skeletons during Hallowe'en festivities and the upbeat energy it represents during Day of the Dead celebrations. A vivid reminder of how integral perspective is in terms of how one experiences life, and death.
Artist: Jacques Gamlin
www.diaryofanintuitive.com

Not Only Lucky in Love

Not only am I lucky in love, but within the past 24 hours, I received notification from three different contests that my name had been drawn. It turns out that I have have won a case of my favourite crackers, a new book from Goodreads, and two tickets to the upcoming Home and Garden show.  I am always so grateful for these perks, large or small, benefiting my body, mind and spirit.

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Peeling Back the Layers

Last week's yoga class left me feeling quite undone.  Rather than returning home in the usual state of gratitude and contentment, I encountered a crushingly difficult, grief-filled evening instead.  That overwhelming sense of loss dominated much of the following day as well.  This was a first - yoga had never had that affect on me.  Upon reflection, I realized that my grief had been triggered by the teacher's suggestion that we each set an intention for class.  After some deliberation, I had silently asked for a hug from Michael.  Of course, my rational mind knew that was physically impossible.  However, another part of me entertained the notion that the hug may come in the form of spirit connection.  Alas, in Savasana pose at the end of the class, I recognized that neither had occurred, and the tears flowed.  I was again reminded that a physical hug from my son would never occur. Obviously this was not new information, so what was going on?  Why such an intense response?  Perhaps it was the perfect time for me to access yet another layer of grief.  My mind, body, and soul were in that deeply connected state of existence, allowing for further penetration of reality. Peeling back the layers.  Like in the onion analogy often referred to with regards to personal growth.  I wonder how many layers this onion has. 

Silent Screams

Experiencing total relaxation.  For mind, body, and soul.  Upon waking, allowing each day to comfortably unfold.  Choosing to make only minimal plans in advance.  Savouring an espresso on the deck. Practicing yoga outdoors.  Meditating in the warm breeze.  Hiking in the shade of the woods, or in the full sun along the alpine trails. Devouring simple picnics or elaborate restaurant offerings.  Falling asleep under a feather duvet, to the soothing sounds of the mountain stream nearby.  And yet, still hearing the silent screams in my mind. Accompanying me on this journey across the ocean.  Loud and clear. My psyche continuing to process the loss in minuscule pieces.  On that deepest level, wisely accepting only tiny fragments of the situation at a time.  Just as nature intended.  Leading me to consider Edvard Munch's famous painting The Scream.  The artist creating a visual representation of the weather and surrounding landscape of that specific moment.  He sensing something deeper in this expression of nature.  He hearing a silent scream too.

Balanced Living

Living a balanced life.  A popular expression.  Frequently heard of late. Referring to the physical, spiritual, mental, and emotional aspects of ourselves.  Visualizing a pie.  Ideally each piece of it receiving an adequate amount of attention daily.  The size of the pieces adjusting slightly as needed.  Actively moving ones body.  Connecting with spirit. Engaging the brain.  Interacting with feeling.  Every day.  Seemingly simple yet an ongoing challenge.

Spirit Revival

Feeling somewhat beat up this morning.  Imagining this may be akin to having gone ten rounds.  The result of having watched the DVD of his service for the first time.  Mind, body and soul reliving that event of five and a half months ago.  Will not be choosing to do that very often.  Next up, meditation.  To revive my spirit and regain my equilibrium. Breathing deeply into that love connection accessed from within my heart. Where peace and comfort are waiting to be found.