Brenda, I just saw one of those traditional clay statues of the circle of figures encircling a light in a shop the other day and thought I would love to have one - but when I see one closer to home, as they are heavy to carry :-)
Stray. Oh. You express some hard, hard stuff incredibly lucidly. It sounds like you have a lot to be glad about in the ways you've recently got to grips with harmful crutches and habits of avoidance. So tough. And grieving is so tough. But real and deep and worth it. Lots of love.
Thinking of Beth and wondering how you're doing. Recently, when I was in my father's home town and poking about an old graveyard, I thought how good it would be to have a grave or a headstone to visit - something we have for no dead member of my famiy. View death with tight-lipped resentment. Do not mention the deceased. Give me grief any day. I don't mean to say this lightly, or to imply that grief is not sometimes almost too much to bear. But it's suppressing it, I think, that more often kills people.
Brenda, thinking of you too. You sound like you're having a very hard time lately, and some hard, but fruitful, reflections.
Thank you, Jean and everyone else who has been thinking of me. Love to you, Stray, and to Brenda and everyone else who is dealing with loss and transition. It's been especially nice to read messages here from Mary and from Ruth - I've missed you both.
I'm back in Vermont, doing OK. The service yesterday afternoon was not nearly as difficult as actually burying my mother's ashes the day before. My father had made a beautiful cherry box for them, with room to put his inside when the time comes. I carried the box on my lap as we drove to the cemetery, and watched the hills my mother loved out the window, and cried. my husband and father and I did the work together at the gravesite - Dad had already dug the hole and prepared a watertight container. We put the box inside and covered the container, filled the hole, repalced the sod and watered it. It was very hard but I think we all felt better afterwards. The next day our close friends and family gathered for a short committal service at 4:00 pm. It was an incredibly beautiful day; earlier J. and I had picked a big bouquet of wildflowers to bring, and we also had a pot of golden chrysanthemums that I had promised to put there for my Chinese friend in Beijing who loved my mother, though they ahd never met. (My mother helped her by email when she was pregnant, answering questions and encouraging her, because her own mother had no answers, and then knitted things for the baby and continued to be her friend.) But the funny thing is - the minister never showed up! My mother always said she didn't want clergy praying over her, so I really felt amused. We waited, and then I said, OK, we're going to do this ourselves. My father and husband and I broke into the church through a back window; J. climbed in and got a prayer book, and I read the Anglican committal service myself. Everyone said they thought it had been better that way, that somehow it felt very appropriate. I don't know about that, but I do think it's pretty funny. I feel sad - a lot fo memories - but OK.
Beth, it's good to see you back here. And Jean, it's good to have you back from retreat.
Stray, you've been in my thoughts...and was that you I saw peeking out from Natalie's blaug? (I don't imagine there's many Strays lurking the blogosphere, but it's possible, I suppose.)
Today was a typically busy Tuesday, but I sat first thing & otherwise survived a full teaching day. I've volunteered to lead a weekly lunchtime meditation group at school, so tomorrow's the first session: a short intro to meditation, then time to "just do it" and talk.
It's been a long time since I've taught meditation or led a group of any sort, so I'm feeling a bit rusty! I'm trusting that if I show up, though, my Inner Buddha will take over... :-)
3 Comments:
Brenda, I just saw one of those traditional clay statues of the circle of figures encircling a light in a shop the other day and thought I would love to have one - but when I see one closer to home, as they are heavy to carry :-)
Stray. Oh. You express some hard, hard stuff incredibly lucidly. It sounds like you have a lot to be glad about in the ways you've recently got to grips with harmful crutches and habits of avoidance. So tough. And grieving is so tough. But real and deep and worth it. Lots of love.
Thinking of Beth and wondering how you're doing. Recently, when I was in my father's home town and poking about an old graveyard, I thought how good it would be to have a grave or a headstone to visit - something we have for no dead member of my famiy. View death with tight-lipped resentment. Do not mention the deceased. Give me grief any day. I don't mean to say this lightly, or to imply that grief is not sometimes almost too much to bear. But it's suppressing it, I think, that more often kills people.
Brenda, thinking of you too. You sound like you're having a very hard time lately, and some hard, but fruitful, reflections.
Thank you, Jean and everyone else who has been thinking of me. Love to you, Stray, and to Brenda and everyone else who is dealing with loss and transition. It's been especially nice to read messages here from Mary and from Ruth - I've missed you both.
I'm back in Vermont, doing OK. The service yesterday afternoon was not nearly as difficult as actually burying my mother's ashes the day before. My father had made a beautiful cherry box for them, with room to put his inside when the time comes. I carried the box on my lap as we drove to the cemetery, and watched the hills my mother loved out the window, and cried. my husband and father and I did the work together at the gravesite - Dad had already dug the hole and prepared a watertight container. We put the box inside and covered the container, filled the hole, repalced the sod and watered it. It was very hard but I think we all felt better afterwards. The next day our close friends and family gathered for a short committal service at 4:00 pm. It was an incredibly beautiful day; earlier J. and I had picked a big bouquet of wildflowers to bring, and we also had a pot of golden chrysanthemums that I had promised to put there for my Chinese friend in Beijing who loved my mother, though they ahd never met. (My mother helped her by email when she was pregnant, answering questions and encouraging her, because her own mother had no answers, and then knitted things for the baby and continued to be her friend.) But the funny thing is - the minister never showed up! My mother always said she didn't want clergy praying over her, so I really felt amused. We waited, and then I said, OK, we're going to do this ourselves. My father and husband and I broke into the church through a back window; J. climbed in and got a prayer book, and I read the Anglican committal service myself. Everyone said they thought it had been better that way, that somehow it felt very appropriate. I don't know about that, but I do think it's pretty funny. I feel sad - a lot fo memories - but OK.
Beth, it's good to see you back here. And Jean, it's good to have you back from retreat.
Stray, you've been in my thoughts...and was that you I saw peeking out from Natalie's blaug? (I don't imagine there's many Strays lurking the blogosphere, but it's possible, I suppose.)
Today was a typically busy Tuesday, but I sat first thing & otherwise survived a full teaching day. I've volunteered to lead a weekly lunchtime meditation group at school, so tomorrow's the first session: a short intro to meditation, then time to "just do it" and talk.
It's been a long time since I've taught meditation or led a group of any sort, so I'm feeling a bit rusty! I'm trusting that if I show up, though, my Inner Buddha will take over... :-)
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