Musing

My confession to you is that I write from my bed. I probably shouldn’t. Not only is it not good for my posture, the truth is, there are probably more exciting things this place should be reserved for—and I’m not talking about sleep being one of them. But one of my guiltiest pleasures is musing in my bed . . .

Here’s the thing: I wake up inspired by my writer’s voice, a quiet twenty minutes of meditation, a cup of coffee, and my laptop patiently poised against the wall charged and ready. My computer, positioned on a pillow in front of me, is primed for those words to just magically appear. This is my musing, and oh how I love to muse.

My friends say that I was Richard’s muse. I believe that’s true to a certain extent. Our partnership was truly supportive and creative. We had our coffee anytime between 4:00 and 6:00a.m. every morning and we had deep conversations about life that turned into many of the chapters for the Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff series.

Richard is now my muse from the other side. He is still very much in the bed with me at night, although I moved over to sleep on his side many years ago. That’s how I knew my grief was done. You can read more of my story of healing in Heartbroken Open if you like. Just the other day, I felt him with me as I did one of his manly jobs: taking out the trash.

The beauty of coming through the emotional detaching process of grief, is that I can feel so much gratitude for all of the amazing memories I have with Richard–so much appreciation for all he was and all he did for me and our girls. That’s the beauty of reflecting on the past. I’ve learned to carry those pieces of the story with me, and I no longer suffer the loss. I thank the grace of God for that. Just as pages are bound to a book, my memories are bound to my heart. I feel so grateful for having lived such love. My cup is still more than three quarters filled with the history we shared and the amazing way we lived and loved. I consider our love my heart’s musing.

Don’t be sad for me, because I am no longer sad. Lately, my heart has been so full of joy—and gratitude. That’s the song of my heart! My heart’s musing!

There’s a time when grief changes like the passing of winter into spring, and gratitude is present in new beginnings.

Here’s ways you can position yourself to listen to your personal musing and the whisper of your heart song too:

• Wake up slowly and thoughtfully and have a spirit-driven morning practicing peace. Do whatever lights your spiritual fire, but make it a ritual to include gratitude.
• Spend some time noticing the beauty that surrounds you—sunrise, sunset, the season of change. Notice the breeze, the sky, the flowers, the birds and the animals. Don’t miss the wonder of nature’s portrait and bounty.
• Go for a hike, eat your lunch outside in the sunshine, sit with an elderly person and listen, or sit with a child and play.
• Be present and mindful in all of your conversations.
• Notice how you’re feeling and let it be. Whatever it is. Sit with it and allow your feelings to wash over you.
• Express freely and delightfully those feelings of joy, as well as those moments of sadness. Laugh and cry often!

My friends will tell you how I love to laugh.

Namaste to you, friend. (That means the divine in me honors that which is also divine in you.)