A dear friend lost her life this week, and I have been moved to write.
She was the kind of person who lit up the room when she walked in. The kind of person who knew how to make everyone live, how to make everyone excel, how to make everyone believe that the best could happen – and then the best would happen. She had such passion for life and movement – her body was an instrument of play on this wide and beautiful earth – and anyone who came into contact with her was inspired to play in just the way we were born to do. If you didn’t, you felt a bit of chagrin about the fact that you were on your way to dying rather than on your way, living. Hers was a gentle, powerful soul – in a body that thrived because she was doing exactly what she was meant to do, living exactly in such a way that her passions and joys could spill out into the world around her, snowy like spring petals in the wind, infectious like laughter from a child.
She lost her life in a tragic skiing accident – one that could have just as easily been something she jumped up from as she had done countless times – but the angle of the fall, the skis in the snow, a rock that knocked her unconscious, all hindered breathing for just long enough in that her precious body, precious brain was deprived, was harmed. And oh the fragility of our bodies in this wide, beautiful world – this dancing soul had no more form to fill, and so she has to dance in the wind now, in the waves, in the trees.
And I sense and know the bliss and joy her soul must feel as it makes a new journey into harmony and love, but we here on earth must and do grieve the loss of a friend with good reason, for a friend lightens our world, lightens our hearts, inspires us with right living. She did such for me and for all who knew her, and we walk now with the world seeming a bit darker, a bit heavier.
In time we will come back to our own lives, our own passions and purposes, with greater vigor. We will tend to our loved ones with more loyalty. We will tend to the earth with more gentleness. For a great being has passed who loved this earth, this physical body, the sensations of life – and she now whispers, perhaps, in the wind, in the leaves, in the snow, the glinting sun on water – she is still a part of all, just harder to see, harder to hear. One must only feel with the heart, and let the heart grow wider and wider with love, when the body of a loved one is no longer here to hug.
A friend I once knew lost her sister after a prolonged battle against death – one where the sister was out of touch with reality for some time. Just before her death, however, she opened her eyes, looked at her sister, and said, “have wonder.” Peacefully, she died.
It is the key to all: “have wonder.” Let not your life be darkened by worries and fears – this life and our hearts are too big for that, and we are made to live wondrously upon this earth, to have the adventures and journeys just waiting for us, over the next ridge.
Have wonder, my friends, in all the moments of your lives. What we have is so very precious -life itself is so very precious.