Today, I got my shit ROCKED by the ocean. It was rough; I could hear the waves crashing mercilessly as I walked up to the beach, but I went in anyway. I thought, “I’m a strong swimmer, I know what to do.” I am. And I did.

I swam to the bottom, then once I felt it pass, I swam up for air. This worked on the way in to get past the break, but on my way back out of the water, I couldn’t escape a series of huge waves breaking on top of me.

One tumbled me around so bad, I used up all of my breath-holding ability waiting for it to finish tumbling me around before I could find “up.” There wasn’t enough time to catch my breath before the next one came and I had to go under and do it again. 

That was scary. Seeing a giant wave heading my way, knowing I didn’t have my breath under me enough to comfortably weather it. That set my panic script into motion. Suddenly, I was fighting for my life in a big, scary ocean. Strong swimmer or not, I was at the mercy of my best efforts and whatever the water was going to do.

After a minute or so, (I have no idea how long it was) desperately swimming toward the shore, breathing while I could, and weathering the waves, it was finally shallow enough to stand up and walk. I trudged through the current trying to pull me back. My nose burned and my chest heaved.

I sat on my towel, spitting and blowing salt water out of my nose.

My panic gradually wound down. My breathing returned to normal. The breakfast I thought might reemerge settled back down in my stomach.

My mind turned back on, trying to catch up to the body that just had this suddenly life-threatening experience.

I asked myself, “What was this teaching me?”

That I shouldn’t have gone in in the first place? Yes.

That I could trust myself to survive? Yes.

That sometimes, life sends you waves that are simply too big and all the thinking and intellectualizing and trying to wrap your mind around it doesn’t change anything?

Yes. 

An experience like that brings you right to the most basic level of life. My brain has a big ego, but all the meaning-making and mental puzzling in the world won’t save me from the too-big waves. You just have to get through it, catch your breath, and keep going.

I think this is my third post now about receiving. I keep learning how important it is.

This time last week, a very special rabbit named Cosmo died. He was 9 years old. He’d been sick multiple times, and this time, he didn’t come out the other side. 

At 6 months old, he was a feisty and fearful little escape artist. He was found abandoned in a New York City apartment building cowering in the corner (his favorite place to cower).

I took one look at this terrified little creature, hiding at the back of the cage in the shelter, having clumsily bolted behind his box of hay, and said, yes, that one.

He was with me for 8 and a half years. All this time, I thought I was taking care of him.

2 weeks ago, he started sneezing.

I was leaving for Mexico in a couple days and the boarder was going to bring him to the vet that same day. But he was getting worse leading up to my departure.

The night before he died, I watched him eat and struggle and sneeze. I sobbed, and occasionally laughed at how weird and gross his mouth sounds were.

I hoped it wasn’t the end, but I knew I needed to be with him and express what I needed to in case it was.

I sat on the floor next to him and thanked him for the time we had spent together. 

I thanked him for his presence in my life. I thanked him for moving across the country with me. I thanked him for getting me all the way to Oaxaca and back. I hadn’t planned to take him on that trip, but he needed intense care to remove an abscess. I had to do warm compresses twice a day and squeeze puss out of a tube coming out of his cheek. Then after several weeks, remove the tube myself. It was disgusting.

But those moments, where I got to care for him so intimately, were some of the most meaningful. They were an initiation into a deeper mothering than I had ever experienced.

I noticed myself wanting confirmation that I had done a good enough job. Feeling guilt and self-doubt over the times I wasn’t there or didn’t know what was best. Recognizing that, I emailed my own mother, letting her know she had done her job well, that I was a complete person, thriving and standing on my own two feet. I forgave her, I apologized, and I offered permission for her to release any fear or doubt she may have been holding.

I turned back to Cosmo, having released what I’d been carrying in both directions, as the mother, and the child. I looked in his eyes, my heart open and free, and just listened. 

The air between our eyes warped, like how the air warbles over a flame. Two distinct pulses. I recognize this as energy moving between us. He shifted into a different posture. 

I knew intuitively that he had received what I expressed, and he was now giving something to me. 

Because his nose was stuffy, I could hear each exhale. The rhythm was consistent and specific. He was using his breathing to soothe me. 

From his sweet little furry body, he was beaming his breath and attention, creating a frequency of love, assurance and nurturing. FOR ME. 

I was stunned.

Trying not to assume I knew better than the wisdom of nature, I laid down, closed my eyes and accepted it.

His breathing maintained its rhythm, steady and uninterrupted, as if to say, yes, it is still okay for you to receive. I am here.

I let his energy flow into my body. It felt like magic. It felt like mothering. It felt like love. 

I felt my body progressively relax. Starting with my heart, softening and washing over me in waves. Relaxing my own breathing and my chest, then my throat, my neck, my mouth, my jaw, and releasing tension I’d been holding for as long as I can remember. 

I felt cold air in parts of my nose that had never been open. I cried, humbled by the power of this deep, instinctual wisdom. And his generosity in offering it to me. 

When I got caught thinking “How did I not realize this the whole time” or “I don’t deserve this,” it disrupted the connection. And he simply kept giving, so I let it go, in honor of what was unfolding beyond my understanding.

Putting down my doubts, my stories and my fears unlocked a deeper connection to this being and the insane magic of this weird, wild world. 

Cosmo, I love you. Thank you. I will continue to receive. And I will share your magic rabbit medicine.