From the Throes at the Veil

How to express the incomprehensible

This is Jizo at Kennin-ji Temple in Kyoto. Jizo is often known as the Bodhisattva of children who passed from this life before their parents. My prayer is that all ways of Jizo hold their parents too.

Dear Readers,

It has been another minute—or a kind of eon—since my last piece. This October, our family traveled across great breadths and depths, and at wildly varying velocities. First, all twelve of us made it to Japan. Then, we found ourselves abruptly brought to the Veil. Specifically, we’ve been in the Throes at the Veil.

obon * dia de los muertos * samhain (halloween) * all souls day

The youngest of the twelve of us—my niece of light and vitality—unexpectedly and tragically passed from this life eleven days ago, after we’d all made our ways home from Japan. Here I would like to simply call her Vibrance, because if you knew her, you’d undeniably and thoroughly get it. Also because it is still too tender and personal to call her here by name.

I have not wanted, or known how to make anything from or for this experience of devastating loss. Especially in a way that honors the grief of her parents (my brother and sister-in-law), her brother (my nephew) and her fiancé. For her incredibly loving parents, this is their second loss of a child.

My way to try to be faithful to the gift of Vibrance is to cast forth what I am noticing and learning from this all too real but rather illegible place. My prayer is that these notes will help other hearts, who will help other hearts, who will . . .

In our varying degrees of rawness, Life is accompanying us with strange yet sacred reflections of our humanity at this time. As if to say, I see you. As if to say, I am here with you.

We have been here.

And here.

Sometimes there is only so much we can fathom or do.

It’s very hard when it’s like this..

and like this.

Additional bodies of love help as the realities compound.

In addition to Life’s reflective accompaniment, other things have been coming in and through, that—in my iPhone Notes app—I’ve simply called Notes from the Throes.

~ There is a blasted hole alongside a vibrant bright light. I am in the divine optometrist's chair, as these (ever sooo slowly) move toward each other. Today, there is some overlap.

~ This loss is surgical. The units of Love pouring in to our family are . . . still pouring in.

~ On days 1 and 4, I am all instinct, like a Mama Bear. Sibling Bear. Auntie Bear. I could swear I've grown fur and fangs and claws.

~ I've been both in the field and have had a front row seat to what has seemed like a competition of some kind, between pain and grace. Mostly grace has been winning but not always. Maybe the times it hasn't are when I haven't been looking for it. Or maybe there's no competition at all.

~ Love needs somewhere to go.

~ The carbon monoxide alarm. The shredder. The air cargo workers (the body). The Apple Store worker. The Mysteries are not limited to electricity. Love in its continuation is insistent and defiant.

~ Before they return to their home without her, I dance there as ritual and prayer. "We Are" (Sweet Honey in the Rock) keeps rising in my body beforehand. I obey. Binaries of birth and death, blurring.

~ Before they return to their home without her, I walk. A Taizé-type song keeps cycling through me. I surrender my voice to it, "Come and Fill Our Hearts with Your Peace," changing the lyrics each cycle as feels fitting. From this place of vulnerability + voice, something strengthens me, helps me to be qualitatively more spacious and available for what will arise around their dining table that night, upon their return. (When we don't know what to say, perhaps we can sing?)

~ Love's wide open arms are radically absorbent.

~ Over the past days, some have asked me about "God's plan." I have never been one to think of God--Source, Divine, Creator--as having a "plan." Other than the plan of Love. That perhaps this earth for our species is The Love School. When I say I don't relate to "God's plan," I am not saying Life and Love are then random. In my experience, this Love has intention and direction. It also has a Source which for me makes all the difference. (That's all this tiny human's got for today. Take or pause or leave--because freedom is also a part of Love School.)

~ Her absence is also a presence.

~ Breaking apart. Breaking down. Breaking through. Breaking open. Breaking free.

This Jizo is right here in Torrance. Where she grew up. Where we and her parents now live.

For Vibrance,

Coke