Tag: acceptance

Forever and Ever…

When I was five or six years old, I began having a recurring nighttime thought that terrified me. I described it to my mother as “The world goes on forever and ever.” My mind froze with fear when that perception arose in my consciousness, and I sat bolt upright in bed shaking my head frantically to get rid of it. My mother tried to help by suggesting I distract myself with happier thoughts. Her loving presence comforted me but did not erase the underlying feeling of terror and overwhelm. Years later I called it fear of infinity or eternity.

It felt like I was looking into the farthest stretches of the universe, an infinite void with no beginning and no end. As a child, I had no language or framework for that. It was so huge, so vast, I felt lost, engulfed. As a young adult, I ran from it, attempting to avoid its appearance in my night thoughts. Eventually I embarked on a journey of spiritual seeking, trying to come to some understanding of the nature of life/death, and resolution of my own existential despair—the grief beneath the fear of “forever and ever.”

Over the years, various teachers, in particular Panache Desai, helped me see infinity in a more positive light—indeed as light, as spirit. I was looking into the darkness, but within the darkness was the light of eternal Spirit, which cannot really be understood but only experienced. A five-year-old child staring at that limitless space does not recognize it as God or Spirit but rather as the unknown; emptiness. Something to be feared. Only recently have I begun to see my child’s vision as a soul gift, which set me on a life path of searching for the meaning of life and learning about Spirit’s presence.

I have tremendous gratitude for that gift, for the awareness it has brought me through so many spiritually expansive experiences. Yet there still remains a kernel of sadness within me as well. A recognition that life’s mysteries can never be solved. Many Native American cultures teach that only in complete acceptance of the “Great Mystery” as such is there peace. I’m finally reaching that view now, and I realize it is all part of my soul’s plan for my life.

For years, I thought that I could “solve” the mystery, and my nighttime fear of infinity would disappear entirely through “understanding” God. This was partially true: deeper soul awareness and trust in the wisdom of Spirit softened the edges and frequency of the fear. Ultimately, however, I am learning that only in full acceptance of life as is, as profound divine mystery, does total inner peace arise. I still have passing moments of sadness or grief about the nature of human life and death and “forever and ever.” At those times, the only “answer” is acceptance, surrender, complete letting go. If I take a deep breath and look up, seeing the infinite blue sky with my soul’s eyes, I feel peace. And perhaps that’s the greatest wisdom of all. 

Andrea Gibson: After Life

“I am happiest on the road, when I’m not here or there, but in between, the yellow line running down the center of it all like a sunbeam.”
–Andrea Gibson

I was not familiar with the work of dynamic spoken-word poet Andrea Gibson until after they (preferred nonbinary pronoun) transitioned in July 2025 from ovarian cancer. In November, I happened to see the trailer for a documentary film about Andrea called Come See Me in the Good Light. Next, I stumbled upon a clip of their friend Tig Notaro reading part of Andrea’s poem “Tincture.” Moved to tears, I found the entire poem online and read it through twice, continuing to weep. The kind of tears I had never experienced in quite the same way before: sorrow simultaneous with celebration of life. Andrea’s poetry encompasses both of these in extraordinary ways.

Thus began my hours-long journey across the web, watching every video I could find: Andrea’s poetry performances; Andrea and partner/wife Megan Falley (also a poet) being interviewed; Megan revealing her own feelings after Andrea’s passing; the trailer from the film and the song “Salt Then Sour Then Sweet,” sung by Sarah Bareilles and Brandi Carlile (with Andrea’s words) at the film’s end. Andrea’s website (andreagibson.org) showcases their vividly diverse poetry (lyrical, incisive, humorous, loving). The first poem I heard/saw was “Love Letter from the Afterlife,” written to Megan. I was audibly sobbing by the fourth or fifth line. I’ve listened to it many times since, and it still feels like the most beautifully wise poem ever written. I have been reading poetry all my life but have never run across any quite like hers.

