No mud. No lotus.

We have all experienced loss.  We have all experienced betrayal. We have all experienced grief in some way, shape or form. The grief journey is a bit like walking the alleyways of life and it takes courage to do it. It's a voyage that even the most sympathetic of friends or family are likely to decline sharing, even with the promise of new life at the end. Ultimately, it's a solo trip because we are the ones who must do the work of self-examination and re framing what has been lost. If a ray of sunshine flickers in our alley, we have to find it ourselves.  Our eyes and hearts have to be open for it to be seen.  No one else can point it out or do the work for us. We have to be willing……one step at a time….to find the beauty in the darkness.

The beauty of the process is truly in the experience of the beholder. We may decide that grief is a horrible state to be avoided at all costs. We don't go there, and yet we know that the alley exists, running between the structures of our life, waiting until we have the courage to look. And once we do look, what do we see? Perhaps it's not all bad. The light shines in the alley just as surely as it shines in the front yard. All kinds of little critters run through it. The lines and shapes can be quite pleasing to the eye if we don't give them meaning beyond their reality.

If we gaze with a curious heart, what at first appears desolate can become a place of hope because most alleys are open at both ends. You don't have to get stuck there. An alley is a way through that eventually leads to the street where new life is happening. Yes, it can be very useful to observe the alley. But it is even more important to find the glimmers of hope and let the signs of life call you back to the front of the house where you can live what may now be a more authentic life because of what you allowed yourself to discover out back.

As I have walked through my personal alley of grief many times and for various reasons from the death of my brother to things that were important at the time but in hindsight are now deemed trivial.  After losing a close friend a little over a month ago,  I have been aware of an almost desperate need for the balance of beautiful surroundings. My home had become and even more precious sanctuary—not just as a place of safety but, more importantly, as a place where I could relish the lovely way the sun plays through the bazillion windows of the first floor or rejoice in how perfectly the inside wall paint complements the natural colors of trees that peak in every window as well as relish in the purity and fierceness of the love me, my husband and children all have for one another.

I notice beauty in a person, place, or thing has a calming effect—as if the essence of beauty is a quality of the soul that reminds me to choose life because I contain life and have been grated the gift of life from God. So that’s what I’m doing. Relishing life and beauty in all things and in all people….yep, even in the people I would classify as ‘a thorn in my side’. My faith is far deeper and experiencing a loss of someone so close, reminds me of how far I have come since walking through the muck and mire of my brother’s death and I still have plenty of room to be pruned back so I can bloom more fully.  Life is s gift. It is a beautifully crafted mess which leads to exhilaration and pitfalls and every once in a while we have the true honor to share space and some time with a true treasure found in a person….in their love…..and in their zest for life. 

No matter what our journey, we can always look forward to the sunshine and warmth of spring.  Without mud, there is no lotus.  Yoga on.  Explore within.