What does it mean to live in or from abundance? To live as abundance?
I’ve been calling in abundance lately. Abundance to come, not just as money, but as love in all its forms, as energy and flow, as readers for Mary’s story.
For those of you who don’t know, I released my book, Mary Walks, on May 28, 2019 as an audiobook, and it was a story I held for over 20 years. The inception of the idea, the sitting with and denying the idea, the researching, the writing, the revising, the recording, the birthing…the saying yes to her at every corner…. It all took up a hell of a lot of space. I held onto her as tightly as I could—I held her deeply in my body, especially in my womb, in my mind, in my heart; I held her in order to protect her—until she wouldn’t let me any longer. And then, I let her go.
In order to release the book, I got a mandate from the Universe to clean things up. Be clean. That was all I kept hearing. As I meditated and leaned into what that meant, I knew I had to be in 100% integrity with my relationships and my life. What that meant to me was that I had to completely cut ties with my mother. It’s been coming for quite some time. We’ve had a tenuous relationship since 2012 when I started remembering more things from my childhood. I’ve written about that in the past, and I will do so again in the future, but this is not the space for that right now.
What I’m here to talk about is abundance. See, I’ve spent my whole life taking care of everyone else, protecting everyone, making sure all was well and comfortable. Abundantly. Making sure everyone not just liked me but loved me. Abundantly. And for the past two years, I’ve really been shifting that lens of focus to deep self-care. What I’ve realized is that what all of this has created within me is SPACE:
a spaciousness like I’ve never known before;
an abundance of open space within me.
Releasing my mother, releasing Mary, releasing the focus on others, has created an infinity within my own being. Along with that, it has also created the deepest loneliness that I have ever known in my life. The space within is not what I imagined it to be: filled with light and openness. Instead, the texture is darker. There’s an unknown depth. It’s felt extremely brutal. And it’s also everything I’ve ever said I wanted.
What I’m realizing: It’s the Void.
I’ve felt “alone” a lot in my life, but never lonely, not with the abundance of friends and loved ones I’ve always had around me. But this…this is unfamiliar. And, in being that, it’s also scary. Some friends have likened what I’m feeling to a type of postpartum depression, and it does make sense. Though I’ve never birthed a child, I did have a miscarriage when I was 20. I imagine the intensity of my holding of this story, the overprotective mama-bear I’ve been with her, and now the sheer terror I feel because she’s out in the world—and what happens to her is completely out of my control—is what mother feels towards their children. Before my mother and I severed our connection, I tried to understand her: “I imagine this is very difficult for you…” But she couldn’t receive it; “you have no idea.” And maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s naive of me to think I know what it feels like to be a mother in this lifetime. But I do know this: trauma is trauma, loss is loss, love is love. I have been a mother time and time again; I have birthed beyond my own understanding.
Recently, I attended Art & Soul Card Creations Workshop with Rana Wilson at Movement Lab, where we made our very own Oracle decks. During this process, I stepped out of my own agenda and allowed the cards to not only speak to me but create through me. After they were made, Rana gave us a journaling prompt to try to understand the cards a little better. I made five cards, and they are all still mysteries to me; gently and quietly, they keep revealing themselves with details I hadn’t noticed while I was making them. Her prompt: I am the one who… Without agenda again, we were supposed to write whatever the cards wanted to say. Be their voice.
The second card I made, pictured here, I titled THE VOID, and the poem that came was this:
I am the one who…
…is water and sky
…is made of stars, even, especially underneath the surface of another’s gaze
…can’t be seen but can be experienced
…is infinite beyond all understanding
…is white in flight, blue in stillness
…merges with all things
…is solid and fluid at the same time
…is pure, grace, delicate, strong
…can inspire the other to breathe
…can support life and destroy it at the same time
…is nothing and everything…
What I’m realizing, sitting with the card again while I’m writing this, is that The Void isn’t something to be feared. It is abundance. In its purest and rawest form. It is the space where everything is one, so all of the edges of separateness dissolve into oneness, into no-thing-ness. It is the space where none of the details matter, and everything truly is meaningful, but from the felt sense, not from the critical lens of analytical understanding.
It’s the space where nothing makes sense, because it doesn’t have to.
Everything just is.
I turned the corner a few days ago from that depth of darkness that I felt as despair, and what helped me shift was truly sensing the abundance of it all. I still feel pieces of that darkness, but I see it differently. I feel it completely now. As a gift. Of everything that is already here. Right now. We can’t know the light without the darkness. We live in a world of duality, and we are here to learn how to dance within the duality.
Just look at what our bodies contain in order to function. And then, just look at what our souls do in order to create Life. In order to Love.
To be here. Right. Now. Is the ultimate Abundance.
And for this, for that, for it All, I am eternally grateful.