Return to Heart

Many of you who know me know this has been a rough go these past few years. I came into this life with a drive toward freedom from all limitations. This path is a current, like the current of Ohm that places me in the caves with the Brahmans, timeless in the eternal seed sound. I fall asleep on the chest of the phoenix, inspired and comforted by the strong heart and feathers. Life gave me the opportunity to know freedom from all attachments, including my own son.

When Kate Lemay asked me to write something from the heart, the only phrase I could hear was, “Return to Heart”. I can’t speak well about the cultural complexity of our time, but I can speak to the internal angst and strength that leads us through all things, no matter how hard.

I lost my only child on June 23, 2024, just three weeks before his nineteenth birthday. My world stopped. I could not hear anything; I felt only pain, the kind that retires the heart. Even now, I do not know why mine kept beating. Many nights, I cried and prayed for it to stop, believing that would end the pain.

My prayers were not answered.

Eventually, I began to move. No move on, just move. I moved from the bed to the floor; early mornings I woke up and crawled onto my yoga mat and did what I have always done. Fortunately, I have a lifetime of personal practice under my belt. Deep, intimate connection to source, which is where I go first and always when life is hard.

I think when we find this bridge, not between one another but between self and source, we cross a sacred threshold, one that we never forget the pathway to.

This is not to say connection with one another is not important. It is paramount in this life. We live in a current culture of divisiveness, the energy behind which wants us to perpetuate its power. I refuse. No one who walks into my field will be turned away (unless healthy boundaries are needed). The antidote of separation is connection; this is an unwavering space in my consciousness.

Losing a child extinguishes love in your heart. Until you resurrect it with purpose. It is different, curious, still sad but somewhat hopeful. My purpose redefined – my way to crawl up out of grief and in embrace of a grief that will never leave but will guide me – is to make every decision, every commitment to action in memory of my son, in integrity. The strength of this action is like iron in my spine and unwavering fierceness in my heart. This ferocity is calm and present for myself, and for my service.

Here’s the thing there are no rulebooks for, just like parenting. There is no rule of law for grief, no parameters or guidebook, except those written by fellow travelers along the path. There is a pressure, a stigma, to suppress grief to make others who are uncomfortable with it or who have not experienced it more comfortable. That will not happen in my lane. I will not apologize for my grief, but I am sensitive to others. You can expect me to be open and embracing, vocal and supportive.

This said, my service is not defined by my experience, it is shaped by it. I can sit with another in any level of experience and hold space. There is freedom in that. I can find joy in simple things, previously overlooked, because I take nothing for granted. I can embrace great containers in which we meet together, to come to truth in all things, in stillness with depth. For this I am grateful.

You fuel my purpose. Connection is what we are doing.

In love,
Christina

PS: Prema Shala, a living dedication to love of a mother to a child and community, opens Saturday, August 1, at 111 Main Street, Littleton, NH 03561 (adjacent to Thayer’s Inn). I would love to see you there.