In Memory of Pasara

It’s been one week since Pasara’s death and I’m still grieving. She was an incredible human and talented esthetician who graced us with her presence at Earthbody.

As a way to move through all the feelings that have come up, I wanted to share some thoughts on how she has touched my life.
I met Pasara at a conference I was speaking at in San Jose. In my talk, I spoke about the role of the healer and choosing work you love, about how you could be stuck in a restaurant job for years and suddenly wake up to realize that this isn’t the life you want, and how to recognize the wake up call of your own life.

She came up to me afterwards and said with her adorable, soft spoken accent, hello Denmo this may sound strange but … can you read my mind? She was really asking. You could tell just by her question that this was a person who believed in miracles. In hindsight, I realize one of her many gifts in this life was creating intimacy on the spot in awkward moments and with total strangers. Pasara had owned a restaurant for many years and had that very experience. I couldn't know this in any tangible way but that first exchange stopped my mind and bonded us. We saw each other before we knew each other.

The day she graduated from esthetics school she came to Earthbody and I was there. She wanted to say hello and to share the good news. While we typically didn’t hire new graduates there was something very special about Pasara and when she applied for the job we brought her in without hesitation. For those of you who knew Pasara and had the good fortune to have her in your life, then you know that she was an incredibly joyful human being. Nothing seemed to erase that beautiful Thai smile of hers.

Once she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, she left Earthbody to attend to her health. And for some time I worked with her one-on-one to prepare for end of life. But she was getting better. She was feeling better. And we sort of silently assumed that it would be a future end -- that we would have more life, more time. But of course you never think that the people you love are going to die. You never really believe that death will come unannounced as it did. As it does. 

When I heard of her death, I crumbled onto my kitchen floor and cried hot swollen tears. I was angry. I was confused. I was at a loss. I was scared. I was sad for her family and her wonderful husband and for the life she didn’t get to live. And I stayed close to all those feelings. I’ve been rising at 4 am on most days with thoughts of her. Where is she now? I imagined her last few moments life. I imagined my own death and the death of those I love. I asked my husband how he would like me to prepare for his death — you know, if he’s the lucky bastard to go first and leave me to deal with the mess of this world and change the litter box. And he told me. And it was beautiful. And I’m glad I asked. And he wanted to ask me the same. But it was clear that it would have to wait for another time because this was already too much to take in over take-out.

Pasara’s death is a wake up call for all of us who knew her. Not in some alarm or cautionary sort of sense. But in the very real fact that our time here is so brief. Please, live your life. Be your truth. Make no exceptions. Be ruthless in waking up to your self. 

There will be an altar set up at Earthbody in memory of our friend. If you would like to add to it, you can write a letter, make an offering, or place a picture of anyone else you’d like to honor who has transitioned into the next world. Altars are portals. You can ask for guidance, communicate unresolved feelings, and request support and protection. The invisible world is here and very much alive for us all.

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