Seeking roots

Dear Phoenix,
I am better now. Last night before bed as well as just hours ago when I awoke in the middle of the night I was not ok. Not at all. I almost got up then to write you, and decided to ride it out there in the dark. I couldn't tell what was coming and even in the middle of it, did I recognize it. Now, though, I see what was unraveling beginning with an innocent walk in the woods yesterday with a sister.

Yesterday, A. and I went to search for trees who'd been uprooted so we could harvest pieces of their dying roots for class tonight. We'd planned to go to one particular place where she had a pass to enter. Not until we were almost there did she realize she didn't have it. No problem, we regrouped and decided to go to an adjacent area that was free access. Not until I had parked the car did it occur to me why my throat was dry and I was feeling very uneasy. This was a place where Phoenix and I used to hike together years ago. I spoke that aloud to A. and felt the feelings of confusion arise, confusion and bewilderment like I was in a dreamscape or a past life memory that I was just beginning to remember. We found a tree pretty quickly, got the roots we came for and decided to go ahead and take a hike. As we walked i could feel grief surfacing. At one point I thought I maybe needed to just fall apart, but worried about 'tiring' my sister with yet more grief. She's seen me go through it this year like all the other sisters and I know the same old same old thing can be tiring. So, I just contained because it felt so big and I was still unraveling the experience...trying to remember the trail, heariing/seeing the ghosts of times past there with Phoenix, with Beetle, with their predecessor, Butter. It was quite uncanny. And, still trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy, present-ness with my sister as we encountered beautiful pieces of bark, moss and vines.

On the ride home, we got behind a car with a very large dog in the back. She took up most of the back of the station wagon and her head was hanging out the side window. Intensely beautiful wolf/dog/wolfdog. The colors of Phoenix. I drove next to them for a while hoping the driver would look over and i could motion for him to pull over! ( I know, crazy) I was compelled to touch this animal being. I could hardly take my eyes off her there as I also tried to drive safely. Unfortunately the driver ignored my obvious staring and drove on past where I had to turn off. And this beautiful being was gone.

So, when I awoke early this morning, I had the usual mental goingson about this upcoming class. All the anxiety was returning about that. Then the grief rushed in again. I began to ache in my chest and my left arm, my whole body felt wrenched and flu-y and I heaved sobs out. I recalled my walk earlier in the day. I recalled the painful reason we stopped going there to hike (that's for another story). I recalled the feeling of walking there with Phoenix safe, free and so together. I remembered that feeling of panic of calling calling for him when he'd chase the scent of a deer and be gone for too long. I'd try to keep my voice calm, sound relaxed, but as time stretched out, I'd become more and more stressed: "PHOENIX, COME ON!" And, of course, eventually he would come back, tongue hanging low. I'd collapse on the ground with him and hug him and say "Thank you for coming back!" Then we'd walk on, feeling free, safe, together. Something that was unique to us.

And..something else that was unique was something I taught him when he was a puppy. See, at the time I had Butter, my aged golden retriever. Her pace was slow, so when we'd hike, I'd have the person I was with hold on to Butter, and Phoenix and I would run ahead and then run back to where Butter was. We'd do this over and over and as he aged, he would do exactly that off leash: trot or run up ahead and then rush back to me. At the time I didn't know I was teaching him anything intentional, but what I realized this morning as I was sobbing and calling aloud for Phoenix, remembering that desperate place of him being gone then and now, I realized that that puppy lesson was about coming back. I was teaching Phoenix to go ahead and then come back. That's when the tsunami of awareness came: I.....taught.......Phoenix.......to.....come.....back. Where is he now!!! This awareness felt like a birth--the last push and then out came this new level of grief and understanding that that walk unraveled today.

In retrospect, one could say that that enormous wolf/dog/wolf dog in the car ahead of me was Phoenix 'coming back'. And maybe, like all the other wuwu kinds of things that I record here on the WEb, it was Phoenix. Certainly it was undeniable timing, even if I didn't really register what was linking up. And..you know, not to sound ungrateful...it wasn't Phoenix. I didn't get to fall on the ground with him and hug him and say, "Thank you for coming back!" I am not ungrateful for who and what Phoenix may be "sending' me. I know Deeply in my heart and soul that Life seeks to Return, seeks to Repair. I know that is the Source of these Wuwu's. I understand that better than I ever have in my life. And...my arms long for Phoenix, not an approximation. That's the honest truth right now.

The other honest truth is this: after the tsunami passed, I felt more energy, less collapsed on myself and my attention shifted to being able to stand and come to my computer to write. The way I understand that phenomenon is that I 'went back' to get a piece I'd forgotten. A piece of the life that was Phoenix and I. A piece that I'd buried for reasons that had nothing to do with my love for Phoenix. It was a shamanic journey, for lack of a better way to say it. I journeyed inside, beside myself. Thank you, Goddess, for getting me to the hike, that innocent hike. And, thank you, Phoenix, for seeking to return. I feel you doing that. It is no small thing.

Love,
Me