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Hi, I found this quote waiting in my email this morning:
“This is the secret of life: to be non-serious but absolutely involved.” ~Sadhguru
It reminds me of a Buddhist-influenced novel Philip and I read ages ago. A fragment of a line from that book has stuck with me all these years: “to care and not to care.” Continue reading “A Book is Born!”
To care deeply and offer care. To breathe into the moment. To pause, go slowly, give thanks, say, “I love you.” I’ve been learning this again … and again in these past weeks since my mother went into the hospital with an infection called cellulitis that was quickly made worse by pneumonia. On September 9, I flew quickly to New York to be with her. She’s been learning to breathe more deeply and consciously, learning to do that which has been done habitually and shallowly for 95 years. We are learning patience and trust in the body’s inherent ability … and desire … to heal, to live. Continue reading “A Blogger’s Excuse and Inching towards Publication”
My birthday. Hmmm … The sun returned to the position it was in 66 years ago when a soul decided to drop into this body. That sounds amazing, doesn’t it? So why am I not amazed? Where’s the Yay! I’m alive! feeling? Continue reading “Another Birthday, Another Turn Around the Sun”
Writing and grieving have intermingled so fully, I can no longer disentangle them.
In these past weeks, I have felt as though I entered into stage 742 of grieving. Who knew – despite reading all about it – that this would be such an ongoing and many-sided experience? You read it and hear it – grief changes you … always. But to live it is to know something in a way you cannot know through others even as their words ease and confirm your own experience. In many ways, those words have been like a hand held out in the darkest time of my life. In other ways, I continue to learn grief in real time, in real emotion and body. Continue reading “Process: Grieving and Writing”
I read this:
“I did not yet know how many ways there are of denying what it is too frightening to admit.”
The memory of Philip lying unconscious and collapsed in his hospital bed is burned into the picture gallery of my mind. Officially a hospice patient as of that Saturday afternoon, I was told he’d be moved to the hospice wing on Monday. So, late that night, I went back to the hospital to sit with him again and kiss him goodnight. He was still alive and with me, while death remained somewhere abstractly down the road. However, when I got to the ICU, the night nurse said he would die by morning. Shocked and disbelieving – denying what was too frightening to admit – I changed my plan. I wasn’t going anywhere that night. Continue reading “Denial and Hope”
Through much of his life, Philip was misunderstood. He was an exceptional human being, seldom recognized or accepted, holding views that were unconventional, baffling, somehow threatening to others. One of the many things neither family nor friends could understand was his consistent search for healing through unorthodox means. Continue reading “Can Everyone Be Wrong?”
An Unceremonious Ceremony
“This pain will not end
‘Cause lovin’ you is what I was made for.” – Mary Black
There are kindnesses that go beyond kindness, offerings from strangers that bring a deepening apprehension of gratitude. In this past two years, there have been people who have given with no expectation of return — sometimes perfect strangers. Has Philip’s death offered me an opportunity to begin trusting in a more generous world? This was clearly in evidence just minutes after Philip died in the hospital in Coronado. Continue reading “A chapter from Life with an Impossible Person: A Memoir of Love, Loss, and Transformation”