Our job in this life is to champion that which endures.
When someone cherished by us dies, the desire to follow them can be overwhelming. For they do not merely go alone. But, rather, they take with them that portion of ourselves that had been knit into their being—cell to cell, heart to heart—through the shared experience of love.
The person we were in relationship to the departed also takes flight of this world, leaving us behind, missing that portion of our identity as well as the entirely of our beloved.
The feeling of absence can be like a black hole, pulling what’s left of us into its abyss. And so the fragment of our identity that remains must fight to survive, must find a point of light and life as an anchor, and must each day declare its intention to go on living—no matter what.
This is the birth of resilience and the beginning of a healing process that may take weeks, months, or even years to accomplish.
According to legend, the phoenix must be completely consumed in the flames before it can rise again. The fire must even grow cold before the spark of resurrection can ignite in the ashes of the former self.
This is the mystery of resilience. We must allow ourselves to be transformed by life’s dramatic endings before we can rise again—purged and purified—ready to take on the next phase of our incarnation as a wiser, lighter, more vibrant version of our self.
And each time we surrender to phoenix fire, life becomes sweeter, more immediately satisfying, and increasingly flavored with an internal savor that cannot be duplicated except in the destruction of all that must pass away.
Copyright © 2017 Cheryl Eckl and CherylEckl.com. All rights reserved.