"spinning internally in a whirlwind of unkind thoughts about how self-indulgent I am, how sharing the experience was grossly revealing and that I should stop performing public autopsies on myself"
Writing like this is the opposite of self-indulgent: it is generous. Please don't stop.
I’m reminded of a beautiful quote from (to me) a rather unexpected place: the Marvel show WandaVision. In a flashback to a time when Wanda had just lost her brother, Vision sits with her in her pain and says,
“What is grief, if not love persevering?”
I think this is a helpful framing. I hope it helps to stave off future spirals of shame as you continue to process your own grief.
I’m always surprised at how our bodies respond to our resistance to feeling our emotions. I, too, have an almost sclerotic spine, and nerve compression under my collar bones from shrinking in on myself. As I age, I feel the chronic-ness of these physical manifestations more, and become so aware of the fact that I’m “running out of time” to manage them (I hesitate to say “fix.”)
Grieving is hard and weird and sometimes bewildering but here we are. At least we have birds. Thanks for your post. 😊
Thank you, Andrea, for sharing. Bless our bodies, trying to navigate reality and all that it brings, as best they know how. I'm not sure I'd ever be able to 'un-do' the distortion of my skeleton, but, I do find that trying to build something of a friendship with my body over the last few years has helped a little. In as much as, and this may well sound ridiculous, but in as much as I forget it less, my body. I remember it's there more often, so am able to give it the opportunity to perhaps adjust to a more relaxed, or more open, position...
Grieving is hard. Stephen Jenkinson says that "grief is hard on the chassis", which I suppose is exactly what we're speaking to...
Thank goodness for the birds. And thank you for being here.
Thank you for this sweet gust of wind, I feel it in my bones.. and it’s helping me form a posture that can lovingly hold shame, compassion, curiosity and love.. even if only for this moment. Thank goodness for your life and the gift of your writing- so precious and priceless. I do luh 💗
My first opinion is that you are not self indulgent at all such strong feelings that often boil up in our grief and anger at the grief are clarifying for the persons own sanity even though it may feel to the person like they are going insane they are preventing themselves from doing that just that you realize you are on the edge somehow is a good thing
The Smell of Rain on Dust? That book permanently cracked me open. And totally changed the way I work. I'm not sure whether that or Die Wise has had a bigger impact on my life, but they're both up there!
Reading your words is my weekly reminder to remain present and to hold everything in awe and be continually reminded (I'm quoting you here, such is what I want to do with your words>>>) "that existence is finite and fleeting."
I love that David could embrace that frustration of the wind and turn it into something positive.
Often, I get annoyed at our public transport system here and having to wait around for delayed trains on my way home from work, especially when it's cold and windy. The next time that happens, I'm going to this "but this could be *the last time* I get to stand and be buffeted by the cold wind on a platform" and try to enjoy that moment, or to at least look and inspect it and appreciate it for the fact that I get to sense it.
As Jill said, your writing all of this is the opposite of self-indulgent.
Please do not stop.
The indulgence is all for us, the readers, through the act of reading your wonder words.
Nathan, I feel like hearing you say (reading you write) “Reading your words is my weekly reminder to remain present and to hold everything in awe” is about as good as it can get…
I adore the image of you shifting your experience of the public transport system, and yes! It doesn’t even need to shift to one of deep appreciation, but that enquiry can really widen our view-finder, so to speak. Having an experience that we’ve labeled unpleasant is an experience none-the-less, might as well explore it a little. It’s amazing how it starts to shift and move once it’s under the microscope…
Wonder words, you are extremely kind. Thank you Nathan, I do so love having you here.
A couple of weeks ago, my wife (Josephine; I feel we're on first-name terms here, now) remarked that it was the thing I whinged about too much, the trains and all their disruptions. So it's probably time that I change my thoughts and reactions around any time that my expected routine or journey is derailed...
Nathan, I don't know how I missed this. Bless Josephine (we're absolutely on first-names, now) for keeping you humble!
