I will never forget the morning of September 17th, 2014.
I received a text from my stepfather to “come downstairs.” I come, to find my mother choking on their bed. My stepfather looks at me, tears pouring from his eyes, “I think she is passing.”
I hold my mother as she gasps for breath. Her eyes are filled with awe, transfixed on something above us. I am crying, assuring her that it is okay to go— that her struggle with pancreatic cancer has come to an end; that there will be no more pain; that now is her time to leave.
And just like that, she surrendered, and left.
There was an immediate energetic shift in the room. A sacredness. It was apparent that she was no longer there— the ravaged body left behind, merely a vessel. What also became apparent in that moment was this overwhelming assurance of provision— there was no doubt in my mind where she had gone. There was no fear or sadness. Peace and joy flowed into my heart, where it remained for several weeks— giving me the strength to rejoice in her passing, to speak at her funeral, and take a month-long trip to Costa Rica. I felt liberated, knowing that everything was ultimately provided for.
Since, I have tried to hold onto this remembrance and let it permeate my thoughts, decisions and actions. And though I have made significant strides to center my life in abundance, I still struggle to loosen my grip.
Fear and control of material wealth were a large part of the conditioning I received from my parents due to their socioeconomic upbringing. However, for me, having never gone without, my mind patterns of scarcity are irrational.
In the months following my mother’s passing, I have received direction from her to write “money” on a piece of blank paper and burn it.
Undertaking this practice is one thing, understanding and believing it is another.
It will require recognition of how I am provided for, every minute, every second.
It will require gratitude, surrender, and gentleness too.
In my heart, I know that sincere conviction of life’s abundance will enable me to create and give so much more than I can imagine at this vantage point. For now, and forever, I must ask for the courage to let go, every minute, every second.
