I’m reading a book right now by Stephen Levine called Unattended Sorrow – Recovering from Loss and Reviving the Heart.

In my recent newsletter, I wrote about honoring the void and allowing a new groove to unfold for myself after the passing of Gidget. 

I wrote:

I wonder how often it is we rush to fill a void because of its unknowns and because it feels uncomfortable. This vacillating between a void and finding a new groove, I think, is part of the process of allowing what is next to unfold.

I’ve had to remind myself of what I’ve written a few times now as sometimes I feel the tendency to want to just fill the void for the sake of filling it. While at the same time I also wrote that I’ve been experiencing this: there is a space within grief I’m appreciating and don’t recall feeling before. It’s a softening that feels gentle, graceful and calm, and brings me much peace.

The softening I feel is that I’m at peace that when it became apparent and Gidget’s diagnoses of congestive heart failure that it was her time to move on. Though I initially panicked and cried to my friend, and animal communicator, Dawn that I couldn’t imagine my life without Gidget. But Dawn gently reminded me to think about what it was that Gidget wanted and not my fear.

But yesterday I was in a funk that still lingers a bit today, though I’m feeling a little lighter after sharing my honest feelings with John last night. I realized yesterday that I was feeling lonely. At the same time, I still don’t feel this need to just fill the void of missing Gidget with another dog right now. But what I was feeling was what I was grappling with.

It’s this space of not knowing what’s next I realize at the same time that it’s human to want to know. But another part of me wants to allow what is next to flow to me naturally. And in this in-between space, this is what can feel so uncomfortable and all my fears and doubts come rising to the surface. I’ve also always had an animal in my home for the past thirty-five years. This is the first time without one. When John is at work now, I’m home by myself. It feels odd, but something I’m trying to learn to be with.

But it’s the awareness that this feeling is there and just allowing it to move through me I know is what I need to do – or rather, just be with.

I appreciated what Stephen writes in chapter nine:

“When we love someone, they become a mirror for our heart. They reflect back to us the place within us that is love, the divine principle. When that mirror is shattered through death or separation, we may feel as though love itself has died.

We may not even know where our next breath will come from.”

He goes on to say that what’s important to do is to quietly sit with this and count the breath. What really caught my attention was when he said to inhale mercy and exhale fear.

And that was it. To be merciful with myself and let go of the fear that tries to take over. Stephen also talks about bringing awareness to the belly. He shares that so often when we move into fear our belly tightens. So I’ve been practicing by inhaling and silently saying mercy as I bring my awareness to the softening of my belly and as I exhale letting go of fears that my mind projects.

When I woke this morning I took this photo above of the shadow on my wall of a bird and some flowers I have on the armoire in our bedroom. It caught my eye and I reflected on how this image speaks to how I am vacillating between the light and dark right now – wanting to experience more light, but also trying to honor the dark. But it’s in the shadow that I realize the gift in all of it. 

XO,

Barbara

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