The unexpected path...

The unexpected path...

The following piece tumbled forth when I was trying to jot down words to speak at our relaunch on this Sunday just gone.

Seemingly off track, I think by the end you can see that this train of thought did indeed lead me to exactly where I needed to be.

A pause is a powerful tool for communication and one I have realised I have not been effectively using.

Since my Mum’s passing, my outlet of writing from my ngākaunui has been disjointed at best and completely absent at worst.

Although I have now come to realise that the silence between my words has had as much meaning as the words themselves. 

It has been a time of attempting internal growth and realisations

A time that has allowed the effects of grief to create a newness in me.

You see, I thought I would move through this loss of my mum, that I would transition into a new wāhine who stands in a different sector of my whānau, equipped with the strength that has come with the struggle to relate to a world that doesn’t have her physically here.

I thought I would grow and be a new stronger presentation of my years and be a pou for others who have also walked this world of transition.

But I was wrong.

Instead, I still carry the weight of loss - emotionally and physically.

I have tried to shrug off the need of wanting to keep her with me physically, yet the more I shrug the more the weight seems to increase.

It’s as though these weights are created to slow me down to become static within this phase.

And then I realised that it’s because I had not applied my own teachings of the power of a PAUSE that this struggle continued.

I needed to step away and allow space to process so I could find articulation through writing, reading and being still.

The pressures to continue to “go go go” have meant my internal clock on this process had stopped.

It is only through entering a pause, a state where all sensors are alert and on that I can truly assess and see what is needed to release my grief. So I can hold my mum close in my every day.

Before this, my grief kept me from her - it worked as a barrier to being within her true presence and perception, not just within photo induced emotions and memories.

It held me in a state of deep feeling, but not connected to her.

It tricked me into thinking the pain was a form of love where it kept me from the true aspects of love that she built in me - the ones of feeling through silence and walking towards joy.

For me, grief kept me from her powerful aura that always radiated love in the most profound way.

I found I would only do this when I was in a role of assisting others in their journeys through their situations. 

Consoling or creating answers for others was where I felt most alive and therefore most connected to her. These states were short lived and I would return to grief making me feel I was dying where I know she wants me to feel I am living.

It is not saying I don’t want to feel sad, but it’s that tipping point when sadness sinks you into a hole of disconnect instead of being a catalyst to seek reconnect.

I believe mum is present within every situation and if I am shrouded in grief I can’t feel or see her in her brightest of states.

My grief had me clouded and clumsy in my approach to the days I needed to be in.

This writing has spilled forth when I was supposed to be writing about my feelings about the relaunch of PAUSE.

Yet, I know it’s the perfect gift from mum to me.

She is helping with gently lifting the weight,  so I can see her today and have her present within every aspect of this new phase.

She has done this so I can venture forth with her.

With a renewed connection to joy and fulfilment, this is so I can come back from disconnection to feeling again.

Today, within the setting of our relaunch it’s allowing me to demonstrate that I will always keep working on removing the barriers that have been created. With mum by my side and present within everything I do and achieve.

So, if we can all raise a silent toast to my mum.

The catalyst of my joy and the silent yet powerful voice within my corner. 

Through Pausing I can hear you once more.

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