Why is this happening to me?  Or why did it happen to him/her, the “casualty” of that thing called death?

Well, why NOT you?  Or them?  Notice the hard-hitting “edge” of this question? Sounds like a highly insensitive remark.  But I call it a “power question.”

Loss and death are not personal. 

I remember the morning I got news of Nana Mary’s death. Curled up in the warmth of my bed, mum told me she’d died of a heart attack during the night. This news hit like a bleak snowstorm harsh enough to kill me.  My throat tightened. I had no words. My heart felt like it might stop from the ache, and my world instantly became more insular in the absence of motherly support in my grief.

The “speaking out shift” is now, and you are part of the movement of souls who are here to make your voice be wildfire that extinguishes the old and ignites the new.

How can grief (or you) be gorgeous amidst that unbearable feeling of loss, sadness and mess that you never saw coming, or perhaps you were part of a decision that created mayhem?   That grief has hit you like a Japanese Shinkanzen high-speed train. Your life as you imagined has been shattered.  You feel smashed to smithereens. And you feel far from gorgeous!

Who has provoked you into not just finding your voice, but in upping your inner unstoppability?