“Remember this, my darling—remember this. What you achieve on earth is only a small part of the deal. If there's a secret I could whisper, and that you could keep, it would be that it's all inside you already. Every single thing you need. Earth is just a stopover. A kind of game. Make it a star game. If I could give you a gift, it would be to teach you how to stay free inside that game, to find the glory inside yourself, beyond the roles and the drama, so you can dance the dance of the game of life with a little more rhythm, a little more abandon, a little more shaking-those-hips.” Annie Kagan, The Afterlife of Billy Fingers
“I hope you dance.” Those are the words that give me hope, make me cry and push me to test the limits of my being. They are the words that floated and weaved their way through the air at my mother’s funeral, a week after my wedding, a day before I left for my honeymoon, two months before moving from one state to another, a year before starting medical school, a year and a half before quitting medical school, three years before giving birth to my oldest son, 18 years from this moment.
My mother died when I was 23 years old. She was 48 years old and lived into those 48 years with beauty, sweetness and absolute compassion. She was the person who created the axis of my world. The gravity of her beautiful soul held the stars in place, caused the rivers to flow to the sea and painted the colors of my soul. She was my center. She made the world the place I could live. And then, she was gone.
Here I sit, typing these words, living, breathing, mothering, carrying on. I still don’t know how. I still ask myself how this is possible and then, I feel her light. It is still here, living in me, carrying me through, teaching me how to love my children, helping them see the world through eyes aglow with hope. She has not disappeared. She is outside of time and space, the blueprint of her soul guiding me on.
Sometimes I feel angry that she isn’t here in her human suit, coming to my house and playing games with the kids when I’m sick, letting me take her to lunch and surprise her with a spa day for her birthday, hiking with us through the woods, marveling at what she created within me, just getting to be my friend, instead of the parent she had to be while I was young and needed that role from her. There are so many things I want to know about – like that time she hinted to me that something happened to her during her childhood, but I could see in her eyes that I was far too young to know the details. I want to hold her and be that axis of the earth she always was for me…but then, I know in my heart that this is what was supposed to be. There is purpose in this physical absence. This physical absence has required of me so very much. It has pushed me to grow, evolve and love beyond anything I thought I was capable. By the mothering of my mother and grandmothers being gone, I have been forced to mother myself. I can do this. I can be the compassion I need.
Life asks of us so very much, sometimes things that seem impossible, things that seem beyond our reach, but life is calling us higher. This is just a brief stay, this earth – “earth school” as some call it. I’m gonna ace this class, not because I have it all figured out, but because I am willing to dance, fall into love, trust this impossible love that surrounds me. My human suit eyes deceive me, but my soul eyes reveal all things. They tell me, “Relax, my love, you’ve got this. Move your hips, dance, be free. Now, forever, this moment – they are all the same.”
I’m going to call out to you, my friends. In tribute of my beautiful mother, take this moment to be free. Trust the love around you, seen or unseen. Live your truth. Let your heart guide you and your mind rest. Your heart knows where you should be, what truth you need to speak. Let go and just be yourself. This world is a shared dream. Help create it with a little more love for yourself and all those around you, who are really just you anyway.