There are frequent train strikes in the UK at the moment, we got caught out by one today and ended up having to drive in to London (which is the worst). I was so grumpy, I felt car-sick & was whining the whole way, then I listened to a meditation that dear Hannah (from Swallowtails) shared, and it recontextualised things nicely (it's here, in case you ever fancy a listen- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d7bgMUykvsE)
This was an emotional read, fiery, angry, not as gentle as others I've read so far, and it's just so honest.
This post really reminded me of my mother so much (alas a lot of things do these days). She is in complete denial about my father's prognosis. "He hasn't told me" she says often, as well as "look at him, he's mowing the lawn, he can't be that sick". And it's exhausting because we are all facing dad's illness so it's extremely insensitive for her say these things in front of him.
My point in telling this story is that death is something they don't talk about. And you don't bring up someone's dead loved one. I asked my mother recently what she knew about her father (who died 2 months before she was born). "Oh I never asked my mother about him. I didn't want to make her sad."
My folks have purchaaed their cemetery plots, however, mum believes that doctors should not be allowed to tell patients if they are incurably sick and about to die. So you're right, we don't talk about it because it makes us uncomfortable. But all I want to do is talk about it. Because we're living in it.
I believe that talking is the only way to release shame. I have tried so many other methods, but honesty and oppeness is the only way.
I’m from a family that didn’t speak of their dead, and I think that that in itself distorts our own, very personal, relationship to Death - because then dying becomes a time that marks the beginning of your forgetting, your annihilation - and that’s terrifying.
It’s why I so appreciate cultural practices like Día de los Muertos, and why my heart aches that in the West we now just have Halloween, which has become yet another holiday that, under a thin guise, celebrates nothing but capitalism.
I’m sorry that your Mother is so deep in her denial. We do all sorts of harmful things to protect ourselves from emotional discomfort.
I agree with you, in regards to releasing shame. It’s the only way. Hidden it just breeds & multiplies.
Are you able to discuss your Father’s prognosis with him privately?
I remember listening to a radio documentary years ago (pre podcasts) about death. I was in the garden, planting things, and it talked about death in a way I had not encountered. I must find it. Anyway, one of the guests talked about preparing his father after death, and how it helped him to feel that final connection. In the "west" we no longer engage with our dead in this way, and that's partly responsible for our fear of it. I was 7 when I saw my first dead person. I saw two in two months, actually. It was disconcerting, frightening and completely intriguing. I remember seeing my grandmother, who had just died, in bed in the house while someone did whatever they did (I don't think I saw what they did). With dad, yes, we talk privately. Anyway, I've bogarted your comments. Thank you.
Death & gardening go really well together (maybe I missed an opportunity?)! Whenever I've managed to have honest, Death related conversations with family members it's always been when gardening was involved. Takes the edge off.
Washing & preparing the body can be such a beautiful experience, it's one I wish every one had, for the deceased and living alike.
Jul 21, 2023·edited Jul 21, 2023Liked by Chloe Hope
Dear Chloe - as you know I was out of town for a few days, and while I did read your post, I felt like I needed to sit in a familiar space to really READ it, and then, to comment.
Aw, shame, my old friend... Perhaps you are right that it grows in those places where things should be said the most, but aren't. And now here you are saying them, and yet shame raises its head and yells "I'm still here!" and the temptation, of course, is to retreat and be silent, again, which is exactly the opposite of what you should do, which is to keep writing, and being, you. Perhaps shame will appear more and more ridiculous each time it is forced to shout and wave and do somersaults trying to be heard over all the words that needed to be said and written, and finally are.
I had a similar experience with my father's death: despite the fact that he had been to the hospital multiple times, and spent the last many months of his life slowly turning blue from a failing heart and lack of oxygen, still my mother and sister persisted in saying his death "came out of the blue" without the least realization of the irony. I was an adult, though, and I had other people who were not so afraid of death to help me through it. I am sorry you did not, but glad to have now the improbable wonder of Death & Birds. Keep singing, my dear.
Beautifully written as usual. “I should stop performing public autopsies on myself.” Love this and please keep operating. Curious: are you thinking of audio reads in the near future? Cheers
Thank you, James. I will, for now, continue on like some maniacal surgeon...
