It’s a quiet sunny Sunday with mild temperatures outside and a bit of wind. I’m looking forward to another walk in the neighborhood later today. On my walk yesterday I kept a lookout for the quiet beauty of
True Things
in the snowy landscape of our neighborhood. It always astonishes me to see perfect dry leaves that have fallen onto the pristine white snow. Sometimes there are no nearby trees, but still, here it is — a beautiful perfect leaf. I appreciate these hushed gentle reminders of life and loss.
A tree near my path dropped long slender twigs into and onto the snow. Some twigs lay on the top of the snow and others stood tall and lonely in a sea of white.
My first thought is “I wonder why the tree is dropping all of these twigs?” But then the standing twigs make me wonder, “How did that happen?” I find it astonishing that the top of the standing twigs always seem to be the narrow tip of the twig, not the broader part below. Falling leaves, falling twigs remind me that every life has many different seasons. The ability to hold that which is beautiful at the same time as recognizing that which is broken and difficult is part of the experience of life.
As I stood beside her bed with the inlaid mirror where she lay and painted self-portraits, I thought of Frida {Kahlo} as a willow: actively rooting, digging deep into the details of her life and her own particular plight, anchoring herself, and at the same time, laying herself bare.
Because she showed us the very thing I’ve been talking about all year—which I sometimes worry I’m exhausting people with, but that I’m going to say again because it’s the truest thing I know, the thing I remind myself of every day: living means learning to hold the astonishingly beautiful and unbearably hard things in the same palm.
— Sueika Jaouad, The Isolation Journals 1-15-23
Joy and Pain
Though I write and speak of joy and beauty more than pain and loss I am keenly aware that every person has experiences of both woven through his or her life. Learning to not just accept, but celebrate the fullness of joy and pain is a life-long journey.
I experienced many unexplained pain and health issues through much of my adult life. Fortunately, I have fewer health issues now than I did when I was younger. My daughters probably remember me as a mom who spent a lot of time resting on the sofa when she wasn’t at work. My vacations were not spent exploring the world but trying to recover and rest a bit. And though I often wished I was more “normal” (whatever that is) at this point in my life I wouldn’t trade those health issues for a carefree life. They taught me so much — true things that I am grateful for.
I discovered a new (to me) Rainer Maria Rilke poem this morning that feels like it fits today’s topic…
LET THIS DARKNESS BE A BELL TOWER
Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.— Rainer Maria Rilke
What true things are you grateful for in your life?
May you walk in beauty.
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