"The miracle comes quietly into the mind that stops an instant and is still."
- A Course in Miracles
This afternoon I got to thinking about miracles. According to a statistic from NPR in 2008, 79% of Americans believe in miracles. This number remains consistent with a stat from USA Today/CNN/Gallup Poll in 1994. Today I sat at a lunch with seven adults and one three-year-old: five believed, two did not, and the remaining one kept quiet on the subject (it was not the three-year-old).
Today is Christmas Eve. As a Jew, I celebrate Christmas because of a pre-nuptial agreement my parents made before they married (dad: Jew, mom: Catholic). My father could raise us Jewish BUT we would always celebrate Christmas and have a Christmas tree. And so it went. We got Hanukkah and Christmas, a beautiful collaboration of two religions and American Capitalist excess.
Embarrassingly, today I actually had to Google what the "miracle of Christmas" is. Yes, I forgot we are celebrating Jesus's birthday. (Mind you, I've been tuning out all holiday cheer this year.) But now I remember, Jesus Christ was born to Mary, a virgin, as the son of God on December 25th. Honestly, this is not a miracle that I have ever really believed in. I tend to take the Bible's stories as metaphors and I also don't think women's words are very trustworthy, perhaps even saintly ones. They don't like to kiss and tell. In order to avoid pushing buttons, or maybe to push a few more, the miracle of Hanukkah celebrates oil burning in the Beit HaMikdash for eight days when it was claimed it would only last for one night – I don't know if I believe in that miracle either.
But over the past two months or so, I've been led to question all my beliefs – miracles, life, death, love, faith, and more. I don't know what I believe anymore. Maybe both of the miracles mentioned above are completely true! I mean, I can't tell you how many times over the past two months I've wished that I could be pregnant with your child despite the fact that you aren't here to make that happen! Why shouldn't I trust that if God or a higher power deems something like that to be possible, then it be possible? I mean, this whole universe thing is quite a miracle. Where did that come from? Something put it there. And I'm confident I saw a male figure standing in my living room the other day when no one was home... I barely thought twice about that miraculous vision. Through this grief, I've realized I need to believe in something. What has pulled me out of the darkness over the past week is the creation of faith. And when I say creation, I mean building something from relatively nothing.
Prior to this tragedy, religion was a part of my identity, rather than a belief system. Unlike so many, I was not pushed to put my faith in a God with a certain name. I was raised with an awareness of the stories but a choice to follow whatever path I was called towards. And to be honest, being raised in a house with mixed messages probably didn't help guide me one way or another. As I watched some friends follow their prescribed religions somewhat blindly (in my opinion, at the time), I became rather cynical about faith in general. It was kind of a dirty word. That being said, I was incredibly active in my Jewish youth group, to the extent of being an international chairwoman. Judaism gave me a social network, leadership training, the knowledge of a cool language not many people can read and write, and a sense of identity. But faith? Not so much. I have always been one of those people who says, "I'm not religious, I'm spiritual." But really, I wasn't that spiritual either.
Now, as I've been pushed to my emotional edge: raw, bleeding, and hopeless – one of the primary elements that's pulled me through is faith (the other main element is love). Faith in what? I'm not sure yet. I'm open to it all at this point. In fact, I've been reading about a book a day. Some are about quantum physics, a scientific methodology that explains 'the theory of everything'. Some are about reincarnation, samsara, past lives and future lives. Some are about the power of love. Some are about spirits and mediums. Some are about New Age mysticism like Kabbalah, the Jewish ancient wisdom that 'reveals how the universe and life work'. Some are about yogic philosophy. Some are poetry. Some are about miracles. Some are about Christian methodology. But what they all have in common is having hope and faith in something bigger than just this thing we call life – what we can see, touch, and be aware of through our five senses. I've been given the courage to choose to believe in the unknown.
In the past I've thought faith was blind – a blanket statement that I'd say I subscribed to. Now, I still believe faith CAN be blind. If we believe in the stories in the Bible verbatim and follow the words we are told without question, I maintain that those choices are blind and uneducated. But if faith is built through study, through questioning, through being able to have an open mind, and not say "I'm right, and you're wrong," I now believe faith is quite courageous. It's not easy to stand up for your faith in this world, I felt that today at my lunch!
I told my therapist this past week, "I wish I'd had a strong sense of faith instilled in my life. At least I'd have something to turn to now." She told me, "Yes, that would be easier. But now you have to build one. That is much harder but very beautiful." It will be a beautiful process. It already is.