It's funny you ask, because I have been thinking about it but a) wasn't sure people would be into it, and b) as I was telling Jill (Life Litter) the other day, this awful thing happens when my voice is recorded where I sound like a hybrid between Julie Andrews and that terrifying woman who founded Theranos & then got sent to jail (when her voice was still deep). And not in a good way.
I get the hesitation but it’s worth throwing one out there to see if the hills are alive with the sound of Chloe Hope. As far as Theranos goes, you have more vocal talent in your little toe nail than their entire HR department.
I feel a bit late to this table but it just takes me some time, and some courage.
"I appreciate the hesitancy in bringing up Death around people who are somehow closer in proximity to it; whether through grief, age or illness." It is exactly for these reasons that I am so deeply grateful for this on going conversation, Chloe. For your courage and your intently held purpose to hold this door open for us, for me. It oddly enough feels like a 'lifeline' to me to be able to focus on death, to open myself to it, to allow a deeper and so much more immediate understanding of death which has now moved so closely into the atmosphere of my every day reality. Through my own age and through my daughter's illness. I thank you with all my heart. And to everyone who joins here, I am grateful to be able to learn from you, and with you.
There’s no such thing as late around here, comments are perpetually open and perpetually welcome, so take all the time you need…
I think opening ourselves to Death is exactly as you say, a lifeline (or it has great potential to be, at least). I’m so glad to hear that you’re finding the ongoing conversation supportive, Rosi. Thank you for adding your voice to it, it’s an honour to have you here 🪶
Gorgeous. Restacked this. Love your honesty and vulnerability. My dad just died on June 2nd and I wrote about it here. Death is the only real thing we have yet we all mostly deny it at our own peril.
Thank you so much, Michael. I'm so sorry about the recent loss of your Dad. I like the way you phrased that a lot, "Death is the only real thing we have", that's quite the sentence. Beautiful in its simple truth.
Really looking forward to reading more of your work, and most grateful to have you here.
I am so grateful for you and your truth and beauty telling Chloe. My mother lost her father very young and was lost her memory also as he was never spoken of again. My grandmother with 4 young children, aside from wailing at his death, never allowed herself to grieve or feel his loss in any shared way. My heart aches for her and my mother and her siblings and for me and mine that still carry the weight of what was unfelt. Much love to you xxx
Amanda…thank you. Thank you for sharing some of what your beautiful heart carries. I feel it, too, the weight of that which was unfelt, unexpressed, even before I was born. My hope is that, as I allow myself to feel it now, some of the burden is lessened for those long dead, too. I once read that there is typically one person in each generation of a family who is supposed to tend to the ancestors, if that’s the case, I guess that honour has fallen on both our shoulders. Deep bow to you, as you tend to yours. I love and appreciate you greatly ♥️
I really feel this too Chloe. Deep bow and love to you on your tending journey too 💜. I’m in the midst of some ancestral lineage healing work on this lineage with Dr Daniel Floor. I’m feeling very held and met by the container and teachings. X
Jul 16, 2023·edited Jul 16, 2023Liked by Chloe Hope
There is so much I love about what you've shared here. For one, the importance of developing a relationship with our mortality "to insure them against the tragedy of missing the inherent preciousness of existence by it continually reminding that existence is finite and fleeting." My brother-in-law is an EMT and his mantra is "slow is smooth, and smooth is fast." Meaning, if we take time to do something right, we will end up where we want to be much faster than if we had blundered through it in haste. Or, as you so beautifully described with your David and the wind, we might miss out on the power and glory of whatever it is that is blowing us around if we cannot stop and take a moment to let it be, to feel it wholly, and to look it directly in the face. And then, once it's been acknowledged and appreciated and felt, it loses its power to affect us so. Thank you so, so much for being open and willing to share. I don't, as they say, know you from Adam, but I feel like in the short time I've spent reading your posts, I've reconnected with my own humanity (and all of the messy, uncomfortable, frustrating, and beautiful thoughts and feelings that come with it) on a level that was much needed. Thank you 💚
I stumbled upon this meditation on Spotify one day, and I've come back to it over and over again. Your post reminded me of it strongly!
