Tag: love

Repeat the Joy

These days, in the midst of so much unrest in the world, I find myself drawn to experiences that will lift my spirits. I look for what will bring me joy: a bird, a book, a piece of music. I am currently reading Ann Patchett’s These Precious Days for the third time. It may be my favorite book of all time, certainly my favorite of hers. It consists of essays about her life, and although I love her fiction, her gift for sharing her own personal stories is unsurpassed. In the space of a few pages, I can laugh out loud and be moved to tears. In short, her books give me great joy, and I often find I want to reread them. To repeat the joy. 

Actually, this is how I’ve always lived my life: discovering new sources of joy and happily repeating many. Music and film, for instance. Anne and I often take the train to New York to see Broadway shows: Jelly’s Last Jam, Lion King, Kinky Boots, Cabaret, Fun Home, Wicked, Dear Evan Hansen.* I’ve seen Hamilton 7 times (3 on stage and 4 streaming)! Listening to, and singing along with, the cast albums is yet another relived treat. There are so many artists and songs I love: indie.arie’s “I Am Light,” Jon Batiste’s “Freedom,” k.d. lang’s “Hallelujah”… anything by Andrea Bocelli. On Christmas Eve, we watch the Frank Capra classic It’s a Wonderful Life (while eating chocolate chip cookies!). And at night before bed: reruns of The Great British Baking Show, with diverse, talented participants and mouthwatering “showstopper” creations. The perfect way to fall asleep: smiling. 

Of course, there is much more to life than books, musicals, and chocolate. One particularly vibrant and joyous thread that runs through my life is the rainbow-colored one made up of all the miracles in Nature, especially seasonal changes. The spring songbird migration, with Baltimore orioles weaving intricate hanging nests and wood thrushes singing exquisite flutelike solos. Summer lilies, azalea, and rhododendron blooming in a multitude of colors, and robins greeting the dawn. In autumn, maple and oak leaves turn golden, red, and orange, and the air is crisp and invigorating. December brings the magical first snowfall of winter. For me, the delight of each season in New England is that it comes again the following year, equally beautiful and exciting to witness.

Throughout the year, the familiar faces of friends and family, ever changing and yet so much the same, fill my life with love and caring. This is my greatest joy, celebrated and repeated over and over, both short- and long-distance. So many years of connections. My parents were with me nearly 50 years; many of my friends have also been in my life that long. And Anne, my life partner, and I have shared our lives for more than 42 years (including 22 years with our beloved cat Lily). Blessings beyond words, all that we have lived through together—and more to come.

The wonders that have touched my heart remain with me. To re-experience them is a gift, one I do not take for granted. We have only so much time on this planet, so why not joyfully celebrate every spring bird migration, every perennial that reblooms, every book or song that moves us, and every “I love you” from those dear to us? As our lives pass through us, we are given the opportunity to do that daily. I remind myself of this every morning with a prayer of gratitude for another “precious day” fully lived and appreciated. And then tomorrow… repeat the joy!
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*Saw Just in Time, the new Bobby Darin biomusical with the remarkable Jonathan Groff, last weekend for my birthday—pure joy and definitely repeatable! 

“This Is the Best Day of My Life”

Sometimes bits of life wisdom show up in quite unusual places. I’m not really a fan of so-called “reality” TV shows, but I have to admit that I have always found “Amazing Race” to be compelling to watch. Pairs racing around the world, doing various complicated and strenuous activities and tasks, competing to win $1 million. If nothing else, it’s a study of human behavior under stress. And also, most interesting to me, some very clear illustrations of how people live their lives: driven by a compulsion to always “win” at any cost or filled with the joy of experience itself. This season two young gay men illustrated the latter in a beautiful way. They are best friends, gamers, who love to play Dungeons and Dragons, so when, during a segment in Portugal, one was asked to don knight’s armor as part of his task, he exclaimed with absolute beaming delight: “This is the best day of my life!” So much happiness in just playing. I loved it.

Meanwhile, another contestant constantly complained in anger and disgust whenever he and his wife were not in first place along the way. He seemed extremely unhappy a lot of the time. A life lesson there, in those two responses. True, it’s a contrived “game” in which people are in competition to win an excessive amount of money, but the reactions of the two participants, each so different, gave me pause. I realized anew that I want to live life in celebration and not complaint.