Andrea’s words bridge life, death, and eternity seamlessly, using details recognizable from my own life, from everyone’s life. It all flowed together perfectly as I listened, crying at the heart-wrenching pathos and absolute splendor of life on Earth. Sadness and joy as one inseparable experience. At the end of the afternoon, I felt as if everyone I had ever known had died and come back to life. All at the same time. Everything inside me and outside me as One. That may not make logical sense, but that’s the best way I can describe the experience. Even my tears held the precious poignancy of all life in them.

And then there’s the film. After hearing/seeing all these pieces of Andrea’s life and work, I watched Come See Me in the Good Light, where it all comes together in an extraordinarily honest, funny, and beautiful telling of their (and Meg’s) journey with cancer. Once again, loss of life and love of life are presented as one experience in a way that is both heart-breaking and heart-opening. They share what they went through (for several years) with such vulnerability, humor, and loving sweetness. I laughed, I cried, I felt what they felt right along with them.

 Andrea’s description of coming to inner acceptance and neutrality about so much that had previously “mattered” struck a chord in my own life (I lived through breast cancer a few years ago). They felt parts of their “identity” fall away as they settled into soul awareness. Nothing was as important as the present moment, fully lived and appreciated. I still hear Andrea’s deeply expressive, musical voice at their last poetry performance in Denver in 2024 (shown in the film), the entire theater as one, cheering, laughing, crying, immersed in love.

I believe Andrea Gibson came to Earth to erase the dividing line between life and death. Between all dichotomies, actually. A perfectly nonbinary life and afterlife. Woven into the tapestry of the universe with precisely orchestrated timing for humanity’s deeper awakening. Thank you, Andrea, for your love letter to us all.

“Love Letter from the Afterlife”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QmZHLvq-gDg

“Acceptance Speech After Setting the World Record in Goosebumps”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4XK-hb_bjqU 

Trailer from Come See Me in the Good Light: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t0B8sjxR7Mo

Rose of Sharon art above by Anne Katzeff

Walk Through the Doorway

When I’ve experienced any kind of physical pain or emotional unease in my life, something in me often clinched and shut down as I tried to control it, make it disappear. But what if acceptance and letting go of control is the only way to the other side? Maybe all we’ve been taught about physicality and the human form is upside-down. What if hanging on tightly to how we think it’s supposed to be is opposed to allowing life to unfold? And what if acceptance is the doorway to surrender, and surrender the doorway to feeling less pain as I become aware of my soul’s design?

My inner spirit, or soul, knows my life’s design better than my “I” identity, constructed over the years for survival. Ultimately life is not about surviving; it’s about letting go into something greater than your physical form and individual life. Before you are born and after you die, you know this. In between, your soul guides you to deeper and deeper awareness about the nature of life and your journey within your lifetime, and beyond. Everything that happens is part of your soul design. Nothing is wrong and needs to be erased or eradicated. When I fully accept this, surrendering to it without attachment to any particular outcome, I consciously become part of a flow. Life carries me instead of my trying to force it in a certain direction.

Gradually, in letting go, I relax and allow myself to be one with my soul, accepting what seems hard as part of life, part of oneness. This shift occurs when I see difficulty as a doorway and not prison bars. As long as I try to control (and stop) it, it tightens and hangs on. When I surrender to it as my soul’s path in this lifetime, a subtle shift occurs at the heart level. My experience of it is lighter, easier, and I can sometimes feel the presence of a loving beingness beyond and also encompassing my body. 

A few years ago, I lived through a diagnosis of and treatment for breast cancer. Emotional and physical pain arose, but when I allowed myself to cry and feel the fear, it began to release. I came to realize that this was part of my soul’s journey and I was being given a gift of profound connection to Spirit. That perspective helped me through the whole process, not without occasional discomfort, but with trust, inner peace, and tremendous gratitude for a growing awareness of myself as eternal spirit in a temporary human form. Acceptance had been the doorway to experiencing this.

My soul’s journey continues, and each day I am learning more and more to welcome whatever arises as part of my life’s design. I remind myself that everything is Spirit, and infinite wisdom may be hidden in the smallest details. My heart’s doorway opens wider all the time…until accepting becomes so deep that eventually every door falls away and there is only unbroken peaceful Presence. 

