From Pandemic to Possibilities

Our world will be right here waiting for us, when it is time to return to it. There is no rush, for we have done much of the heavy lifting already. We have complained, cheered, prayed, stomped our feet, checked in, checked out, cried, mourned, drove aimlessly and stood our ground. We felt depressed and anxious, but also excited.

We need to ease into our world for we may not recognize it. The animals who share our earth may be a little bolder, the colors of nature a little brighter. Many of our younger children will feel more connected to their families and our teenagers will have a new understanding that life does not always give us what we want, but more often than not, we receive what we need.

We have all gotten to know ourself a bit better, and some of us have not liked what we have seen, but we looked anyway. Others of us realized we were not as bad as we had once thought. Many relationships will fall away, and others will strengthen. All of us will have taken off our blindfolds, our expectations blown to pieces and we will be adjusting to this new way of looking at ourself, our life and our world differently. Many of us will be a little stronger and a lot wiser.

We have witnessed humanity at its finest, which has helped us feel more connected to one another. And perhaps one day, we will realize that this is why we are here. To stretch ourself. To learn. To grow. To grieve. To connect. To heal. To love. And through it all, we will come to know a strength within us we never knew existed.

And yes, we did not like the pain, suffering and discomfort. We were stretched, and we feel bruised and battered. We have lost and been knocked to the ground. And yet, there is a knowing deep within each of us that has a sense that we will never be the same as we were before this pandemic, and perhaps, just maybe, that is a gift hidden deep within the rubble.

And we keep on keeping on, until the one day we begin to notice the possibilities within the pandemic. We know the struggles and challenges remain, and we respect and honor those that mourn the loss of loved ones. Yet, we are able to reach beyond the present and see a future full of hope and promise. We cannot reach it quite yet, but we have a sense it is right beyond our grasp. We have glimpsed beyond the pandemic into possibilities so we stand a bit taller and continue walking our path with a little more energy, strength and courage. We welcome the journey towards a better tomorrow knowing our patience, perseverance, compassion and love has paved the way for a brand new world.

What Those who are Suicidal Need you to Know.

You don’t know me, but if you did you would know how easily my heart breaks—at the sound of a baby crying, a wolf howling, a deer fighting for its life.

You don’t know me, but if you did, you would know how much I cared that I never fit in, no matter how hard as I tried. You would know that I wanted to be something big, but I was given a mind that kept me small. You would know that I loved deeply and fell hard when that love was not given in return.

You don’t know me, but if you did, you would see that I am not like most people, and that bothered me. That I cared too much about what you thought of me—the way I dressed, the sound of my voice, how I walked.

You don’t know me, but if you did, you would see that I could not understand why I was not loved or cherished, why nobody believed in me. And that made me try more, but also, fall harder.

You don’t know me, but if you did, you would know that my heart was fragile, like glass. And how I hid that weakness, even from myself.

You don’t know me, but if you did, you would have asked how my day was and how it felt to be me. You would have wanted to know about my hopes and dreams, and why I liked chocolate ice cream, and how I always wondered why the sky turned orange when the sun set. You would have wanted to know why I hated the movies, but loved television. Why my phone screen always hurt my eyes, and how the ground felt powerful beneath my bare feet.

You don’t know me, but if you did, you would know that I hated to be touched, but longed to be included. That I had so many words inside of me, but could not find my voice. That I worried about the trash piling up and destroying our earth, and sometimes this would cause me not to eat for days.

You don’t know me, but if you did, you would know that I was afraid of the very thing that would help me—to be known, to be touched, to be understood.

You don’t know me, but if you did, you would know to look me in the eye as you passed me in the street so I would no longer feel invisible.

You don’t know me, but if you did, you would have known that I was  planning to leave this earth if things did not get better. You would have tried to stop me, but it would not have worked.

You don’t know me, but if you did, you would have known the voices in my head would tell me things that were wrong about me, and right about you. How much I hated being smart, and yet there was so much about the world I did not understand. How algebra came easy, but talking at lunch was difficult.

You don’t know me, but if you did, you would see that our differences are what made me stand out, and how I thought this was a curse, not a blessing. How I knew how to make friends, but did not know how to keep them.

You don’t know me, but if you did, you would have known that nobody could touch that place inside of me that felt broken—not even me.

You don’t know me, but I am your son, your father, your friend, your pastor, your waiter, your aunt, your boyfriend, your banker, your husband, your teacher, your UPS driver, yourself.

This post was channeled from a soul that left the earth at a young age through suicide. For more information on channeled souls, healing, and grief, please visit http://www.thesacredletters.com.

Dedicated to all those who have left this earth too soon. We wish we knew you just a little better.

Thank you Elephant Journal for publishing this blog post .

Grief has its own Timeline & that’s Beautiful.

When I lost my son in 2004, I hid myself from the world.

There were days I did not get dressed. I did not want to face anyone who would mistakenly ask, “How are you doing?” The answer was too long, horrifying. It felt like agony to even think about how I was doing.

I don’t hide any longer, but I still go it alone. My grief likes to be by itself, without company. And I allow it to take as long as it likes.

As an empath and intuitive healer, I’ve been tapping into a collective grief. Whether you are reacting to the devastation of the Australian fires or facing the loss of a loved one, grief is one of the deepest human emotions we experience.

I also feel an opening around the energy of grief, an invitation for people to process it on their own terms, which has not always been the case: Grief has been put on a timeline—either by ourselves or another. Grief has been an inconvenience, a feeling we would prefer not to feel.

But when we open to it fully, grief doesn’t need to be scheduled or inconvenient. To allow ourselves to feel whatever is coming up is actually a relief.

