The truth behind life and death

“We cannot know the mysteries, but we are driven by our nature to stand in meaningful relationship to them.” ("Tracking the Gods", James Hollis) This increasing importance on the mysterious, the undefined, the energy behind the physical, substantial, visible reality of life has gotten a hold of me.

In my healing work, I am stepping into the mysterious on a daily basis. I watch myself trying to define, label and box each feeling and experience. I realize that I am doing this rather than allowing the process to unfold naturally, creating relationships, and building bridges.

I had an amazing healing experience with a client the other day. Just when I think I’m making it all up and nothing’s really happening, the client confirms it all with a “by the way . . .” I’m still hoping/expecting for bells and whistles, lights and auras, and am getting subtle beauty, gentle flows, and unconditional love instead. Hmm. What about this don’t you get Annie?

Finding truth is about looking for what lies behind everything, what unifies and connects us all. Truth is always searching for a way to reveal itself on a bigger and broader level. It is the mystery behind the reality we hold so dear, as we hang on to life. Or is the fear of death that we are really hanging on to, only stopping us from realizing the truth?

I find I am adept at building boundaries and walls rather than bridges and connections. On the other hand, it seems that in some places I have no boundaries in the sense that I don’t take care of myself. Is that it? Is it one more thing to ‘figure out’? Yes, just one more wall I’ve wrapped around myself.

It’s the “I want love, but I won’t let myself have it” dilemma. I’m powerful, but I’m weak; I’m good, but I’m not. Whew! I just got dumped in the ocean by a big wave and am all turned around and upside down in the sand! Isn’t life grand? I’m just going to sit here now for awhile and let it all flow . . .

What has gotten me all in a turmoil is that I am still feeling the effects of my friend of thirty years’ death. I was feeling bad about it—she cut off from me. I was feeling angry with her—but I was still there for her. I was feeling sad—too late to do anything about it.

At the funeral my overall feeling was of how well she had lived her life, and I was so proud of her. All those other feelings came afterwards, because I looked at what I did there (somehow I became the main person mediating between everyone and the family) and I was angry with myself for choosing to be me. Why? It was because I felt I was not being appreciated. In trying to “figure it out” I forgot to trust the process.

Then I realized—I was the one who received all the love there. I was the one to first meet all the people who came, and receive their appreciation of my friend. I was the one who handed out the flowers at the end—and everyone gave me the hug they held for her. I was the one who could comfort my friend’s mother’s heart and tell her that without her we would have no friend. I was the one who received all of it. Amazing.

In this process called life—and death—I am putting up boundaries and taking down walls. I am learning to stop others from abusing or manipulating me without stopping myself from loving, giving and growing. I am recognizing my own strengths as well as my weaknesses, and am not being afraid to reveal them to others.

I am protecting myself in the process. I am receiving the love that is flowing, without expecting it to come in the perfect way that I desire when I hold up that absolute standard for others that I hold myself to—impossible to keep. I know that.

Life, and the mysterious truth behind it, is a flow, not a frozen moment. Yet in that flow, I’m the one who must recognize what brings me down, what buoys me up, what holds me back, what encourages me on, and be true to myself.