I filled my cup this morning. That first coffee has taken on more than a habitual practice over the years. It’s become a comfort. A reminder. An appreciation.
A comfort that whatever I am currently facing is but fleeting. I have survived the hardest. I will get over harsh words, I will move through the grief of death of a friend and family member, I can ride out the sticky situation in any social circle. The sun will set on this day I started with a coffee enjoyed in solitude and my body will rest.
A reminder that I am capable. I am able. I am able-bodied, and emotionally sound, to carry whatever the day may bring. I can do and take on whatever needs to be done (or endured).
An appreciation that I can do and feel all these things with a healthy sense of detachment, no matter how close to home… or the bone.
Why? Because I know the difference between allowing myself to be consumed and affected by any and all things that come my way and truly having something to be consumed by.
When someone you have created with someone else dies, your body knows it. On a cellular level, you know it. Beyond your thoughts and your feelings, your Soul knows it. There is no way to properly convey or describe it. It must be lived to be truly known.
Lovers speak of literally having a sore heart; in matters of the heart that sometimes happens. And it’s true. There’s nothing that can prepare the young innocent heart for the physical pain of the thwarted love.
I choose daily to be thankful that I found a way through. And my “Grateful” comes in the form of staying out of most things with many people. It might come across as aloofness, shyness, apathy, perhaps a lack of social know-how. It’s actually none of these things. It is merely energy conservation. In times when I am not being called on, I sometimes wonder why I don’t just get involved and join any number of social/online conversations. I mean, heaven knows I am online often enough to see them. But I don’t join. And then I get the phone call, the email, the text message.
“I lost my baby.”
No fewer than three such occurrences over the summer holidays so far have landed in my awareness. Bereaved parents directly seeking me out to find whatever comfort or solidarity there is to be found. So I am reminded once again that I have chosen a great task this lifetime. Even in setting up an online social network for myself, I might have liked to fool myself it was about me…. It never was. I am humbled by the reminder as I hold these parents in my thoughts and light a candle again today.
It’s not all play. It’s not all about working for the dollar either. My job is tremendously enriching in ways that go beyond the fun, go far further than any dollar could stretch.
As I finish my cup and wrap up this post, I am grateful. This is my life now. This is the life that lies beyond the searing, unmentionable soul-tears that have left now-healed scars on my heart. This is me. This is them. This is you, too. We are all moving forward – regardless – each moment we are still here. And for as long as I am breathing and can saunter in to my kitchen, able-bodied and clear of mind and enjoying making a simple cup of coffee, I will give thanks to whatever view lies outside my window. Because I can see it. I can think freely again, unconsumed by pain or grief. Detached and ready for my next call to service. Passing it on.
It’s a beautiful, fragile thing, this life as we know it.
Many cultures make much of courage and indomitability of the spirit but actually the greatest power a human can possess is acceptance. It is so damned hard sometimes just to accept what is, what will be and what was. But it is the key to everything, including true courage and indomitability. To accept the good. Accept the bad. And most of all to accept the good that still exists despite the bad. xx
True words, kind sir.
The difference is having a choice.
When you are consumed there is no choice.
Over the Christmas period, I found myself in many rooms with many people, even people that I know and love, with nothing to say. And that’s okay, it’s okay to be physically present without participating on a deeper level. I’ve got to keep some of me in reserve.
This is a beautiful post Kirrily.
x
Yes. That’s it! It’s so interesting you mention “choice”. I have a post forming regarding estrangement and choice. Very timely you should bring it up. And isn’t Christmas the most interesting time to practice this sort of thing? Thank you xx
I have a sore heart myself right now.
My son, who is so often in trouble, is right back there again.
There is nothing I can do but listen when he phones me.
Ouch, E. This must really be difficult. That balance between expressing frustration, wanting to tell him what to do, and feeling deeply for him would be very difficult some days, I imagine. Thinking of you.
Wow. Just….wow. I don’t think I have read something so beautifully and eloquently written in my life. And then that song. When I read something like this, it lets me take a step back and really look at what my losses have been. How they have shaped me. And then I see somebody like you, who has suffered unspeakable grief, and you are just so amazing in what you are doing with everything – raising your daughter, being a wife mother and friend, running a website that helps SO many people you can’t even imagine. You are the definition of a beautiful person, soul and human. I wish I had an inch of the grace and dignity you have and the way you are able to act from a soul level, rather than an ego level (get what I mean?!)
xo
But all loss felt is relative. There is never any real way to quantify this, although one can accumulate traumas (and not just through the loss of life of a loved one) and therefore grow their own ego-less existence. I get what you’re saying! And I appreciate your support very much. Thank you x
See K, this is why you’re number one on my speed dial of coolness. And commenter Steve up there, regarding accepting the good and the bad, they’re words I’m going to think about some more. Well written, both of youse! I like the idea of ‘acceptance’ being first and foremost on my to-do-for-myself list