Passings (for Judith).
A friend passed away about one month ago. It was a good passing, with intention, without resistance, with love. He was young (not yet 70) and bright and mindful, a poet in words and in action.
Last night I couldn't fall asleep. When I finally did, who knows when, it was a night of light sleeping and wakeful dreams, and I woke at 6am feeling already awake. The dream that sticks with me is one that informed me / reminded me that life is very short, whether you have one hundred years or ten years. In the dream I was comparing one's lifespan to a ruler, an inch versus twelve: However you measure it, it's a very short item. A small thing, really. A brief existence, ours.
"It doesn't matter if you have ten years or one hundred," said my dream. "This is what matters: While you are here, PAY ATTENTION TO EVERYTHING."
No big revelation here for those of you who practice mindfulness. Yet... somehow, this wakeful dream helped me to see more clearly the connection between the shortness of life and the imperative to notice everything.
Maybe this is the call for me to return to a more formal mindfulness practice, which would include sitting regularly. I am, again, off my sit.
This morning while dawdling on the computer I came upon a YouTube, something I created from a cartoon I found in a magazine a couple of months ago, before my friend's departure.
Maybe this YouTube was my attempt to hold onto the cartoon that I thought was so wonderful when I saw it. More likely, this YouTube was my attempt to hold onto the friend who was passing. I want to hold onto my friends, my family, our dogs, a perfect spring day, fresh white snow, the smiling faces of children. The other day, I wished I had filmed Philip before he left us, or at the least recorded his voice that last Sunday morning as he called out, "Dwell! You are the light itself!"
How much can I hold if I use both arms? How high can I stack it all before I can't see where I'm going? On top of all the memories, where do I fit all the THINGS: My old journals, the sentimental dress, teacups from Isabel's house?
Jesus said to give it all away. My dream tells me to set my pencil down, to stop doodling and look up.
"Pay attention!" says Maurice Sendak. Pay attention!" says Christoph Niemann.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YxZTOcmCr0A
Last night I couldn't fall asleep. When I finally did, who knows when, it was a night of light sleeping and wakeful dreams, and I woke at 6am feeling already awake. The dream that sticks with me is one that informed me / reminded me that life is very short, whether you have one hundred years or ten years. In the dream I was comparing one's lifespan to a ruler, an inch versus twelve: However you measure it, it's a very short item. A small thing, really. A brief existence, ours.
"It doesn't matter if you have ten years or one hundred," said my dream. "This is what matters: While you are here, PAY ATTENTION TO EVERYTHING."
No big revelation here for those of you who practice mindfulness. Yet... somehow, this wakeful dream helped me to see more clearly the connection between the shortness of life and the imperative to notice everything.
Maybe this is the call for me to return to a more formal mindfulness practice, which would include sitting regularly. I am, again, off my sit.
This morning while dawdling on the computer I came upon a YouTube, something I created from a cartoon I found in a magazine a couple of months ago, before my friend's departure.
Maybe this YouTube was my attempt to hold onto the cartoon that I thought was so wonderful when I saw it. More likely, this YouTube was my attempt to hold onto the friend who was passing. I want to hold onto my friends, my family, our dogs, a perfect spring day, fresh white snow, the smiling faces of children. The other day, I wished I had filmed Philip before he left us, or at the least recorded his voice that last Sunday morning as he called out, "Dwell! You are the light itself!"
How much can I hold if I use both arms? How high can I stack it all before I can't see where I'm going? On top of all the memories, where do I fit all the THINGS: My old journals, the sentimental dress, teacups from Isabel's house?
Jesus said to give it all away. My dream tells me to set my pencil down, to stop doodling and look up.
"Pay attention!" says Maurice Sendak. Pay attention!" says Christoph Niemann.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YxZTOcmCr0A