Daily Cycles, Eternal Remembrances, and Panther Energy

Sunset, altar, jungle Panther

I was presented with the opportunity to continue my death doula education into the wider world recently. I journeyed to a weeklong creative retreat on a beautiful white sandy beach along the Gulf of Mexico, where water meets shore in gentle rhythm and a different color every day and night. There, I joined with five kindred souls, guided by our wisdom-keepers and co-creatrices Wilka (Roig) and Francesca (Arnoldy).

Each person in our circle works with death in their own way—through activism, shamanic practice, death doula service, writing and teaching, and various other meaningful and sacred paths. We each brought creative projects to nurture during our time together, offering them attention, energy, and space to develop. I arrived with three projects, each exploring different dimensions.

Though our gathering honored the creative process at its heart, grief's waters flowed naturally through our days together. How could it be otherwise? The ocean tides and the moon's changing phases serve as daily, even hourly reminders of life's constant cycles. These natural phenomena show us how everything exists momentarily before disappearing, highlighting the fleeting nature of all things. 

I was traveling to a location just blocks away from where one set of my grandparents lived during their later years. I had not set foot in the state for a few decades. So alongside my clothes, sunscreen, and art supplies, I packed with me nostalgia, sadness, joy at wondering if I would recognize landmarks, and memories laced with happiness. In my carry-on on I additionally packed wonder, naive surprise, and sadness at time’s eternal parade forward. I was already experiencing the duality of life and death as I considered the trip and made the logistical reservations to attend from my home 3,000 miles away. I was already entering sacred space.

I was curious - would I connect with these ancestors? Would I feel their presence when I called to them on the beach? During meditations to bring in my guides, were they going to eagerly step forward to be my cheerleaders? When we invite the loving presence of family and friends who have died into our creative process, our work becomes enriched with ancestral wisdom. Their essence weaves through our creations, adding layers of meaning, inquiry, and wonderment that bridge the space between worlds. As Wilka expressed, ‘why not make of our own dead, saints?’ They are, after all, magical, and they are safe, and they want jobs to do! Who of my dead would most be aligned with the creative process I was submerged in? (Along with the warm water of the Gulf’s waves.)

Serendipitously, I also connected with my OTHER set of grandparents, who “snowbirded” further south, when I entered my ‘Crimson Chameleon’ room and gazed upon this majestic panther painting on the wall! My spectacularly glammy grandma had a faux Rousseau jungle scene painting on the wall of her condo’s veranda. Growing up, my sister and I both adored it; it didn’t fit at all with her decor, so we never heard the story behind it, but we both wish we could have acquired it once she died. I feel like this panther (on the wall of the whimsical lizard-themed vacation home I was temporarily staying in) was her wink, reminding me, “I’m always here for you. In my gaudiness, my fierceness, and my larger-than-life presence. Just call on me!” Joy - the jungle panther painting. Sorrow - the loss of a dear grandmother and the painting’s disposal. In grief, there is joy, and in sorrow, there is beloved memory.

Life teaches us that creation and dissolution dance as partners. Where we touch the joy of creating something new, we also encounter the tender sorrow of surrender when loved ones cross into that same mysterious beyond.

To develop one's creative practice—to tend its flame and strengthen its expression—requires walking a path of beautiful uncertainty, exhilaration, devoted discipline, and discovery. This journey asks an important question: Whom shall we invite to walk alongside us? We welcome those physically present in our shared sanctuary (a temporary vacation home that holds our container), while also opening ourselves to those who dwell beyond the visible world.

There is a relation between the tangible and the intangible, we need presence in both realms to convey meaning, ideas, and inspiration in the creative process. When I was packing up to leave the Gulf and come back to the Pacific Northwest, I reflected on my participation in glorious creative inquiry. The creative process is so challenging, it forces you to be vulnerable with your work, it stymies, it offers, it applauds. I thanked my teachers (Wilka and Francesca) and the other retreat participants, as well as my guides and ancestors who were present with me. In tandem with painting and collaging, I also deepened my understanding of how we can access and invite in our dead.

I look forward to sharing with my potential clients this rich, rich discovery that comes at the intersection of joy and sorrow, and of life and death.

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To connect with our collective: http://edge-walking.com / 206.825.9780 / edgewalking.transitions@gmail.com