She called me Chani girl. It warmed a part of me that I didn’t know was still cold.
I have known Ulrike since I was 13 years old. Towering in stature, avant-garde in style, serious in personality, cheerful in spirit, powerful in presence, brilliant in artistry, astute in observationShe was generous in friendship and radiant.
A woman who existed outside the male gaze, Ulrike seemed to live for her own self, art and life. She came from another galaxy, far removed from the one I grew up in. Her presence awakened something in me. I stood up next to her. I wanted to be smarter around her. Because of her I dreamed differently about my future.
She loved her husband Gerald, but never lost herself in him. Together they created a life filled with beauty, food, music, friends, art and family – and they did it as equals, with a deep and abiding respect and love for each other. She was an artist and a reiki master, a dog mom and my step-grandmother’s best friend. From my late teens through my early thirties, I went to her weekly for Reiki sessions.
Reiki (hands-on energetic healing) is something Ulrike did for a select group in addition to her full-time job as art director. I was lucky to be one of them. When I first started going to her for sessions, I had no money. She let me pay in homemade cookies, soup and cake. Under her warm, gracious hands, I healed my wounds little by little, session by session, year by year.
She had a gentle detachment like so many healers. She knew loss, she knew love, she knew tenderness, and she knew how to stand in her power. She was my teacher, my mentor, my family and my bridge to another life. She was patient enough to listen to me as I sifted through the piles of rubble and sadness. She was there for me when no one else was. She showed me what it was like to live with and channel an enormous amount of creative energy. She saw me grow from child to adult and knew what it meant to me that I had come this far.
She was one of my heroes.
Ulrike died in February of this year from ALS complications. She has suffered the cruel and degrading disease with utmost patience, dignity and acceptance for the past three years.
It’s her birthday this week. So is her memorial.
There is no explanation for the ways this sadness will level me in a day. There is no planning. There’s no reason for it to erupt. Like love, all I can do is give in to it. Sadness is evidence of a working heart and soul, I tell myself. Like everything else monumental in life, all the clichés become true once it shows up.
I really can’t believe she’s gone.
Nothing in life prepares you for how short and fragile it is. Nothing prepares you for final death. Nothing prepares you for the reality of what someone means to you. But their deaths make it crystal clear.
In my grief, I was left with the immensity of the gifts Ulrike gave me: her time, care, warmth and generosity. I get to live this life of mine partly because she helped me get here. And like a true healer, she asked for no recognition, no accolades, and no applause for her efforts. The only way to repay such a gift is to pay it forward in every possible way.
This week there’s a rare one solar eclipse in Ariesand thus also a Chiron cazimi (which means that Chiron will be in exactly the same place as the Sun). Chiron is the minor planet known as the Wounded Healer. It symbolizes those who have learned the art of administering medicine: doctors, healers, chiropractors and therapists, as well as healthcare providers, teachers and mentors of all kinds. It represents people who do the hard work of helping others turn their shame into psychological gold, their anxiety into creative fuel, and their pain into art. The unglamorous, brutal, grueling and highly rewarding work done in the shadows, in the healing chambers, in the caverns of the human psyche. Work that remains invisible to the world, but everything changes.
In themselves, eclipses are cataclysmic events – at least visually speaking, at least temporarily. They indicate something unusual happening, something shadowy happening to us, something mysterious at work. They usually follow a dramatic beginning and end. And they are initiations, especially in Aries.
The solar eclipse on April 8 can be seen in certain parts of America. Every time the sun is visibly blotted out and day turns to twilight, feelings of awe and awareness of how insignificant we are take over. But beyond the visual spectacle, this solar eclipse is special for another reason: it is unique that another (minor) planet aligns exactly with such a visually stunning solar eclipse.
A solar eclipse in Aries with a Chiron cazimi portends a time when our wounds must be addressed collectively and personally. Everything that happens in Aries has a bold, daring, courageous, bombastic, creative, loud and evocative signature. Aries is the primordial fire, the spark of life that cannot be contained or crushed. It is relentlessly glowing.
Thus, during this period we can see a world on fire with misery, but also with wisdom.
The call to take on a mentor position yourself is currently loud. This eclipse asks us: What healing do we need and what healing can we provide? What have our mentors taught us, and how do we implement those lessons?
May we use this time to honor those who have shown us how to be generous, kind, and willing to do the work. And in true Aries fashion, may we take these lessons and take direct action so that we use our lives, our energy, our creativity, our gifts, and our agency to address the pain points that abound.
P.S It’s been so much fun writing to you every week, but in true Eclipse x Mercury retrograde fashion, I’ve had to rethink the ways I spend my time and energy. I have some offers to consider, things I desperately want to offer you, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t do both. So, in light of that fact, starting today I will go back to writing once a month for each new moon. In the meantime, take good care of yourself and each other. Bye for now.
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