Easter Sounds Like Raindrops
Easter morning, 2014.
Rise and rain.
Cloudbursts of coastal rain and ocean sighs greet me on this Easter Sunday. I’m in my cozy Santa Barbara nest, enjoying rain (gentle), music (birdsong), and hot tea (Irish).
Earlier I Skyped with sister Katie and niece Maggie, whose new best friend is a big purple rabbit. My friend Emmylou called me from the road, on a tour bus filled with band members and dogs. Later I will enjoy a meal with friends. Now though, silence shrouds my thoughts. The morning feels empty.
An emptiness of possibility; not loneliness. A holy womb, instead of empty tomb.
Solitude and silence settles in my heart. I am alone. Yet, feel all one in the quiet space.
Mind travels, hippity hop, along memory lane, recalling Easter’s past. North Carolina Moravian sunrise service with Kern and his parents in Old Salem, a brass band charming sun from sleep. Easter egg hunts in Nashville, with pink peonies choir near Emmy’s front stoop. Sunday dinners in Charlotte, Iowa at Great Aunt Ruth’s house, complete with relish trays and homemade gravy. Easter 1989, my senior year at Saint Mary’s, and last time mom made me an Easter basket. She died Valentine’s Day 1990, and I don’t that first Easter without her.
Comforting and familiar, these memories are reflected in the rain now falling. This Easter rain reminds me of love’s resurrecting power. I feel an emptiness of possibility. No tears over what or who has passed, only raindrops. And, the eternal promise of rainbows and life everlasting.
In the quietness of my home, my breathing takes center stage. I listen. Breath beckons me to heart space. After a few minutes, breath becomes both comforting psalms and sacred devotion. In the peaceful harbor of my heart, between waves of inhalations and exhalations, I settle into haven of the silent pause between breaths.
Sheltered between my breaths, in the sacred pause, light emerges from the space between my breaths. In this present moment, I am no longer standing vigil over yesterday. Or, being tempted by tomorrow. Breath saves me once again, from depths of past haunts and deaths of future taunts.
Free from wistfulness, my breath and I waltz in the resurrection of present moment.
Here, silence sounds like raindrops. Like Maggie’s giggle. Like Emmy’s singing. Like Aunt Ruth’s laughter.
And, in my mother’s voice calling my name- Kellen Celeste. A voice I heard in her womb, which still echoes beyond her tomb.
As my breath harmonizes with raindrops, echoes from the past fade, and reverb from future worry clears. No longer deaf to the present, Easter sounds like raindrops and gentle reminders of love everlasting.
In the solitude of my coastal sanctuary, I am completely surrounded by love of family, friends, and God. There is no separation of here or there; past or future; life or death…when I return to Love.
Love shines through. Always and in all ways. Whether it’s reaching beyond distant miles, breaking through rainy mornings; or, reaching beyond the realms of death. Love dawns with each breath. Miraculous resurrections in each space between breaths.
It’s still raining. House is quiet. Embraced in the stillness of this present moment, I settle into contentment’s arms. Listening to my heart, a trio of voices sing to me. They remind me I am not alone. And, that I am all One.
One with Katie, Maggie, Emmy, and other loved ones in Tucson, Nashville, and Michigan. And with my mother, Aunt Ruth and others dimmed from time, yet reflected in raindrops and resurrected by love.
Easter morning rains.
Rise and shine.
Kellen Brugman is a holistic wellness and spiritual writer. Her work has been published by lululemon, Maharishi Ayurveda, Conscious Lifestyle Magazine, and Maria Shriver’s The Open Field. She teaches Ayurvedic yoga and wellbeing classes at The Space Wellness Center. And leads Spiritual Bushwhacking retreats in Carefree, Arizona, and Northern Michigan. Kellen’s favorite self-care trio is a yoga mat, journal, and cup of warm chai.