Death Gives Way to Life

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Moving with Release and Rebirth

My mother-in-law left her earthly body recently. We're in process with all that comes after - notifying friends and family, planning a celebration of her life, and attending to her earthly possessions, seeing which ones will continue on in the family and which ones will find new life elsewhere. 

And like many of us in western cultures, she had no shortage of possessions.

It's the kind of thing that can make you crave the simplicity of a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere.

When I was young, I adored the stories of the Ingalls family from The Little House on the Prairie series. I read each book multiple times. But one of the scenes that lives large in my memory is how they packed all their possessions in a covered wagon to move across the country. 

The idea of having only a few possessions, so few you can name each one and describe how it came to you, has always appealed to me. Often when I go on vacation, I observe how little I really need to get by. 

My BFF is a master at minimalism.  She got rid of almost everything she had when she moved across the country. She lived in a studio apartment for a number of years.

She would call me after a weekend of purging to report how many bags were off to Goodwill. I would then ask - mostly joking but with a thread of seriousness - "So are you sitting in an empty room with a single candle?"

I try to channel her when it's time to declutter my own space. 

Despite the influences of the Ingalls family and my BFF, I've spent years as a teacher and an actor, both giving me magnificent reasons to hold on to things I might one day need. 

That behavior has gotten a lot of positive reinforcement over the years (my various cell phones alone have made frequent stage appearances) - not necessarily in the best interest of my dream to be a minimalist.

I've got a big move in my near future. Still not sure where it will take me, but I know I'll need to leave a lot behind, so shedding in the process.

Shedding of physical stuff AND emotional stuff.

And that's the other thing that comes after the death of a loved one, this space where you start to think about your own life, what really matters, how much time is left, and how you want to spend it.

Read anything about minimalism or decluttering and you're bound to come across the phrase that "everything you own owns you". I have found that to be true.

I have also found it isn't limited to objects in our environment, but all that we carry in our head, our body, our soul. I wrote a solo show, My Year of Saying No, about my experience of the first year of COVID leading to the releasing of a whole lot of what wasn't serving me in my life.

And it turns out,  My Year of Saying No was just the beginning of a journey I'm still on...

After almost 60 years, I've accumulated a lot of junk in my head. Junk about who I am, who I'm not, how I've failed at things that really mattered to me, why I've stopped myself from going after what I really want.

I'm looking at all the people, things, events that get to live rent free in my head.

And let me tell you, it's high time for some evictions.

Patriarchy would have me believe that I have nothing more to offer the world (and that by not having children I never offered anything meaningful to begin with). This programming is at the top of the eviction list.

Because, unfortunately for Patriarchy, I am just getting started on my mission to help the world find its compassion by finding its heart. 

I am stepping into my next chapter, creating a world where emotions are honored guests at our inner tables.

I wasn't sure who I would be or what I would become when I left my 35 year career with the public schools behind. 

But endings are also beginnings. Death gives way to life.

In April, I'll perform a new version of My Year of Saying No in St. Pete, Florida, Think Inside the Box, My Year of Saying No, with a full multimedia component. (Old dogs CAN learn new tricks). And then I'll be looking at how to bring it into more spaces and places for empowering women to live their fullest lives.

In May, I'll fly to Sedona, AZ, to participate in a retreat and speaking engagement for the women' s mastermind I belong to. I'll be there with a number of other women who are also entering a second (or third) act. I'll be talking about how we can leverage the power of art to get the voices in our head working for us.

Which is what I'm exploring right now in the second round of my new coaching program called the Inner Monologue Method. Guiding people to create new, more supportive relationships with their inner script, turning down the volume on the critical thoughts in their heads and amplifying the ones that can help them create their worlds. You can read more about it at Inner Monologue Method | The Fertile Voice.

My mother-in-law never met a stranger. Anyone who came into her presence left feeling more loved. 

Imagine a world full of this. Imagine if the billions of interactions between the billions of people on this planet created more love, more compassion, more understanding, more recognition of the reality that we are one.

I would offer, the best way to be a part of this, is to start by loving yourself - ALL of yourself, exactly where you are right now. 

You've got strengths and you've got growth edges. We all do. 

There may be parts you are ready to leave behind. Just as celebrating someone's life can help us accept their death, honoring how the parts have served you can help you lay them to rest.

And in the space that is created by that farewell, you can step into who you'd like to be for your next chapter. You can step into building the world you crave.

My mother-in-law will never step foot in our new home, but she will join us energetically through a brightly colored carousel music box. It's a fitting reminder of the joy she carried everywhere she went - joy that I crave will bless my next chapter and ripple through all the lives my next chapter touches...

What are you ready to lay to rest? What needs to be honored about how it has shaped your life?  Who needs to be notified about the passing?  

What do you wish to birth next? Remember, every ending is a beginning. How will you welcome and hold space for new life? 

I'd love for you to leave a comment or share this with someone else who might find it meaningful.