Tapping into the Joy of Life (in Memory of Teal)
There is a week each year when I remember and grieve the loss of my daughter, Teal. And it’s now, between August 14 and 21. It coincides with the time of her collapse, and subsequent death six days later. And I find it essential to my well-being to acknowledge it.
This is one of the really interesting things about losing the people you love. You either run from that reality, and so close down an entire world of possibility for transformation. Or you take a deep breath, plunge in and embrace the sheer awfulness of it. You stop everything and allow that grief to live in your heart for a while.
You cry when you need to cry. You lie on your bed and suck your thumb in fetal position, if you have to. You just allow yourself to fall apart completely. Then eventually, the storm moves on and you are left far emptier … and yet, far better for it.
For you no longer have to fight the demons in your own head that are trying to keep those feelings at bay. Turns out that’s a fight you’ll never win, which is why it’s so much better to surrender.
So you surrender to circumstances that are bigger than you for a while. And you discover just how small and powerless you are in this grand life. In doing so, you rediscover yourself, your true self, waiting on the other side. That’s when transformation happens.
As people sometimes say of these moments, you become better. Or you become bitter.
So my entire perspective about both life and death have shifted radically. I no longer face the world with my tough-girl game face of intimidation, nor do I need to lose myself in compulsive overwork, as I once did before her death. I’ve also lost the ‘hungry ghost’ feeling that I’m not enough, and so must push myself beyond all reason to achieve, achieve, achieve.
The other beautiful thing is that I stopped fearing other people, or what they may think of me. Instead, I’ve taken a major chill pill. Instead, I’m far more interested in having fun.
No longer must I know how everything will come out, or ‘work hard’ to micromanage and coerce results. Turns out I don’t have to grip and hold on to be safe. What a great discovery this is, for it unpins you completely.
When the worst thing that can possibly happen comes to pass, you discover an unexpected sweetness on the other side of that crisis. A transformation comes that makes your entire life far better.
If you allow it.
Each day since Teal’s death, I learn a little more about something she knew innately. She understood how to tap into the gorgeous flow that surrounds us, and ride the undulating waves of life with unexpected ease. She also knew how to accept what comes as necessary and important.
Teal was at peace with her epilepsy – the condition that ultimately may have killed her, though we will never know for sure. Instead of fighting her condition, Teal worked with it, taking excellent care of herself and making her rest, her serenity and her health her top priority.
When she wasn’t doing that, she was tapping into the joy of life. Because Teal also understood about balance.
After she’d gotten the needed rest, there she’d go. Heading off for a backpack adventure in Asia. Jumping out of an airplane in a tandem sky dive. Busking on the streets of Europe. Farming in France. Singing with her blues band in Austin. That was all part of her plan, because Teal also knew how to tap into the joy of life, as well.
So I learn from Teal’s example, and I do my best to surf life’s contours every day. When I’m inspired to work, I work. When I’m not, I walk. Or I read. Or I daydream. And when life kicks my butt, and I get sidetracked into some drama or upset, I do my best to shake myself off, get back on the board and … ride! It’s a practice.
That’s the other thing — I don’t have to do it perfectly. And so life has become fun again.
Even death isn’t a particularly big deal any more. At least a lot of the time.
Sometimes I feel Teal around me, speaking into that small, still space between sleep and waking. It’s the very same space we heard a lecture about only a few hours before her collapse … the ethereal passageway that shamans travel in between the afterlife and our world. As the speaker explained that fantastical connection, she pivoted in her chair and looked at me wide-eyed, making sure I understood its significance.
I didn’t at the time, of course. Because I had no idea she, herself, would soon be traveling those very airwaves.
One of the messages she gave me in this pre-dawn waking has stayed with me. It is this:
Do not judge death with the same limited mind that barely learns or understands the potential in life.
You feel that potential sometimes in life’s magic – the touch of a lover’s hand, the triumph of a long-cherished dream. Or in the laughter of a child. But you are afraid of that power and so you hang back.
Do not hang back. Instead, become quieter and quieter until you are fully suffused with the power and majesty of God who lives inside of you.
Then let go. Do what you want. Allow yourself to truly feel your own deep, soaring magnificence.
The full, God-given gift of life is available to those who do not fear death. For loss is only temporary, a fleeting stab of pain.
When I forget about this, and get lost in that sense of deep longing that comes with grief, I go back to these words. For in them, really is the joy in life.
As Teal, herself, so rightly knew.
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