Listen to this post:
I met Rebecca earlier this week as I was writing the last post, as a matter of fact. My oldest had been off sick and I gathered her up mid afternoon and took her for tea and a homework session at Whole Foods. I had some supplements to purchase and a blog to write. I like the energy in the communal cafe.
Funny thing is I was writing about feeling disconnected from meaningful community as I overheard a conversation happening next to me. One sided, clearly a woman was finalizing insurance and cremation details after her mother's death. She was so matter of fact and clear. Unlike someone lost or stumbling. Nevertheless, I felt compelled to say something.
"Not that I was really eavesdropping, but I happened to hear that your mother just died. I am sorry," fell from my lips almost before I could really think too much and shut off my heart.
Unsure as to what the response would be, I braced myself a bit. The brown eyes penetrated mine and she said something like "Thank you. Yes, she did and I'm the only one left and have to handle everything."
All else melted away and we merged into a very engaging connection that covered diverse topics from her reiki work to my fibromyalgia, her home in Hawaii and schooling at SCPA*, my amazing shaman and how she's been her mother's therapist since she was two and that this death, welcomed by her mother, was, somehow, freeing, for Rebecca.
She admitted that she doesn't connect easily and was struggling to find some deep community in Cincinnati while she's here for three weeks. As we parted, she thanked me for reaching out.
I went back to my daughter and blogging, but I wasn't finished with her. As she was packing up, I stopped her and hastily jotted down my phone number. I selfishly prefaced it, handing it to her with "I'm not always so available with kids and all, but if you'd need to call me or need someone here's my number."
I'm not very proud that I didn't do this right off and that I had to set some boundary. That may be experience speaking. I have the kind of face that complete strangers spill their life story to, entangling me in something before I even realize. She had mentioned that she didn't have a car and if I was going to see the shaman, maybe I could give her a ride. I knew I wasn't while she was in town, so I didn't offer. Besides, how inconvenient would it be to drive from Milford to Hyde Park to take her to Goshen and then get her back -- all when I didn't even have a shamanic session scheduled?
How utterly selfish. I am kicking myself a bit and secretly hoping she'll call.
She's not like that, I believe now. And I also understand that I did act on some spiritual leading and now I have to let the rest go. I did give her an opening; albeit a narrow one, but an opening nonetheless.
• When have I unexpectedly encountered a stranger?
• How did I open myself?
• Did I fully trust Spirit's leading?
• How do I let go of my response and not judge it?
• What has a Rebecca-like experience tapped in me?
immersed in words,
yet grooving on
the peopled energy
writing on one
I can no
longer contain it
and I act
Spirit would have it