Dear Alpana,
Tomorrow is your birthday. The one here, I mean. The one that we would celebrate with pink champagne. I saw you this time last year. The champagne flowed and the rain came down in endless sheets, granting permission for stillness and the intimacy of friends, Spirit Partners. There was so much in all that nothingness.
I know your soul's journey continues, but mine has only made halting progress without you. The other day I asked you for a breadcrumb: this is so hard, what am I doing, where am I going? The tiniest voice behind my ear said, "Sssshhhh. Keep going." And for a moment, my monkey mind was quiet.
My eternal quest for the next thing, the right thing, The Path, makes me anxious, especially since I always feel like I'm not doing enough or something right. Coming up short is an exhausting story. My myth: I "should" be doing something that has value, as if breathing didn't have value enough. A search for profundity ignores the fact of the profound in, well, most everything. I'm thinking your birthday gift to me is, once again, permission to be still. My gift to you is to reaffirm our promise to be Spirit Partners, to journey, to learn. I just miss doing that without you here, Little One.
Your birthday is in Spring. This is good. It's a time of renewal. It's a time when wonders burst from hidden things. I'm going to try to sit with it, sit with permission to myself to be still. Quietude is a mountain for me, so I reckon this will take some work, but it is work you taught me so much about tackling. The mindfulness of Spring is the mindfulness of you.
Happy birthday, Little One.
Love,
Catherine
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