Hannah, I’m always so happy to see your name. I so appreciate your comments. Bless your brother-in-law for his work. I adore that mantra, I must refer to it more often than I do. I love how you equated that mantra to David’s experience with the wind, and showed me how it can be applied to all of life, not just urgent situations…
I don’t know you from Adam either, and yet, I can’t help but think of you as a friend, the way we share with each other… It does my heart so well to know that some of my words have aided in a reconnection for you, that’s my prayer in all this.
And thank you, thank you, for the share of that meditation. That’s going to become a daily go-to for me. It’s so helpful to have resources that drop us right into the heart.
I'd gladly call you my friend, and I look forward to getting to know you better! I look forward to these conversations and to the perspective you bring to life. And I'm so glad you enjoyed the meditation! It's definitely a go-to for me, too. It's something I need regular reminding of in order to keep myself grounded in what truly matters.
"spinning internally in a whirlwind of unkind thoughts about how self-indulgent I am, how sharing the experience was grossly revealing and that I should stop performing public autopsies on myself"
Writing like this is the opposite of self-indulgent: it is generous. Please don't stop.
I am deeply appreciative of you saying that, Jill. Really. Thank you.
Chloe has written a great description of what Brene Brown calls a Vulnerability Hangover
Ha! That’s perfect, that’s exactly what it is.
I wonder if there’s a vulnerability equivalent of AA meetings...
All the yes to this.
Never stop, Chloe. For when you write, I will read.
Well if that isn't just the kindest thing you could say... (and on the New Moon, no less!!) ♥️
🌑
I’m reminded of a beautiful quote from (to me) a rather unexpected place: the Marvel show WandaVision. In a flashback to a time when Wanda had just lost her brother, Vision sits with her in her pain and says,
“What is grief, if not love persevering?”
I think this is a helpful framing. I hope it helps to stave off future spirals of shame as you continue to process your own grief.
Nathanial, how beautiful, thank you for sharing that. I’m big a believer in the perseverance of love... And, apparently I have a new show to watch!
I’m always surprised at how our bodies respond to our resistance to feeling our emotions. I, too, have an almost sclerotic spine, and nerve compression under my collar bones from shrinking in on myself. As I age, I feel the chronic-ness of these physical manifestations more, and become so aware of the fact that I’m “running out of time” to manage them (I hesitate to say “fix.”)
Grieving is hard and weird and sometimes bewildering but here we are. At least we have birds. Thanks for your post. 😊
Thank you, Andrea, for sharing. Bless our bodies, trying to navigate reality and all that it brings, as best they know how. I'm not sure I'd ever be able to 'un-do' the distortion of my skeleton, but, I do find that trying to build something of a friendship with my body over the last few years has helped a little. In as much as, and this may well sound ridiculous, but in as much as I forget it less, my body. I remember it's there more often, so am able to give it the opportunity to perhaps adjust to a more relaxed, or more open, position...
Grieving is hard. Stephen Jenkinson says that "grief is hard on the chassis", which I suppose is exactly what we're speaking to...
Thank goodness for the birds. And thank you for being here.
Yes, I totally get that about "remembering" your body. Keep inviting the openness...
A beautiful piece. I think there is a whole lot of wisdom in the line — “Avoidance of a subject breeds shame”.
And I really like the idea that our impermanence can help us embrace all the feelings and experiences life has to offer.
Also, I’m really enjoying your pieces, and so, I’m glad your sharing them in spite of your own reservations about doing so.
Thanks so much, Michael. I appreciate your thoughts, and your encouragement, a great deal.
Thank you for this sweet gust of wind, I feel it in my bones.. and it’s helping me form a posture that can lovingly hold shame, compassion, curiosity and love.. even if only for this moment. Thank goodness for your life and the gift of your writing- so precious and priceless. I do luh 💗
You are my favourite force of nature ♥️
My first opinion is that you are not self indulgent at all such strong feelings that often boil up in our grief and anger at the grief are clarifying for the persons own sanity even though it may feel to the person like they are going insane they are preventing themselves from doing that just that you realize you are on the edge somehow is a good thing
Thanks so much, Guy, that's very kind of you to share 🙏
I listened to Martin Pretchel’s book on audio and it was definitely medicine for my soul. I love his perspective on grief!
