Thank You, Brittany

Yesterday, my daughter Brittany, returned back to her own apartment after a four week visit. We both live alone and she works from home, so it was a wonderful time of bonding once again. Last summer she came to live with me for 16 weeks and together we built a magnificent garden in the back yard restoring a weedy lot into a showcase of flowers, flagstones, and a fountain.

I was glad she was here this spring and together we enjoyed running out to the garden to see what secrets were sprouting from our plantings last year. We were happy to see so many of the perennials return, bigger and better, and we were able to enjoy the garden so much earlier this year with minimal weeding and pruning. This year, she helped me plant some more: a red peony, new lilies, delphiniums, dahlias, cosmos, Star of Bethlehem, creeping phlox, a planter of various herbs, as well as adding many bright coloured annuals to the mixture. New seeds and bulbs got planted and we’ll see how they do: sunflowers, scarlet runner beans, and gladiolas.

She also did so much work inside my home, adding her skills as an interior designer to many areas.

My office has been transformed from a cluttered and busy site to a comfortable and pristine workplace. She stripped wall coverings, re-plastered and sanded, then painted all the walls a beautiful shade of blue. She organized and re-designed the books and frames and knick-knacks down to a well-ordered, trim, and efficient space that still reflects my personality and interests.

Years ago, when I was looking after my daughter’s cats while she travelled the world for years, the cats decided the old wooden door frames in my home were great scratching posts. The cats are now gone but the damage remained. Brittany decided she could restore them back to their former glory and started researching how to do it. As a surprise to me, she sanded and re-stained seven doorways and frames.

She drew up blueprints for my back sun porch and we now await our contractor to create the space with new cupboards, ceiling, light fixtures, and flooring. We already have waiting the new laminate flooring, a beautiful carpet, a bench, a shoe cupboard, and a new mirror.

I can’t thank her enough for all that she has done for me. We both realize that the universe came together in so many ways, the biggest being the pandemic, to give us both the opportunity and time to be together and build on our relationship in my home.

Brittany, I love you and thank you for doing so much for me. You are generous and hard-working and have a beautiful spirit. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

One Dance Tribe

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I am a dancer. There have been times in my life that it was my passion and it fed my spirit. Then I danced every day. I became a full-time elementary school teacher in my late 30’s. Shortly after I stopped dancing and left it behind.

But it wouldn’t leave me.

Throughout the years, I kept returning to my dance, finding new ways to check in with my body and spirit; a weekly stretch/strength/free dance class, NIA dance workshops and retreats, yoga, sacred circle dancing and even ballroom dancing.

Last year I saw online an ad for a dance event in Maui, Hawaii called One Dance Tribe. I was intrigued. For months, I waffled back and forth about going. I began the registration procedure four separate times, but it wasn’t until the fourth time, that I persevered and hit the final ‘send’ button. Now I was committed!

In January, 2017, I flew to Maui for the One Dance Tribe, an international dance event with 80 other like-minded souls from all over the world.

The camp, rustic and simple, sat on the clifftop of the beautiful Keanae Peninsula, overlooking the Pacific Ocean on all three sides. Home for me for the week was a small 4 X 4 tent set back among the towering trees of a tropical forest, where the constant sound of the ocean waves on the cliffs lulled me to sleep each night and gentle birdsong woke me just after sunrise each morning.

We danced from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. every day. Six different teachers presented their styles and approaches to conscious dance, sometimes working independently, sometimes together in one common spirit. Spiritual teachers and healers helped us to integrate our dancing experiences through massage, body healing techniques, voice exercises, chanting, music and ceremony.

At One Dance Tribe, I immersed myself in new – a new land, wild and beautiful and a new dance experience where I, once again, began to listen to my body and learn from its wisdom. I learned to be spontaneous, authentic, and trustful of the process. I became deeply aware of my chi body energy and flow. Joy, laughter and freedom naturally flowed as I allowed my instincts to respond to the music and the teacher’s promptings. I began to test my strengths and my limitations and became aware of knots of pain, both physical and emotional, learning to see and understand them with honesty and clarity. For me, the Feldenkrais healing sessions and various moving meditations aided me even further in this deep awareness.

