The Ebb and Flow

I am in no doubt that there is magic in life.

I am in no doubt that the magic is governed by our most powerful selves, like puppeteers pulling on strings. You might call it synchronicity or kismet or fate but it amazes me how life’s patterns reveal themselves time and again.

We are drawn to people or events and only in retrospect or after a long conversation do we say “oh that is why I am here!” It seems to me that if we are willing to look at life with curiosity, we will discover that we are always right on time. We are always being guided by some force larger than ourselves.

I told you a couple of weeks ago that my friend Sandra drowned. She didn’t. Sandra was like me in that we both were akin to otters, happiest in the water as opposed to out. If I see water it is very hard for me not to immerse, much to the chagrin of my not so water loving partner… It was particularly disturbing to those that loved Sandra that the water that was her home could have taken her.

It was a relief that it didn’t. Instead she died really fast of a brain aneurysm while swimming. It is important that I get this story right, particularly for her husband Tom. She was in her happiest place and that really matters. 

At the latest retreat, we talked a lot about loss. I read recently that loss is the shadow side of life. One cannot exist without the other. When we watch a sunset, someone else who is somewhere else, is watching that same sun rise.

Like tides, our days and our lives ebb and flow, rise and fall governed by rhythms that we can only guess at. I remember when my paternal grandmother died, that the minister said “there is cheering on the shore as she arrives.” It strikes me now that he was talking about the twining of life and loss.

I am not asking any of us to jump for joy when something really hard happens. I am not asking you to cheer at a hard diagnosis or the sudden death of someone you love. What I am saying is trust that there is a pattern even when you can’t see it.

Even in pea soup fog when you are lost in the middle of the lake, wait.

Breathe.

The sun will break through, it will rise. And the puppeteer will be right there to bring you home.

om shanti,
Allie