Reflections on a year gone by
In memory of Sammy Basso, one of the most inspiring human beings I have had the good fortune to be close to. RIP, we love you, Sammy!
(NYTimes Oct 20, 2024.)
Stuck
I had the opportunity to connect with childhood versions of myself that related to the types of adverse childhood events that Oprah and other patients described in the course of the conversational narrative. I relived the emotions around abandonment, fear and anxiety I experienced as a young girl one Saturday morning after swim team practice at the local YMCA, waiting for hours while families checked in, enjoyed and checked out, only to wonder if and when my mother would have the bandwidth to collect me.
Mothers
Beautiful words for this Mother’s Day weekend by #cherylstrayed.
There are so many kinds of mother. The mothers you cherish and celebrate. The mothers who were never really there. The mothers who broke you. Who built you. The mothers who cheered you on. Who chipped away at you until you were dust. The mothers who reveled in your astonishing intelligence and grace and power. Who saw only their own light. The mothers who died painfully young. The mothers who lived so long you felt yourself disintegrating with them. Petal by wilted petal. The mothers who shined. Who dimmed. Who did their best. Who disappointed. Who redeemed themselves. Who accepted your redemption. Who zigged and zagged. The mothers who were a beacon. The mothers you never knew. The mothers who sewed themselves into the quilt you became. The mothers who couldn’t bear to tell the truth. The mothers who were brave. The mothers who didn’t know who they were without you. Who never saw you no matter how wildly you waved. The mothers who grieved you. Who believed in you. The mothers you call. The mothers you no longer speak to. The mothers you take for granted. Or treasure. The dead mothers. The mothers you have to search for and carry. The mothers you find in people who are not your mother. The mothers like a limb. The mothers like a mirror. The mothers like a flame. The mothers you wish. The mothers you love. The mothers you ache. The mothers you echo. The mothers you aren’t. The mothers you wanted to be. The mothers you became. I am thinking of you. I am holding you all.
Human Suffering
Buddhists believe human karma is to suffer as we navigate the blank canvas between birth and death.
Indeed life challenges us with people, situations and events that overwhelm us.
We choose what, when, how and with whom we become entangled, intentionally or unintentionally. And our humanity leaves us prone to emotional triggers reminiscent of past traumas.
The Micromiracle guides you to identify, process and release traumas and transcend suffering during this lifetime.
Let’s Begin
Congratulations on choosing to move forward.
I look forward to collaborating with you to find a more joyful path forward.