A little over a year ago I sold BellaSpark Magazine, a publication I managed for almost ten years. The previous year I stopped doing BellaSpark events. This week I quit my radio show of five years, InnerViews with Kimmie Rose and Donna Visocky. It seems that I have let go of just about everything I had wrapped my life around for the last fourteen years.

A couple of weeks ago I attended a symphony concert. I love the symphony and still hold fond memories of my time with them as Executive Director. Yet as I sat in the audience I realized how much I had changed since I had left to start my own business, to follow my path of exploration. I no longer felt as if this organization, these people and this music were mine. You can’t go back. The voice in my head whispered loudly. You can only go forward.

The message comes to me once again: Let go of your story. It is time for the new you to come forth, the butterfly to emerge from the cocoon. I realize I am so much more than just a mother who lost a child, more than BellaSpark, the business I poured my heart and soul into for the past fourteen years, more than a radio show that I identified with. Yes, all is part of who I am, but they do not define me. Each was an important part of my journey, and now a part of the fabric of my life, a grand quilt made of many different threads. Yet I am so much more than these pieces. I am a spiritual being, a unique expression of God.

I am reminded of quote by one of my favorite teachers, don Miguel Ruiz: “Whatever life takes away from you, let it go. When you surrender and let go of the past, you allow yourself to be fully alive in the moment. Letting go of the past means you can enjoy the dream that is happening right now.”

So I have been letting go. Releasing all that I was, all that I perceived myself to be, all that I imagined had defined me. It has not been easy, after all, if I am not these things, then who am I? I have indeed struggled, often clenching my fists and declaring to the Universe “I’m not ready to let that go yet!
But now finally, I am empty. Empty, laid open like a gutted fish exposed and rotting on the dock in the bright sun. That which I once was is no longer. Now it is just me – empty, yet somehow full. What do I do now? Who am I? What is my role? The questions flood my mind even as the elusive answer comes from my heart. YOU ARE and that is enough. JUST BE.

I feel lighter even as the weight of the unknown attempts to wrap itself around me like a dark and heavy wool blanket. No! I shrug it off. I trust that all is unfolding perfectly and I say YES! Yes to the new, to however my soul wishes to express itself.

It is difficult to be empty. The human mind doesn’t like nothingness. We fill our heads with unending thoughts and reasons, to do lists and busyness, endless preoccupations, anything to make us feel that we, this physical body, is real. In truth, it is the Spirit that is real, the Soul that is eternal. This body, this life, is just an illusion. The real being is beyond this.

So here I am, an empty vessel, cleared of the last dregs of what once was Donna. I trust that it will not be empty for long. The Universe hates a vacuum and I know that I am not done yet. There is more my physical aspect wishes to experience, to create in the physical world. My New You, my New Donna, is just waiting to pour into me with a new quest. My journey has just begun.

**Thank you Kimmie Rose for the opportunity to be part of your radio show for the last five years. It was truly a wonderful experience and opportunity for growth. I will treasure our friendship for always.

I awake to sunshine, surprised that my body, somehow knowing that I had no agenda this morning, no time clock to punch, had decided to sleep past its normal 4:00 a.m. rise time. As I prepare for my morning run the light teases me as it filters through the blinds of my east facing windows. “Come play with us,” it whispers. “We are waiting for you. It is spring.”

I have had the opportunity to work with many of the world’s top visionaries and have learned much over the years from these wonderful people. But, I would like to introduce you to my greatest teachers: my grandchildren. They understand this concept better than anyone I know.

We attended a concert a while back, Beatlemania with the local Symphony. It was great fun, all of us Baby Boomers dancing and groovin’ away to all the songs we grew up with. One thing really caught our attention though, aside from the beer bellies and blue jeans; we were delighted to see many in the audience opening their cell phones to shine light on the concert. It’s been a while since we’ve been to a rock concert, cell phones instead of cigarette lighters, amazing! It started with just a couple and then the lights multiplied one by one as more and more of us caught on. A single light here, another there, four more in that section, a whole row across the way; eventually, the entire hall was filled with shining lights. Cool…..

- The Mask – 
When you lose someone you love, it’s like a light goes out in your heart. When my daughter Kristi died, I felt that the light in my soul would never shine again. But life goes on, they say, and you have things to do. So you put on your mask and face the world everyday. The mask hides the pain and the grief, on your face, in your heart; and you get through the day. The mask becomes a new part of you and you are prepared to wear it forever.
 
And then little things happen...

• You see a sign, a butterfly or a penny, and you know that she is with you and always will be a part of you. 
  

… and the mask begins to crack.

• My grandson Nicholas tells me he sees Aunt Kristi. “She is the brightest star in the sky.” he says. And you know that she gently guides him. 
  

. . .  and the mask cracks a little more until a faint light, your light, shines weakly through.

• My friend Rayno says Kristi’s smiling face pops into his mind and brightens his day. And you know that she made an impact on people. 
  

. . . and the cracks in the mask grow wider; and the light peeks through, like rays of sun partly hidden behind a cloud.

• My beautiful daughter Jenny gives birth to my new granddaughter, and you know that she is sent to you as a gift from God and Kristi to ease your pain.
  

. . . and the cracks grow even wider as you dare to allow your love and light to shine on this new child.

And so it goes . . .
Slowly, little by little, the mask breaks apart and you begin to feel the sun on your face again; the light in your heart shine again. It may take years, but you know that someday, some how, the mask will disintegrate and you will show your face to the world again. It is a different face than before, because you are different, but it will be your face, none-the-less, and not the mask.                              
                                                                                              ~ Donna Visocky

Have you ever noticed how much stuff we have? Gadgets for this and tools for that, clothes we don’t even wear, the latest toys that sit unplayed with, and big houses filled with more stuff. We are jealous of other people’s stuff and tend to feel less than if someone has more stuff than us. So we end up working long hours just to buy more stuff, often using credit cards to finance our addiction. And then we fret over it and worry that we won’t be able to pay our bills so we work even longer hours. We live in fear that someone might take our stuff so we buy more stuff to protect our stuff. Recently, a friend took several boxes of old stuff to a local Goodwill. She was turned away. Turns out they were filled to the rafters with other people’s stuff and couldn’t take any more. We can’t even give away our stuff!

You will survive.. My message to anyone who has lost a loved one, especially a child. I have to admit, when someone told me that same thing after my daughter Kristi died, I didn't believe them. I did not want to live any longer on this Earth without my daughter. I wanted to leave. I didn't care about life, I wanted to be with my daughter. The thought of living another 30+ years was excruciatingly painful.

Yet here I am, 12 years later and yes, I have survived. Was it a long hard road? Yes. But somewhere along the way, about a year ago, I decided I wanted to live. I remember the moment, the thought came to me loud and clear "I want to live!"

Recently I was stopped by a train in Longmont, CO. As I was sitting there waiting to proceed, I noticed a building on the right, an old factory-type place with a sign that said Cheese Importers. Having an hour to kill before my next meeting, I decided to check it out. As soon as the train made its final pass I made a quick right and pulled into the parking lot in the back. How surprising to find a patio filled with cute little bistro sets and wrought iron fixtures, all brightly painted – blue, yellow, orange, lime green and more! It was enchanting and brought to mind the images I have in my head of a European plaza.