Grief comes in waves, and passes when we allow it to come and go, much like ocean waves. At times, the current of grief is so strong that it pulls us away from shore, leaving us treading water. Do not panic. We will find our way back when the waters are calm.

Whether grief lingers for a moment or a year does not matter. We jump back into life when we are ready. There is no shame in feeling like we are too sad to take part in life.

And even when we allow ourselves to feel grief outright, it can also burrow itself into our body. For me, I feel it as an ache in my heart, which is why the term “heartache” feels so appropriate.

Although my son passed away 16 years ago, I unearthed more grief around his loss a few months ago, unexpectedly.

On my way to the mall, I drove past a turtle trying to cross the road. Wanting to help, I turned my car around. By the time I got back to the turtle, it was too late. Another car unknowingly ran it over.

I was devastated and began sobbing. I sobbed for the turtle, who simply wanted to cross the road. I sobbed for myself, who witnessed life and death so up-close-and-personal—it burned a hole straight into my soul.

I also sobbed for my son.

It appears, even after all this time, I still had some grieving to do. There is no better time to heal past grief that we unknowingly push aside than when life gives us the opportunity to do so without asking.

I feel we all have an opportunity to process our grief, both obvious and hidden, within the chaos we are confronted with these days.

Do not underestimate the effect life has on us. We live in a chaotic world that seems to play with people’s lives like a casual game of tag. Taking time each day to care for ourselves helps. When we release what we take in, we breathe easier.

Our world is changing, shifting. We are taking off the masks we used to hide behind and walking toward truth and humility. The time is now.

We can wake up kicking and screaming, or we can take someone’s hand and walk away from the past’s brilliant disguises toward a future that is more authentically us. The energy is right.

Let’s welcome our grief and come face-to-face with the unconditional love within our hearts.

Feeling stuck? As an intuitive healer and certified Reiki Level II practitioner with a Masters in Psychology and Wellness Coaching Certificate, I offer one on one Intuitive Healing Sessions.

Follow me on Facebook for daily inspirational posts.

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Previously published on Elephant Journal: https://www.elephantjournal.com/2020/01/grief-has-its-own-timeline-and-thats-beautiful-beth-mund/

The Illusion of Control

Control is an illusion.

There, I said it. There is no such thing as control. We have no more control over what happens in our lives than we have over the sun rising and setting. We may convince ourselves of the opposite so we can rise in the morning and go about our day without worrying that we will fall victim to a drunk driver coming home from a bar or a tree branch falling upon as during a walk along a wooded trail. We convince ourselves we have control because this keeps us from going down the rabbit hole of what if’s.

It also ties us down, binds us to become small instead of limitless. We convince ourselves we are living a wonderful fulfilling life, when in actuality we are hiding within the confines of our mind.

We give control such power, and yet it still defies us. Things in life happen anyway. Whether we brace ourself or not, the unexpected occurs because that is why we are here – for the experience. It is not to have only good things, wonderful easy moments. Life lessons are hard, but that is how we grow.  This false notion of control keeps us from living our truest life; one that frees us to follow our intuition, heart and dreams.

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In truth, the more we let go of control, the freer we become.

My illusion of control was shattered when the stillbirth of my son, fourteen years ago life came crashing down upon me. For years following this devastating life event, I felt unsafe, unprotected. I knew anything bad could happen at anytime. Truth is, I was no more vulnerable after the loss of my son than before. I just thought I was because I was forced to confront the illusion of control.

Each time my husband was late, I would panic. Every moment my daughters went out to play in the yard, I would need to go with them. I had thought keeping a close watch on my loved ones would keep them from leaving me, leaving a pain, a hole in my heart, so deep, it could never be filled.

It didn’t work. Soon I began to feel worse. Anxious, fearful and depressed.

Traumatic events, unexpected loss, diagnosis, accidents, job loss, divorce, even natural endings of life’s stages all challenge our notion of control. Sometimes the illusion of control hits us over our head, other times, it can feel like a punch in the gut. It may even show up as a simple detour on our way to work.  Whether you get knocked over, or just feel annoyed by inconvenience, it is how soft you are, how flexible, how permeable, that will determine how soon you get back up. Let life move through you. Sit within the discomfort, become lost within the depth of grief, and it will pass. Eventually everything will move through you, if you don’t dig your heels in the dirt, or grip tightly to your surroundings.

In my darkest out, grasping onto control began to feel like nails on a blackboard. I knew it was no way to live. I had to reach beyond circumstance and begin to trust life again.

But how?

Just feel.

It is that simple. I had to move from my head to my heart.

We must grieve deeply, if life brings us loss. We must allow ourself to feel scared if we become afraid. The only way out is through the mud. Otherwise we risk getting stuck in quicksand.

We must give up our notion that nothing bad is supposed to happen, and release our expectations of what is to come. This is how we move through whatever life brings with a lightness in our step, nor matter how heavy our hearts.

Just feel.

I love to listen to music. For me, this is quickest way for me to get in touch with what I am feeling. It bypasses my mind, and goes right to my heart. You know what works for you. Maybe it’s music or writing. Watching a sad movie. Singing, dancing, pounding pillow, walking in nature. Do whatever it takes to feel your way back from your head to your heart.

Opening your heart is where you will find freedom. Anxiety will dissipate, depression will lift, and you will know what it is like to live within the magic and miracles of life.

Feeling is the pathway out of the illusion of control, and into the glorious wonder of life.

Please excuse all grammatical errors and typos. My editor is on a permanent vacation in the Bahamas.