I've opened to stillness. I've put down the remote control. I've turned off Instagram and Words With Friends. I've picked up the decision to learn. I've decided that what I thought was "right" is not necessarily "right". I've come to terms with the hard knowledge that I may never really "know". But, I have choosen to have faith in a few unknowns. I choose to believe that there is a truth beyond death. I choose to believe that I will see you again in some form. I choose to believe that you are still a witness to my life in some way. And I choose to continue my belief in miracles, no matter how bleak life looks.
"Miracles occur naturally as expressions of love. They are performed by those who temporarily have more for those who temporarily have less."
– A Course in Miracles
Showing posts with label god. Show all posts
Showing posts with label god. Show all posts
Messages from Masters
Today I reread a book that was pivotal to you and I, Many Lives, Many Masters, by Dr. Brian Weiss. After I read the book initially when we were just starting our relationship, I sent it to you and simply said, "You must read this." You did and you told me it changed your life. I was glad, because it had changed mine too. More or less, the philosophy discussed in this book provided more peace than any religion or spiritual concept either of us had studied. It also changed our views on death. After reading the book, we had shared with one another that we "no longer feared death." And then I watched you die. I was VERY afraid.
Over the past couple weeks, I've been experiencing a deep depression in my grief – one that is definitely darker than anything I have ever felt or ever witnessed in someone else. The worst part of this phase of grief is that with it has come faithlessness. Before you died, I thought the world was at my fingertips, love was on my lips, and life was beautiful. I thought the universe was on my side. And since you've been gone, I've been cursed with suffering, uncertainty, and the loss of the man who knew me better and loved me more than anyone.
So this morning, as an attempt to remember what I once believed in, and moreover, what YOU believed in, I reread the book that had impacted our lives so intensely.
The book tells the true story of a psychiatrist, Dr. Weiss, and his patient, Catherine. Catherine had come to see Weiss because she struggled with intense phobias that prevented her from living a normal life. Dr. Weiss, who is rooted in the scientific method and rational Western medicine and thought, is used to prescribing medications and using general therapeutic procedures for treatment. The doctor's philosophy and perspective is shattered when he puts Catherine under mild hypnosis to help her unleash childhood memories, and instead, she regresses to a past life where she lives as a Nubian slave in ancient Egypt. She remembers details from that life and facts from the era that are so specific they could only be identified by historians who specialize on Egypt. It is her death at the end of her life in Egypt thousands of years before which plagues her and causes one of the irrational fears in her current life.
Dr. Weiss works with Catherine over the course of time and she regresses back to parts of 87 different lives that she had experienced on the physical plane. She was a solider in what is now Ukraine in the eighteenth century, a male teacher in Japan, worked in a monastery in Switzerland hundreds of years ago, she was a young Moroccan boy who died in his youth, a slave in the South who was the illegitimate daughter of her owner, a prostitute in Spain named Louisa, an American Indian who lived on the Southwest Florida coast, a very ancient cave dweller, and many more. There are many texts and stories out there that discuss reincarnation. In fact, reincarnation was prominent in the Old and New Testament, but was removed by Constantine at the Council of Nicea in 325 A.D. for fear that is would disrupt political stability. I have personally believed in reincarnation for as long as I can remember. But my main root in this philosophy is that a world of immortal souls is more hopeful than a destination of Hell or even nothing at all. But isn't hope what faith is all about anyway?
But what sets this book apart from the rest in its class is that Catherine goes on to convey information from in-between lives. She unleashes secrets and messages from the Masters – ascended spirits that exist in seven different planes in the spiritual realm. We learn about the purpose of life, karma, debts, and deaths. We learn about how groups of souls often travel together. While you may be my soulmate in this life, you could be my mother in the next, for example. We learn about what happens after death and between incarnations. We learn about if loved ones have the opportunity to connect with us from beyond the grave. We see information gleaned from the collective unconscious that Carl Jung spoke of. We learn about faith. Well, we learn about all of this if we're open to it. In the book, even Catherine has her doubts.
Dr Weiss writes, "The conscious Catherine, when awake, was much more anxious and limited, much simpler and comparatively superficial. She could not tap into this superconscious state. I wondered if the prophets and sages of Eastern and Western religions, those called "actualized," were able to utilize this superconscious state to obtain their wisdom and knowledge. If so, then we all had the ability to do so, for we must all possess this superconscious... I would become increasingly frustrated by the uncrossable gulf between Catherine's conscious, awake intellect and her trance-level superconscious mind. While she was hypnotized, I would have fascinating philosophical dialogues with her at the superconscious level. When awake, however, Catherine had no interest in philosophy or related matters. She lived in the world of everyday detail, oblivious of the genius within her."
