My mind wanders…books to read…finding images to understand. Some things shout out loudly—“yes, that is how I feel”. Other things pass by without a second thought as if they are alien and not in the realm of my emotions. Mental monsters looking…this is what one calls suffering I think—it is like being a teenager again with a mass of questions that one is sure will never be answered and thus convinced that there are no answers. Frustration, rage, anger, sorrow, sadness, grief, suffering and guilt. And just beyond that, when I breathe deeply are the happy images. The memories of letters I received at summer camp, of the acknowledgement that wanting to be an astronaut was never lost on my mother—nor was it ridiculous (I still want to be an astronaut), of dance recitals and matching outfits, of sailing and long road trips. It’s the little things…the nuances…a merging of sorts between parent and child. Much like finishing another’s sentence or seeing something in the same way that causes prolonged and deep laughter. It is these things…that bring me back to the balance. That all of this—predictable and unexpected—this is the journey and it continues. My mother used to tell me and I think it was her mantra for many years, “All of this is preparation.” In moments when things were terribly down, she would change it to, “This is my punishment and I must learn to endure.” And when things were good, “I am learning. I am learning.” The golden mean…that middle ground, that balance being “preparation”. A life of attuning oneself to the possibilities and probabilities—of never being too serious to lock out hope and never too reckless to stamp out life sustaining actions.
My mind wanders…I wish I had been wiser…less stubborn…a better listener.
A book to read: Upheavals of Thought: What is it to grieve for the death of a parent? More literary and experiential than other philosopical works on emotion, Upheavals of Thought will engage the reader who has ever stopped to ask that question. Emotions such as grief, fear, anger and love seem to be alien forces that disturb our thoughts and plans. Yet they also embody some of our deepest thoughts--about the importance of the people we love, about the vulnerability of our bodies and our plans to events beyond our control.
And a prayer to live by (?): Talmud: Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.