00: Mirror of Flight 5342

Welcome to this Field of Mirrors

This year started differently than most. Every year I create a mantra – a theme that sets the tone of the year. Even though the start of the year feels arbitrary to me, I started this yearly practice in 2018, inspired by my dad. This year, I took it to a new level and created a poem, enthused by a family poem competition.

I never expected this year to bring so many new experiences. I’m used to change and uncertainty. Imagining what might be possible or what could be created from change started out as a necessity that turned into a way of being as a conscious choice. I find change to be fun and adventurous. But there are times when change finds me in unexpected moments.

One unexpected change is the emergence of this writing space and stepping into my voice as a writer. My mantra for this year is all dreams go live in 2025 – letting go of productivity masking delay and resistance and leaning into love, bliss, and the now. And the poem, inspired by this mantra, really reminded me to embrace presence in a new way. And so now, I’m writing.

This writing page, Field of Mirrors, is a space to reflect my experiences as mirrors and so I will write to these mirrors and share them here and am starting with one that came at the start of the year.

In January, a huge mirror showed up. The plane crash at DCA. This crash activated so much inside of me. And so in this post, I write to this mirror.

00: Mirror of Flight 5342

I noticed that my family text thread had several messages late one night, suggesting something important was being brought to attention. And when the moment came, where I could focus my attention on the messages, I felt heaviness throughout my body and a sense of “oh no! how can this be?” when I learned of what happened and read that one of my brother’s closest friends was on the flight.

Even now as I think back to that moment, I feel deep sadness. The way it all unfolded affected me profoundly. My body would shake as I put my attention on the event, my brother’s friend, Anthony, who I had never met, and the significant impact on the lives of those closest to him with his sudden and unexpected departure.

At the time, I was taking a class that talked about life and death, was experiencing deep grief, and was becoming aware of some buried feelings within me that I had unconsciously avoided that were being revealed. I was a mess. It was as if all these moments where my life took drastic new turns that I wasn’t prepared for – monumental shifts that would alter my identity and trajectory, leaving me uncertain how to move forward – were all orbiting my awareness at the same time. And I will write more about these moments in future posts to other mirrors.

These big moments required pivots that were so fast that I skipped over the depth of the emotions or dove so deeply into my sadness, grief, and anger, that I kept looping them rather than moving through them. And then right there, in an instant, with you, Flight 5342, I felt the weight of everything within me that was crying out to be expressed and seen.

And it also felt tricky because this particular moment was about Anthony and the others who were involved and affected. There was also anger and sadness for how so many lives were needlessly lost. Even now as I write, I feel a rush of emotions. There is still tenderness and rawness there and it feels that I am not doing justice to how upsetting this was and still is. And at the same time, I feel that it is important to give voice to the felt impact. It’s a delicate line.

I feel gratitude for all that moved within me and I also honor the life and legacy of Anthony. There’s a video of him singing and dancing in a karaoke room that reminds me to choose life, joy, and love, and I smile every time I watch it. Thank you, Anthony, for the reminder to live playfully, thoughtfully, and joyfully.

I am grateful for how I have been invited to make space for grief with this mirror. And to feel far back enough that old grief has space to breathe, receive love, and let joy be with it.

And there is also space to allow this grief to become compost and birth something new.

And so, as I begin this new season of exploring mirrors in all their shapes and forms. Some of these mirrors are heart wrenching and others are heart opening or both at the same time.

I end this post with gratitude for important mirrors that have made short, yet impactful appearances, and those who have journeyed with me much longer. And what holds them in common is what they have reflected back to me about my writing and stepping into my voice as a writer, and so I would like to honor them here.

Casey: I’m so grateful that you revealed yourself to the world through a podcast episode I happened upon. You have been such a gift and expansive mirror. It has been a true honor to work with you. Thank you for the ways you have invited me to see differently.

Atarah: Your presence and prompting planted seeds long before our first interaction. I’m grateful for how you have challenged me and how you have reflected back what you have seen in me and have experienced through me. Thank you for sharing your voice.

Tracey: Our exchange was such a gift. And the fact that you encouraged me to step into a version of myself that wasn’t even on my radar and lean into creativity in this season of life was so powerful. Thank you for your words.

Zach: I never expected that one short Zoom meeting would catapult into building something so much bigger than I could have imagined. Thank you for holding up a mirror of non-linear sacral creativity in action and for inviting me to reflect it back with intention and clarity.

Snehesh: You have been my most transformative mirror – revealing the darkest parts of me and some of the most joyful. Your presence, in all its forms, has felt like a beautiful invitation to simply, wildly, and freely be me. Thank you for witnessing me and being with the many layers and versions of me. I have such deep love and gratitude for you.