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Marching away grief and fear~

11/15/2016

After solving computer problems at the Apple Store (the geniuses were fabulous in all the ways I need—expertise, patience and friendliness), I took a walk to visit my ninety-five year old friend, Ruth. I needed the exercise and companionship to make sense of my grief and fear: grief at the passing of Gwen Ifill; fear for transgender friends who are scared for their lives, immigrant families afraid that they will be separated from their core loved ones, and women afraid they will lose intimate control of their bodies.
Again and again, I am reminded that I have NO idea what it is like to be marginalized, and that I am called to stand in solidarity for basic human dignity. I am seriously considering attending the Women’s March on Washington January 21st. I’ll see how it develops.

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Always seeking meaning~

10/31/2016

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     I’m still working on the article, and plan to send it our after I tweak the title to my satisfaction.
    Today, however, I’ve been think about friends I see only occasionally. We get together once in a while, maybe just a couple of times a year, exchange a few emails, and that is enough--unless something comes up, and then communication picks up. Because we are not involved in the details of each other’s lives, our conversations are free of judgments about what one of us should do. Instead, we get right to the point of life--what we are doing to find meaning in our lives.
    The other day a friend acknowledged that his ninety-year-old mother-in-law on hospice is still searching for meaning. In accompanying her, the family is also finding personal and collective meaning. Death, one of our biggest teachers, shows us that meaning making is communal.
    Hmm, here’s a post script: for those of us who love silence, solitude and simplicity, that longing can only be satisfied in community.

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Missing a long-time friend~

10/12/2015

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Here’s my blurt for today. I’m feeling a pall, which is something I usually don’t experience. It’s a beautiful day. I am very grateful for family and friends, my health and my life. I’m going to see my two sisters and brother next weekend, something that doesn’t happen often since my brother lives in Portland, Oregon. Then I’m off to Italy by myself for two glorious weeks of solitude. So much to be grateful for, and I am.
I’m usually a half full kind of person, but sadness looms when we lose a long-time very good friend. I’m just being with it and being grateful for the friendship and good times.

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Remembering Mom~

10/3/2015

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Four years ago my mom took her final breath, died, passed away. There are myriad ways of saying it. Died feels final and clinical; final breathe softens it. For me, however, passing away feels more like what my mom did, but I want to add ‘to a better place’, whatever that means? I don’t know, no one knows, but many of us believe that something beyond this earthly exist, and that it is good. Christianity declares it, and those of other faiths, as well as agnostics and atheists, have a sense that death is not final. For many believing that death is a big black hole is too frightening. For everyone, there are the memories.

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Remembering Mom~

10/3/2014

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I continue to find it challenging to write for this blog while working on my book about my mom—an overload of writing. But somehow it comes together. Like today, the third anniversary of Mom’s death. Writing about our life together, and particularly about the last two years of her life, has been healing and informative. The memory of Mom’s journey toward increasing solitude comforts me during those times when I am alone. I am reminded that in my busy world I need the balance of solitude.

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Companion for the journey~

7/30/2014

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At the moment I have many friends who are struggling with illness. Let me be blunt, several (but not all) have cancer and have been told that their condition is terminal; hospice is part of the conversation. Others are facing surgery with the hope a life-sustaining cure.

This morning I thought of all of these friends as the following from the Society of St. John the Evangelist in Cambridge came up on my screen. I believe this speaks to everyone, those who practice a religious faith and those who are more comfortable considering themselves spiritual. Regardless, all our hearts are open at these times.

"When life is hard, what I need most is not always what I want. What I want is for life to be easy. What I want is for someone or something to come along and make it all go away. But what I need is tenderness. What I need is to be loved. What I need is a companion for the journey." James Koester

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Facing 'the death issue'

12/3/2013

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Someone once told me that ‘the death issue’ is one of the main themes that human beings have to deal with, and the one that they most avoid. I don’t remember what the others were, but it just may be that dealing with death is the fundamental one, the one that energizes everything we do. We can’t avoid it, try as we might. When there is illness, or death itself, the death issue holds center stage. But death also lurks behind our joys and our concerns.

