I’m sitting alone at the moment, in my über quiet house that I didn’t realize was noisy before it became the way that it is now. Isn’t that the way with things? You don’t realize what they are until they are different than what is familiar and only then, in the before and after, can you sense the degree of the shift.
Normally, my sweet puppy love would be in his bed beneath my feet and as of 11/11 he’s no longer physically here to be where he’s always been, making the noises only he could make.
I’m sad. Of course. That’s normal and to be expected. I’m also beyond grateful because almost every job I’ve had in the last 2.5 years, in addition to running my business, I’ve been able to do from my home. I’ve spent that time almost exclusively with him near me or around me. Coming from a 10 + hour a day work week and a dog walker - this was a complete change for both of us.
Bruiser was involved in many client conversations, in-home coaching sessions, tarot / oracle card readings and even one special meditation hour that I was hosting where he helped a client release something significant. He will be missed.
I always feel a deep sense of internal quiet when the cycles of birth, life and death come to the surface in a poignant way.
As with any change I’ve experienced, it’s all the “firsts” that pick at my vulnerabilities.
Whether it’s, like now, a raw heart from loss or whether it’s a new job or a change in direction from where I was originally headed; each time my path changes to something unfamiliar I’m reminded of the discomfort of change (a.k.a. growth).
I had a particularly powerful healing session, not too long ago in a stunning lake-side park in Seattle, outdoors, under a beautifully old tree. When it was done, I had an irresistible urge to climb into said tree and rest my head.
This peculiar urge stems back from my childhood where I grew up in a rural New England town along the Merrimack river which was a very short walk from my house. The path to the river was lined with trees; one of which I claimed as my own. I would lay in this tree for hours at a time looking up at the sky. Even now, many years removed, I can close my eyes and see the pattern of the tree tops above me.
If anything in my life was not going to plan, my sister would always know where to find me. I was in my tree.
Fast forward back to this beautiful healing session, on a glorious day, where layers of masks I’ve worn over my eyes throughout the years had been disrupted and I'm craving to crawl into this tree.
I did climb in; because that’s what one does when their intuition is guiding them. I lay my head on the tree and then, eyes closed, I heard these words: “God made me to be what I am; my only job is to grow more into who I was born to be.”
I remember feeling a tingle in my body because I viscerally resonate with truth. I remember a tear of gratitude rolling down my cheek because that truth was so important for me to hear in the moment.
And today, in the quiet of my space, with the gray and cloudy weather mirroring my emotions, it feels just as true as it did on that glorious sun-filled day.
Each person, each living thing that surrounds us has its own growth plan; its own individual journey. That journey is something that belongs singularly to that entity, in its entirety. Yes, beings collect and cohabitate. Yes, many beings influence your decisions and your path from parents to spouses and kids to pets. Many of them bring important messages and key learnings for your individual journey.
It doesn’t change the fact that my journey is mine alone; just as yours is yours alone.
My beloved Bruiser B brought much joy, many lessons in patience and the importance of walks just to name a few. He also taught me that animals are powerful energy healers.
He left me with a stronger heart and a braver soul than when we found one another 12 years ago and for that alone, I’ll be forever grateful.
I’m a different human for having known him. I know I’ll be stronger still, after I navigate my grief in his passing. I do, however, take solace in trusting that our relationship, from the beginning to his transition is yet another stop along my own personal journey to becoming who I was born to be.
I honor your spirit and your journey. Thank you for being a part of mine.