IN MEMORY OF MUMKIN
This young lady has shared my life for nearly 17 years. She’d draw gasps of admiration from ‘uprights’ who saw her for the first time and couldn’t believe how beautiful she was; piercing blue eyes, silky soft coat and a manner that definitely conveyed the sentiment of: “yes, you may worship at my paws, for I am truly a princess”
In recent years, she would make her way into my office and delight in sitting on my keyboard or my notes when I was trying to work. Demanding that I drop everything and pay her attention.
At night, she thought it was highly amusing to trip me up on my midnight forays to the bathroom.
Four days ago, this little Birman, this sacred temple cat, decided she wanted to leave this world and in her own style she literally just laid down and shut down. These four days have been a lesson to me in how to surrender to 'what is', how to let go with grace and not resist, how to be totally in the present moment. She didn’t ‘fear what was coming’ or even wonder about it, she just instinctively knew it was time to shut down. She didn't cling, she let go with grace.
I’ve been down this path before, all animal lovers have, and it tears my heart open, I feel lonely without her and even though I know she had a peaceful passing, the thought of not having her ever walk over my keyboard again sits heavy.
But it's important to honour our grief, it’s a natural emotional reaction to ‘transition’. Although it can be complex, don’t over analyse, simply sink into its turmoil, breath into it, feel it and let it pass through. The damage occurs when we push it down and it gets stuck in our energetic anatomy.
Whilst there is often a heavy emotional charge that can trigger the energy of all the grieving that has gone before this moment, of our own fear of that which will inevitably come to each of us, there can also be a gift in grief.
Mumkin has made me stop in my tracks, hop off the merry-go-round of daily life and travel down the poignant, nostalgic Yin alleyway of memory. Grief forces us to realise it’s later than we think, the pages are turning, and one should take stock to ensure the story’s a good one! There’s no re-write.
While we are 'pack animals' the human story is ultimately solitary; wonderful situations, animals and humans may star in it, or provide a supporting role, but it’s in the quietness of that ‘solitude’, once we accept it, that our spiritual path evolves.
So, find the gift in the solitary plains of grief – it is there, it may take time to find it, but you will IF you look.
To help process grief, pay particular attention to:
1. Lung and Large Intestine meridians. Both sit in what we call Metal Element – which is about letting go, grief, unshed tears. Grief can bend your Metal, so nurture it, so it may nurture you.
2. Heart and Heart Protector – for obvious reasons.
3. The ‘shock point’ on the heel. Because however much you may ‘see it coming’ it will still be a start ‘shock’ when it happens.
You won’t feel like doing much self-care. So, I’m going to keep this simple ….
1. Rub your hands together and shake off any old tired energy (clean your tools blog). While you trace, keep repeating a mantra such as "I honour my grief, may it pass through with grace"
Breathe, smile and trace Lung and Large Intestine – both are easy to locate on your arms.
2. Teffen your inner arm – Teffening is gently stroking, with your nails. Slowly. Smile, cry …. Whatever emotion wells up – let it spill out.
3. Press the 'shock point' located on the heel area on the sole of your feet. Either with your fingertips or press down on a small pebble, golf ball – on each foot.
When doing these you could hold in your mind the thought from the Hawaiian Ho’oponopono
prayer: I love you, forgive me, I forgive you, thank you for being in my life. This became my mantra when my mother passed. It helped.
Watch these You Tube clips to see how. https://youtu.be/mSThopQV0bY
As I remember Mumkin – there’s a pot pourri of emotion but that IS life my friends, it’s ‘feeling authentic emotions’ not pushing them down to deal with ‘another day’.
May you find the gift in the grief.