A few months ago, I was asked to journey and connect with an individual who had a stroke and was potentially in the death process.
As I connected with their spirit in between worlds, I saw their ancestors dancing, swirling, and singing.
There was so much love there, it made me weep.
I sat with their spirit, so afraid—knowing if they stayed, there wouldn’t be great health in the body, but afraid to let go into the unknown.
There was much fear as I held their spiritual body there in the vastness, as ancestors sang him songs.
I found myself saying, “It’s safe to let go. It’s safe to die.”
There was so much softness and compassion, so much grace as they knew that it was their choice to make, their choice alone. Yet, I sat and midwifed, held space, and brought healing energy to their process.
It was beyond profound, and, about an hour or so later, I found that they had passed, peacefully, in their sleep with no struggle. No struggle.
This fear of letting go, even in death, is probably one we can all relate to.
Letting go of loved ones who have died.
Letting go of hurts, or ways things went down.
Letting go of hopes that something can be righted, or have completion and closure.
Letting go of anything we are attached to that isn’t working anymore.
Letting go of relationships.
Letting go of what will never be.
Letting go of a place we have called home.
Letting go of addictions.
Letting go of emotional patterns we’ve been habituated to.
Letting go of an era of our lives.
Letting go of how we thought life worked.
Letting go of illusions.
Letting go into the embrace of the unknown.
Leaving behind what needs to die in order for more life to be had.
For leaning into trusting the good.
For opening to the trustable, safe love that we cannot imagine from the ground we are currently standing on.
For health and vitality.
For more love and grace.
For space to be had to embrace who we really are and what matters to us the most.
For happiness and joy.
For freedom and peace.
For purpose and magic.
For dreams and destiny.
We aren’t just human beings, we are humans becoming.
Over and over and over again. (Not the same as ego “self” reinvention.)
Yet, letting go seems to be one of the hardest things.
We fear the unknown because we project into the unknown all that we haven’t been able to metabolize. Most of what we are afraid “might” happen already did happen, but we haven’t been able to reckon with that grief yet—so we carry it into perpetuity, afraid of what already was.
What happens when we let go?
It’s both a process of mystery unique to all of us, and it is also an alive, organic unfurling into the spiral of grief, love, and aliveness that mimics that evolution of nature.
We have loss—of someone or something.
We lose our relationship to it.
We experience a death or loss of parts of ourselves.
Our relationship to life requires reorganization.
Our relationship and belief system about life, love, and Spirit come into question.
This is the spiral of grief—different emotions, phases, and processes at each layer—and often, they are happening all at once. Or, one of them might be more alive depending on what’s most alive for us in a moment, day, week, month, holiday, or year.
We need very different things for each of these layers of the spiral, yet the most important thing connected to the spiral is that we know what ground we can rely on.
And, there is something stable we can stand on—that which never changes in the change. The Earth; the nourishment, nurturing, and holding of nature; the liminal spaces of our dreams and ceremony; our soul bones; and the love held within prayers always singing in our hearts.
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