Today (as I sit here writing this) is the first year anniversary of my grandmother’s death. One year ago today her soul woke me up at 3:33 am UK time – the very moment she was passing from one life to another (9:33pm Denver time). In many ways she is more with me now than ever, yet in others I still miss our times of practice that we shared together.
“Practice” ? You might think. That doesn’t sound like a stereotypical granddaughter, grandmother activity.
I know but nonetheless this was the essence of the deepening of my relationship with her in the latter part of her life.
Right now, the many people with whom I come into contact are working through a story of limitation and constriction in some way. In fact, I’m pretty sure that if you are sitting here reading this, you are also experiencing this sense of limitation in some area of your life! I certainly do.
To recall past events and learn lessons from them is one of the oldest mythic traditions in the human lineage. Since ancient times, people have gathered to recall legends, retell tribal stories and teach young ones through remembering the adventures of those who came before them.
Therefore it comes as no surprise, after decades of working with narrative transformation and restorying, to find that it is the inner landscape of our memories that hold the most fertile ground for the creation of our future.
Over the last few years I have experienced this life changing transition in many forms. Whether it was the death of family members, the death of friendships or the death of parts of my identity, each time I was left changed forever. Transformed by the gift of insight, love and surrender to forces beyond my human control.
This week however, like a bolt from the blue, I was told that friends of mine had lost their young daughter to cancer.