What restores my faith is the hope that there is a purpose in this suffering. That maybe it will teach me, or you, or someone a lesson that will make the next step more peaceful and less painful. It gives me the hope that all is not lost. It gives me the hope that you are overseeing me and all of those who miss you so deeply.
The subscription to the beliefs addressed in the text allow me to think you are both conscious and blissful right now. Perhaps you are even nearby. One of the most painful aspects of my grief is that you are somewhere hurting and alone. Even worse, is the fear that you are completely gone, physically and spiritually. But why would I trouble myself with these fears when I didn't believe them two months ago? Why would I cause myself more pain by believing the worst now? I'm trying to get back to my core and remind myself that just because there has been a nightmare in my life, it does not mean I need to rewrite my belief system to be a nightmare too.
When Dr. Weiss is talking to a Master via Catherine in hypnosis, he asks, "Why do we come back [to the physical realm] to learn? Why can't we learn as spirits? The master responds, "Those are different levels of learning, and we must learn some of them in the flesh. We must feel the pain. When you're a spirit you feel no pain. It is a period of renewal. Your soul is being renewed. When you're in a physical state in the flesh, you can feel pain; you can hurt. In spiritual form you do not feel. There is only happiness, a sense of well-being."
While the book gives me tremendous hope at a point in my life where I've never needed it more, it doesn't relinquish the work. While I am clinging onto the faith that there is more than just this life and that we may meet again someday, I still have to live this life without you by my side. And while the big picture provides some solace, the short term is my whole life as I know it, and that's not to be taken lightly. Uncertainty, patience, and time are still the enemies I need to befriend and the the lessons I need to learn. But in the meantime, I am fueled with a bit more belief, faith, and connection today than the skepticism and isolation than I have been living with in the past couple of weeks.
A Master says, "Patience and timing... everything comes when it must come. A life cannot be rushed, cannot be worked on a schedule as so many people want it to be. We must accept what comes to us at a given time, and not ask for more. But life is endless, so we never die; we were never really born. We just pass through different phases. There is no end. Humans have many dimensions. But time is not as we see time, but rather in lessons that are learned."
Over the past couple weeks, I've been experiencing a deep depression in my grief – one that is definitely darker than anything I have ever felt or ever witnessed in someone else. The worst part of this phase of grief is that with it has come faithlessness. Before you died, I thought the world was at my fingertips, love was on my lips, and life was beautiful. I thought the universe was on my side. And since you've been gone, I've been cursed with suffering, uncertainty, and the loss of the man who knew me better and loved me more than anyone.
So this morning, as an attempt to remember what I once believed in, and moreover, what YOU believed in, I reread the book that had impacted our lives so intensely.
The book tells the true story of a psychiatrist, Dr. Weiss, and his patient, Catherine. Catherine had come to see Weiss because she struggled with intense phobias that prevented her from living a normal life. Dr. Weiss, who is rooted in the scientific method and rational Western medicine and thought, is used to prescribing medications and using general therapeutic procedures for treatment. The doctor's philosophy and perspective is shattered when he puts Catherine under mild hypnosis to help her unleash childhood memories, and instead, she regresses to a past life where she lives as a Nubian slave in ancient Egypt. She remembers details from that life and facts from the era that are so specific they could only be identified by historians who specialize on Egypt. It is her death at the end of her life in Egypt thousands of years before which plagues her and causes one of the irrational fears in her current life.
Dr. Weiss works with Catherine over the course of time and she regresses back to parts of 87 different lives that she had experienced on the physical plane. She was a solider in what is now Ukraine in the eighteenth century, a male teacher in Japan, worked in a monastery in Switzerland hundreds of years ago, she was a young Moroccan boy who died in his youth, a slave in the South who was the illegitimate daughter of her owner, a prostitute in Spain named Louisa, an American Indian who lived on the Southwest Florida coast, a very ancient cave dweller, and many more. There are many texts and stories out there that discuss reincarnation. In fact, reincarnation was prominent in the Old and New Testament, but was removed by Constantine at the Council of Nicea in 325 A.D. for fear that is would disrupt political stability. I have personally believed in reincarnation for as long as I can remember. But my main root in this philosophy is that a world of immortal souls is more hopeful than a destination of Hell or even nothing at all. But isn't hope what faith is all about anyway?
But what sets this book apart from the rest in its class is that Catherine goes on to convey information from in-between lives. She unleashes secrets and messages from the Masters – ascended spirits that exist in seven different planes in the spiritual realm. We learn about the purpose of life, karma, debts, and deaths. We learn about how groups of souls often travel together. While you may be my soulmate in this life, you could be my mother in the next, for example. We learn about what happens after death and between incarnations. We learn about if loved ones have the opportunity to connect with us from beyond the grave. We see information gleaned from the collective unconscious that Carl Jung spoke of. We learn about faith. Well, we learn about all of this if we're open to it. In the book, even Catherine has her doubts.