It’s not difficult to find things to complain about these days, whether it’s increasing political conflict, physical or emotional pain, or any one of a number of life difficulties. I know that I have complained about many of them. Yet I don’t want to live my life that way. In my heart and soul, I know that life is a blessing, and there is so much to be thankful for. I need reminders at times, though, and this particular show was one—loud and clear. I thought immediately of Anne’s and my wedding day (June 2014 at Auburn Lake), where friends and family from across the country gathered in love to celebrate with us. At the end of the day, I said to Anne, “Today is the happiest day of my life.” She agreed with all her heart.

It doesn’t have to be a wedding or a TV show to remind you to see the miracles in every moment, no matter what else is going on in the world. God finds all kinds of ways to wake us up at the most unexpected times and center us in appreciation. A passing comment or an act of kindness from a friend or stranger; an out-of-the-ordinary event that moves you to tears of gratitude. For me, it’s often the sights and sounds of Nature, especially birds. There’s always room for more heart expansion, love, and compassion, if we can only remain open and accepting of all of life, however it appears. Every subtle or obvious reminder is a gift. My greatest wish now is to begin each morning remembering: “This is the best day of my life!”

On the Other Side of Identity

After I completed treatment for breast cancer three years ago, I went through several months of transitioning back to daily life without doctors’ appointments, tests, or procedures. Relief and gratitude came first, along with deepening trust in my soul’s journey as it unfolded. But then, unexpectedly I also felt a wave of sadness and apprehension about “what’s next?” I was a survivor (yay!), but I wasn’t even certain what that meant. As the days and months passed, I experienced an odd mixture of profound appreciation for life along with wondering if I had lost some of my life-force energy. I found myself not as interested in many familiar, but busy, activities. The one thing that continued to deeply engage my heart and soul was Nature. Walking among the trees, bird-watching, gazing up at the ever-changing colors of the sky and clouds. I guess I would say I was most drawn to being rather than doing. 

In some ways, it was not that different from how I had lived life previously; yet there was a certain “emptiness” to it that made me wonder: Had my core essence died with the cancer cells during chemo and radiation? I puzzled over this off and on for some time. Then I remembered a moment of spiritual transformation that occurred during my treatment process: the loss of identity! My identity—eclectic pieces collected over a lifetime (flower child, feminist, spiritual seeker, etc.)—fell away with the hair on my head and the physical appearance I was used to. When I looked at my body, I saw a temporary home for my spirit, or soul, which is in fact eternal. And the soul peacefully observed my life and identity with neutrality.*

Looking back at those life-changing moments of complete soul awareness, I realized that I was now living my life in an entirely different way. My identity was no longer filtering everything; it had faded to the background. What I thought was emptiness or loss was the vast beingness of spirit resting in my heart and soul. I was the observer, or witness, so often referred to in meditation teachings. An almost indescribable feeling: To be in a form but to feel formless, unattached, much of the time.

Our human minds tell us this world is real; our souls see it as a passing illusion, one we come here to experience and then finally break free of when we die—or sometimes beforehand, so that we can live freely, peacefully, as soul while still “alive.” The identity is the costume you wear on Earth; it dissolves at death or perhaps, unexpectedly, during a health crisis or other life-shattering experience. It may take time for you to feel fully at home with just a shadow of identity left; that was true for me. Patience and acceptance are part of the process.

When the identity falls to the wayside, your consciousness enters a different dimension. You realize that human inventions, personalities, and events come and go in the material world. Beyond all those transient illusions is something greater: a Light of Awareness that births all of life. This light is experienced most clearly in Nature, and that is why individuals often feel deeply connected and aware when they walk among the trees and flowers, listening to birdsong. In truth, it is everywhere.

When you look up at the stars sparkling in the infinite cosmos, there may come a moment when you feel one with all you see. If you have lost a loved one or your own sense of “self,” the vastness of the universe still holds you in its loving awareness. More and more now, I understand that that awareness is my soul’s home—on the other side of identity. 
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*See also the chapters “Shedding” and “Body and Soul” in my book Breast Cancer and Beyond: An Unexpected Soul Path: https://amzn.to/4aka0eu.

