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“Window’s been smashed,” said the attendant, matter of factly.
I got a call that my car had been broken into. I had left it in a shuttle lot near LAX because it was a third of the price of the airport lot. You get what you pay for, I guess.
“Wait, what?” I asked. “Do you know if they took anything? When did it happen?” I was trying not to sound so desperate. I don’t know why I sometimes feel embarrassed about things that happen to me as if I am responsible for other people’s bad behavior–in this case, the car-thief.
“Not sure,” he said quickly. “We’ve left everything as it is.”
“Ok,” I said sheepishly, “I’ll be there tomorrow.”
I hung up the phone and had a flashing thought that I was his last call before his cigarette break. My next thought was whether they would realize I had left the car in the lot way beyond the time I had booked for? As I considered how much they could possibly charge me extra, my upper gut churned with anxiety. How would I pay for all of this?
It was February 2021. My car was stuffed floor to roof with the bulk of my personal belongings. I was in the midst of making a life change. I just didn’t know exactly what it was. Like a hermit crab, I had moved out of one shell, but was not yet able to summon the gumption to figure out how to get myself a new one.
“Don’t worry,” I told myself soothingly, “the most expensive thing they could have taken is your Nespresso machine.” Physical things are fleeting, anyway.
Right?
A lot had been fleeting in my life recently.
I had just been lured into another unsafe and unreliable relationship, which spit me out like Jonah the minute another woman got involved (not the first time). I was temporarily staying with my mom after spending a lot of money on monthly stays in Los Angeles. I was working a remote job that I wished was more temporary than it was. Most of what I had materially was in that car. I was like a gypsy–no home, no plan. Despite my best efforts, I had no vision for where I wanted to go. For the first time, I felt completely rudderless from the inside.
And yet, I was ok.
I was ok because I’ve actually trained myself over a period of several years to over-rely on God to take care of me. (Now I am learning how to include mySELF in that reliance).
Anyway, like many people in the pandemic, my life was awash like trash on the shoreline. The only difference is that mine had fallen apart just before that fateful January when we learned of a strange plague sweeping through Asia.
In August 2018, my beloved father died after a brutal one year battle with liver cancer, and my gentle hearted brother followed three months later after a more brutal, five-year battle with psychosis, which began in his senior year of college.
To put it mildly, the time COVID hit, I was already in a “new normal”. My life looked and felt completely different. My being felt completely different.
Grief of a certain magnitude can freeze you like a statue. Life moves all around you, but you are stone. The outside world accumulates on your head and shoulders like billions of tiny snowflakes. Pretty soon they become heavy, and then you are a snow covered statue. You may be doing your job as people walk by you, but heart is hollow or hardened or heavy, even with a smile on your face.
I realized I had gone cold when I didn’t react to things the way I used to. I didn’t react period. Was I strong or was had my spirit separated from my body? Probably a bit of both.
My faith in life was scattered like birdseed in the half melted snow around the statue.
Or was it taken?
Did the grim reaper snatch it when he came to take them?
Everything that I had stood on in this life before–ideas of who I should be, how I should be, a vision for who I wanted to be…were smashed, just like my car window.
I lost hope in bright things and happy occasions. They felt like a sorry ass attempt from God to say,
“See I am still here.”
And I would have to muster up everything to pretend to enjoy.
I know this sounds very depressing, but I am putting it out there, because that is how shock and grief can feel. Not all the time. But sometimes, and especially when you feel very much alone.
That’s a whole other topic…that partner, that mate, that other half… If I am honest with myself, do I really believe in that? Can you really create that kind of bond with someone? So far, I’ve experienced nothing but a series of mirages that disappear just when I close enough to see if they are real or not.
But back to grief: What I am saying is that even if your spiritual practice is very strong, even with many years of building yourself, you can still be almost completely overcome by the waves. You can still find yourself gasping for air as they wash over you like icy cold seawater, teeming with dubious sea creatures. You lose your breath in that darkness. In the cold.
In the distance, you can see people on the beach in designer swimsuits, striped umbrellas and carefully prepared picnic basket with growing families and big desires and plans for the future, and you can’t relate at all. One of them tries to read something inspirational to you, and then you feel even more alienated.
I wonder sometimes if that is how my brother felt when he realized his mind was gone. I wonder if that is how my Dad felt when he realized that the only way he was getting out of that hospital was in a bodybag (the very same hospital where he had spent thousands of hours doing surgeries and taking care of patients).
Life has its seasons, I guess. Or perhaps this is how people feel in any challenge that could take them down completely–the challenges that are there to make us or break us.
That afternoon, I managed to get a cheap ticket, with points.
I flew the next morning. On the plane, I choked back tears. I felt smashed and robbed by life. I prayed a lot…I begged God for help, for sustenance, for a way to generate the cash I needed to get back on some sort of track.
I never made money the aim of my life. I learned as a teenager that it was a connection to God that would take me farther than anything else, and so I pursued that with every ounce of my Vital Life Force energy. In situations like this, I would mildly wish I had focused more on building a physical foundation for myself. Sigh. I’d probably be much less stressed. As it was, I guess I would need to talk to God and muster the trust that I would be taken care of and somehow make it to the next station in life, even though my gas tank was dangerously low in more ways than one.
My spiritual teacher Karen Berg @karen.berg used to say—whatever happens is there to teach you something; it’s been specifically designed to help you grow and evolve as a soul and/or to cleanse some karma from this life or a past one.
When I arrived, I was surprised at what I found. Yes, there was glass everywhere, but absolutely nothing was stolen. It looks like they had rummaged for cash in the console, and finding none, abandoned their plan. No cash saved the day. I simply got in the car, drove to the exit, flashed my prepayment, and exited. No extra charges. Despite the knot in my solar plexus, the whole thing was rolling out like a red carpet. I was able to connect with the right person to help me fix the window for a good price…and then an old friend came out of nowhere. We had reconnected a few months earlier and now it felt like like we were appointed to help each other through that time which seemed like a rite of a passage. Our daily conversations were like walks in a dark, yet magical forest. I was dealing with a lot of insecurity and unknowns and a large amount of anger from the way my last relationship went down. We were reprogramming our subconscious minds, working through our patterns. Neither of us could see where the path we were on was going to take us. But we were there for each other. And it felt like a cosmic connection specifically arranged for that period of time. (As I write this, I realize that it serves as a reminder that I am always given what I need. Even if the person you love abandons you, or someone you love dies, or you feel like there is no one to support you, and you are all alone in this life…there is ALWAYS cosmic support.) Still, sometimes it feels that I am blindfolded. I know that I am a part of the Divine and that Energy is always there (It is after all what breathes me and allows me to exist as I am) and yet I am led through this life, I lose my inner connection. In those moments, I must trust the present. To lean into what I know is true. And what is it I know? I know we humans don’t know everything. There is always something unfolding that is greater than me. And in that unfoldment there IS ORDER, that there is MAGIC, and that there is LOVE.
