Category: Writing

On My Way Through…

“Maybe all we really are is spirit, the spark that draws people to us, the trail we leave behind.”
—Steve Thomas, Spirits Passing Through

In the past couple of years, several friends of mine have passed to the other side, the inevitable destination we call death. In grieving their loss and in contemplating my own future transition, I’ve felt myself coming into a different awareness of living and dying: less specific, more undefined and free-flowing, without parameters. We know so little of what life and death actually are. We think of them as a beginning and an end, but that’s a mental construct. What if there is only Presence, which never begins or ends; it just is? What if humanity itself is one Spirit, made up of sparks that together constitute life on Earth?

I remember my deceased friends as the spirit they embodied in their human forms: dancer/poet, musician/painter, sculptor, political activist. Yet now, they feel greater than those particular creative expressions, more inclusive of all consciousness, within and beyond their individual lifetimes. The longer I live, on my way through the human experience, the more I too feel greater than my physical form and its expressions. I am a writer, but what I write comes through me not from me. And the love I feel for my friends and for my life has no beginning or end. There is an infinite Presence that permeates everything and everyone and stretches to the farthest reaches of the cosmos, and beyond.

I guess what I’m trying to describe is soul, which is at the core of all human beingness and makes itself known through the heart. When I love my life partner, a close friend, a beautiful poem, or a bird singing at dawn, my soul’s presence moves through me into the world. It becomes one with all I see and hear. Soul defies description, yet it fills the world with light endlessly. Our souls came to Earth to be embodied light, to individuate oneness for a lifespan and then flow back into the One.

Perhaps the longer we live, the more we touch on moments of awareness that stretch beyond habitual parameters and open us completely to the universe. Actually, we are the universe, all of it. The universe lives as our souls throughout life, death, and eternity. We know this fully when we die, but that wisdom is within us now. And our life experiences bring it forth. As my life unfolds, the door to infinity opens wider and becomes more welcoming, less frightening. I can see myself and every one of us as infinite spirits of Presence, on our way through, together….
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Note: Thank you to my good friend Steve Thomas for the wonderful quote from his CD Spirits Passing Through.


Musical Voices: Poetry and Song

My parents took me to my first live musicals in Chicago (My Fair Lady and The Music Man) when I was 10. Around the same time, my aunt and uncle gave me my first book of poems, by e.e. cummings. I couldn’t have asked for a better introduction to musical theater and poetry. Over the years, the voices of countless singers and poets have filled my life with so much joy and inspiration. Recently, I’ve been listening nonstop to two extraordinary artists: spoken-word, nonbinary poet Andrea Gibson and Broadway actor/singer Jonathan Groff. My heart gives a standing ovation every time I hear one of them.

Last summer Anne and I rode the train from Boston to New York to see the biomusical Just in Time, with Jonathan Groff in the title role as singer Bobby Darin. The show was so spectacular that we went again in January! I keep playing the studio recordings, reliving the music and the sweetness and power of Jonathan’s vocals. In December, I came across the film Come See Me in the Good Light, the story of Andrea Gibson’s life and recent death from cancer. I also discovered numerous live poetry performances on their website. Andrea’s melodic speaking voice and wise words about life and death are mesmerizing.

There is something both human and heavenly flowing through these two; I feel their voices vibrating within me (goosebumps!), and I want to hear them again and again. In so much of Andrea’s writing, there are reminders to see each moment as ecstatic, what the soul came here to experience on Earth. My eyes and my heart are wide open as I listen, feeling wonder and awe. I experience something similar when I hear Jonathan, his voice a dynamic magical bridge into the heart of each song he sings.

What rises within me is a deep desire to, as Andrea says, hold each second, each person, sacred. To open every cell in my body to astonishment, awe at being alive, the wonder I was born with, as was every child. We can so easily lose it, or just forget. The poets and musicians are here to remind us to wake up, to remember. Each morning’s sun will never come again; it all goes by so quickly. Yet it is also eternal.

Awareness of mortality/eternity reminded Andrea to see the absolute blessing in being alive—the laughter and tears, the poignancy as well as the peace. All vividly expressed in beautiful poems. In Just in Time, Bobby Darin’s musical life is cut short at 37 by a chronic heart condition. He was driven to live every moment as “once in a lifetime,” and Jonathan Groff, playing that role, movingly reminds audiences to fully appreciate each remarkable moment of their own lives.

