An Invitation and a Journey

one to which I keep returning

I keep these words posted where I see them every day, one of the invitations of Frank Ostaseski in his book, “The Five Invitations: Discovering What Death Can Teach Us About Living Fully.

                  Welcome Everything – Push Away Nothing

Some days I want to push away this invitation, to resist it with everything I have.

There are things into which I do not want to journey with my mind or heart.

Yet, it continually pulls me back.

When I hear the word “welcome” I first think of warmth, embrace, joy, even feeling ecstatic. A tight hug, a welcome into a gathering, welcome in from the cold, welcome to my home, welcoming a good meal, and the list goes on.

This is not, however, the way Frank intends the word.

It is, as it says on the back of the book in a way that speaks to all five invitations, “a request to show up and be fully present for every aspect of your life.”

Brief example.

I’m sure there were earlier events in my life, but one I will always, always remember as if yesterday was when the neurosurgeon came into my hospital room to share his assessment of my daughter’s opening in her spine and next steps.

Letting his words in. Opening myself to what I so wanted to resist. Not knowing in that moment the whole of the story over the following days and months and years.

And that is perhaps the biggest learning from this invitation. I have rehearsed what I have not welcomed into my life, what I have, and what I continue to learn to welcome even when wanting to scream no with all my heart.

For me, this is about being open to examine that which I might not want to believe or that frightens me - every single event, decision, disappointment, sorrow/grief, illness, surprise, shock - what all of it might hold.

What lesson?

What beauty?

What connections?

What might it teach me about releasing, letting go?

How might my path be shown in a way I had no inkling about? I could tell you stories of how this has been so true.

This welcoming often comes with resistance, with tears, with deep hurt, with tension, and so, so many emotions.

I have been in a situation the past couple of years that I cannot write about but that has tested this invitation. It has scared me, it has taught me, and it has given me a greater sense of empathy for others.

A beautiful by product of welcoming into my own life what I am initially so inclined to push away, is that I am shown how to extend to others love, empathy, companionship and understanding that I otherwise might not have learned or known to share.

Finally, how does all of what I experience bring me into deeper, more acute awareness of the whole of life, the absolute preciousness of it, the precariousness of it, and living the eventual journey of passing from this life to the next and all that exists on that journey?

It also teaches me to be with others who are in that process.

Frank talks about our inner armor never being far from, not separated from the love that also resides in us and is gifted to us by others. We are not always alone.

He says, “The sort of fearless openness required to turn toward our suffering is only possible within the spacious receptivity of love…love is not blind to our day-to-day human challenges, yet it is not limited by them.”

I am, for certain, returning to these words during this time in my country, realizing the potential realities in the months ahead.

Welcome everything – push away nothing not only helps me in the moment of having to welcome an individual circumstance but reminds me I can do internal work consistently and ahead of time be as ready as I can possibly be for broader circumstances.

And to extend my hand and heart to others who may be struggling to welcome in that which feels unwelcome.

These five words are a gift to me. They are a well to which I go, knowing that grace, along with love, is waiting for me there. I am sustained.

I invite you into this invitation, too, should you choose to give it a try.