Dr Weiss writes, "The conscious Catherine, when awake, was much more anxious and limited, much simpler and comparatively superficial. She could not tap into this superconscious state. I wondered if the prophets and sages of Eastern and Western religions, those called "actualized," were able to utilize this superconscious state to obtain their wisdom and knowledge. If so, then we all had the ability to do so, for we must all possess this superconscious... I would become increasingly frustrated by the uncrossable gulf between Catherine's conscious, awake intellect and her trance-level superconscious mind. While she was hypnotized, I would have fascinating philosophical dialogues with her at the superconscious level. When awake, however, Catherine had no interest in philosophy or related matters. She lived in the world of everyday detail, oblivious of the genius within her."
What restores my faith is the hope that there is a purpose in this suffering. That maybe it will teach me, or you, or someone a lesson that will make the next step more peaceful and less painful. It gives me the hope that all is not lost. It gives me the hope that you are overseeing me and all of those who miss you so deeply.
The subscription to the beliefs addressed in the text allow me to think you are both conscious and blissful right now. Perhaps you are even nearby. One of the most painful aspects of my grief is that you are somewhere hurting and alone. Even worse, is the fear that you are completely gone, physically and spiritually. But why would I trouble myself with these fears when I didn't believe them two months ago? Why would I cause myself more pain by believing the worst now? I'm trying to get back to my core and remind myself that just because there has been a nightmare in my life, it does not mean I need to rewrite my belief system to be a nightmare too.
When Dr. Weiss is talking to a Master via Catherine in hypnosis, he asks, "Why do we come back [to the physical realm] to learn? Why can't we learn as spirits? The master responds, "Those are different levels of learning, and we must learn some of them in the flesh. We must feel the pain. When you're a spirit you feel no pain. It is a period of renewal. Your soul is being renewed. When you're in a physical state in the flesh, you can feel pain; you can hurt. In spiritual form you do not feel. There is only happiness, a sense of well-being."
While the book gives me tremendous hope at a point in my life where I've never needed it more, it doesn't relinquish the work. While I am clinging onto the faith that there is more than just this life and that we may meet again someday, I still have to live this life without you by my side. And while the big picture provides some solace, the short term is my whole life as I know it, and that's not to be taken lightly. Uncertainty, patience, and time are still the enemies I need to befriend and the the lessons I need to learn. But in the meantime, I am fueled with a bit more belief, faith, and connection today than the skepticism and isolation than I have been living with in the past couple of weeks.
A Master says, "Patience and timing... everything comes when it must come. A life cannot be rushed, cannot be worked on a schedule as so many people want it to be. We must accept what comes to us at a given time, and not ask for more. But life is endless, so we never die; we were never really born. We just pass through different phases. There is no end. Humans have many dimensions. But time is not as we see time, but rather in lessons that are learned."
Fallen Queen
We were so in love.
Our hearts exploded all over one another like stars scattered across the Milky Way. I kissed every inch of your body. I ran my fingers through every strand of your hair and I sucked on each one of your toes. Your tongue discovered every wet place of mine that had never been reached. You even pressed it to my wisdom teeth and while you licked you siphoned poetry into my soul. You made me come alive with your touch. Your hand fit into mine like the latched lock on a buried treasure on the bottom of the sea. When clasped, our hands had a priceless secret between them. A knowing. A truth.
You made me feel like a princess. No, you made me feel like the queen. The queen of the universe. A universe where peace reigns and freedom is the only option. Where marching soldiers shoot arrows of compassion. A universe in which broken hearts don't exist because there is only love. Where tears aren't recognized as sadness because they only come from laughter. Where a child never dies. Where every woman is beautiful and every breast is a perfect handful. Where the soundtrack is the cry of passion and everyone wants to hear it. Where all cities are like New York in the sixties. Where every day is a good hair day. Where every photo is a keeper. Where tumors cause longer eyelashes and smaller pores. Where every family lives in a luxurious home with heated floors and everybody has a swimming pool with a slide. Where sleep arrives effortlessly and only puppies and kittens snore. Where the band is always awesome. Where the coffee is always hot, but not so hot you burn your mouth. Where goldfish have the memory of elephants. Where the vegetables grow from real seeds and you don't have to kill an animal to eat meat. Where the dress always makes my ass look fantastic. Where the biggest argument is over who pays the bill, but there – everyone actually wants to pay. Where babies always sleep through the night. Where bouquets of flowers in vases keep living infinitely. Where farts are always funny and never smell. Where everyone likes to dance. Where every game is won by the underdog. Where no one ever has to be alone and even if you want to be – the space will still give you a hug. Where the good guys always finish first. You made me the queen of that universe.