That message is relevant for so many of us now, at the deepest level, as we try to find balance living through difficult times. So whenever you hear a poem that moves your soul or a song that brings tears to your eyes, pause and completely receive that gift. Fill your heart with the wonder that surrounds you in each second of your life. Remember to find it everywhere. Just outside the door, the birds are singing musical sonnets; a street artist may be performing an original song or poem. Every single one of them is a unique, unrepeatable voice in this world.

Andrea Gibson, “Tincture”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZyglHx86Kvk

Jonathan Groff and Broadway cast, recording Just in Time: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8IPn41fmt8s.

Deep Dive or Distraction?

More and more these days, I find myself seeking empty space, deeper stillness within me and outside me. There are so many distractions in our lives now: news updates, emails, texts, apps, ads, online videos and articles, mental lists, busy streets, crowded stores. It can be a real challenge to find a place of silence and solitude where the mind and heart can be at rest. A sanctuary for the spirit.

Perhaps the key is to carry that sanctuary within. I don’t have to “seek” if it’s always inside me. And the more awareness I have of my own inner stillness, the more I experience it everywhere. Every sound can be a meditation bell calling me to quiet Presence. Every breath a softening into silence.

So my spiritual “practice” now involves asking the inner questions: “Does this take me deeper?” “Does it touch my heart and soul?” If not, it’s probably a distraction that it’s best to acknowledge and then let go of. Perhaps a hundred times a day. But with every letting go, I release with greater ease and go deeper. Deeper into nothing…

What is there to say about nothingness, within which eternity lies? We were there before we were born, and we’ll be there again after death. Actually we are there now too, but we are not fully aware of it. On a spiritual path, we gradually open our consciousness to the fullness of nothing, the depth and sacredness of it. As we grow older, we may realize there really is no separation, and in doing so feel a desire to consciously experience it completely within our lifetime: Emptiness and fullness as One. Oneness as all.

The poet William Blake expressed this seeming dichotomy perfectly: “To see the world in a grain of sand/And a heaven in a wild flower/To hold infinity in the palm of your hand/And eternity in an hour.” Maybe the poets and sages are the wayshowers here. In addition to the small children and wise elders who see oneness without a word spoken.

 All this is within each of us, in this present moment. Empty your hands and your mind, and stand alone with nothing but silent spirit surrounding you and within you. On the other side of distraction is the deepest experience possible of All That Is. This is heaven on Earth; this is everything, everywhere; before, during, and after life. Nothing in all its fullness.

Andrea Gibson: After Life

“I am happiest on the road, when I’m not here or there, but in between, the yellow line running down the center of it all like a sunbeam.”
–Andrea Gibson

I was not familiar with the work of dynamic spoken-word poet Andrea Gibson until after they (preferred nonbinary pronoun) transitioned in July 2025 from ovarian cancer. In November, I happened to see the trailer for a documentary film about Andrea called Come See Me in the Good Light. Next, I stumbled upon a clip of their friend Tig Notaro reading part of Andrea’s poem “Tincture.” Moved to tears, I found the entire poem online and read it through twice, continuing to weep. The kind of tears I had never experienced in quite the same way before: sorrow simultaneous with celebration of life. Andrea’s poetry encompasses both of these in extraordinary ways.

Thus began my hours-long journey across the web, watching every video I could find: Andrea’s poetry performances; Andrea and partner/wife Megan Falley (also a poet) being interviewed; Megan revealing her own feelings after Andrea’s passing; the trailer from the film and the song “Salt Then Sour Then Sweet,” sung by Sarah Bareilles and Brandi Carlile (with Andrea’s words) at the film’s end. Andrea’s website (andreagibson.org) showcases their vividly diverse poetry (lyrical, incisive, humorous, loving). The first poem I heard/saw was “Love Letter from the Afterlife,” written to Megan. I was audibly sobbing by the fourth or fifth line. I’ve listened to it many times since, and it still feels like the most beautifully wise poem ever written. I have been reading poetry all my life but have never run across any quite like hers.

