It’s Good Friday. The culmination of Lent. If Lent is about acknowledging and defusing our ego attachments, Good Friday is about seeing what is left and letting the rest die away. The death throes of the ego. I went to the Labyrinth stressed and cranky today, which I know to be my ego resistance. It was strong enough that I suspected this would be a powerful walk.

I walked in, connecting with the masculine Divine. My mantra was

The Love of God surrounds me
The Light of God empowers me
The  Arms of God surround me
The Strength of God protects me
Where ever I am, God is.

At the end of each round, I would pause in my walking so I could be as present as possible (sometimes a struggle for me). I did my best to really feel the Divine, in the ground beneath my bare feet, in the sunshine on my skin, in the breeze blowing around me, and in my heart.

At the center, I simply worked on creating an internal connection to the All That Is.

On the way out, I felt compelled to chant. Without realizing it (at first), the chant I chose was one that connected me to the feminine Divine.

Earth is my body
Water is my blood
Air is my breath and
Fire is my soul

I realized, not for the first time, that my attachments are what create a sense of “other,” what keep me from feeling God in whatever form I might need it at the time. That realization alone takes away the weight of the attachments for me and makes them unimportant.

I am definitely in an interesting chapter shift. I lost a friend of mine to cancer a few weeks ago. I had performed his wedding to another dear friend, and he was also a client of mine. A few days before he passed, I saw his tunnel open up. It was so startling that I picked up my phone to see if his bride had texted me.

Another dear friend and client is in the final stages of cancer as I write this. She and I are part of a community still reeling from the death of another member, also to cancer, only a few months ago. She and her family have done something truly amazing. Instead of isolating, as so many people will do, they have lived out loud, sharing the steps of their struggle with other members of the community, documenting it all along the way.

Earlier this week, I could feel her slipping away. She is under full hospice care now, and has support and loved ones (not always the same people) around her 24/7. I started a prayer flag project for her. I invited anyone and everyone from the community to put their hand print on a 1’x1′ piece of cloth and get it to me. As I read the the stories of her life and look at the pictures people are posting, I am sewing the flags to a ribbon with a binding stitch. When it is done, i will take it to their home.

I would like it to be done in time for her to appreciate it, consciously and in body, but I know that the energy of love and support that it holds is flowing to her already. I hope that the support is being felt by her family as well, as it is also intended for them. Making the strand is intense enough that I keep having to pause, shake it off, and eat protein. One of my colleagues teared up when I unfolded it to show her, so I’m going to assume I’m not imagining its power.

I have been overwhelmingly busy this past month or so. Many projects, many health & household challenges. We are approaching the anniversary of the death of my best friend. as well as my natal day, a date that is more traumatic for than it is for most people. I keep rewriting it every year, and it has been getting better, but I still get a bit frantic around it.

I don’t, as a rule, pay too much attention to where my life path will take me; I figure that’s not my job. I just try to focus on where I am and what the next indicated action is. I have felt called  to rededicate myself to daily practice, and my morning rituals have become more extensive, returning to my foundations. That’s fine, I’m sure I need it. But I feel something coming. I just don’t know what it is yet. In the meantime, I breathe.