I'm feeling incredibly sad today. I opened up an email this morning and learned that a woman who is really special to me has died. Robin. I haven't talked to her for a long time: a random gmail chat somewhere between early morning Portland and dinnertime Phnom Penh in April almost two years ago. Robin is probably my mother's age. My mom, my best friend, my roommates even - they may have never even heard me mention Robin's name. Why is it that impact of someone's life is always clearer at death?
A nurturing, deeply-seeing spirit, Robin is one of those people who has lit my way. One of those alive-inside, living out of her heart, in the authentic skin of herself, centered souls. With that down-to-earth, laugh-at-the-little-things ease that maybe comes with a few more decades.
Robin is someone who came around me during my flat-on-the-floor season five years ago. There were a band of women really, who I worked with at 211info. I'm so grateful for them, for all of the hours I sat behind closed office doors spilling my guts with this tribe of would-be or past-life therapists who helped hold space for my sadness. Robin was one of them. We talked over coffee. And standing over the copy machine. She spoke a lot of hope into me. She really believed in me when I started dreaming of coming to Cambodia. Even when I thought I might be crazy for abandoning my promising medical social work career track to traipse across the globe for this thing that I'm still doing 2.5 years later.
In our last conversation, she talked about her desire to help others "expand their inner experience, to become more in touch with that on a daily basis, to trust in that and move from that." About how in her own life, she was developing a willingness, as she put it: "to be more myself in the world, with the world."
This is how I seek to be. Living out of the core of who I'm made to be. Moving from my center, not the frazzled edges that can so quickly collect and become my identity. From a place of trust and love, full of heart. Thank you Robin, for being yourself in the world, in the time that you had. Thank you for lighting the way.
A nurturing, deeply-seeing spirit, Robin is one of those people who has lit my way. One of those alive-inside, living out of her heart, in the authentic skin of herself, centered souls. With that down-to-earth, laugh-at-the-little-things ease that maybe comes with a few more decades.
Robin is someone who came around me during my flat-on-the-floor season five years ago. There were a band of women really, who I worked with at 211info. I'm so grateful for them, for all of the hours I sat behind closed office doors spilling my guts with this tribe of would-be or past-life therapists who helped hold space for my sadness. Robin was one of them. We talked over coffee. And standing over the copy machine. She spoke a lot of hope into me. She really believed in me when I started dreaming of coming to Cambodia. Even when I thought I might be crazy for abandoning my promising medical social work career track to traipse across the globe for this thing that I'm still doing 2.5 years later.
In our last conversation, she talked about her desire to help others "expand their inner experience, to become more in touch with that on a daily basis, to trust in that and move from that." About how in her own life, she was developing a willingness, as she put it: "to be more myself in the world, with the world."
This is how I seek to be. Living out of the core of who I'm made to be. Moving from my center, not the frazzled edges that can so quickly collect and become my identity. From a place of trust and love, full of heart. Thank you Robin, for being yourself in the world, in the time that you had. Thank you for lighting the way.
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