I learned of the truth that is revealed through movement by observing others move. By watching others, with focus and intent, I ‘listened’ to their ‘movementspeak.’ As assuredly as if they had used spoken words, their movements told me their story. I danced for them, capturing their essence with a movement response. “This is what I hear you say” became “This is what I see you say.” We spoke in a new language, one without words, the language of the body with its energy and flow.

I learned to care for others, to relate to them through movement. Through dance, we shared our lives, experiences and energies in a spontaneous dialogue. We played and laughed together. We cried together and held each other up.

I learned I didn’t have to know all your story to help you embrace your path. All I had to do was be there for you; to listen, hold, and love you, so that you were not alone in your pain. I learned I didn’t have to give you my whole life. It was enough to be there for just the moment that we were placed together – to be authentic, supportive and sharing of THIS moment.

I learned to show up daily; to ‘be here now’ with others. My presence mattered and contributed to the group process.

I learned to persevere and push my physical, emotional, and spiritual levels, in spite of discomfort. As I moved inward, I tested and revealed my own inner energy and spirit. As I moved outward, I shared more of myself with others, as partners and as a group.

Through all these experiences, I felt and understood my place in a greater world as part of a kindred population of people. As an equal member of creation, I realized my connection to the vast, powerful energy of our natural world.
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On our last day, we sat with a partner and repeatedly asked each other a question.

“What does your heart know?”

My heart has deep gratitude for this unique experience where I retreated from my everyday world to this movement sanctuary. Here I was encouraged to be my true self. I have gratitude for the teachers and healers who offered their skills to teach me that body awareness and authenticity. I have loving gratitude for my body – its energy, its flow and its truth.

“What does your heart know?”

It knows a deeper awareness and understanding of the revealing power of movement. I learn about you and you learn about me by sharing our unspoken dialogue through movement and dance. The body doesn’t lie.

“What does your heart know?”

I know that I am part of a greater natural world. I am powerful, fierce, and flowing as the gifts of the ocean, the cliffs and towering vegetation. I learned to be at one with it, to yield to its power and beauty, rather than dominate and separate myself from it.

“What does your heart know?”

I can share your pain without it binding me up and swallowing me in over-empathy. I don’t need to know all the details. It is enough to just be there for you in your moment of need. I don’t have to solve it for you. All I have to do is be open, loving, and supportive, as you work through it. I don’t need to be afraid of your pain. I don’t need to eradicate your pain. It does not need to overwhelm me.

“What does your heart know?”

I am learning to ‘go with the flow’ – to not fight it. I became aware of the knots and blocks in my body and psyche that I am avoiding because they are too painful or too fearful.

“What does your heart know?”

I am learning to be ‘me’, not the ‘me’ that has been molded by a society of rules and expectations. I am learning to be authentic. I am learning how to love better, myself as well as others. I am better loving my natural world which I am a part of.

“What does your heart know?”

I am learning the power of the group, of community. When we all join together in a spirit of love, non-judgement, open acceptance and support, there is power in that.

We are One.
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Thank you to all who contributed to the One Dance Tribe event.

I thank you for the opportunity to retreat and learn. I was fed, housed, taught, and healed.

Thank you for the physical setting of the camp on Keanae Peninsula on the winding Hana Highway, a place of raw, wild, untamed beauty; a place where nature rules and man is a visitor. With honour, I danced the hula to the sun, moon, wind, clouds, rain, cliffs, ocean and shore. How magical was the appearance of a brilliant, glowing rainbow as it offered its gift to bless our dance to it.

Thank you for the blessing of the inner dance sanctuary which invited us in with its openness and beautiful flowing fabric, carpets, cushions, flowers and ferns. It was a space created with love and a sense of beauty and sanctity.

Thank you for the music, so carefully chosen to inspire, stimulate and feed our senses.

Thank you to each of the teachers for your individuality and uniqueness. As leaders, you gave us your best through sensitive offerings and guidance. Thank you for the union of your skills as teachers. We truly became One Dance Tribe with no competition, no judgement, a true union of a dancing people.

Thank you for all who made this event such a special and unique experience – the cooks, the cleaning staff, the grounds people, administrators, guests and volunteers. We fed and cared for each other, contributing bits of ourselves to a greater community.

Thank you. Grazie. Mahalo.