     Let’s start with joys, where often, but not always, we can hide the death issue. When the family or friends are together…everyone is safe..alive. Enjoy a delicious meal…I am healthy. Buy a new couch or car…I have a future. We talk in positives.

     But with concerns, the negatives appear and with them, the link with the death issue. Someone made it home safely…they didn’t die in a car accident. The chemo is working… they are going to keep living. Depression is taking over…what can we do to help them?

     You may be asking what this has to do with silence, solitude and simplicity. Is this what she thinks about up there alone at the cottage? Well, yes. Let me explain. In order to make sense of my life (I believe this is true for everyone), to find meaning, to step out of my ego, to find God, to … (you fill in the blank), I have to face the death issue. In fact, it comes up ‘naturally’. I can’t avoid it, although I can deny it and try to stay clear of it. (One way to do this is enter the medical world and pretend that medicine and doctors are gods.)

    For me, in the silence, solitude and simplicity of the cottage, the death issue transforms into a life issue. How do I live with meaning, purpose and peace at the moment, at my particular age, with my unique situation? By facing my mortality, answers come. Not all the answers and not all the time, but hope is a constant, that is very good.

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Food choices~

7/19/2013

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I don’t keep up with the news very much but occasionally I watch the PBS NewsHour. No way does the show let me forget the poverty and devastation in the world! Many people have no control over what happens to them—that’s one of the messages. War, suicide bombings, at least 1127 workers killed in a garment factory collapse in Bangladesh, hu children poisoned through free school lunch programs in India. Limited choices, or no choices about their diet, or even about the choice NOT to starve to death.

And here I am, just back from the local supermarket after making choices primarily by personal preference, with healthy eating coming in second. Although I’m trying to lower my cholesterol by eliminating chunks of cheese from my daily diet (protein, I tell myself), I must admit that my trying is often mighty pathetic. What’s a little piece of cheese once in a while?

When I watch the news I can’t help but conclude that my longing to lead a simple life is completely inadequate as far as most of the rest of the world is concerned. The impoverished eat simple food out of necessity. I am choosing to lead a simple life, and when I feel like it, I eat simple food.

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Solitude among gravestones~

7/14/2013

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My twelve year old granddaughter is visiting for what she calls her ‘grandcation’, which is a vacation just for her with her grandparents. This year she is into photography and has chosen graveyards for subject matter. Actually, around here the old ones are called burial grounds. Today I have brought a chair, book, computer and snacks. While she is off with her camera and tripod, I am sitting in the silence and solitude.

There’s something especially peaceful about cemeteries, peaceful but not desolate, offering a deeply relaxing combination of solitude and community. People drive in and out to visit graves of loved ones; others wander about reading the stones, which is what I often do.

Gravestones from the Revolutionary War period tell of infant deaths, of young adults, of beloved husbands and wives, of friends. Along with dates and age, there is often a phrase that captures the essence of the person. Of course the story is never offered in fullness, but the meager but meaningful information is enough to make me feel that I am part of the extended family, perhaps visiting for those who have joined their loved ones in the common burial ground.

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Yoga teacher supreme~

6/29/2013

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I usually don’t write about individuals on this blog. My rule is not to tell stories about friends and family. An exception, of course, has been my mom. And today, another exception, Ginny Perkins, whose life will be celebrated later this morning at First Parish Church in town. The place will be packed with all of Ginny’s family and friends who loved her. You see, without reservation Ginny loved everyone right back and offered her generous spirit and smile to whomever found themselves walking with her along one of the many paths she traveled. There was always room along side her.

Ginny wasn’t a solitary type, but she knew how to find that silent place within her. Maybe it was through the yoga that she taught, which she did while sitting in a chair, right up until a month before she died. What an example of vibrant living from this women in her late 80s or early 90s!

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Marching away grief and fear~

Always seeking meaning~

Missing a long-time friend~

Remembering Mom~

Remembering Mom~

Companion for the journey~

Facing 'the death issue'

Food choices~

Solitude among gravestones~

Yoga teacher supreme~

Today

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