A reflection after a retreat at the Rudolf Steiner Health Center
I have learned
not to hold too tightly—
not to life,
not to death,
not to a loved one,
not to what I thought was mine to keep.
Even the definition of who I am,
even the shape of what I thought I must do—
all of it, a river I cannot dam.
Instead, I open my hands.
I love what is here—
fully, fiercely,
with everything I have been given,
with everything I have learned to bear.
I forgive the versions of myself
who didn’t know better.
I gather them in,
not as burdens,
but as branches in the fire of becoming.
I accept that even my flaws
are ways love has found to reveal itself.
So I let it all be—
an embrace,
a breath,
a tide coming in and going out.
Nothing stays.
Everything moves,
even me.
And yet,
in each passing moment—
when a poem undoes me,
when a hand brushes against mine,
when a tree bends,
and the wind carries a scent I cannot name—
I am fully here.
I do not need to pray.
Every encounter is already a prayer,
every face, a lit candle.
Each encounter, a blessed revolution.
I do not know where I will be
a day or a month from now,
or a year, or ten—
only that I will not be the same.
The where and how no longer matter.
Only this—
this soft, endless turning,
this quiet unraveling,
this way the road is changing me.
This light that is illuminating my soul and heart.
And so,
to the ultrasound, the mammogram, the MRI,
to every voice that tried to summon fear,
I bow in gratitude.
You have brought me back
to the center of my own life.
You have reminded me
that I am part of this great conversation—
the one spoken in trees and rivers,
in stone and wild ocean,
in mountains and the red throat of volcanoes.
And the same ancient knowing
that moves through them
moves through me.
So I let go, ease the grip, and let God…
With love and deep gratitude,
Dr. Shahrzad (Sherry) Sami