Christmas in the Classroom

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One year in my classroom, as we approached the winter holiday season, I asked my gr. 1’s what ‘Christmas’ was all about. I got a variety of answers. I said to them, “It’s somebody’s birthday.

Do you know who?”

No one knew. So I told them the original Christian story of Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus visited by the wise men and shepherds and angels.

Later I was reading them a story about the nativity scene and Cameron asked, “Who is Jesus Christ?”

“Well, Christians say he’s the son of God,” I answered.

“Does that make Joseph the step-dad?”

“Well, in a way.”

“Well, if God’s his real father, what does he look like?”

“God is a spirit. God doesn’t look like people.”

Lily piped up. “God isn’t a he or she. God’s a spirit.”

“What’s a spirit?” asked Ashley.

“Well, a spirit is kind of like a ghost…”

“Like Casper?” asked Cameron.

“…or maybe like the tooth fairy,” I fumbled, trying to think of images that they could relate to. “Or, perhaps more like Mother Nature. In some magical way, the sun comes up, the sun goes down, the seasons change and seeds grow and animals are born. God’s the energy that makes all that happen.”

“God created us,” Lily said.

“Yes, Christians say that. And they say God created Jesus Christ magically inside Mary’s belly or womb.”

Nathan, still puzzled, said, “Well I know who Jesus is but who is Christ?”

“Jesus Christ is one and the same person. Just like you are Nathan Wood, Jesus has two names, too.”

“Oh,” he smiled, happy to understand. “Mr. Christ!”

 

How Are You? (On a Journey of Grief)

(an excerpt from my journal after my husband’s passing.)

 It’s been six weeks since Tom died and friends and family ask me, “How are you?”

I think I’m doing okay. I’m never quite sure what to say to people when they ask me that. Tears still come every day. I miss him like crazy, but I can actually talk about it now without breaking down. My teaching job and my little ones are keeping me busy. I have the most wonderful class. Perhaps my principal was being extra nice to me when she set up the class list, but, however it happened, I really did luck out with this bunch of great little kids. They are adoring, affectionate and easy, extremely responsive, caring children. And their parents are equally as great. I don’t think I have ever felt so loved and supported as I have this year. The kids wrote me beautiful letters at Christmas and parents, too, sent in kind and compassionate cards and letters.

I bought something new for myself after Tom died. It’s a two foot long, black, wooden carving of the word “Dream.” It bought it for my bedroom, not only for the obvious take on night-time dreams but also to remind me that I am alive and have opportunities to “dream” about new possibilities for the future. I know it should have been obvious but it was only a few days ago that I realized that this is the first time in my entire life that I am living alone with no one else to be responsible for but myself. I feel I have a lot of soul-searching to do in discovering who I really am and what I really want for the rest of my life. Tom and I were so happy and so looking forward to a future of retired life together, but if I am to be denied that, then I need to look for new opportunities for self-growth and discovery. The world is a big, beautiful place and I am alive and have an opportunity to decide what I want to do with my life.

Right now I am reading a great book, Broken Open – How Difficult Times can Help us Grow, by Elizabeth Lesser. There’s a quote in it from Joseph Campbell:

 “People say that what we’re all seeking is a meaning for life.

I don’t think that’s what we’re really seeking. I think that what

we’re seeking is an experience of being alive. . . so that we actually

feel the rapture of being alive.”

Lesser goes on to interpret that in her own way.

Rapture is not a selfish emotion. It is pure gratitude, flowing freely          

through the body, heart and soul. Gratitude for what? For breath,

for colours, for music, for friendship, humour, weather, sleep, awareness.

It is a willing engagement with the whole messy miracle of life.

The world suffers more from unhappy, stifled people trying to do

good than it does from those who are simply content within themselves.”

I couldn’t agree more!

What I hope to do and be is a person of gratitude and contentment. Content in my own skin. If I can be that person, then my love for myself and my place in the world will be transferred to the rest of the world, to others. It can’t help but be reflected outwards like the radiating ripples from a stone being tossed into a quiet, still pond.

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Moving Forward

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A friend asked me if I still communicate with Tom after over five years of his passing.

