» A tribute to a dear friend «
Please note: in writing this contemplation on death, I am not writing from 'ground-zero' where the impact is all consuming. The necessary distance and connection to my friend Jeff's passing is remarkable to me, for it has given me the space to dive in laterally and exploratively, heart, mind, hands, and appreciate the gift of this process. My heart goes to his dearly-beloveds.
In contemplating death.
It appears that Jeff, our soul brother, has touched our hearts at the perfect decibel of rightness for our healing. One friend shares how the community heart around Jeff's dying process imploded her self reliant, lone wolf ways. Another shares how intolerable it is for her to now continue to be in disconnection with her husband having been surrounded by so much love. Another is touched by Jeff's humility, and another, struck by the worthiness we all felt in his presence.
I couldn't quite predict the gravity of grief that would be on the other side of Jeff's death, my orbit around him is such that I am not left bereft and heart broken by his passing, but nor am I untouched.
What I feel is a dancing of polarities; like this process of grief is being honed into perfect calibration. I am moving between two contrasting energies; the kite flying higher still, yet tethered deep into earth, the stretch is keen.
There is a depressed energy. I feel it lying in bed, or those moments between the next thing. This energy is not felt as synonymous with depression. In depression I wallow and a story folds around my body so that I can not move and the energy sticks, feels heavier. Rather, this energy descends downwards, like a weight yes, and I notice that I don't want to move; I don't want to do anything other than stay put, do nothing. I'm curious how long this energy will stay round. It seems to come in waves. I am calling this 'stillness' because when I don't try to shift it, but rather just connect to it, I feel still.
And then there is this other energy that feels inspired and calls me to action. For hours and hours I wrote, and an idea started to emerge around how I could help facilitate the movement of money so that people who can afford, can contribute towards people who can't afford therapeutic support. The name Angels Pay It Forward started to feel literal, like one angel in particular was pretty interested in this idea. "I don't know if I can make this happen" I said at one point, to which I heard/felt/sensed the reply "yes, but can you let it happen?" Okay, touché dear friend.
The energies contrast and oscillate through the days. I wonder if it's trying to find an equilibrium, like a pendulum seeking its midpoint, but I'm not so sure. I think these two energies need to stretch out and take up space, and I am learning to roll with them.
On a more human level, I have my regrets with Jeff's passing. There were many times when I couldn't find a way to peel away from my family duties and routines to support, or just hang out with Jeff. I feel my absence in those moments as a lack of ... well, I could insert almost any word here and it would meet the felt sense. I lacked something essential and important, otherwise I would have been there for him. And more honest with his death process. I wish, I wish I did not lack ...
Further afield and much closer, both, I am feeling something new and unfamiliar. The veil is thin between life and death, like I am tethered to a timeline of Jeff that has an end point after this mortal incarnation. He has caught me (and many) in his net of vast awareness. It kinda messes with my routine timeline of what life and death ought to look like, because Jeff became self-realized, posthumously, and it feels like that counts for something, both now and in the next life. For him and for me, and them, and all of us. It feels kinda miraculous.
My intellectual pursuit of understanding our soul as eternal is turning inward, I know, with my senses, with my breath, that Life has not died. And I know also (quoting dear friend Shikhaa), that Jeff knows, without a shadow of doubt, that Life never dies. It took his death to realise that.
Okay, I get this is starting to sound paradoxical and esoteric.
A notification (courtesy of Richard Rudd, Gene Keys's Founder) came up on my phone this morning as I was contemplating Jeff's passing. It read...
We cannot die. The truth of this statement will one day change and reshape the world.
The ripple of one death, whose consciousness expanded in that transition, was like a molecular explosion to the collective field of consciousness. Jeff has cast a net from the sky to gather us up, up, up and then, fly free he calls out, for we exist within a sea of love, bliss and contentment!
I couldn't quite predict the levity of grief that would be on the other side of Jeff's passing either. Dear Jeff, I love you.
Comments