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Friday, August 10, 2018

Grief in the ordinary

After dropping off my daughter at school, I went for my morning walk on my most favored trail. It was there I was met by a buck in velvet, countless fungi, monarchs, ducklings, sunshine and cool breezes. I dare say I felt a little like Snow White!

Once finished I took a new route to a familiar errand I noticed a woman in her car who I assumed was on her phone because she had exaggerated hand gestures while driving. Moving along we were parallel and she was in fact on her phone. I hit the brake a bit because of the car ahead of me slowing, she continued her pace. A moment later a bird took flight from the tree lawn, he escaped, his friend, the second bird did not. Everything slowed and I watched the bird try to clear her car, as it met its fate. I looked in my side mirror and confirmed he was hit. She never slowed or stopped with her waving hands.

My heart sank and I immediately was filled with anger, rage, disdain for this women's ignorance, her carelessness. How could she not see the birds coming? Was that bird's life less important than the person she was talking to? I was awash with judgments! SOOO MANY JUDGMENTS.
With a wetted face from all of the grief making its way from my heart to my cheeks. I mourned for the little bird. I mourned for the woman who was too busy. I mourned for my own inability to CONTROL any outcome. I was helpless to stop it. Helpless to save the bird. But I wasn't helpless in the way I thought of her, the scenario and my judgments.

This situation showed me where my fears live, my shadows, my overwhelming need for justice. And the most I can give to any situation is compassion. Compassion is a form of justice when used with consciousness. I wasn't blind to what had happened. I felt all of it. I watched it unfold, with tied hands and an open heart. It wasn't just a bird. It was life. I can't make other people revere life. I can't make people slow down and pay attention to what is happening around them.

I can sit with the grief. Own my shadows. Visit the places in me that still are raw and asking for healing. I can give thanks for the life of the bird. That moment in time when he was the sacrifice.
The day ebbed and it flowed. I am thankful to be a feeling sensitive and receive the gifts that life is offering, grief can be a gift. RIP Birdie 

Book Signing August 24, 2018

Come and celebrate with us! Readings by Brigid Hopkins, Kathy Ewing, Klare Heston and Susan Brooks. A night of gathering and sharing. <3 

My latest piece published @TheUrbanHowl Renegotiating long-term relationships I remember starting a new job and being handed ...