A note waterfalls steadily
through us,
just below hearing.

Or this early light
streaming through dusty glass:
what enters, enters like that,
unstoppable gift.

And yet there is also the other,
the breath-space held between any call
and its answer––

In the querying
first scuff of footstep,
the wood owls’ repeating,
the two-counting heart:

A little sabbath,
minnow whose brightness silvers past time.

The rest-note,
unwritten,
hinged between worlds,
that precedes change and allows it. ~ Jane Hirshfield, “The Door”

It’s been awhile since I have connected in this way – emails, blog posts, etc.

Perhaps in some ways it would be nice to say it’s been because I have been ‘busy’ – but the truth is, I haven’t been too busy.

In fact, I go to great lengths to bask in the non-busyness I have created in my life!

This past Fall seemed usher in a quickening in my experience – the whole season moved so swiftly, months felt like single weeks and suddenly here we are, facing the winter solstice in a matter of days!

My beloved cat died on November 1st. She was not only my best friend but also one of my best teachers when it came to simple pleasures and primal instincts, especially rest and sleep. She was also a constant daily presence and companion to me for more than a decade. In some ways I think our relationship was much deeper than any human relationship I’ve had. Her passing brought up so many emotions and layers, her death invoking deep feelings that felt hard to bear at times.

I felt like a different channel for emotion and energy during the weeks after – like water yielding to whatever is in its path, sometimes picking up debris along the way – allowing feelings like fear, shock, guilt, regret, sorrow, sadness, anger, and heartbreak run through me and pass, even when frequently it felt like being hit by a truck. Like a surfer or swimmer caught by the undertow of a powerful wave, much bigger than me – I am grateful that I knew to let myself be taken, to not fight, and to go into the currents…then I could emerge and rest in the echo of it all. Or hang to dry, so to speak.

It struck me how much courageous life energy is uniquely surging and available in times of mourning, pain, grief and death…not unlike the energy surge available in times of birth, celebration, and joy.

During the weeks after, sleep onset at night felt tender and often challenging, and I wasn’t able to nap in the same way as I usually would, but I still rested, making myself as comfortable as possible, lying on my back in my bedroom sanctuary in the middle of the day, sometimes gazing at the tree and the sky outside and just being, the way she did so effortlessly.

This act of trusting/letting go into rest felt like a powerful force of grounding love for myself in the midst of what felt like a physical, energetic and emotional roller coaster. I am so grateful for the cocooning, healing bridge between waking and sleeping that true rest offers, when we are willing to surrender into it. 🙂