9 Years

I almost forgot what day it was. It wasn't on my mind at all this week in fact. No plans of alter making, or wine drinking. No heavy thoughts or saddened faces.

The last couple of weeks has felt overwhelming (more than usual) though not for bad reasons, entirely. Perhaps that is why I had "forgotten". Perhaps it's because as each year passes, the heaviness becomes lighter and easier to bare.

Perhaps it simply does not need to be analyzed.

I can speak to my physical presence this week however, and how my body may have been remembering of the time.

Fatigued, ungrounded, heavy, unmotivated. Muscle memory is something spectacular and magickal, isn't it? Our bodies are such a marvelous companion on this Earth plane.

At the ripe age of 18 (-2 weeks), my world was forever changed, deconstructed, and reinvented.

9 years ago, I sat at work, sipping on a coffee well past the end of my shift. I shouldn't have been there that long, and was confused as to why I hadn't been picked up by my parents yet.

There's a knowing that comes with sudden and premature passing of important soul connections in our lives. You need the words for confirmation, to bring it to reality, but you already know.

9 years ago my mother and step father crossed over. It was sudden and painless, and I am grateful for that. They were mountain freaks and were on their way out of town for their regular weekend hiking adventures, and I am grateful for that.

9 years ago, the chance to heal a mother-daughter relationship was taken from me. But the path to heal myself was given to me.

9 years ago, the chance to build a stronger and forgiving relationship with my step-father was taken from me. But the sight of reflection and independence was given to me.

These 9 years have been filled with wildly intense highs and dark and disturbing lows. There have been amazingly delicious moments of Nirvana and epiphany. There have been seemingly unending and spiraling moments of deep shadow work.

I realize that it can be triggering and not everyone can handle the idea that things happen for a reason; that things happen FOR us and not TO us. And I must admit that it has taken many, many years for myself to reach this philosophy in my story.

But it is my truth.

I can see how this intense, and tragic loss catapulted me through my spiritual awakening. I see and know, deep within me, that without this event I may never have gotten on the path of self-growth, self-love and inner reflection.

My identity may still be lost in the crowd, and I may never have found my true self again. For my idea of living at the time was unsustainable.

I can clearly see the Shamanic energies at play during those first few years of loss.

Like an arrow from the Shamans bow, I was thrust through tragedy, addiction, death and rebirth and an alarming, nearly deathly, speed. Like some kind of crash course, I was given no choice but to go through the spiritual journey at light speed, and any resistance on my part only delayed it for minimal amounts.

I needed to be lost in order to be found.

I needed to be blind in order to see.

I needed to be poor in order to receive the riches of life.

Today I reflect and celebrate. I remember and give thanks. I receive love openly and ask how else I can heal.

Today is not a sad day, but it can be somber. But it is often filled with laughter and companionship. Sometimes tears, but mostly joyous celebration of the wondrous cycle of life and nature.

Today I am not abandoned or alone. I am not orphaned or isolated. Today I am embraced by my protectors, my guides, my angels.

Today I do not give anger for what was done TO me, but instead give thanks for what was done FOR me.