The Spiritual Path

This week has been quite an introspective time for me. Sean has been out of town on vacation, so we haven’t been meeting to write, and I’ve had a lot going on personally. Things seemed to be all over the place. Whenever I find myself emotionally spun like this, I will inevitably find myself standing there, looking up at the sky, asking, “What do you want me to do with this?”

It was the same back on the night of June 2, 2009. While just trying to make it through the night before catching my flight from Fort Lauderdale back to Atlanta, that was the exact question I posed to God.

“What do you me to do with this?”

I already knew I was going to go through hell. I knew then that this experience could crush everything about me, and I also knew the only thing I was going to be able to rely on was my faith.

I have messed up a number of times along the way, deviating from what I know while dealing with the excruciating pain of PTSD and overwhelming grief, loss, and fear. Inevitably, I have always turned back to my God-connection. A lot of the time, it was all I had, really, and even with that knowledge, the pain has been tremendous to say the least. I have felt stripped of everything I once thought I was. I never questioned whether or not there was some greater power in the universe that controlled things, I never considered the possibility that God didn’t exist, but I sure as hell was pissed with Him/Her, it, Yahweh, or whatever you choose to label what I refer to as God.

I was pacing in the airport with the knowledge that my wife had been murdered by her son. I knew that she had been shot to death by the person she loved most in the world. I knew that my life had immediately been changed forever but was in such shock that I couldn’t begin to grasp the magnitude of what had happened. I was at Ground Zero, so to speak. Even now, I look back, and it seems like a movie. I often wonder, “Really? This actually happened?”

And the question remains, “What do I do with this?”

So far in this blog, I’ve talked a lot about judgment, compassion, and acceptance, and I’ve shared a number of insights I’ve gained along the way. However, I haven’t really addressed the foundation of how I feel like I’ve gotten to this point. My spirituality.

Without a deep, spiritual connection, I would be dead by now. I believe that completely. My spiritual beliefs seem to run the whole gamut and may even come across as offensive to some. I’m okay with that. All I can really say is that whatever I have cultivated to this point has given me a perspective that I feel the need to share. Maybe some of what I have been able to incorporate into my own healing will help someone facing difficult times of their own. Maybe not. Either way, it’s my story, and the fundamental reason for even beginning to write back in June of last year was an overwhelming feeling that I was to do this openly and honestly.

Shani finished her journal the night before she died. She wrote on the last page. She symbolically finished her part of the book and she left the new journal she had recently purchased on the kitchen counter to write the next one. Now, it is my responsibility to share Shani’s story and what I learned from my time with her. This is one of the ways that I am to honor her. Interestingly, I know my wife better now than I did when she was alive, which makes me miss her that much more. She and I now have the tragic connection of having lost the person they trusted and loved most in the world to murder by a family member. That’s what I feel compelled to tell—our stories, both individually and collectively. Our spirituality has been the prime source of comfort and knowledge in all of this craziness. We are still walking through life together.

Anyone who has ever had their faith tested can understand that it’s one thing to say that you believe something and another thing entirely to lean on that faith through the tough times. Shani and I both subscribed to the idea that we wouldn’t know what it was like on the other side until we get there. We both believed that whatever it was that’s out there is only reachable through a spiritual connection. We both studied world spirituality and spent a good bit of our time involved in conversations about that topic. We took our spirituality seriously enough to find that most of the other things in life should be taken a lot less seriously. We incorporated different beliefs from all of the world religions, finding a basic belief in a loving and forgiving God. We believed that everything has a purpose, that we are not in control of as much as we might think, and that violence and anger are toxic. We believed that all things are connected. We had faith. Faith in God. Faith in each other. Given my experience, I can say that my faith has been sorely tested and still is, in some respects, every single day since Shani’s murder.

So here I am, thirteen months removed from the gunshots that changed my life. I’ve been through all of the “firsts” and now the anniversaries. How did I get here? How have I made it through? Faith, which bred hope. Every. Single. Day. Some days, all I could focus on was my faith. I have studied different spiritual books from numerous faiths, searching for wisdom. I have read and read some more. I have prayed and mediated. I have trained physically and practiced yoga. I have written and talked. I have done everything I possibly could. I have studied the tenets of the world religions. My mind connected with the Buddhist teaching that attachment brings suffering, and that I could only find peace if I let go of the things I attached myself to, including thoughts, emotions and feelings. I have learned the more I am able to let go, the more space I create for the connection between my soul and Source. I have found the example of Christ when nailed to the cross to be my example of forgiveness. He somehow found it possible in his soul to utter the words, “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.” I asked God to please help me see that forgiveness was the only answer and to remove the anger and hatred bearing down on me. I have connected with the idea of parallel universes, cosmic energy, angels and the supernatural. I also believe that I have connected with Shani directly on a number of occasions and still experience what might be described as “God shots” almost daily. I have had numerous friends and family present to witness some of the wildest, most unexplainable occurrences, some that might be called coincidence by a skeptic. For me, Vegas wouldn’t have odds steep enough to question the source of some of the things that I have seen over the last year. It’s been truly remarkable.

As I type this, “Hey Jude” is playing on my iPod shuffle. Call the appearance of songs at certain times whatever you want, but the lyrics “take a sad song and make it better” sure as hell ring home to me right now. The events of the last year are flashing in front of my face like someone flipping through a deck of cards. That sad song is sad. SO SAD. I take a moment to pray to God, “Please help me make this better.” The tears are flowing like a hurricane right now.

Ten minutes later as I edit this post, I find the typo, “take a sad dong and make it better.” That kind of humor would be all Shani, just letting me know she’s still right there.

Call it what you will. I call it comfort.

And in this deeply spiritual journey to this point, I have developed a profound belief in whatever it is that’s out there that we can’t see and whatever it is inside of us that is connected to that vast expanse. I have learned to connect and feel connected. In being stripped of everything that I once attached myself to, I became completely raw and bare. My worldly attachments were literally taken from me, and if I could let go of things that truly no longer existed, I could rely on a power much greater than anything I’d ever experienced. If I could let go of the anger and hatred and instead rely solely on love, I could become a better person. If I could let go of the idea of what my life was supposed to be like, what the relationships were supposed to look like and how I identified myself as a man in this world, I could find meaning.

I’ve done an incredible amount of self-analysis to get here, and I don’t know if we ever truly get “there,” but I’m going to continue to go deeper in search of it. The journey here has created an amazing amount of growth, and I don’t see a reason to stop. The continued work I’ve done over the last couple of weeks has shown me that I am in a different place in my grief, and it’s not because I have sat idly by waiting for it to happen. I’ve worked and worked to heal. At the same time, grief does have a way of teaching you that it can strike at any moment. It can be the most humbling and crippling of all life experiences.

I’m starting to feel capable of the possibility of putting myself out into the world again. I’m beginning to feel grounded again. As I move into the next place in my life and assimilate back into the world on more confident ground again, I do so knowing that my faith has been tested and applied and is showing success to this point. Hey, I’m alive, healthy, and feeling the loss of what it is like to have to move forward in a life forever changed by a horrific tragedy. Today, I am aware and mindful that I haven’t done this myself. The situation may change, stressors differ, and levels of difficulty fall at different places on the scale. Still, the one place I know can rely on for answers is in my spirituality. I’ve seen it work. It’s still a daily challenge, but it’s the one place I can truly find peace.

To tie it all together, when I find myself asking, “What do you want me to do with this?”

I’m able to hear the answer if I can be present in the moment, free of expectations and judgment, and if I can be still and listen, I always hear the answer softly whispered into my ear, “Let go and let me take it.”