When we were together, our souls shot out of our fingertips like magic from a wizard's wand and connected like two beams of lightning. We became one. The wrinkles around our eyes grew deeper because all we did was smile. We could have powered all the energy needed for the world with our laughs, magic, and rainbows. Our love caused mountains to grow taller. The peaks swelled up from the earth with the Heavens as their magnet and gravity as a forgotten foe. When I was sad you would rock me like a baby in the arms of my mother. And then everything was perfect. We were learning how to fly.
And then we fell. And then you evaporated. And then I crashed. We wanted to make love in the moonlight but instead, it fucked us. You died in the moonlight. When the executioner slaughtered that day's sun it took you with it. The darkness was supposed to be our dance floor and it ended up being a cemetery. And our bedroom is the morgue. Now our memories don't even rob my dreams instead they are drained from my brain like innocence from a child. You disappear into stardust or sawdust or nothing… I don't know.
I am bound. I'm trapped in this world because I believe if I take my life I won't get to go to the same place as you. I'll be captive on the wrong side of a one-way glass window. And I'm too scared to leave. And I don't really want to. I just want you back.
I want you back so we can press our hands into wet concrete and leave an impression for the future. I want you back so when I do my yoga, I can reach for your outstretched fingers instead of a box of tissue. I want you back so I can hold your sisters in a hug of love rather than needing them as a brace to hold me up from crumpling onto the floor as my knees give out. I want you back so we can talk to your mother on Bluetooth while we're driving through the mountains. I want to hear her smile on the other side of the line call you Bubs and you call her Mud. I want to hand her a grandchild in a polka-dotted blanket that looks half like you, half like me, and one-hundred percent like an angel. I want to watch you play catch in the front yard with our little boy and not know who is actually the kid because you will always be my Peter Pan.
Now I imagine sixty more years of life with my head looking backwards over my shoulder remembering the time I carried pixie dust. Dreaming of the treasure I once had, the man I got to touch every night and was supposed to still be touching. At what was supposed to be. I imagine trading in our castle in the sky for a windowless, basement studio apartment with dingy carpet and yellowed, linoleum countertops. I imagine a future of boredom and faithlessness. A future of stumbling steps because I'm too busy straining my eyes at what once was. I imagine kissless love and touchless nights. I imagine sex that's governed by ovulation dates and once in a while maybe too much tequila. I imagine divorce. I imagine searching for a time machine so I can go back to the day before that night. I imagine looking for God in everything and never being able to find him. Hidden beneath my clothes, I imagine scratching the skin off my bones and ripping my nails out of their beds just to try to feel pain worse than loosing you. But it never comes.
And then someday I'll die. Alone. And disappear into stardust or sawdust or nothing… I don't know.
Our hearts exploded all over one another like stars scattered across the Milky Way. I kissed every inch of your body. I ran my fingers through every strand of your hair and I sucked on each one of your toes. Your tongue discovered every wet place of mine that had never been reached. You even pressed it to my wisdom teeth and while you licked you siphoned poetry into my soul. You made me come alive with your touch. Your hand fit into mine like the latched lock on a buried treasure on the bottom of the sea. When clasped, our hands had a priceless secret between them. A knowing. A truth.
You made me feel like a princess. No, you made me feel like the queen. The queen of the universe. A universe where peace reigns and freedom is the only option. Where marching soldiers shoot arrows of compassion. A universe in which broken hearts don't exist because there is only love. Where tears aren't recognized as sadness because they only come from laughter. Where a child never dies. Where every woman is beautiful and every breast is a perfect handful. Where the soundtrack is the cry of passion and everyone wants to hear it. Where all cities are like New York in the sixties. Where every day is a good hair day. Where every photo is a keeper. Where tumors cause longer eyelashes and smaller pores. Where every family lives in a luxurious home with heated floors and everybody has a swimming pool with a slide. Where sleep arrives effortlessly and only puppies and kittens snore. Where the band is always awesome. Where the coffee is always hot, but not so hot you burn your mouth. Where goldfish have the memory of elephants. Where the vegetables grow from real seeds and you don't have to kill an animal to eat meat. Where the dress always makes my ass look fantastic. Where the biggest argument is over who pays the bill, but there – everyone actually wants to pay. Where babies always sleep through the night. Where bouquets of flowers in vases keep living infinitely. Where farts are always funny and never smell. Where everyone likes to dance. Where every game is won by the underdog. Where no one ever has to be alone and even if you want to be – the space will still give you a hug. Where the good guys always finish first. You made me the queen of that universe.
