That it will never come again

The last weekend in September I spent in Seattle with 3 other members of the National End of Life Doula Alliance (NEDA) board and over 100 others listening to panels on legal issues, affordability, diversity equity and inclusion, and novel models in deathcare at Deathcare Superconference. The theme "Building Bridges" was appropriate as we spent a full day traversing tricky topics- doesn't everyone deserve dignity at the end of life?

I also got to spend time with people I've worked with on nearly a daily basis for the past year but had never met in person. This was invaluable. Sitting and talking over a meal makes a different impression than being in a Zoom meeting or writing emails and making phone calls. In shamanic practice we aim to engage as many senses as we can for a reason. Even in distance healing, being able to see someone on the screen makes for a more well rounded experience than talking on the phone.

It was a whirlwind trip. I flew into Seattle Friday afternoon and flew back out Sunday afternoon. By the time I arrived back home after the 2 1/2 hour drive from Denver, I felt worn down. I woke Monday morning feeling like I had a cold. But the symptoms intensified. I slept most of the afternoon, alternating with shaking with the chills, and when I finally got up in the evening, took a covid test- positive.

While this time around the symptoms were milder than 3 years ago when I thought I was drowning because I couldn't breathe, Islept most of several days away. I had several items on my calendar to get done before leaving on a road trip for my parents' burial service. But I began postponing appointments and hiking and coffee dates Monday morning.

"You've had a rough string of months," a friend observed. I suppose that's accurate. Both my parents died within less than a month of each other. My car was totaled in a traffic accident. I had covid.

Are you a person who, when you get the flu, lies in bed fretting about everything you're missing out on- including even work? Me too. Or I used to be. However, I've gotten good over the past few months at really being able to say "this is important" or "this can stay on the back burner" or "why the hell am I even doing this?"

For several days I had the dubious luxury of watching the light change- especially intensified by changing colors and Sun's position in Autumn- every time I woke up. I spent time sitting in the front yard alone or with the cat and my roommate nearby, feeling the breeze, the warmth of the sun, and admiring the colors of the grass, the leaves on trees, and my outdoor potted plants- the weather having been unseasonably warm so I hadn't had to bring them in yet.

I was fortunate to have only 4 pet visits to cancel that week- though not great for the pocketbook. But when a person is sick is not the time to worry about whether a person can afford to be sick. Instead, I counted the little blessings. After all, as Emily Dickinson skillfully and poignantly reminds us, "That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet."

From the Blog @Hjertehagen Healing Passages