The Passage
When Life Transitions and the World Changes
Dear Soul Family and Soul Friends,
I have not written for a few weeks… please excuse my absence. I stepped back the last few weeks to be present… to what needed to rise… from my Mother’s transition; feeling into what was… and what is… what the future will be.
There have been many moments of deep reflection… meandering inquiries, and conscious contemplation; further compounded from my Father’s prior transition. (Feel free to listen below, and read along)
At times, I slipped down the mystical rabbit hole, wondering about the intersection of life and death… or is it death, and then life. Right now, not quite sure which comes first.
Perhaps, there is no life or death — merely semantics of more human conditioning. Maybe, we are a continuous flow of energy and transformation that really has no beginning and no end. Is it possible that we are like the seasons?
When the second parent leaves, it feels like being catapulted into a different world; like ‘I too’ transitioned, entering another lifetime.
My father transitioned on Father’s Day, one year ago. His spirit having chosen that specific time felt like a beautiful honoring of him; as if a celebration for his position, service, and archetype. Father’s Day now holds magnified presence each year, even though the date of his passing does not typically land on Father’s Day anymore. But for me, that will aways be ‘his day’, and celebrated everywhere, every year, by everyone.
My mother passed on July 4th. She was never one to be 'outdone! It was only natural that she would make her exit on a day filled with fireworks, freedom and celebration. And now, that day has to be ‘her day’; to specifically be celebrated with an annual amplified reminder of the firecracker that she was; and how her creative expression burst forth throughout her life. Quite apropos!
My parents have quite a story. They came to North America with eight dollars in their pocket; and to the United States with an American Dream. No idea of what was going to unfold. They had four children… many, many grandchildren; and great grandchildren. Even my parent’s dreams, within their dreams, came true; if not through them, through their children. My parents gave generously in service, in kindness, and in social consciousness throughout their lifetimes.
Losing one parent initiates a deeply impactful rite of passage; and when losing both… it is dislocating and orienting, at the same time.
I typically am delayed about two to three weeks, when it comes to becoming aware of what I am feeling. Whispers began rising, weaving themselves into evening walks and early-morning-silent-sittings on the back porch. I repeatedly found patterns and inter-familial-connections circling within awareness… while I also pondered how these echoing cycles and rhythms had impacted my life, my relationships, and my experience.
My parent’s passage brought several things to the forefront. It was my mind that began the entry into the mystery that is ‘time’. Deepened presence to their creative, inspiring, spiritual and psychological ripples, that will undoubtably continue to impact the generations they brought forth, ensued. With each breath more presence than the one before, what once was the past and our stories morphed into a grand view of something timeless… a soulful play; a sacred contract. A divine experience.
As we become orphans, we can open to remembering what is real.
As a young child, my parents were ‘gods’; larger than life. Working beside them day-in and day-out for thirty-plus-years, brought a degree of physical-emotional and energetic intimacy, conditioning, and codependency that is finally possible to more fully see.
They had been the ones who — for me — had needs and desires, fears and worries, sadness and shame, pride and promise, hopes and dreams. Their thoughts, their words, and their ‘looks’ … becoming their command.
These were the ‘gods’ I did not want to disappoint or anger; and so often did. These were the ‘gods’ whose words of approval and acceptance I longed to hear; and rarely knew. And, when spoken, their sweet sounds became the notes that others got to hear. I may never know their melody.
They were not ‘gods’. They were ‘human’… conditioned, wounded, imperfect, beautiful; divinely perfect for what my soul required.
These magnificent humans led, guided, inspired, and disciplined me. They modeled all manner of things that veritably seeped into my body, filed within my consciousness, and was felt by every layer of my being: strength and vulnerability, tenacity and surrender, courage and weakness, excitement and fear, resilience and fragility, love and indifference, personal will and divine willingness.
My love of soft-melted-chocolate ice cream… it is a memory from when I was within my mother’s womb; her craving while pregnant.
The polarity of humanness vibrating within their energy and hanging in their aura; their beautiful adventure of a lifetime. Their humanity. This life was their gift of incarnation; not for me necessarily — I happened to get the benefit of it — but for God/Source/Universe…
to see through their eyes
hear through their ears
touch through their senses
express through their bodies
experience as their lives.
So brilliantly, creatively, heartbreakingly, blissfully obvious within my memories of them. So many subtleties. Revelations once nestled; hidden within my body and being as seeds. Now, they burst through my soil and soul, flowering with the fertilization of my understanding and sacred waterings.
Father’s first love… plants… his beloved children, whose bodies adorned all of our home’s blankets at the first sign of frost, and winter. Now I know… why trees and flowers feel like precious brothers and sisters.
They have been human deities of great power; touchable and untouchable. Knowable; yet, I barely knew them at all. Their love, simultaneously withheld and yet, always present. Their Essence — sweet nectar, given but not fully available — and flowing endlessly through how they nurtured many others.
These ‘divine humans’ were appointed by God to be my sacred portals of life — surrogates of mind, heart, body and soul; through which I am.
Everything these relationships held — across many decades, at times extremely close and intimate, and other times seemingly worlds apart and distant — served to be catalytic in my journey of…
seeking to understand life
the desire to individuate, and ‘wear’ only myself
slipping into the darkness; of becoming lost
and ultimately, finding myself, and holding the light of my own truth.
These divine sparks illuminated this world in many enriching, impactful, and beautiful ways. Gods-on-legs, for their bodies and souls certainly were anointed with the Divine Spark… as are we all. I love them deeply.
This has been a poignant, reconciliation of time and experience; with the realization that now… ‘I am the adult in the room. The child is gone.’
The world has changed. How can someone's passing not impact me as much as their life did? And now… I am beginning to know them in a new way…
There is more pouring through me… poetry and song to honor their thread within the fabric of life. I look forward to sharing more with you soon. They have sent signs… they have each communicated… You may be amazed with the mystical, magical happenings that have ensued…
To be continued…
In Love, Of Love, With Love, As Love… Simran
