(no subject)
Apr. 7th, 2012 08:58 amToday I have a special celebratory treat for you. It's not for first day Passover. It's not for Easter. It's because I feel like giving everyone a treat, regardless. Also, because, having celebrated Helen's new book, it's time to celebrate Kate's. Watch this space. I'll put it up when I'm awake which is...not yet.
Later today I might also be intelligent. That also is not yet. Awakeness is essential for this, too. Also, dragging my mind away from the folk festival, where bunches of my friends are dancing and some singing or playing. A close friend is in two morris sides this year. "What happens if they are on at the same time?" I asked her and she reassured me "They already have been."
And my Pesach presents may be few, but they are very special. My total hands-down winner is a turquoise pendant. It has special meaning (for it came from special people) and, like the Eleanor ring and the rocks, helps heal. I am extraordinarily lucky in my friends, for without them I would be facing much bigger emotional shortfalls whenever I look round my unit or try to do something. Where some of the holes were, I have brand-new stories..
Life for me is still about stories. Each time a story ends, a bit of me is gone. Each time there are new stories, I grow.
One of the side effects of being in Passover is that I miss family and friends who are gone. This was the time I spent with my two fathers, for instance. I miss Dad and Les and it seems wrong to miss them together, for they were my fathers sequentially. They were comfortable with each other, though, and so I shall think of a happy moment with each of them and I shall take a deep breath. I've lost five friends and relatives so far this year, and another is going. I miss the five each and every one of them and I shall send a hope into the world for a dignified and pain free end for the sixth.
If this weekend also entails you missing someone, feel free to share a story about them with me. For as long as their stories live, a small part of them is still with us.
There ought to be a fourth neshama* just to carry our best stories.
*soul, but not as television defines it. Also, the names of two of the others aren't neshama, but I can never remember what they are - I just know their functions and that none of them is specifically for story. My popular theology is lacking today. I must remind my nephew that when Dad died he went into Dad's bedroom to play with Dad's neshama and was found under the bed, hunting.
Later today I might also be intelligent. That also is not yet. Awakeness is essential for this, too. Also, dragging my mind away from the folk festival, where bunches of my friends are dancing and some singing or playing. A close friend is in two morris sides this year. "What happens if they are on at the same time?" I asked her and she reassured me "They already have been."
And my Pesach presents may be few, but they are very special. My total hands-down winner is a turquoise pendant. It has special meaning (for it came from special people) and, like the Eleanor ring and the rocks, helps heal. I am extraordinarily lucky in my friends, for without them I would be facing much bigger emotional shortfalls whenever I look round my unit or try to do something. Where some of the holes were, I have brand-new stories..
Life for me is still about stories. Each time a story ends, a bit of me is gone. Each time there are new stories, I grow.
One of the side effects of being in Passover is that I miss family and friends who are gone. This was the time I spent with my two fathers, for instance. I miss Dad and Les and it seems wrong to miss them together, for they were my fathers sequentially. They were comfortable with each other, though, and so I shall think of a happy moment with each of them and I shall take a deep breath. I've lost five friends and relatives so far this year, and another is going. I miss the five each and every one of them and I shall send a hope into the world for a dignified and pain free end for the sixth.
If this weekend also entails you missing someone, feel free to share a story about them with me. For as long as their stories live, a small part of them is still with us.
There ought to be a fourth neshama* just to carry our best stories.
*soul, but not as television defines it. Also, the names of two of the others aren't neshama, but I can never remember what they are - I just know their functions and that none of them is specifically for story. My popular theology is lacking today. I must remind my nephew that when Dad died he went into Dad's bedroom to play with Dad's neshama and was found under the bed, hunting.