Past and Present, Here and Now

I heard recently that one of my best friends from high school, Lyn, died a few months ago. I had not seen her for years, but so many memories of our teenage selves resurfaced. We laughed so much together, and yet she is gone now. At least her physical form is. I know her spirit continues somewhere in the great cosmos, but I am also aware of her absence, the end of this particular lifetime. Which of course reminds me of the lifetimes of all those I have known and loved in my life, past and present—and how quickly time passes, in retrospect. At 14, you have an entire life ahead of you. At 60 or 70, you wonder how the years went by so fast. When old friends or family members transition, it makes you appreciate those who are still alive even more. Your love and gratitude intensifies.

Last night, I lay awake thinking of my life partner, Anne, and the 42 years we have spent together. What I felt most deeply was that her love for me is one of the greatest gifts of my life. In joy or sadness, she is always there with me. I told her that this morning, with tears in my eyes. More and more now, she and I appreciate our love and the moments that make up our days and years together. Traveling the world or staying at home. Laughing or crying. All of it is such a miracle: that we found each other and have stayed together for decades. We “wake each morning with gratitude in our hearts for another day together” (our wedding vows, 2014).

And this is the yin and yang of life: grief and joy; love and loss; beginnings and endings, as well as what holds them all together, not opposites but rather one whole experience that stretches beyond past and present to infinity. And perhaps infinity is our “future perfect,” not a verb tense but beingness without parameters. It lives within our consciousness, indescribable in human language but informing all of life. We exist in the now and then, but our souls are forever.

These are the thoughts and feelings that come to me as I remember my friend’s life and look at my own life as a whole. We are so much more than we think we are, because the mind is limited in its perceptions. The soul, on the other hand, is limitless. It has no grief or fear about life and death or infinity because it is infinity. Deep within, we can feel a connection to that wise soul essence, which guides us through our human lives. Even as I grieve the loss of a lifetime friendship or celebrate a lifelong love, I am also touching the threads of a cosmic tapestry that is eternal. From that soul-full place arises peace and a trust in the perfection of All That Is, here and now, forever.

Equinox Reflections

The Spring Equinox has just passed. It is lighter longer now, day by day. Every night, the sound of the spring peepers in the nearby woods fills the air. The buds of the forsythia, magnolia, and cherry trees are slowly swelling in size and turning yellow and pink. The witch hazel is in bloom, as are a few daffodils and crocuses. Red-winged blackbirds have returned, with their noisy ringing calls. The temperatures are warming, and there is promise in the air. Spring always lifts my spirits. Possibility reawakened. Life is hard, yes, but it is also beautiful.

This is the view I hold in my heart each morning. It helps me face the parts of life that aren’t so positive these days: so many people hating one another everywhere. Hatred is completely contrary to the human spirit, which sees “family,” not “enemy,” in the world. How do we keep that compassionate loving core alive now?

For me, it’s those tiny frogs and flower buds that give me hope. The spring bird migration, which I look forward to all year, also brings me joy and a sunny outlook each April and May morning as more and more birds arrive. Those extraordinary small winged beings who fly thousands of miles from Central and South America to raise families in North America. What a miracle each one of them is, their songs so beautiful and varied. The wood thrush’s song alone is worth a trip to the woods just to hear it. Ethereal, flute-like, pure magic. And the colorful warblers, orioles, tanagers, flycatchers, bluebirds, catbirds, and hummingbirds. Enough sights and sounds to fill you with gladness for a lifetime.

In spite of everything, there is beauty in our lives on this blue planet floating in space. So I continue to open my eyes each morning and smile as I look at the light from the rising sun on the trees outside my window. The cardinal is singing his cheery notes, as are the robins, goldfinches, and song sparrows. Humans may argue, fight, and judge one another, but the birds will continue to sing, as the flowers and trees reach upward with all their life force to the heavens above. Each one is a reflection of your own peaceful soul. Open your heart and allow the vibrant life force within you to expand with gratitude and love.