When we were together, our souls shot out of our fingertips like magic from a wizard's wand and connected like two beams of lightning. We became one. The wrinkles around our eyes grew deeper because all we did was smile. We could have powered all the energy needed for the world with our laughs, magic, and rainbows. Our love caused mountains to grow taller. The peaks swelled up from the earth with the Heavens as their magnet and gravity as a forgotten foe. When I was sad you would rock me like a baby in the arms of my mother. And then everything was perfect. We were learning how to fly.
And then we fell. And then you evaporated. And then I crashed. We wanted to make love in the moonlight but instead, it fucked us. You died in the moonlight. When the executioner slaughtered that day's sun it took you with it. The darkness was supposed to be our dance floor and it ended up being a cemetery. And our bedroom is the morgue. Now our memories don't even rob my dreams instead they are drained from my brain like innocence from a child. You disappear into stardust or sawdust or nothing… I don't know.
I am bound. I'm trapped in this world because I believe if I take my life I won't get to go to the same place as you. I'll be captive on the wrong side of a one-way glass window. And I'm too scared to leave. And I don't really want to. I just want you back.
I want you back so we can press our hands into wet concrete and leave an impression for the future. I want you back so when I do my yoga, I can reach for your outstretched fingers instead of a box of tissue. I want you back so I can hold your sisters in a hug of love rather than needing them as a brace to hold me up from crumpling onto the floor as my knees give out. I want you back so we can talk to your mother on Bluetooth while we're driving through the mountains. I want to hear her smile on the other side of the line call you Bubs and you call her Mud. I want to hand her a grandchild in a polka-dotted blanket that looks half like you, half like me, and one-hundred percent like an angel. I want to watch you play catch in the front yard with our little boy and not know who is actually the kid because you will always be my Peter Pan.
Now I imagine sixty more years of life with my head looking backwards over my shoulder remembering the time I carried pixie dust. Dreaming of the treasure I once had, the man I got to touch every night and was supposed to still be touching. At what was supposed to be. I imagine trading in our castle in the sky for a windowless, basement studio apartment with dingy carpet and yellowed, linoleum countertops. I imagine a future of boredom and faithlessness. A future of stumbling steps because I'm too busy straining my eyes at what once was. I imagine kissless love and touchless nights. I imagine sex that's governed by ovulation dates and once in a while maybe too much tequila. I imagine divorce. I imagine searching for a time machine so I can go back to the day before that night. I imagine looking for God in everything and never being able to find him. Hidden beneath my clothes, I imagine scratching the skin off my bones and ripping my nails out of their beds just to try to feel pain worse than loosing you. But it never comes.
And then someday I'll die. Alone. And disappear into stardust or sawdust or nothing… I don't know.
One Dimple
I have been told that someday the memories of you will bring a smile to my face rather than a storm of tears. Until then, I choke through the memories like taking my vitamins. I know they're good. I know they'll make me feel better. But they're so damn hard to swallow. They get stuck in my throat. I want to remember them, but I keep forgetting. Maybe someday looking at our photos will make me happy too. When I see them now it feels like someone is reaching their hand through my chest and grabbing my beating heart out of my body and squishing it until it's purple with bruises.
You're so handsome in all the photos, more handsome then I ever realized, in fact. I just look at your gorgeous face and think, "But he's supposed to be mine. We knew it. We were so sure!" It makes me so confused. The photos document that you were here. But also remind me again that you are not. That you were so beautiful and now you are intangible. That you were mine and now you're not. I don't understand.
Looking at you in a photo, I see how alive your eyes are. I stare at them and wait for you to blink. But they don't. I see how warm your skin looks. I run my hand on the image and try to feel your pulse. But I can't find it. I notice the clothes you're wearing. They are hanging in the closet. They are still here. Where are you? I see your smile in the photos. You had a little dimple on one cheek. You had slightly crooked teeth and gold crowns that shined when you smiled big. I want to see you smile again, Teddy. When you smiled my whole body came alive!
When I smiled with you it was the most genuine grin I ever flashed. All of my smiles had been fakes until I was by your side. I was always happy when I was with you. I don't think I'll ever smile again and actually mean it. I feel like I'm rotting without you. I want my heart to just stop beating but instead it beats faster.
