The power of surrender when you have nothing left to give: A personal REflection at the 2-year anniversary of my mom’s death
As I prepare to lead More Myself and the Community Circle this week, today I am making space to integrate this weekend's reflective, grief-filled, and also beautiful life-filled moments.
As we crossed the threshold of 2 years without my mom yesterday, it felt like I transversed so many aspects of myself and all that I am willing to dance with to live fully, freely and in connection with mySelf, others, the Earth, God, and Life.
Some moments this weekend were filled with laughter and entertainment as we saw a great theatrical rendition of The Hobbit at a local children's theater. Others were spent silently sobbing or with my eyes closed remembering the last precious day with my mom, and mourning the version of myself that was innocent then around what it would be like to lose her. I remembered all of the things I didn't yet know then or that I wish that I would have done differently. Other moments were filled with hugs, walks in the sunshine and snow, flower deliveries and text messages that reminded me yet again of all of the love and beautiful people that surround me - of all the ways I have let people in and allowed their love to reach my heart in the last few years (and that I have hoped to reach theirs).
I even surprised myself in new ways this weekend, first by buying a last minute single ticket to last night's Maggie Rogers' concert. I had looked at these tickets on and off for months but somehow it never registered that the concert was on the anniversary of my mom's death. But when I got an alert on Saturday morning that there were some resale tickets left for her Feral Joy tour, I couldn't stop thinking about joining thousands as we danced to songs that had cradled me through the process of losing my mom and so much more in 2021.
Maggie's music first spoke to me on my birthday in 2020. I was lying on the floor of my office in our old apartment, doing a 1:1 breath work session, and the facilitator's playlist included her song Falling Water. I remember tears running down my face as the song started, and I wanted to sing along but felt like I couldn't, like my voice didn't work. Later on that day I listened to that song over and over again, moving to it and letting it move me. The energy of it felt so freeing and alive, and it quickly became the soundtrack for my healing and blossoming authentic expression, followed by her songs Alaska, Light On, Back in My Body, and more.
On Saturday, the thought of going to the show excited me and gave me the opportunity to anchor even more deeply into the playfulness and joy of being fully alive that I have been sinking into in the last many months. Through the cloud of thoughts questioning “Do you really need to go? What if you're not feeling up to it tomorrow? Is this a weird thing to do on a such a sensitive day?", I decided to trust the liberating, powerful, ALIVE energy I could feel deep within. I began to see attending the concert as its own ceremonious moment where the past version of me that felt like her voice didn't work could belt it out, once again letting the music move and heal her. When I bought the ticket on Saturday, nothing felt more right.
The last many years of my mom’s life, she aimed to feel more joy. Something about the tour name Feral Joy felt like a tribute to her and an ode to letting my spontaneous, adventurous, playful Ellie claim her place.
However on Sunday morning, I was feeling quiet and inward, without many words or desire to be with a lot of people. I just wanted to do my own thing. After taking it hour-by-hour for most of the day, at 4pm my husband and I attended a yoga workshop at our studio. As we arrived I felt very little emotional and mental energy in my tank, and was ready to simply lie on my mat to rest if that is what felt best during the class. But as the meditation began, and my body began to warm up, I felt really good to move.
As we flowed through many mini-series stacked together, I found myself in a deep state of surrender, with willingness to continue as long as my body felt good doing – I was willing to just keep moving from one posture to the next until it didn't feel good anymore. An hour or so into the workshop, we had one series left and it was 100 degrees in the room (even warmer than it normally is). People groaned in exertion all around the room, taking rests as they needed. I knew I could stop at any moment, but my body felt good moving so that’s what I did and soon I had a powerful realization, which I have thought many times but this time is settled into my cells: I have lived through and survived my deepest fear, and continue to come out the other side liking who I am and consciously cultivating a life I want to keep living. As long as I wasn’t pushing myself in an unhealthy way, the challenge of continuing on brought me gratitude, energy, and joyous exploration of what is possible, in and through my body and being.
Soon we paused for water and I saw myself in a mirror, drenched in sweat but refreshed and invigorated rather than tired. I felt like I had been reborn in the last hour - I had walked in with nothing left to give and by simply being willing to meet the moment, and surrendering to my capacity and greater wisdom minute-to-minute, I was finishing the class remembering how strong, resilient, and alive I am. I remembered how much ‘Feral Joy’ is available to me if I continue to show up and meet each moment with openness and heart.
I left the yoga studio in a completely different state – so grounded in my vibrancy in awe of the process of being stripped down to the core once again, but this time in willingness and curiosity. I quickly became excited about the concert again, and later as I danced and sang to my favorite Maggie lyrics, “I walked off you, and I walked off an old me” and “If devotion is a river, then I'm floating away”, I smiled in delight of all that is available to us in this human existence. Life opens to us when we open to it.