Between the Worlds
Forty-one years ago this past June, my mother died of metastatic breast cancer two days before her 67th birthday. She died between the births of our two sons; our older son was two and a half years old, and our younger son was conceived eight months later. As my mother was dying, I was acutely aware of the energetic resonance between the dying process and laboring to give birth. In both, we know the eventual outcome, but not when and how it will unfold. A door opens between the worlds; a spirit comes into a body or leaves one behind. All those involved—especially the ones who are dying, laboring, or being born, but also those whose lives and hearts are touched—are held in that “place between,” that liminal space. The experience can be difficult, painful, and scary. It can also be a place of rich, deep connection with all that is.
Those of us who observe Samhain on Oct. 31-Nov. 1 often describe it as a time when the veil between our physical existence and the world of the spirits is thin. This Samhain, a dear family friend approaches her death. Another person in our extended community is not far behind. I am supporting them in whatever way I can. As I do so, I try to stay grounded in life and open to whatever wisdom comes to me from the other side of the veil. It can be hard to keep my balance. I’m grateful for family and friends, for trees that keep me rooted, for dahlias that insist on blooming despite frost and showing me the world’s beauty amidst sorrow and loss.
There have been so many losses in the past weeks. My heart is with all those who grieve and also all those welcoming new life and hope into this crazy, gorgeous world we live in.