Sometimes I yell at God, "When will you see how sad I am and help me? Do something! Do anything! Perform a miracle, please!!!? Just bring him back. He didn't deserve to die. He was the most amazing man in the Universe. Can't you see how many people loved him? How he did NO wrong, ever? Please. Take anyone but him. Take me. Anyone but him."
I don't understand it. I never will. Why would you be the one to be taken? You had so much more to give. You had so much more joy to feel and love to share. You and I were going to show the whole world what true love was. Maybe it was just a glitch in the system. That some angel turned his head or took a pee break, and like that, you were gone. It was an accident. I hope God got really mad up there after that happened. I hope that the angel who turned his head got fired. Fuck, I hope he got beheaded.
I miss you so much. You were the only one who could just look into my eyes and tell me everything would be OK. You were the only one who could touch me and make me turn from sorrow to joy. You were the only one who could make me smile like that. You were the only one who could make me enjoy doing something I never thought I'd enjoy. You were the only one I ever saw down the aisle when I was dressed in white in my dreams. You were simply the one. I knew it. I couldn't wait to be yours forever. Life was supposed to be so beautiful. And now I don't know anything. I can't find you anywhere. I miss you so much.
You're so handsome in all the photos, more handsome then I ever realized, in fact. I just look at your gorgeous face and think, "But he's supposed to be mine. We knew it. We were so sure!" It makes me so confused. The photos document that you were here. But also remind me again that you are not. That you were so beautiful and now you are intangible. That you were mine and now you're not. I don't understand.
Looking at you in a photo, I see how alive your eyes are. I stare at them and wait for you to blink. But they don't. I see how warm your skin looks. I run my hand on the image and try to feel your pulse. But I can't find it. I notice the clothes you're wearing. They are hanging in the closet. They are still here. Where are you? I see your smile in the photos. You had a little dimple on one cheek. You had slightly crooked teeth and gold crowns that shined when you smiled big. I want to see you smile again, Teddy. When you smiled my whole body came alive!
When I smiled with you it was the most genuine grin I ever flashed. All of my smiles had been fakes until I was by your side. I was always happy when I was with you. I don't think I'll ever smile again and actually mean it. I feel like I'm rotting without you. I want my heart to just stop beating but instead it beats faster.
Sometimes I yell at God, "When will you see how sad I am and help me? Do something! Do anything! Perform a miracle, please!!!? Just bring him back. He didn't deserve to die. He was the most amazing man in the Universe. Can't you see how many people loved him? How he did NO wrong, ever? Please. Take anyone but him. Take me. Anyone but him."
I don't understand it. I never will. Why would you be the one to be taken? You had so much more to give. You had so much more joy to feel and love to share. You and I were going to show the whole world what true love was. Maybe it was just a glitch in the system. That some angel turned his head or took a pee break, and like that, you were gone. It was an accident. I hope God got really mad up there after that happened. I hope that the angel who turned his head got fired. Fuck, I hope he got beheaded.
I miss you so much. You were the only one who could just look into my eyes and tell me everything would be OK. You were the only one who could touch me and make me turn from sorrow to joy. You were the only one who could make me smile like that. You were the only one who could make me enjoy doing something I never thought I'd enjoy. You were the only one I ever saw down the aisle when I was dressed in white in my dreams. You were simply the one. I knew it. I couldn't wait to be yours forever. Life was supposed to be so beautiful. And now I don't know anything. I can't find you anywhere. I miss you so much.
Stages
I have heard that there are five stages of grief. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross was the doctor to develop the theory – though in time she went back to say that she wish she'd explained the stages in a different way because society had taken them as being linear and universal – which she did not intend. Her work was meant as a kindness, not a cage. I have not looked up the stages of grief. I know anger is one, acceptance is one, and I think denial is another – but that's the extent that I'm familiar with. I have opted not to look up this process because like everyone, my sorrow will be unique. There is no sense in trying to assign a sequence of events or a right/wrong to what's happening in my body and mind. If I over-analyze (which is my natural tendency) I run the risk of harming myself more rather than allowing my natural process to unfold. At least that's where I am right now.
However, in this grief, I have been confronted by MANY emotions. Included are: guilt, confusion, denial, horror, anger, sadness, loneliness, confusion, fear, emptiness, astonishment, heaviness, constriction, nausea, inspiration, nostalgia, numbness, ambition, action, inaction, pity, self-judgment, bravery, insecurity, self-harm, depression, compassion, love, and sorrow. Some of these terms may be synonymous, but I have felt them all in various degrees, depths, and definitions.
