This year, many of the world’s well-known gifted and talented left the earth plane. We have said goodbye to many, including David Bowie, Prince, Leonard Cohen, George Michael, Carrie Fischer, Debbie Reynolds, John Glenn, Florence Henderson, Arnold Palmer, Gene Wilder, Muhammad Ali, Morley Safer, Nancy Reagan, Harper Lee, Paul Kantner, Glen Frey, and many more.
One who left about six weeks ago had an impact on my life beyond what I had realized. He was Leon Russell, a bluesy rock-and-roll pianist with a raspy twangy voice singing love songs with soul – a combination of elements that made their way into the depths of my heart.
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I grew up listening to his music. I had several of his albums, with sheet music to many. I did my best to bang them out on the piano, through my own love-hate relationship with the instrument, really a mirror of my love-hate relationship with my grandmother, who was a piano teacher.
Some of Leon’s songs struck a chord in me so deep, no matter how many times I played them or listened to them, I couldn’t get through them without crying – My Father’s Shoes.
Much time has passed since I put all that aside and almost forgot about it. I had been told in my younger years that I was too sensitive, and that if I wanted to survive in this world, I had to stuff my emotions and toughen up. I did just that, and I survived.
Though it’s been six weeks since his passing, I just learned the news this week from a facebook post. I’m not sure which shocked me more – the news itself or my reaction to it. It was like giving birth to a wall of emotion with a wail and a full day of tears. The tears have continued to flow off and on since, especially when I listen to those songs again and now as I write.
In the past 25 years of the healing journey, I’ve opened a lot, and I love to feel. I relish in the range of emotions I’m able to feel. It’s so much more freeing than keeping them stuffed.
Yet, I had no idea this piece had stayed packed inside me all these years. I can physically feel that my heart has cracked open to release these emotions, which means it had tightly bound all of this in place for a long time!
There is sadness in saying goodbye to these people most of us never even knew, but the sadness is really in parting with the memories associated with the characters we perceived them to be and what they represented in our lives.
At the same time, we can be grateful for the opening that comes when we release the hidden pockets of memories and emotions that get locked in our hearts along with them.
I’m grateful to feel the sadness, the love and the longing. I accept the opening this has created to heal a deeper layer in my relationship with my grandmother, to forgive and return to unity. I am grateful for the opening to explore a part of my creativity and self-expression that has been locked away for way too long!
As 2016 comes to a close, I’m excited to leave behind the binds that constricted these emotions. I’m ecstatic about beginning 2017 with a new expansive space for creativity, expression and love.
In memory of my grandmother and so many who returned home this year, I’ll share these words from Leon Russell’s “A Song for You.”
“I love you from a place where there’s no space and time.
I love you for my life. You are a friend of mine.
And when my life is over, remember when we were together.
We were alone and I was singing this song for you.”
I’m grateful for all who shared their talents, their hearts and souls with us, and I’m happy to know that they are now free.
With blessings and gratitude,
Debra Mastura
If there is something you would like to leave behind in 2016 and/or something you would like to make space for in 2017, I’d love to help you explore, release the binds, heal the past and open to what is to come.
You are invited to schedule a time for us to chat. Just click here to access the online scheduler. It’s a no cost gift – a way of saying let’s have a rockin’ 2017!
Hope to connect with you soon.
Photo credits: © Randy Miramontez | Dreamstime.com – Leon Russell
