Was thinking so strongly of Eric yesterday, and this photo popped up in my phone gallery; when we drove to Carrollton GA (our old college town) for my brother's wedding in early-September, we also spent a good bit of Monday touring the area to see what was still the same (hardly anything) and what had changed (mostly everything!). There was still a record store where the former one had been, but new management/new name. Had to buy something of course and, since we were going to be visiting Eric in Atlanta that evening, Chico and I decided on Cat Stevens' Tea for the Tillerman. He put it on his turntable when we got there and, three weeks later, when he was killed in a car accident, Duyen (his girlfriend) sent us this photo that he'd been playing the album fairly non-stop. Strangely comforting, right?
"During this season, for many the ache of losing a cherished soul rises to the surface. Time's relentless march lurks silently, assaulting one when least expected. And for some, when the brutal truth unveils itself, a fresh wave of torment crashes upon their being, piercing deep into the core, persistently reminding of their absence from the realm of the living. For some, It is not a solitary occurrence of bereavement, my friends, but rather an unending odyssey, an eternal pilgrimage that some never truly overcome if dwelt upon. Yet, through determination of living in the present moment, one learns to navigate these treacherous waters, to remain buoyant amidst the ceaseless assault.
Therefore, it becomes imperative to exhibit empathy toward those navigating this murky sea, for they have embarked upon an everlasting expedition, enduring the jarring shock that reverberates to their very core each time the harsh reality resurfaces: "there's an empty hole in life where a loved one once lived." It is not solely a matter of losing someone once; for some, it is the daily surrender throughout the entirety of their mortal existence.
In due course, time shall heal all wounds. Embracing the present moment offers the best chance to leave behind the anguish and sorrow. Now is the only time at our disposal, let us not forget those departed souls, but set aside the grief, anguish, and sadness that their departure has inflicted, by wholeheartedly immersing ourselves in the present moment... and be open to Love.
If we can accept life as it unfolds, letting the grief come to the surface and experiencing it completely, and then letting it go will heal these deep wounds eventually, and you will know everything is in perfect order, as it should be." ~ Ram Om
BOOK: Because by Mo Willems, Amber Ren (Illustrator) I purchased this book for Colin at the Miami Book Fair ($1.00 Books table) in late-November!
POEM(S): Signs, Music by Raymond Antrobus
The first word my son signed
was music: both hands, fingers conducting
music for everything – even hunger,
open mouth for the chew chew spoon
squealing mmm – music. We’d play
a record while he ate music when
he wanted milk so I pour and hum
a lullaby or I Just Don’t Know
by Bill Withers because it’s ok
not to know what you want
and I want him to know that. Music
is wiping the table after the plates music
is feel my forehead for fever is whatever
occurs in the centre of the body, whatever
makes arms raise up, up.
The second word my son signed
was bird – beaked finger to thumb, bird
for everything outside – window, sky, tree
roof, chimney, aerial, airplane – birds. I saw
I had given him a sign name. Fingers
to eyes raising from thumbs - wide
eye meaning watchful of the earth
in three different roots – Hebrew, Arabic,
Latin – I love how he clings
to my shoulders and turns
his head to point at the soft body
of a caterpillar sliding across the counter,
and signs, music.
Life After Death by Terry Pratchett
In the Ramtop Village they believe that
no one is finally dead until the ripples they
cause in the world die away, until the clock
he wound up winds down - until the wine
she made has finished its ferment, until the
crop they planted is harvested. The span
of someone's life, they say, is only the
core of their actual existence.
Music by Anne Porter
When I was a child
I once sat sobbing on the floor
Beside my mother’s piano
As she played and sang
For there was in her singing
A shy yet solemn glory
My smallness could not hold
And when I was asked
Why I was crying
I had no words for it
I only shook my head
And went on crying
Why is it that music
At its most beautiful
Opens a wound in us
An ache a desolation
Deep as a homesickness
For some far-off
And half-forgotten country
I’ve never understood
Why this is so
But there’s an ancient legend
From the other side of the world
That gives away the secret
Of this mysterious sorrow
For centuries on centuries
We have been wandering
But we were made for Paradise
As deer for the forest
And when music comes to us
With its heavenly beauty
It brings us desolation
For when we hear it
We half remember
That lost native country
We dimly remember the fields
Their fragrant windswept clover
The birdsongs in the orchards
The wild white violets in the moss
By the transparent streams
And shining at the heart of it
Is the longed-for beauty
Of the One who waits for us
Who will always wait for us
In those radiant meadows
Yet also came to live with us
And wanders where we wander.
QUOTE(S): “In the dark times / will there also be singing? / Yes, there will also be singing. / About the dark times.” ~ Bertolt Brecht
"One good thing about music. When it hits you, you feel no pain." ~ Bob Marley
“Consciousness is the most stubborn substance in the cosmos, and the most fluid. It can be rigid as concrete, and it can change in an instant. A song can change it, or a story, or a fragrance wafting by on the wind."
~ Starhawk
