The Fragility of Life

It’s so fragile,  this Life and we are so unconscious to it’s delicate nature as we plummet through recklessly, rarely honoring its divinity. Time on this planet is brief and we stubbornly pretend otherwise. It is an opiate, this denial of presence,  and ignorance of the Life gift we have been given in ourselves and others. It all ends, and never as we plan. They will all be gone, those people who fill your days. Gone with them go the tonation of voices, the smell of their skin, the ring of their laughter, the color of their shining eyes. Their stories. Those we love go, and they do not return. We hold them present in post departure memories and photographs, but however vivid they linger in our psyche, they are gone.  

Tonight I mourn the loss of my mother and my heart is split in deep faults that run down to the core of my 27 years. My eyes rain the loss that I feel and collects in pools of aching remembrance. Never again will I hold her strong hands, weathered by life and our shared love of horses and the earth. Never again will I laugh with her until breathless. Never again will I see her beautiful face, her enchanting, moss colored eyes, her smooth tawny skin,  her raven black hair. Never again will I feel her warmth. Never again will we share our hearts secrets like schoolgirls. Never again will I enjoy the small, subtle nuances of her unique life. Her vibrant love for everyone and everything. Her generous heart. Her little girl self that hides behind the years but that ventures out to play with me from time to time. All of the countless ways of my mother are gone, never to return and I ask myself, am I complete? Did I say all that I wanted to say and share with her all of my dreams? Did she know how much I love her? Did I know how much I love her prior to this moment? I never told her how proud I am to be her daughter or how honored I am to have been made in her likeness. I never thanked her for giving me my life, and for how truly magical it has been. I never wrapped my arms around her and comforted her sorrows. I never committed my life to her the way she gave herself to me. I never took the time to look her in the eyes and presence myself to her soul. What has us wait and selfishly hoard our love and emotions toward our best beloveds? Only when they are gone and it is too late does the facade split and the river of feeling flow wildly. Only then do we speak so that our hearts can be heard.

Tonight I mourn the loss of my mother although I will tell you a secret……she is alive. I stood in the future where her death is written and got present to that life altering moment yet to come and realized that I have been given this insight as a precious treasure. I have been given a second chance at loving my mother full out in life. A second chance to say all that I want to say and really look within myself at what stops me from expressing the natural currency of emotion between mother and child. I promise to be conscious of Life’s fragility and to be a stewardess of it’s blessing. I promise to honor its perfection and divinity and love each day and face and human being as God. I promise to nurture my presence to the gift that I have been given, and I will start by sharing my heart with my beautiful mother. There is no time to waste….

The possibility of…..

I’m sitting in my seat and tears are streaming down my face. The gathering has adjourned and I am left helpless. Hopeless. What just happened? Arguing, shouting, long withheld anger suddenly bubbling to the surface. The Muslim students and Jewish students hashing it out in open dialogue for the first time, possibly ever. This in itself is an accomplishment, but what does not work are the wounded elders, longing to be heard themselves popping off left and right with opinions, recitations, demands and slander. The topic is Israel and Palestine, and how students from both Jewish and Islamic backgrounds can coexist in an academic setting despite political unrest and cultural polarization. The gathering has adjourned and tempers are hotly activated and old wounds bleed fresh. 

I sense to my side the presence of a man, but do not turn to acknowledge him until just before rising to leave. I face tearfully and meet his wide brown eyes full of instant compassion. He moves to my side and sits close, his leg against my own and his arm around me. I do not know him, but my heart softens and relaxes in his comforting presence and I feel peace. It is strange, but I feel love and a gentle stirring in my heart. We rise together and walk to the exit of the building, engaged in conversation and mutually intrigued. I want to know all about this man, to lapse into conversations of great depth and learn about his life. 

I have 5 minutes before I must leave for a scheduled call but I want to stay in his presence and soak up his safety and comforting space a bit longer. He is a concert violinist. He is Persian. A delightful combination I was previously unaware of until that moment. He tells me he has performed concerts on the grounds of the old San Juan Mission but has never actually seen it. I tell him I will show him sometime. He gives me his card and I dash off, feeling much like Cinderella, being whisked away leaving behind nothing but a glimmer of who I am. I sit in my car, completing my call but cannot leave. I walk back to where he is standing and see him engaged in a conversation with a mutual friend. I begin talking to an acquaintance of mine and this beautiful man and I find ourselves in separate conversations yet side by side, he facing one way and I the other like a modern dance Yin/Yang posture. In this moment I glimpse the future. I see for the first time in my entire life an opening into the possibility of being a wife. Into the possibility of family. I had intellectually speculated on this previously, but never had I seen it as truly possible, right by my side. I thought to myself….this could very well be my future husband, and of course! He a musician, myself an artist. Both fully committed to furthering dialogue for peace and conflict resolution in the world, both multicultural and beautiful. Of course! Suddenly I can taste this future like rich chocolate, feel it on my skin like warm water, smell it across my senses like sandalwood, hear it like mournful and decadent violin hues. I see us standing in the world side by side. Inspired by who the other is and in love with the creation of a future unwritten and free. In that moment, I see the possibility of love, partnership and family and it lights my soul aglow. 

 

Letter to God

Dearest God and Spirit of Life. Today I felt you close, for the first time in some time. I saw your expression all around me, speaking to me and coaxing me to let go. Release the grip of control and just be. Just flow with the current and enjoy the splendor of all the shiny, magical fluttering things. All the colors. All the scents. You speak to me through moments of peace and appreciation for the gift I have been given to simply exist. Thank you for this and for all expressions of you that I dance with in delight. I awoke this morning with a pain in my heart, for something missing and I realized the significance of always needing to know and how this poisons my life like a narcotic. This needing to know that bores its way into my ability to be present in a moment. To enjoy a moment for the sake of itself rather than NEEDING TO KNOW what lies around the next bend. I have always been that way. Even as a child I would literally, sneakily open my Christmas presents to know what I was getting and then re-wrap them so no one would know. It’s seems funny now, but it did not stay in my past as a childhood attribute. It extended into my future and permeated my every action with this obsessive and detrimental requirement to know the outcome. To know the ending of the story. To foretell the future and plan accordingly. In my own life terms, this is my personal version of insanity. It drives me to doubt. It drives me to question and to disempower my own gifts and blessings. So today, I reminded myself that it matters not. None of it. Needing to know robs me of miracles and serendipity. I relinquish my need to know. I stand peacefully in the unknown and accept what flows my way willingly and with gratitude. I lay on a rock this afternoon and smelled Jasmine and Roses. I watched a giant, beautiful moth flutter its last moments amidst the brambles of a primrose bush. I picked it up and held it to the sun, admiring its place in the universe. I was visited by hummingbirds throughout the day, watching me through the window and buzzing about as I enjoyed the garden. Reminding me of my joyful nature. I observed bees in their ubiquitous drone going about the day. I saw Gamble’s Quail, Ravens, Lizards galore and a myriad of wildflower varieties. Today was lovely, and infused into each moment and each filament of perfection was you. God. Spirit. Life. Thank you for my Life and the senses to experience it. I love every facet, every moment, every being as a mirror of your amazing beauty. All is perfect. All is a gift and I love you for it.