I have had visitation dreams from Tom in the first year after he was gone, and I had one on the fifth anniversary of his passing, but I don’t communicate with him in any other way. I haven’t been to mediums, or fortune tellers, or psychics. I don’t have long conversations with him or feel his presence with me in any real way. Occasionally, I will make a comment directed to him, almost more like speaking my own thoughts out loud. I linger, at times, on his photo on the wall, perhaps send him a little finger kiss. This past month, I did have an incident where I heard two knocks on the door leading up from the basement apartment. It totally freaked me out. I was more scared than comforted. (Tom used to live there when he shared the house with his sister. When I moved in we took over the whole house.)

 

When he passed, I felt very strongly that I wanted nothing, NOTHING, to hold him back from moving fully into the next world. I loved him so much that I wanted to fully release him from any earthly ties or worries so that he could move forward completely into the next phase of his existence, to be all that he could and should be. I swallowed my own fear, let him fully go, and sent him on his final path from me with a blessing to embrace the next stage with no regrets, no obligations, nothing to hold him back in any way. Therefore, if I felt he was still hanging around, bound to me and this world in some way, I would be very sad. I love him and want him to be fully and completely all he is capable of being. If what mediums say is true, that he is here always with me, observing my life, I don’t encourage that or desire it, and I am not aware of his presence in that way. Some take comfort in feeling their loved one’s presence still with them. I take comfort in NOT feeling him still with me and knowing that he has moved on to the next stage of his existence. I realize that it may be different for others, but this is my way of dealing with my loss and my grief. We each grieve differently.

Does that mean I don’t miss him with all of my heart? Not at all. I hold onto his memory with great love. I am deeply gratified to have had the ten years I did with him. They truly were the best years of my life.  I wrote my book to honour him and our life together. It is my monument to him and his memory. But I know that true healing lies in moving on with my life, even if that means, it has to be without him. And my wish and prayer for him is that he, too, moves on to the next stage of his new life. We were truly blessed to have the time we had together, but it is now a time for new things.

Compassionate Abiding

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Recently I watched an online interview of Pema Chodron, a Tibetan Buddhist nun. She spoke of pain, suffering, discontent and suggested a means of gentle meditation called “Compassionate Abiding” in dealing with it.

Sit quietly and just breathe. Breathe in and embrace the pain, take it in, open the heart and allow it to fully experience the pain. Do it again and again, fully breathing it in and fully breathing it out. And, as you breathe, know that all of us, everyone, experiences this pain and discontent at some point in our lives. So begin to take that realization in, not only for yourself but for others, too. Take in their pain, feel the community of pain, our oneness, our common humanity. This is “compassionate abiding.”

It’s what Christ did on the cross. Christ took in all our pain, for all of us. He embraced it all. Not only for those living in his time but for all humanity in all times.

This is the first time I have ever really understood the value and true meaning of what Christ did on the cross, the event we call Good Friday. It finally, truly spoke to my heart. It wasn’t so much our sin that Christ took on himself. It was our pain, our discontent, those negative feelings and perceptions we all have in our lives. For I believe that we are all basically good, we are perfect as we are. Pain and suffering is something that is manifested when we step away from our true selves – the self we were born as and were meant to be. Christ took all that pain and embraced not only his own, but ours, too. He identified with us. He felt a deep compassion for us. He wasn’t afraid of it, not only his own pain but all of ours.

Pema Chodron suggests we all are capable of doing this. We all experience pain, suffering and discontent in our lives. By dealing calmly with the pain, accepting it and embracing it, rather than fighting it and living in fear, we can move that level of understanding to our own communities outside ourselves. Yes, the pain is real, it is there. But we can sit quietly with it, accept it, and go beyond ourselves and realize that we all will experience this at some level. We’re in this together. Time will pass and the pain may stop for us, but there will be others who may need our compassion and understanding in dealing with their pain. Because we have suffered we can identify with others’ suffering. This is empathy, kind-heartedness, love, compassionate abiding.

Dealing with Grief and Loss

Grief is only one repercussion of a great loss. When we can’t accept a loss, of any kin086-001d, we suffer emotionally. With grief may come, doubt, anger, blame, regret, fear, shame, and guilt, all forms of self-flagellation that can occur when we have lost someone or something very dear to us.

How do we move on?

#1. Embrace the pain. Turn and face the lions.