The Smell of Rain on Dust? That book permanently cracked me open. And totally changed the way I work. I'm not sure whether that or Die Wise has had a bigger impact on my life, but they're both up there!
Reading your words is my weekly reminder to remain present and to hold everything in awe and be continually reminded (I'm quoting you here, such is what I want to do with your words>>>) "that existence is finite and fleeting."
I love that David could embrace that frustration of the wind and turn it into something positive.
Often, I get annoyed at our public transport system here and having to wait around for delayed trains on my way home from work, especially when it's cold and windy. The next time that happens, I'm going to this "but this could be *the last time* I get to stand and be buffeted by the cold wind on a platform" and try to enjoy that moment, or to at least look and inspect it and appreciate it for the fact that I get to sense it.
As Jill said, your writing all of this is the opposite of self-indulgent.
Please do not stop.
The indulgence is all for us, the readers, through the act of reading your wonder words.
Nathan, I feel like hearing you say (reading you write) “Reading your words is my weekly reminder to remain present and to hold everything in awe” is about as good as it can get…
I adore the image of you shifting your experience of the public transport system, and yes! It doesn’t even need to shift to one of deep appreciation, but that enquiry can really widen our view-finder, so to speak. Having an experience that we’ve labeled unpleasant is an experience none-the-less, might as well explore it a little. It’s amazing how it starts to shift and move once it’s under the microscope…
Wonder words, you are extremely kind. Thank you Nathan, I do so love having you here.
:D I so do love being here.
A couple of weeks ago, my wife (Josephine; I feel we're on first-name terms here, now) remarked that it was the thing I whinged about too much, the trains and all their disruptions. So it's probably time that I change my thoughts and reactions around any time that my expected routine or journey is derailed...
Nathan, I don't know how I missed this. Bless Josephine (we're absolutely on first-names, now) for keeping you humble!
There are frequent train strikes in the UK at the moment, we got caught out by one today and ended up having to drive in to London (which is the worst). I was so grumpy, I felt car-sick & was whining the whole way, then I listened to a meditation that dear Hannah (from Swallowtails) shared, and it recontextualised things nicely (it's here, in case you ever fancy a listen- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d7bgMUykvsE)
How dare those strikes. That was still happening last year when I dropped by to visit family!
Sorry to hear you were grumpy, but many thanks for sharing that link. I shall be sure to give it a listen and bookmark it.
This was an emotional read, fiery, angry, not as gentle as others I've read so far, and it's just so honest.
This post really reminded me of my mother so much (alas a lot of things do these days). She is in complete denial about my father's prognosis. "He hasn't told me" she says often, as well as "look at him, he's mowing the lawn, he can't be that sick". And it's exhausting because we are all facing dad's illness so it's extremely insensitive for her say these things in front of him.
My point in telling this story is that death is something they don't talk about. And you don't bring up someone's dead loved one. I asked my mother recently what she knew about her father (who died 2 months before she was born). "Oh I never asked my mother about him. I didn't want to make her sad."
My folks have purchaaed their cemetery plots, however, mum believes that doctors should not be allowed to tell patients if they are incurably sick and about to die. So you're right, we don't talk about it because it makes us uncomfortable. But all I want to do is talk about it. Because we're living in it.
I believe that talking is the only way to release shame. I have tried so many other methods, but honesty and oppeness is the only way.
Thank you.
Yes, definitely a little heat in this one…
I’m from a family that didn’t speak of their dead, and I think that that in itself distorts our own, very personal, relationship to Death - because then dying becomes a time that marks the beginning of your forgetting, your annihilation - and that’s terrifying.
It’s why I so appreciate cultural practices like Día de los Muertos, and why my heart aches that in the West we now just have Halloween, which has become yet another holiday that, under a thin guise, celebrates nothing but capitalism.