Andrea’s words bridge life, death, and eternity seamlessly, using details recognizable from my own life, from everyone’s life. It all flowed together perfectly as I listened, crying at the heart-wrenching pathos and absolute splendor of life on Earth. Sadness and joy as one inseparable experience. At the end of the afternoon, I felt as if everyone I had ever known had died and come back to life. All at the same time. Everything inside me and outside me as One. That may not make logical sense, but that’s the best way I can describe the experience. Even my tears held the precious poignancy of all life in them.

And then there’s the film. After hearing/seeing all these pieces of Andrea’s life and work, I watched Come See Me in the Good Light, where it all comes together in an extraordinarily honest, funny, and beautiful telling of their (and Meg’s) journey with cancer. Once again, loss of life and love of life are presented as one experience in a way that is both heart-breaking and heart-opening. They share what they went through (for several years) with such vulnerability, humor, and loving sweetness. I laughed, I cried, I felt what they felt right along with them.

 Andrea’s description of coming to inner acceptance and neutrality about so much that had previously “mattered” struck a chord in my own life (I lived through breast cancer a few years ago). They felt parts of their “identity” fall away as they settled into soul awareness. Nothing was as important as the present moment, fully lived and appreciated. I still hear Andrea’s deeply expressive, musical voice at their last poetry performance in Denver in 2024 (shown in the film), the entire theater as one, cheering, laughing, crying, immersed in love.

I believe Andrea Gibson came to Earth to erase the dividing line between life and death. Between all dichotomies, actually. A perfectly nonbinary life and afterlife. Woven into the tapestry of the universe with precisely orchestrated timing for humanity’s deeper awakening. Thank you, Andrea, for your love letter to us all.

“Love Letter from the Afterlife”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QmZHLvq-gDg

“Acceptance Speech After Setting the World Record in Goosebumps”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4XK-hb_bjqU 

Trailer from Come See Me in the Good Light: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t0B8sjxR7Mo

Rose of Sharon art above by Anne Katzeff

Robin Blessings

Early one morning this summer, a robin landed on our deck railing and sat looking out at the nearby woods. I stood quietly on the other side of the glass doors and watched her watching. I truly believe that that robin loved what she was seeing as much as I did. Together we wove the world into being—living energy pouring from our eyes and hearts. Her song was her prayer of gratitude; mine is in the words I write here.

Every day it is the birds that welcome me on my morning walks, their songs and calls surrounding me as I look up at the trees and sky. Cardinals, goldfinches, song sparrows, Carolina wrens, blue jays, chickadees, mourning doves. And robins, especially robins. I always stop and listen when I hear one singing in a tree next to the path. Often s/he focuses a bright eye on me and then companionably continues singing. I stand in silence, smiling, and my heart sends out loving appreciation in response. These feelings carry me through the day and sometimes later emerge in what I write in a blog. It is the robin’s blessing that has engendered everything. 

Thus is life born, with birdsong, throughout the year, around the world. In Illinois, where I grew up, the first robins appearing after their migration northward were the harbingers of the coming of spring. We always looked forward to their arrival. Many robins overwinter in Illinois now, as they do here in Massachusetts. Entire flocks of them sometimes fill the trees in late winter or spring. And I still feel a thrill of anticipation when I hear their first spring songs in March or April. A sweet prelude to the arrival of thousands of songbirds migrating north from the tropics annually and creating visible and invisible connections wherever they fly and later nest.

For some reason, known only to the heart and soul, birds always lift my spirits and bring me great joy. In their variety of colors and songs, they fill the world with lightness and a sense of the interrelatedness of all life. Indeed, it was with a robin that I first experienced oneness as I sat quietly in my parents’ backyard. The robin flew past me and landed in the grass close by. We looked at one another, eyes meeting, and suddenly all sense of subject and object vanished, no “I” and “not I.” There was no thought at all. Just Being, Presence, within which the robin and I were one, along with everything else. Unforgettable.

Emily Dickenson likened birds to hope, and other poets throughout the years have chosen birds as metaphors for life’s deepest moments. I can’t imagine my own life without them. Indeed, their presence is an essential part of the fabric of living, in every season of the year. When I first open my eyes in the morning, my ears reach out to hear birdsong. Even before dawn in spring and summer, robins are singing. In the evening as well. Theirs is the musical blessing that begins and ends each day.