Live

All I can really think about is my dear childhood friend who just passed away yesterday. She was the same age as me.

Losing someone you love is a strange thing. People's reactions differ wildly. Some plunge into activity, others get quiet and withdraw, some try to comfort themselves or others with their beliefs on life after death, some get angry...

I suppose I shouldn't say "some" but rather "sometimes" since many people go through all these things and more. The main commonality is that there is a significant change happening. The closer they were, the more intense. And this thing, I suppose I'll call it grieving, it's a big deal, like losing a limb or something. Except it's invisible. And often, if you're really close, for the first while there is shock, numbness. Disorientation.

I mean, I don't know if that's universal. But it seems to be that the change is so big, people can't really take it all in, with one gulp. And even after the initial impact, there continue to be ripples. It's like a meteor hitting the ocean, and at first their is a huge tsunami, but for a long time afterwards, the rest of the waves come crashing in, smaller echo's of that first assault.

It's happened enough that I no longer worry about all the weird feelings and behavior that comes up. I understand it's just part of the process. Weird is normal, with grief. The mind trying to process and find equilibrium in whatever ways it can.

Loss. If the person who dies is close to you. It's about loss. Something precious and unique is gone forever. I have absolute faith in the immortality of the soul, I'm pretty sure even the core aspect of mind remains after the body ends, but that doesn't change the fact that for those who are left behind, we no longer have that beloved person to talk to,  joke with, be in the presence of.

Compassion, and often awkwardness and discomfort, if the person who passed is not so much close to you, as close to someone you knew. Good people touch a lot of lives, and often many people have their own personal loss they have to deal with. But for those most closely intertwined, it is on a whole other scale, and the bystanders can feel a bit helpless. What can they do? You can't make the pain go away. You don't really want to, necessarily. That's one of the things I learned the first time I lost someone really close to me: numbing yourself is not a great idea, long term. Laugher and good times with friends is. But not so much the Netflix binges (maybe if they were with a friend? moot point since I was alone on the opposite side of the US from my hometown(s) when it happened.

My first big encounter with grief was several years ago, when I heard my best friend had committed suicide. I heard via an email, and then I went and played world of warcraft until I couldn't stay awake any more. I didn't want to have to deal with this fact. I wanted to escape from it. I wanted to not feel, or have to think, about it. And I didn't know what else to do. I wasn't going to sleep.

I think I played a lot of that game in the next few weeks. I don't actually remember that time very well. But I knew I wasn't sobbing uncontrollably or feeling super sad. There was sadness, but more, there was depression, numbness, lethargy. I didn't understand then that was a perfectly reasonable response.

I think there was a part of me that was trying to feel really sad, almost like trying to force yourself to gag and vomit, when you have a bad stomach ache. A nice deep cry and feeling of sadness would have been a relife, something clean and clear, cathartic. That's what happens in the movies right? In any case, that's not necessarily what happens in real life. In real life I just kind of slumped into a blob and sleep-walked through life for a while.

If I could go back in time and deliver a message, I would have maybe told myself, after I got the news, to go for a walk outside near some tree's, let myself feel whatever I felt, not try and feel more or differently, but just honor what was going on in me, and what wasn't. That it was ok, whatever I was and wasn't feeling, but it would be good to not try and stop myself from feeling it, whatever it was. And find some good friends to be with, to laugh with. That it was ok to laugh and have fun, perhaps more necessary than ever.

In any case, I think about my own deep loss now, as I go through my own process, and think about those who were closest to her. I think maybe, it's like... how much of your life does somebody occupy? How much are you with them, or calling them, or thinking about them? If there's one person who is like a fourth, or a half of your life, and then they're gone... imagine loosing a forth or a half of your body. Like you've just lost a limb, or multiple limbs. Maybe some internal organs. Versus, maybe this person is a hundredth of your life. You see them once a year, think about them once a month. You've lost a finger. That's a big deal, but it's a different amount of adjusting you have to go through. My heart goes out to the people now who've lost limbs.


Death. How many times have I talked about death? There are so many unimportant things, trivialities, that we obsess over, spend so much time and energy on, because we think we have unlimited time. So few really important things, that we put off, because, though important, they are a distant concern. Something that will wait. But the fact of the matter is, you have a very limited amount of time. Under a hundred years almost certainly. A flash. A water bubble, formed, moving, popped. And how much time exactly? We truly have no idea. Given that irrefutable fact, are there perhaps things that you'd like to be doing, that your not doing? Or things that you are doing, that you don't really want to put as much time or energy into?

I know for me, there are a lot of pointless things I do on the internet that I could do without. And a few things, I want to pursue with greater focus and energy: the people I love, my teaching, my creating, spirituality, play, service. I want to be spending less time complaining, worrying, being frustrated or hung up or judgmental. More time laughing, loving, being grateful, giving it my all, taking good risks, opening my heart to others, serving them, being less self-conscious.

I'm reminded that I want to speak to everybody I meet with love and compassion. I'm reminded that I want the people dear to me to know I love them. I'm reminded that I never want to take myself too seriously, or forget to play. I'm reminded that I always want to be asking, what's the best thing I could be doing right now? How can I serve the person or place that's in front of me right now? How do I live with no regrets?

I'm a spiritual person, so for me there's always something I can do; I can open my heart and eyes, and see the beauty, the silence, the source, that is ever permeating every object and space and person, and fall at the feet of the sweet divine lover that is present in all of it. (not in fear or supplication or anything, it's just a kind of spontaneous action that happens when I open my heart and see clearly, and am then overwhelmed with gratitude and love.)

Remember remember remember. Memento Mori. Remember you will die. Everyone will die, and you don't know when.

So, Live.