I’m sorry that your Mother is so deep in her denial. We do all sorts of harmful things to protect ourselves from emotional discomfort.
I agree with you, in regards to releasing shame. It’s the only way. Hidden it just breeds & multiplies.
Are you able to discuss your Father’s prognosis with him privately?
I remember listening to a radio documentary years ago (pre podcasts) about death. I was in the garden, planting things, and it talked about death in a way I had not encountered. I must find it. Anyway, one of the guests talked about preparing his father after death, and how it helped him to feel that final connection. In the "west" we no longer engage with our dead in this way, and that's partly responsible for our fear of it. I was 7 when I saw my first dead person. I saw two in two months, actually. It was disconcerting, frightening and completely intriguing. I remember seeing my grandmother, who had just died, in bed in the house while someone did whatever they did (I don't think I saw what they did). With dad, yes, we talk privately. Anyway, I've bogarted your comments. Thank you.
Death & gardening go really well together (maybe I missed an opportunity?)! Whenever I've managed to have honest, Death related conversations with family members it's always been when gardening was involved. Takes the edge off.
Washing & preparing the body can be such a beautiful experience, it's one I wish every one had, for the deceased and living alike.
And bogart away! That's what they're here for :)
Dear Chloe - as you know I was out of town for a few days, and while I did read your post, I felt like I needed to sit in a familiar space to really READ it, and then, to comment.
Aw, shame, my old friend... Perhaps you are right that it grows in those places where things should be said the most, but aren't. And now here you are saying them, and yet shame raises its head and yells "I'm still here!" and the temptation, of course, is to retreat and be silent, again, which is exactly the opposite of what you should do, which is to keep writing, and being, you. Perhaps shame will appear more and more ridiculous each time it is forced to shout and wave and do somersaults trying to be heard over all the words that needed to be said and written, and finally are.
I had a similar experience with my father's death: despite the fact that he had been to the hospital multiple times, and spent the last many months of his life slowly turning blue from a failing heart and lack of oxygen, still my mother and sister persisted in saying his death "came out of the blue" without the least realization of the irony. I was an adult, though, and I had other people who were not so afraid of death to help me through it. I am sorry you did not, but glad to have now the improbable wonder of Death & Birds. Keep singing, my dear.
Beautifully written as usual. “I should stop performing public autopsies on myself.” Love this and please keep operating. Curious: are you thinking of audio reads in the near future? Cheers
Thank you, James. I will, for now, continue on like some maniacal surgeon...
It's funny you ask, because I have been thinking about it but a) wasn't sure people would be into it, and b) as I was telling Jill (Life Litter) the other day, this awful thing happens when my voice is recorded where I sound like a hybrid between Julie Andrews and that terrifying woman who founded Theranos & then got sent to jail (when her voice was still deep). And not in a good way.
I get the hesitation but it’s worth throwing one out there to see if the hills are alive with the sound of Chloe Hope. As far as Theranos goes, you have more vocal talent in your little toe nail than their entire HR department.
God bless you for saying that James 🙏
I feel a bit late to this table but it just takes me some time, and some courage.
"I appreciate the hesitancy in bringing up Death around people who are somehow closer in proximity to it; whether through grief, age or illness." It is exactly for these reasons that I am so deeply grateful for this on going conversation, Chloe. For your courage and your intently held purpose to hold this door open for us, for me. It oddly enough feels like a 'lifeline' to me to be able to focus on death, to open myself to it, to allow a deeper and so much more immediate understanding of death which has now moved so closely into the atmosphere of my every day reality. Through my own age and through my daughter's illness. I thank you with all my heart. And to everyone who joins here, I am grateful to be able to learn from you, and with you.
There’s no such thing as late around here, comments are perpetually open and perpetually welcome, so take all the time you need…
I think opening ourselves to Death is exactly as you say, a lifeline (or it has great potential to be, at least). I’m so glad to hear that you’re finding the ongoing conversation supportive, Rosi. Thank you for adding your voice to it, it’s an honour to have you here 🪶
Gorgeous. Restacked this. Love your honesty and vulnerability. My dad just died on June 2nd and I wrote about it here. Death is the only real thing we have yet we all mostly deny it at our own peril.
