Thea and I had a ritual. We called it 7 minutes. Each time we ended a call, something we did weekly for 18 years, we would end with a 7 minute version of the life we wanted to manifest. The rules were simple 1) speak uninterrupted for 7 minutes 2) place no limits on what you would like to create 3) don’t censor yourself and 4) speak in the present as if you are already living it. The other person would time it and when the 7 minutes was up they would ask, “what is getting in your way?”, “how will you clear the path?” and “what will you do this week to bring you closer to this reality?”.  Having done this as a consistent practice we were often amazed at how often these “realities” came true.

We lived on different coasts, she on the west and me on the east. We met in Seattle in 1997 when we were in group therapy together. She was going through a divorce and I was recovering from a bicycle accident and trying to find my way in the world. She was 39 and I was 24. The difference in age never mattered mostly because Thea was ageless. She was full of wonder, like a little kid always discovering new things and new ways of thinking. She loved jazz and played the cello, sang at Carnegie hall, traveled the world and hung out with the Bee Gee’s. She was an architect by trade and had such an appreciation for design and architecture. Design was so important to her; she told me once she held off on buying a butter dish for 3 years because she couldn’t find the exact right one. I learned how to appreciate and really enjoy the beauty of everyday things because of her influence. 

In our journeys as women we often had parallel paths. Neither of us had children, we both pursued college degrees later in life, we were independent and strong minded and believed in feminism and equality. Sometimes those things made life hard, the road was uphill but we had each other to rely on and support each other. Sometimes she carried me and sometimes I carried her but we always, always showed up. It was a non-negotiable. We covered a lot of ground in two decades of friendship including marriages, divorces, deaths, graduations, marathons, triathlons, coming out of the closet, new careers, moves across the country and many other major milestones. At times our connection felt like the thing keeping us going. Like the time Thea’s insomnia was so bad that she didn’t have quality sleep for over a year. She would share with me her true feelings about contemplating suicide just to make the torture stop and I listened without judgement to her experience not attempting to talk her out of it but just understanding why she felt that way. Or the time she identified how serious my depression had gotten and convinced me to seek help. Something I credit to saving me from going down a destructive path. 

As fate would have it, in 2017, Thea and I were living in the same state as one another for the first time in 20 years. We often marveled at how the universe conspired to bring us together in this way. We saw each other in person more than we had over the course of our entire friendship during the year we were both in Connecticut. The circumstances weren’t great for her, she was going through a tough divorce and struggling financially. She was trying to make her way in the small Connecticut town she found herself in. In 2018, Thea developed a tumor that was later diagnosed as cancer. Her view of her situation was positive, she kept saying that there was an 80% chance that her cancer wouldn’t spread and that she wanted to seek alternative treatment. The specifics of her cancer she chose to keep to herself. Her cousin flew in from Washington state to help her manage the care she needed and she only discussed details about her diagnosis and care with her. It was a confusing and frustrating time. I wasn’t sure what my role should be when it came to her care and support and she wasn’t capable of providing that clarity. I decided I would just let her lead.  I just wanted to be there in whatever way was right for her but nothing I did or said felt right and there was tension between us. I wasn’t able to show up in the way I wanted to during this time which is something I have deep regret over 

One day in mid-September, she told me she decided to go to an alternative treatment center in California and that she was leaving in a few days. Something inside me just knew that would be the last time I saw her. I met her at the airport in Westchester to say goodbye. She had lost a lot of weight and was in a wheelchair. She said it was because she wanted to save her energy but I think she knew she was very sick. She said she was going to be healed and that I could visit when she was feeling better but I knew there was something she was not sharing either because she herself was in denial or for some other reason and yet I wanted to believe her. I told her that I loved her deeply and that she could always rely on that. We reconciled, cried and hugged. I wished her a speedy recovery and a relaxing time at this facility she was going to. I turned to walk away and I felt a mixture of sadness and grief and anger and confusion. 

She called me the following Wednesday and I wasn’t able to take the call. I planned to call her back later in the week. I received a call that Friday from her cousin who informed me that Thea was in hospice and could no longer speak due to the pain. I was stunned. She told me I could speak to Thea and that Thea could hear me, she said I should say goodbye. The majority of the time we were friends we grew that friendship through weekly phone calls, we were used to connecting with each other this way. I suppose it made some sort of sense that my last words to her would be delivered over the phone. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I told her that I loved her and I wished for her to be free of pain. I wished for her peace and comfort and told her that I will forever be grateful for her friendship. Thea died on October 1st, 2018, she was 61 years old.

Thea represented to me hope and belief in miracles. We were co-creators and shared our inner most desires with one another because we believed that gave them power. Sharing your desires with someone else gives them energy and we were there to bear witness for one another’s dreams. She was so full of life and had so much more to give the world. She had so much more that she wanted to accomplish in life. Since her death I stopped practicing this visualization, I found that anything related to her was too painful for me think about. When she died I lost a friend, yes but I lost something else. I lost my faith.

I recently came across her last 7 minutes that she shared with me via email. She sent it on January 19th, 2018. When I read this I realized how much of our ideal lives are similar in what we wanted. I like to picture her this way when I think of her, living her ideal life, happy and free. 

Music is playing in my house – I’m singing, playing the piano, the bass – sound system is playing my favorite music – I’m performing in public and jamming with other musicians. The Turret house is the perfect living environment for me – solar and wind powered, radiant floor heat – perfect for crafting, cooking, gardening, growing and preserving food, community and family gatherings around the hearth (stove, food, fire). There’s a complete microclimate in the garden – birds, bees, and bats. The property is private – neighbors nearby but not next to – and is a teaching platform. I love my flight instructor and love flying airplanes and love being licensed as a pilot and architect. Designing my home has been the project I’ve gotten to do for myself, something I’ve been doing for others for my whole career – home as a focus for the arts and life – values, food, rituals. I am richly blessed with such financial means to live a life of financial freedom to do with however, whenever. And whatever I wish!  

Coming across this email has reminded me that we are still connected and that I have duty to restore my faith and honor her life by manifesting this dream for the both of us.