Friday, December 29, 2006
Friday Frozen
I nice snow yesterday. Nothing too exciting, but it is nice to have snow from time to time -- as long as it goes away quickly. Dragoon had 2-3 inches on the ground when I went through there yesterday to run some errands.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Tuesday and Weirdness
While traveling to visit us over Christmas, my wife's father died. They're not sure if it was the accident, or if maybe he had a stroke or heart attack while driving. My wife's mother is unharmed except for a cracked rib.
I have a different perspective on death than most, so it's easier for me to take it. I've also gone through the "death" of my own parents, so this also makes it easier for me to deal with. Regardless, hearing about the death of someone you know and someone you've interacted with is a weird feeling. There's an emptiness that will never be filled because the physical experience of that being can no longer take place. All one can do is deal with the emptiness and move forward. Eventually the emptiness gets put away in a sacred place in our consciousness and there it stays until we, too, depart.
Here now and without permission, is Ram Dass' letter to the grieving parents of a child that was brutally murdered:
Dear Steve and Anita,
Rachel finished her work on earth, and left the stage in a manner that leaves those of us left behind with a cry of agony in our hearts, as the fragile thread of our faith is dealt with so violently. Is anyone strong enough to stay conscious through such teaching as you are receiving? Probably very few. And even they would only have a whisper of equanimity and peace amidst the screaming trumpets of their rage, grief, horror and desolation.
I can't assuage your pain with any words, nor should I. For your pain is Rachel's legacy to you. Not that she or I would inflict such pain by choice, but there it is. And it must burn its purifying way to completion. For something in you dies when you bear the unbearable, and it is only in that dark night of the soul that you are prepared to see as God sees, and to love as God loves.
Now is the time to let your grief find expression. No false strength. Now is the time to sit quietly and speak to Rachel, and thank her for being with you these few years, and encourage her to go on with whatever her work is, knowing that you will grow in compassion and wisdom from this experience.
In my heart, I know that you and she will meet again and again, and recognize the many ways in which you have known each other. And when you meet you will know, in a flash, what now it is not given to you to know: Why this had to be the way it was.
Our rational minds can never understand what has happened, but our hearts -- if we can keep them open to God -- will find their own intuitive way. Rachel came through you to do her work on earth, which includes her manner of death. Now her soul is free, and the love that you can share with her is invulnerable to the winds of changing time and space. In that deep love, include me.
In love,
Ram Dass
This, to me, is the way that I cope with such things. It's very much in tune with my attitude of "riding the wave."
Take care, Alan. I'll see you when I get there.
I have a different perspective on death than most, so it's easier for me to take it. I've also gone through the "death" of my own parents, so this also makes it easier for me to deal with. Regardless, hearing about the death of someone you know and someone you've interacted with is a weird feeling. There's an emptiness that will never be filled because the physical experience of that being can no longer take place. All one can do is deal with the emptiness and move forward. Eventually the emptiness gets put away in a sacred place in our consciousness and there it stays until we, too, depart.
Here now and without permission, is Ram Dass' letter to the grieving parents of a child that was brutally murdered:
Dear Steve and Anita,
Rachel finished her work on earth, and left the stage in a manner that leaves those of us left behind with a cry of agony in our hearts, as the fragile thread of our faith is dealt with so violently. Is anyone strong enough to stay conscious through such teaching as you are receiving? Probably very few. And even they would only have a whisper of equanimity and peace amidst the screaming trumpets of their rage, grief, horror and desolation.
I can't assuage your pain with any words, nor should I. For your pain is Rachel's legacy to you. Not that she or I would inflict such pain by choice, but there it is. And it must burn its purifying way to completion. For something in you dies when you bear the unbearable, and it is only in that dark night of the soul that you are prepared to see as God sees, and to love as God loves.
Now is the time to let your grief find expression. No false strength. Now is the time to sit quietly and speak to Rachel, and thank her for being with you these few years, and encourage her to go on with whatever her work is, knowing that you will grow in compassion and wisdom from this experience.
In my heart, I know that you and she will meet again and again, and recognize the many ways in which you have known each other. And when you meet you will know, in a flash, what now it is not given to you to know: Why this had to be the way it was.
Our rational minds can never understand what has happened, but our hearts -- if we can keep them open to God -- will find their own intuitive way. Rachel came through you to do her work on earth, which includes her manner of death. Now her soul is free, and the love that you can share with her is invulnerable to the winds of changing time and space. In that deep love, include me.
In love,
Ram Dass
This, to me, is the way that I cope with such things. It's very much in tune with my attitude of "riding the wave."
Take care, Alan. I'll see you when I get there.
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