Sunday, April 19, 2015

For Davey

"Sure.  I'll make small talk.
Chit chat.
Discuss the ins and outs of a "typical" day.
Pass the time lightly.
Say tiny things.
I'm happy to tread surfaces with a smile,
and will.
Sometimes.
Yet- when I look at you,
I know there are layers.
Dimensions.
Collections of ancient wisdom.
Roads.
Stories on stories on stories.
Core needs.
Humanness.
This is where I light up.
This is where I thrive.
You can't be caged in a pool for long.
Not when you're someone
who wants oceans."     -V. Erickson

I visited with my beautiful, big brother today.  A video chat.  Twenty minutes of freedom from his solitary confines.  In my eyes he was beauty. No less than a rare flower blooming in a parched and barren field.  He shared a recent glimpse of hard earned wisdom... "Sis, we are all infants. No matter our age.  We all share the same basic human needs. An infant will die without human touch.  We all need to be loved."
Of course we all need food, shelter and water.   But like infants we all also require, REQUIRE!! love, human touch and a sense of belonging.  We need it.  We can do without it and the body will survive, but what of the soul, the heart, the wide ocean of being?  To deny another living human of touch and care is a cruelty no less horrific than starvation.  When I consider how we punish others and push away the very people most in need of our warmth and tenderness and care, I wonder how we can begin to call ourselves a "civilized" people.
We can not begin to claim our inheritance as the humans we are capable of being, until we recognize another's suffering as our own and turn the light of our own love on the shadows of pain and loneliness all around.
I love you David Lon Lloyd Jr., heart and soul, stem to stern.

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

unknown

Commuting to work this morning, surrounded by other cars and drivers intent on destinations to I know not where, I began to contemplate the unknown and unknowable nature of life.  Our big human brains spend a great deal of time and energy buffering against the present and imagining some measure of control.  We indulge elaborate contortions of self aggrandizement in an attempt to prop up our sense of the known.  We worry about the future, plan for it and rush headlong toward it.  We carry a satchel of memories and stories and nonsense, heavy laden, on bent backs weary from use.

The one moment we seem intent on ignoring is this one.  Why?  Could it be that this moment is inviting us, exactly as it is, to a robust kind of vulnerability?  A not knowing?  I have begun to believe that the greatest growth opportunity is found in a thorough examination of our relationship with the unknown.

I have five dear friends presently wrestling with cancer.  I witness their courage and endurance as they face the uncertainty of life, an uncertainty in which we are all steeped, but feel entitled to ignore.  What kind of blinders must we wear to avoid the simple, stark and glaringly obvious truth that this moment, exactly as it is, is the only moment there will ever be.  Imagine the weightlessness of this depth encounter, when all of our resistances are laid down and we come, with empty hands, naked and unabashed, to this one, perfect-as-it-is NOW.  This life. This moment. This breath. Anything less is a human parody masquerading as truth with all the pomp and puffed up circumstance that our busy minds can muster.