On letting your loss point you towards your love

The story I will tell of these two years in Nevada City is that I came here to heal. I came here to heal the obvious wounds, and the wounds that were more hidden – deeper, older, more obscure, in some ways forgotten, and in some ways brimming to the surface in the wake of the shock a gun to the face will have on a body.

The story I will tell is that magic brought me here, and that magic also motioned to me when the healing was complete enough for to me move on to the next. In some ways I feel like I’m waking up from a dream, a dream that is mostly nourishing and sweet, and leaves one feeling refreshed upon waking.

What is the stuff of magic? We create it, in this intricate web of humanness, the humanness of loving, and following our knowing, of caring deeply, of wanting to make a positive impact on the lives of each other. The stuff of magic is letting our hearts grieve and feel loss, so that it can point us towards a deeper loving.

Last night my dear friend hosted a going away gathering for me. There, I got into a conversation with a girlfriend where we both expressed a sadness that we had not invested more time in growing our friendship. We sat in the recognition of the missed opportunity of all that time we could have shared with each other, but didn’t. We sat in the sadness and the loss of that fact. And out of that lotus of loss we discovered a deeper love and care we felt for one another. The loss pointed me towards my love, towards what I care about, orienting me to a deeper sense of me-ness.

I am feeling the loss of leaving this beautiful place. I am feeling the loss of this land and these trees not surrounding me each morning I wake. I am feeling the loss of all the connections I have made in this community that will inevitably change by my calling another zip code home. I am feeling the loss of the dismantling of my position in a community that I deeply care for, a position that helps me feel that I am useful, can make a positive impact, and share my gifts in a way that I get to also witness the results. I feel the loss of the disintegrating dream of making this my permanent home.

Of course, we can’t know what the future holds. It’s possible that after grad school, I return here, buy a house, start a family and my therapy practice, reinvest in this community full time. And in many ways, that is still the dream I hold on to. And yet, I feel the importance of grieving the loss of what I am leaving now.

It helps me feel my full heart. And feeling my full heart makes me feel the most alive. Yes, thank you bittersweet loss and longing, thank you for reminding me of all there is to cherish in this world.

How blessed am I that I have things to grieve? How lucky am I to have had friendships, homes, communities to love so much that it hurts to leave? Indeed, this is the very definition of bittersweet.

My life is calling me back to the bay. Of that, I am certain, and the magic is clear. I am thrilled to be moving into an epic house in the Oakland hills, to be diving more fully into my studies, deepening relationships with my cohort/colleagues, and continuing to uncover and coalesce the deeper service I am on this planet to provide.

From the bottom of my heart, I deeply bow to you Nevada City, in the ways you helped me sweetly heal, and come into more contact with myself. Thank you for all the exquisitely beautiful reflections from your warm and wide hearts. I feel nourished, more deeply connected to my resilience, and I can feel you all as the springy earth I am launching from, so that I can continue to become more fully me, and have a bigger, wider, deeper positive impact on this planet and humankind we all so deeply care for.

I will miss you, I love you.

photo by Alyssa Keys Photography.

january 29, 2018

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