An Ode to Grandpa Courter

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There are so many meanings to this. So many layers.

I am reeling from saying goodbye to my Grandfather, on his deathbed, yesterday afternoon. The air in the room warm, balmy; holding his fragile frame in its tender embrace. The essence of God’s presence so palpable in the room, like a hand of comfort resting on my shoulder, on my Grandfather’s forehead, sweeping gestures of reassurance through the thick atmosphere. A silence so light it could never be heavy.

Last night, and this morning, I’m reading this favorite quote through new, tear-filled eyes. Letting go…the concept. The irrevocable process.

He is letting go, gently and willingly, after 96 years on this earth. A family, children, grandchildren, a legacy, a long life well-lived. It is such a strange notion, life and her cycles, yet simultaneously rooted in the very most basic law of nature. Of existence.

In these fragile moments where life shows her true colors, where she – in all her violent Grace – tears us from the scribbles of our own human minds, the constant barrage of needless worry, in a moment of stripped-bare humanity when we’re looking upon another person whom we’ve loved all our lives, teetering on the doorstep of this realm…we are reminded that this journey is finite. So very transient. We are reminded that nothing stays the same. That everything we does matters, and yet, it too shall pass.

In these fragile moments, life brings us to our knees…in gratitude, reverence, knocked dumb and silent and scared and profoundly moved. In these moments God wraps us up and hushes our frantic whispers of why, and when, and how long and how will I cope, and all of the in between fears and inquiries that language cannot even form for height of emotion.

My Grandfather himself pointed out to my mother, when she was the ripe age of 22, as they exited a funeral, “These experiences remind us all of our own mortality.” And they do, don’t they? How can they not? How can we witness a body, so ready to perish, a soul coiling deep, springing low, ready to launch from the very pores of its earthly vessel and return home without thinking of our own loss? Of our own journey? Of the lives of those we love? How can we not be rocked by it?

Life. Cycles. So difficult to swallow when it comes down to it, and yet truly, nature’s most basic law.

Life begins, proceeds, and one day ends. No one of us is exempt. This terrifies me and yet it is true, it is nature itself. Pure and simple. Life is ALWAYS happening, always progressing, no matter how hard we try to freeze moments or press beyond struggle. There is a steady pace, a pulse, over which we have no control.

So why resist? Why struggle against what IS? Why waste even a DAY in any vibration other than love? Other than that which feeds us, fuels us, and builds up the love in our lives.

We all know our source(s) of love. We all know where to seek. May we let go of anything which isn’t THAT. May we let go of anything that doesn’t lead us HOME. May we always love each other, love ourselves, and live.our.lives. NOW. Our sweet precious lives. Live them big and messy and loud and real. May we never take a single moment for granted. There’s just not time for that. There just isn’t time for anything but love. ♡

Just Show Up

While I am supremely grateful for all of the love and abundance that IS my life, some of which is a result of living in this modern world, I have a GNARLY bone to pick with modern society.

Or, rather, the fucked up messages that modern society projects.

We are not meant to be perfect. I repeat: WE ARE NOT MEANT TO BE PERFECT. Perfection is some illusion, existing in frozen hell land where pigs fly and Donald Trump is president (shudder). Human beings were never (EVER) intended to be flawless. We weren’t intended to all be one size (yep, you heard me ladies, you aren’t SUPPOSED to personify Barbie’s inhuman measurements…your thighs are allowed to touch, having breasts is pretty freaking neat – being predisposed to pencil legs and a flat chest is rockin’ too, so long as you’re thriving in your natural body frame, you are doing it right! And men, size does matter – the size of your heart, your smile, the expanse of your embrace, the width of your smile, the depth of your gaze, your capacity to LOVE and stand in your power and be vulnerable and hold space). We weren’t meant to all speak, dress, act the same way. We aren’t robots programmed to be without fault.

We are messy. We are complicated. Walking with fear, standing in it, is a necessary part of our evolution. Sometimes not a Goddamn THING in the Universe makes sense. It’s okay. Be afraid. Be imperfect (because that’s what we ALL are, and it’s not an antonym – it’s a glorious, universal adjective). Just show up. In all your messy, complicated, scared-shitless magic…SHOW. UP. The rest will follow. ♡

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