Embrace the pain, the grief, the shame. Fully own it, fully feel it, let it have its way. Don’t be afraid of it. Our emotions have a natural flow to them and we have to let them have their own natural ebb and flow. It’s like telling a kid, “Grow up!” They can’t just yet. They will get there, but it is a process.

So look it in the face. Then cry, wail, pound the walls, suffer. Give it its time. These feelings are natural and valid feelings after such a loss. But don’t wallow in it. Don’t bury yourself in it. Stay open to the possibility that time will ease the pain and move slowly toward that day.

When you are ready, and you will know when you are ready, then you can move to #2.

#2.   Let it go. Let go and let God. Release it. Free yourself.

Give it up to a higher power. You don’t even have to fully believe in a higher power or fully understand it, just accept that there might be such a thing and give up all that crap you’re carrying around. It’s like vomit that roils around inside us. Puke it up. Get rid of it.

If there really is no higher power than what have you done, really, but throw that negative energy out into the ions of the atmosphere to float around out there instead of gathering like a cess pool inside you?

We seem to be able to accept cyber space, cyber clouds, satellites, and fax machines without fully understanding how they work or seeing the energy that makes them work.  We can’t see it, but we know it works. Why can’t we accept that maybe God or a power greater than us exists as an unseen power that can actually have some effect on us or around us?

We may not understand how he/she/it works, but it does. Life is full of miracles or, at the very least, amazing events that boggle the mind. Babies grow inside their mother’s womb, a caterpillar forms a chrysalis and emerges as a butterfly, a tiny seed falls to the ground and splits open to become a full-grown oak tree.

#3. Accept yourself. Love yourself.

Love your perfection and your imperfection. Accept it all. Accept that we can change, or not change, and move on. This is self-love.

#4. Make amends.

If possible, try to right your wrongs. Ask for forgiveness. It might be too late. If you are trying to make amends to someone else for the hurt you are a part of, know that your attempts might not be accepted, or reciprocated, but at least you have tried. You have forgiven yourself. Move on.

#5. Keep growing. Celebrate you.

Celebrate you! Love yourself. Heal yourself. Give yourself pleasure. Reward yourself for small achievements. Celebrate the ordinary. It’s the little things in life that can mean the most.

#6. Service to others.

Give to others. Why? Because you have been given to. Because you can empathize with their pain. Because you are more than just yourself.

You are part of a greater world, and whether you know it or not, everything you do or say has a repercussion somewhere. We are all connected. Even if you do nothing there is an effect. Your lack of offering says something to the other, in itself. Even nothing is something. When we don’t say “I love you” our lack of it, our remiss, sends a message of nonlove or, at the very least, doubt of your love. “The universe is my palette. I paint a glorious picture and step into it.”  (Alan Cohen) We can choose to not paint, but then there is only a white, empty canvas in front of you. And that emptiness carries its own message. Paint a beautiful picture with your life by giving to others.

Let your positive actions contribute to the world. Be forthright. Be bold. Be clear. Be generous.

#7. Keep growing. Seek answers.

Keep asking questions with self-study and communication. Ask why? Ask how? Dig for the answers to a better life. Read, write, view, talk, pray, travel, contemplate others’ wisdom and experience.

Build your knowledge in layers of wisdom, spiralling higher and deeper.

Broaden the frame, the box, the way you see life. Let your vision, your perspective grow in positive ways.

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All of this is a cycle – go in – go out – go in – go out – to self – to God – to self – to others – and back to self. It is a constant healing movement, the breath of life.

And remember – all of this takes time. It is an emotional journey. It can’t be rushed.

Radical Self Love

013February is Radical Self Love month.

My friend, Nathalie, asks “How do you practise #RadicalSelfLove?”

Radical Self Love, first of all, needs time – to stop, to breathe, to listen to one’s body, to be fully aware, fully connected to one’s physical self. If we take that time to know our bodies, then we will take that “knowing” and ensure that we give our bodies nutritious food, adequate rest, and constant movement.

Radical Self Love means connecting to our heart self, our emotional, intellectual and spiritual self. It is a deep journey inwards through prayer, meditation, contemplation or creation that builds an understanding of our capabilities, our soul, our true essence. We learn our true magnificence as an irreplaceable creation of the universe. And when we realize our own greatness, we see that same greatness in others. We are compelled to keep moving forward in curiosity, love and fulfillment because we know our true potential and seek a venue, a path, to express our uniqueness and help others to realize theirs.