My essay on death: https://michaelmohr.substack.com/p/death
Michael Mohr
‘Sincere American Writing’
https://michaelmohr.substack.com/
Thank you so much, Michael. I'm so sorry about the recent loss of your Dad. I like the way you phrased that a lot, "Death is the only real thing we have", that's quite the sentence. Beautiful in its simple truth.
Really looking forward to reading more of your work, and most grateful to have you here.
I am so grateful for you and your truth and beauty telling Chloe. My mother lost her father very young and was lost her memory also as he was never spoken of again. My grandmother with 4 young children, aside from wailing at his death, never allowed herself to grieve or feel his loss in any shared way. My heart aches for her and my mother and her siblings and for me and mine that still carry the weight of what was unfelt. Much love to you xxx
Amanda…thank you. Thank you for sharing some of what your beautiful heart carries. I feel it, too, the weight of that which was unfelt, unexpressed, even before I was born. My hope is that, as I allow myself to feel it now, some of the burden is lessened for those long dead, too. I once read that there is typically one person in each generation of a family who is supposed to tend to the ancestors, if that’s the case, I guess that honour has fallen on both our shoulders. Deep bow to you, as you tend to yours. I love and appreciate you greatly ♥️
I really feel this too Chloe. Deep bow and love to you on your tending journey too 💜. I’m in the midst of some ancestral lineage healing work on this lineage with Dr Daniel Floor. I’m feeling very held and met by the container and teachings. X
https://ancestralmedicine.org/online-course/ancestors/
Oh wow, this looks incredible... Really think I might join in August. Thank you so much for the share 💜
There is so much I love about what you've shared here. For one, the importance of developing a relationship with our mortality "to insure them against the tragedy of missing the inherent preciousness of existence by it continually reminding that existence is finite and fleeting." My brother-in-law is an EMT and his mantra is "slow is smooth, and smooth is fast." Meaning, if we take time to do something right, we will end up where we want to be much faster than if we had blundered through it in haste. Or, as you so beautifully described with your David and the wind, we might miss out on the power and glory of whatever it is that is blowing us around if we cannot stop and take a moment to let it be, to feel it wholly, and to look it directly in the face. And then, once it's been acknowledged and appreciated and felt, it loses its power to affect us so. Thank you so, so much for being open and willing to share. I don't, as they say, know you from Adam, but I feel like in the short time I've spent reading your posts, I've reconnected with my own humanity (and all of the messy, uncomfortable, frustrating, and beautiful thoughts and feelings that come with it) on a level that was much needed. Thank you 💚
I stumbled upon this meditation on Spotify one day, and I've come back to it over and over again. Your post reminded me of it strongly!
https://open.spotify.com/track/6WAdzfGuWxopVKP47gubLI?si=1cd049aac4074ccb
Hannah, I’m always so happy to see your name. I so appreciate your comments. Bless your brother-in-law for his work. I adore that mantra, I must refer to it more often than I do. I love how you equated that mantra to David’s experience with the wind, and showed me how it can be applied to all of life, not just urgent situations…
I don’t know you from Adam either, and yet, I can’t help but think of you as a friend, the way we share with each other… It does my heart so well to know that some of my words have aided in a reconnection for you, that’s my prayer in all this.
And thank you, thank you, for the share of that meditation. That’s going to become a daily go-to for me. It’s so helpful to have resources that drop us right into the heart.
Thank you again, Hannah 💜
I'd gladly call you my friend, and I look forward to getting to know you better! I look forward to these conversations and to the perspective you bring to life. And I'm so glad you enjoyed the meditation! It's definitely a go-to for me, too. It's something I need regular reminding of in order to keep myself grounded in what truly matters.
Just about to listen to it now as I head to work, thank you, friend 🙏
Wonderful and powerful as always 💕
Thank you LRT, I appreciate you x
You’re always welcome x