Using the word “shattered” to describe myself, my energy, and my world, since my mom called five days ago to tell me B. committed suicide that morning (July 19th), is completely accurate as well as completely inaccurate. Those first 36 or so hours, shattered was just a goal to reach for as I felt completely and utterly dissolved into a different universe I’d never been a part of. Dealing with the death of someone I’d loved deeply I’ve done before, more than once. But facing the death of someone I’d loved deeply and had just met with and started to plan for the future and having them take their own life four days later, not so much.
Where I’m seeing this shattered energy affecting me currently is that I am unable to meditate. Normally in times of trouble, I continue to find my strength, purpose, and alignment in my morning routine of walking, writing, meditating, and a bit of yoga. But since that morning, when I started my day (before the call) with a new yin yoga class and a few hours of working the first few chapters of a book, I have not been able to make myself sit and breathe into my space. I’ve had some space, but not in meditation.
I thought that since I’m dog sitting for a friend starting today, I’d be able to sit, but when I did, all I did was fall apart before I’d even settled. I have been writing a bit, journaling and Morning Pages to process, and walking, but I know from experience that going into myself is my key to returning to functioning fully.
Maybe in this space, the lesson is to give myself grace. There are really no problems to be solved. Healing is not going to be as simple and expedient as putting a bandaid on a paper cut. Facing the pain and swirl of emotions will require months and possibly years of processing just to come to the conclusion that the questions I have now will have no answers. While the practice of meditation is what brings me comfort, being connected to the awareness of the energy of meditation–in the absence of the practice–may be what I need more right now.