Radical Self Love knows that because we are so loved, we are capable of loving others through kindness, camaraderie and service. When we have this full deep awareness of ourselves on all levels, physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual, we have a love so big and full that it can’t be contained and it naturally reaches out to others, our homes, our planet, in fact, all of creation.

Time – awareness – connection – growth – commitment – discipline – balance, all become necessary elements of Radical Self Love. We must set aside sacred time to build this deep awareness of ourselves, to connect with all of who we are. We keep seeking new growth, to keep moving forward. And we do this with a sense of commitment and discipline. We balance all of these elements to create a balanced self.

With Radical Self Love, we not only know and change ourselves, we know and change the world.

The Act of Creation

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Upon finishing my book for the night, I placed the new bookmark my sister had given me at Christmas between the pages to mark my place.

Before I closed the book, I examined the bookmark, taking some time to really look at it. Is it leather? Or is it some kind of stiff fabric covered in a thick coat of paint to give it substance? It had been hand-painted – a ruby-throated hummingbird hovering in front of a pink and fuchsia blossom. A thin black ribbon was looped through a punched hole at the top of the bookmark.

Someone created this, took the time to carefully choose fabric and ribbon, colours of paint and suitable brushes to make this bookmark. I looked on the back. Hand-printed in a golden brown paint was the name “Carolyn Smoke ’15.”

Thank you, Carolyn. Thank you for making this for me. You didn’t know it was going to be mine, but thank you for meticulously taking the time to create this hand-made craft that I now get to use and enjoy.

It reminded me that we just need to make our creations and then send them out into the world. We don’t know where they will end up. It’s not for us to worry about that. We enjoyed the process of conceiving it and then we let it go to be itself and allow others to enjoy the finished product.

Creation is like planting seeds. We may plant apple seeds and never get to see the grown tree in full bloom or dripping with apples. We can imagine, if we wish, future generations sitting under shady boughs munching on crisp red apples. If that’s why we planted the seed, then our act of creation becomes an act of generosity, for others will reap the benefits of our labour. Or we can plant seeds simply because we enjoy black soil under our fingernails, blue skies above us, and a warm sun heating our backs. And within a few weeks, we can watch the magic of a fresh green shoot breaking through the earth and growing before our eyes. And that can be enough.

 

Lay Me Down

Karen and I met for tea today. She is deeply grieving her beloved husband who passed away just weeks ago. Every day she visits the grave site still fresh with dirt and flowers.

“I can’t go on. Today I just wanted to lay down right there in the grass and mud and die beside him,” she sobbed.

I told her, “Then you should have. It’s okay to feel what you are feeling, and think what you are thinking. You have had a great loss. If you wanted to lie down right then and there, then you should have just done it. There’s no wrong here. It’s okay to meet the grief head-on and yield to it and your feelings.”

What I didn’t say is this . . .

“As you’re lying there in the dirt, maybe, after a while, you will realize that you’re still alive, and it’s cold on the ground, and you are hungry, and the kids need to be picked up. And because you are still alive, there are things you must do to keep living.

“And when you stand up, you will still be sad and filled with grief at the loss of your husband, but you will go on. Not with him walking beside you, but in a new way.”

Cheryl Strayed, writer, has said, “If it is impossible for you to go on as you were before, so you must go on as you never have.”

Give yourself permission, the right to grieve as long as you need to and whatever way you need to. Rest, pause, from life for a time but then get up, brush yourself off and go on.

“Ah, but the sweetness is gone out of life,” you cry.

You are surrounded by sweetness – the sun beaming down from a blue sky, a child’s bubble of laughter, a fragrant flower. When you are ready to look up, you will see it. Today you are blinded by grief and the painful reminders that you will never have yesterday’s sweetness again. But tomorrow’s sweetness is waiting patiently for you – just up ahead.

(A revised copy of this entry is in “Good Grief People”, authors Barbara Heagy, Alan Anderson, Glynis M. Belec, Ruth Smith-Meyer, Donna Mann, Carolyn Wilker.)