Yesterday I celebrated twenty-five brilliant years on this Earth. Birthday's always get my gears going and combined with my love of patterns, synchronicity and symbols, 25 was a real show.
When I was nineteen, I became my own person. My dad who always, always, always bought me a pre-discussed (usually expensive) never a surprise gift for Christmas, decided to get me a juicer. This was long before I knew anything about the healing powers of eating raw produce. Little did I know that this juicer would become somewhat of a magical talisman for my future. I was beginning to wake up to the world around me. A year away from home was for me like the third day of a water fast; the day when you peacefully surrender yourself to a new way of functioning, confident that you will persevere . The fear and reservations you held in the past are just memories and you feel a tangible shift in presence.
Twenty-one was a time of reflection and inner dialogue.
"Why did I do that?"
"Should I have done this differently?"
"Where would I be if I had chosen this?"
"Am I on the right path?"
When I was twenty-one I was very busy, fully stimulated socially, mentally and financially (job). However, six months before my birthday, my dad was given five months to live. He had cancer. I didn't know it then but he did everything right. I don't believe I could have saved him with raw food, herbs or prayers. It was too late. I have never seen anyone face death as gracefully as my father. I could go into detail about his demeanor and attitude but I think it would be better to just call it angelic. He was an angel. Selfless and the embodiment of peace. I have no doubt in my mind that experiencing his spirit in this time has left a deep, imprint on my life and how I've evolved.
The doctors gave him three days in the beginning of the end. Three days turned into a week. That was mid-Ocotober. Very slow days passed and I was forced to return to my job across the state. He was in good hands and I went in peace, saying goodbye and happy journeys. Three days turned into three weeks and my birthday was inching near. I knew the minute I left his side he was going to go on my birthday. With every week that passed the doctor's foretold "expiration date" the knowing grew stronger. I walked to work that day alone and in meditation. I knew he was gone, like a radio station in my head stopped broadcasting and there was a new silence.
A call and local bouquet of wild flowers sent from my mother confirmed my intuitions, and entangled in my sadness was an undeniable spark of joy. My dad gave me a wonderful present that day, one that maybe only I could appreciate. He gave me validation that there is magic in this world. He gave me the gift of inner reflection guaranteed one day a year. He completely ripped out the possibility of that ever present self-loathing, self-doubting, nit-picking, over-analytical monster that often bares it's teeth right around our birthdays. Simply put, he gave me a sort of "reset button" that I can push every year. It brings me back to him and what he embodied and I am overjoyed to have the opportunity once more, to emulate and better myself. And this brings me the most purest of peace.
I wish to all of my faithful readers, close friends and farthest of strangers to grab life by the branches and find this peace in yourselves. Do not wait for a sign, post your own.
“You often meet your fate on the road you take to avoid it.”
― Goldie Hawn
- Keela
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