The off-and-on-again blog of Ron Mohring, whose plate is almost always overfilled.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
It casts you down
So just when you sense that the thing you've been focused intently on achieving has in fact been achieved, there's a space afterward, a gap: what lifts you up can cast you down again. So much energy directed at helping Randy cross over--and to know Randy was to know that he was a shaman, capable of seeing on the other side, of parting that veil enough to help others sometimes from a great distance--and at helping me, I know this, I feel this, I thank you all. So when that goal is achieved, when signs and messages and your own heart, not to mention his shamanic friends who have been dedicating their energies to help him cross--when all of this tells you that yes, it's done, it's fine, he's there (wherever "there" is, that realm that *he* could see but you cannot)--after all this (the candle that should have lasted four more days disintegrating overnight and pooling on the plate; his voice in the house, sunny and loving, beckoning the dog) then what's left is the *after*. The house no longer buzzing and brimming over with his presence. What's left is the imperfect partner, bobbing in the trough left by that stupendous wave. And the niggling doubts and small regrets that bubble to the surface all around. Eyes up, chin up. Hang on to what floats. From here, the next one looks like a mountain.