Reflections on a Board Game

Anne and I have played Scrabble regularly for years. We like the mind exercise involved in forming words to fit on the board in often difficult places. Recently we bought a new board game called Wingspan, which I had read about online. It was a bit complicated to learn, but now we love it. Players create small bird sanctuaries on their individual boards, using bird cards, bonus cards, food and egg representations, and colorful markers and dice. In the course of four rounds of play, each player fills their habitats, and points accumulated from various plays and cards determine the winner. Overall, we are fairly evenly matched, with Anne usually winning more frequently at Scrabble and me winning more often at Wingspan. Occasionally we tie!

So, board games are fun, right? Relaxing as well as stimulating to the mind. But could they also be seen as a reflection of life, something we could learn from? This way of looking at them occurred to me recently when I was repeatedly losing every Scrabble game. It seemed that I was always drawing letters that did not make words—all vowels or all consonants. Meanwhile, Anne was sailing along forming five- to seven-letter words, often with triple scores. After the sixth or seventh game like this, I began to feel frustrated and angry, as if it was more than just bad luck. When I then lost a Wingspan game in similar fashion, it seemed like the last straw: God was literally “stacking the cards against me”!

As soon as that thought passed through my mind, something clicked, and I realized that each game was a reflection of life, and together they were demonstrating to me a spiritual teaching that I thought I already knew by heart: Accept what is. If you resist whatever is occurring, you will be angry and upset. In a board game and in life. And so it is. Spirit has such imaginative and humorous ways of showing us life’s truths and exactly how they work. As long as I continued to be annoyed at the way a game was unfolding, I would be unhappy—and furious that I couldn’t control the outcome. So it is with life. Accept whatever comes up, and you will feel peaceful. Resist, and you will grumble and complain throughout your days on Earth.

When I came to see that Spirit and my soul were playfully reminding me of this deep truth and that it applied everywhere all the time, I smiled—and then laughed out loud. Life flows if you allow it to be exactly as it is. Board games do too. The secret is seeing them that way. Who knew that Scrabble was hiding spiritual wisdom in all those letters?!

P.S. The evening after I had this insight, I won the Scrabble game (not that it matters… ha!)

Do You Plan?

Many of us have been, or are, planners to one extent or another—myself included. From an early age (at least in Western cultures), we are conditioned to believe we can somehow shape our future by making lists and detailed plans. When these plans do not work out, we may feel we have failed somehow, but it doesn’t stop us from making a new plan. “Practice makes perfect.” We think that if we keep reshaping our plans, they will eventually work out exactly as we wanted. Well, sometimes yes, sometimes no.

In truth, we are trying to control something beyond our control. The design for your life was put in place at the soul level before you were born. Your soul and Spirit came up with a flexible vision for your life that self-adjusts on its own without any directed effort from you as an incarnated human. There is a natural flow to all our lives, to our collective life, on this planet, and only when we accept and surrender to that do we begin to flow too. Letting go of over-planning is part of that.

The only “plan” that really works is a simple one that just aligns you with your soul’s guidance. “Let go and let God,” as the saying goes. Life has its own wisdom, which often is a mystery to us—until we allow everything to unfold as is without trying to force it. Then the mysteries and magic begin to reveal themselves. Synchronicity arises; miracles occur. Small pieces of the cosmic grand puzzle become visible. And the more you let go, the more you see.

Of course, you will never see it all because that is the nature of infinity. However, when you realize you are part of that infinite flow yourself, no matter what you do or don’t do, then trust begins to guide you. We don’t need to plan every detail (or harbor regrets). Life is just happening on its own, and with a greater openness, complexity, and wonder than we could create alone. Perhaps this is the most powerful lesson we will learn in our lifetimes: Trust that all is well, whatever it may look like. Over time, this truth is revealed, again and again.

Something greater is at play in your life and mine, in all of life. No matter how you or I think things should occur, they will follow their own course—the course of the soul’s design and God’s. You may only see the absolute perfection of that at the end of this lifetime, but if you release your hold on mental to-do lists and the need for certainty, then you begin to experience every single moment as perfect just the way it is. Those other plans will fall away, and you will be left with the wondrous life you were always meant to live.