Making Love a Priority

I want to share one of the poems by Hafiz that I have been reading lately, as it gets elegantly to the core of the subject I have chosen for today.

WITH THAT MOON LANGUAGE

Admit something: Everyone you see, you

say to them, “Love me.”

Of course you do not say this out loud;

otherwise someone would call the cops.

Still, though, think about this, this great

pull in us to connect.

Why not become the one who lives with

a full moon in each eye

that is always saying, with that sweet

moon language,

what every other eye in this world is dying

to hear?

What I will say here is not going to be nearly as eloquent and profound as this piece translated by Daniel Ladinsky, but for me, loving well is fundamental to my whole notion of living well, which isn’t to say that I have perfected the art. I haven’t. 

It is just that I have found life far more worth living in direct correlation to the degree that love is present, both in the giving and receiving of it.   

It is just too easy to get caught up in the politics of minor differences, to criticize and condemn other people’s eccentricities and mistakes, while simultaneously rationalizing and justifying our own. It is also easy to be unaware of the degree to which these tendencies are alive, and well, and operating in our lives.

One of my solutions is to try and remember to cut people some slack (to soften my gaze?), which means I need to cut myself a little slack too; for failing, for being flawed and perhaps falling short of my own or other’s expectations. Admittedly this is a somewhat simplistic solution to a complex issue, but I think it is a worthy and relevant place to start.

Another solution is to make love a priority, central, not something relegated to the margins. This may mean prioritizing the cultivation of skills such as; the art of conversation, the art of listening, the art of being present, or, as Hafiz points out, the art of looking at and really seeing people. 

In short, cultivating a life of love may involve shifting away from an ironic mode of living, in favour of living more authentically, deeply and sincerely.

I can’t separate love from life. I believe it is a fundamentally important, though sorely neglected, misunderstood and abused aspect of many people’s lives, both as simple as it is complex, as this poem by Hafiz nicely illustrates.

Life in Death's Wake - Lessons On Living Well

One of the things immediately rising to the surface, in the wake of my sister-in-law’s death, is the question of what it means to live well. It is easy to wax sentimental regarding such matters. I hear a lot of talk about the importance of being happy, living in the moment etc., but what I sense in this that troubles me, is that some of these notions seem to have their foundation in escapist-type fantasies that want to push the dark more bitter aspects of life further into the dark. 

Perhaps this can be seen as a wise course of action in the short term. However, I think that in the long term these dissonant bits need to be artfully folded into one’s life, which is to say I think it is a mistake to reject them outright. I believe they have value and therefore a place in our lives. In any case, rejecting them doesn’t make them go away.

From my perspective, the value of a dark experience is that it has the power to humble us, to widen our perspectives, to take us both deeper inside the mystery of our own being/non-being and conduct us further into appreciating the depth and complexity of those who surround us. 

A difficult experience challenges our, often, naive, self-serving worldview, polishes our empathy and, therefore holds the potential to make us, in the best sense, more fully human. We may become a little softer, a little more open, a little less judgmental, a little less stupid, and thus, a little wiser and more pleasant to be around.

Presently I am taking time to relax and give my wearied heart a little respite from all the intensity of the previous 5 or 6 weeks. What I find particularly soothing are all the small things: the musty, sweet perfume of decaying fall foliage, gentle breezes, and mud that conjures memories of my childhood. 

The basic nature of these experiences is part of what makes them so nurturing I think. They are straightforward, undemanding and authentic—full of the whole continuum of life-death-life.

There is a little hollow place in my life that Miho used to occupy and I sense it in all its resounding emptiness. It is simply a little lonelier without her here. But it will serve no useful end to mire myself down too much in the loss, it is what it is, and life beckons me on. Instead she will come along for the ride within the confines of my heart. That is all that can be done. I live an inextricably altered existence now.

Life and death are not mutually exclusive entities. Somehow they are one and the same, something I sense but don’t entirely understand.

Living well for me therefore means that I live a life more resonant with this truth, that I don’t bastardize death and loss, but instead recognize them as vital for perpetuating and sustaining life.

So, let’s dance. Let’s celebrate existence in all its bewildering, bittersweet beauty. Let’s move further into the adventure that is our life, rather than retreat out of fear or cynical foreboding…

Because, as the saying goes, 'it really ain't over till its over.'

Live well.

Breast Cancer Story - The End

Nothing can prepare you for the death of someone you know and love. My sister-in-law passed away yesterday and the experience left me feeling like I got punched in the gut. My mind was a bit addled, I felt numb and on the verge of tears in spite of taking time alone in the stairwell to let it all out. Even now it would not take too much to draw tears again, particularly as the sad, melancholy face of my brother reminds me of how much deeper this loss runs for him. 

We have talked about how hidden death is in our society. In the week or so since we were up visiting the palliative care ward about 25 people died. This happens daily there, hidden on the 16th floor of the hospital away from the eyes of the world. I wonder if death would be less shocking if we had more exposure to it, if it was more integrated into society, if we made more room for the reality that it is. It seems crazy to me, in view of the inevitability of death, that we should operate in our daily lives so deluded by its ostensible absence.

This is not an experience that I will soon forget. On the contrary, it has made an indelible impression that has re-shaped the way I understand myself and the world around me. I, too, will end up on a bed with my life-force draining from me making me wonder about what comes next, or if something comes next.

I don't have words to adequately express all that is roiling around within, but suffice to say it is adding something to the richness and depth of my life. I have no regrets. I will miss my friend, but am very glad at the same time that her suffering is over. She has taught me a lot about the end of a life's journey and its intimate connection to the life that came before.

Thank you for all your support! Live well.

Breast Cancer Story Cont'd

This will be another brief post. As I mentioned in my last post someone close to me is dying. She is in palliative care as we speak and will probably pass within a couple of days. Emotions are running high and everyone is physically and mentally fatigued by all the effort of holding vigil at her bedside. Maintaining some sense of psychological steadiness in the midst of all this isn't easy.

I take some time for myself in the observatory that is on the palliative care ward. There I sip on a warm, sweet mocha and read poetry. Currently this is the work of Hafiz, an ancient sufi poet...

I still feel as though I'm not quite sure that simply being present is enough. I long to do more. It seems that being is much more demanding than doing for me. 

However, I have done what I can when I am with her, which is mostly just to let her know I am present, that I love her and that she is not alone. Somehow this does not seem like enough to me. I still feel the urge to want to make it better, to relieve the heaviness and intensity of it all.

I try to maintain my center in the midst of the chaos, for if I don't then the ability to simply be present is compromised and she deserves the best I can muster at this point. 

Again, please remember my vulnerable friend in your thoughts and prayers. Many thanks!