Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Death in the midst of a non winter
This is not photoshopped. The light really looked like this at sunset the other day. Wow.
The windows are open. A soft, silvery-gold light, accompanied by birdsong, is streaming into the chateau. We are allegedly going to be able to walk around this afternoon in tshirts, shorts, and flip-flops. You would think this is a morning in April, not January. It's so weird!
I was going to host a gathering this week in which, through the reading of poetry and eating of chocolate, we would invoke the birthday of spring. But I never got around to inviting anyone. We had a few cold days, one snowy morning, but that's it. How could I call people together to invoke the warmth of spring? It would have felt completely wrong, like bringing coals to Newcastle.
In spite of the weather, the threshold between this world and the next is wide open at the moment. The souls of people and animals have flown through that threshold during the past week, including the young daughter of friends/neighbors, beloved pets, a baby not quite ready to enter this world, a client's father. They say that everyone dies alone, but I'm not sure that's true. These events seem to occur in clusters, at least it looks that way to me. Today I am steeling myself for the news that a dear friend's mother has crossed over.
I'm reminded to seize the day, not to sweat the small stuff. You never know when your number will come up, never. I will walk and take pictures today, I will attend a meeting with some folks who work with the Capitol Hill Foundation (because I'm doing some writing for them). I will work a little bit, meet a friend for dinner. Today is a good day and I'm grateful to be alive. L'chaim!