All that flow I found led me to a river about a week after the ankle incident on Nate’s birthday (May 8, 2017), the first day to honor Nate’s birth since his death in November. I felt a lot of pressure surrounding how to honor him, especially since I was in the middle of feeling such heavy grief. My tears fell heavy like the Tengenungan Waterfall I was able to visit before the ankle incident.

The tears started streaming when I slowed down to sit. A large iguana snaked its way out of the brush and into the river making a splash and I suddenly worried if I was in the wrong place. I would have probably popped right up and sprinted away but something told me to stay, other than my broken body.

That’s when I had a spiritual awakening and signs started to appear taking away my fear. A bright orange, slightly burly butterfly began fluttering around and then intentionally stopped on a rock right in front of me. It appeared to be at peace and simply stopped moving which is rare for busy butterflies that buzz about. Feeling drawn toward this small creature because it reminded me of the puffy orange coat that Nate often wore, I reached out and touched its wings. Much to my surprise it actually let me! Surely I was crazy but didn’t care so I talked, cried and stroked the wings. I knew without a doubt that Nate’s spirit finally felt space to visit because I had slowed down.

His birthday was also the first time I felt Nate’s presence since he passed. In this moment, I felt so alive despite the death that was moving through and around me as I found my messy way through the magic.

First day off crutches and I serendipitously stumbled across these wings!

I don’t know how to describe what happened that day although I do know that I tapped into the divine realm that surrounds us all, the spiritual center that is often difficult to see clearly because the busyness of life clouds the lens. This magical, mystical day paved the proverbial path of processing my grief in a consistently conscious way that I am still working through today.

Now three years later most days feel like I am a butterfly that emerged out of a cocoon of despair finally free to fly high and spread her wings. Then there are days that I feel like I need to sit with the stuff that is still heavy, retreating to reflect in the darkness. That’s when writing is my refuge. I have learned to trust these emotions to evolve and move through the tunnel into the light so I can once again take flight.

For me the grief process ebbs and flows like the Bridges River twisting and turning it’s way through a Balinese rainforest. When I trust the flow with less resistance, I am simply taken down stream gently with the current. When I resist, the emotions persist eventually manifesting in more pain (physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually). When I slow down and soften deep into my soul there are spiritual signs from above. Butterflies became a gift from above from that day forward as a rebirth of understanding my grief and connecting with the deceased. Now I see butterflies on most bike rides and hikes and even spotted a small orange guy on Nate’s birthday this year again this year :)
These stories about whimsical signs while evolving through time and learning to shine is the true meaning of the “Butterfly Blog” of magical metamorphosis. Feel to heal while being vulnerably real is what I hope to share with those who care. Thank you for reading along this vicarious reel of writing therapy. It truly means so much to me!

Next up: a poem I wrote called “Identi-T”…

Broken in Bali - Part 2

Info

Action