I'm back in the States. I'm sitting in the bed at your sister Berkley's house that you and I slept in three weeks before your death. We spoke about the doorknobs in her house; they were the runner up choice for our renovation. You liked the wallpaper in her bathroom. We read poems written by a dog out of the book on the back of the toilet. We walked to yoga and really enjoyed the class we attended. You took a picture of me holding a giant leaf next to my face from a tree we passed by while walking to class. It was bigger than my face. I always liked giant leaves and I thought it was cool to see one in the middle of the city. You ate a Chicago-style hotdog, with pickles. I did too. But I added ketchup when no one was looking.
But now the visit is much different. I have cried more since I've been here than I have in weeks. The last time I was here, I was the happiest I had ever been. Now, I'm the saddest.
My grief is manifesting in a new way. It's as though the protective sheaths my body has offered me – the cushions – are deflating. The reality is really sinking in – again. I already thought it was real, that this had already hit me. But it hits in new ways now. The meat cleaver has been sharpened. The pain is fresh and palpable all over again. I feel paralyzed by the pain.
When Jesus's cousin, John the Baptist, died tragically – Jesus got on a boat and traveled to a desolate place to think and pray. When he arrived, crowds had heard of his arrival. They journeyed by foot to meet him and ask for his ministry. And when he saw them, he turned outward rather than inward. He helped others. While Jesus had intended to be alone and mourn, he was able to turn his sorrow into deep empathetic compassion when he saw that's what the world needed. He allowed the grief to empower him.
There have been moments, days, and even weeks through this process when I've felt ambitious. Where I've felt that I can take this pain and create something out of it. I will use it to help others. I will write a memoir. I will use this loss to create something beautiful to memorialize you. I have gone so far as to be in action and planning. That inspiration felt good. It kept me moving. It kept me nurturing. I can understand how such deep sorrow can liberate selfless action.
Until it can't. Until the adrenaline runs out. Until the blood wears thin. Until the body simply drops. And that's where I'm hanging now. I'm in a dark causeway.
Even though I'm surrounded by beautiful support. I am with your sister, one of my oldest and dearest friends. I hold your nephew in my arms and look into his innocent eyes, and I ask for you to shine out to me through him. But I am so, so raw. I am stuck in a pit of self-woe. I know this is part of the nonlinear and bewildering process. I realize my feelings, according to Ms. Kubler-Ross, are not crazy, they are probably very much in line with the five stages I am supposedly experiencing. But nevertheless, I do not feel strong, I do not feel connected, and I do not feel motivated to be empowered. I need my legs back underneath of me.
So today, my sweet love, I ask for your help. I ask you to pull me up in whatever way you can. Make a light twinkle around my periphery. Meet me in my dreams with a kiss or even a fart. Smile at me through invisible space so I can feel your aura. Let me know you're here, somewhere or everywhere. Let me know you still love me. Let me know, so I can go back to being brave.
However, in this grief, I have been confronted by MANY emotions. Included are: guilt, confusion, denial, horror, anger, sadness, loneliness, confusion, fear, emptiness, astonishment, heaviness, constriction, nausea, inspiration, nostalgia, numbness, ambition, action, inaction, pity, self-judgment, bravery, insecurity, self-harm, depression, compassion, love, and sorrow. Some of these terms may be synonymous, but I have felt them all in various degrees, depths, and definitions.
I'm back in the States. I'm sitting in the bed at your sister Berkley's house that you and I slept in three weeks before your death. We spoke about the doorknobs in her house; they were the runner up choice for our renovation. You liked the wallpaper in her bathroom. We read poems written by a dog out of the book on the back of the toilet. We walked to yoga and really enjoyed the class we attended. You took a picture of me holding a giant leaf next to my face from a tree we passed by while walking to class. It was bigger than my face. I always liked giant leaves and I thought it was cool to see one in the middle of the city. You ate a Chicago-style hotdog, with pickles. I did too. But I added ketchup when no one was looking.
But now the visit is much different. I have cried more since I've been here than I have in weeks. The last time I was here, I was the happiest I had ever been. Now, I'm the saddest.
My grief is manifesting in a new way. It's as though the protective sheaths my body has offered me – the cushions – are deflating. The reality is really sinking in – again. I already thought it was real, that this had already hit me. But it hits in new ways now. The meat cleaver has been sharpened. The pain is fresh and palpable all over again. I feel paralyzed by the pain.
When Jesus's cousin, John the Baptist, died tragically – Jesus got on a boat and traveled to a desolate place to think and pray. When he arrived, crowds had heard of his arrival. They journeyed by foot to meet him and ask for his ministry. And when he saw them, he turned outward rather than inward. He helped others. While Jesus had intended to be alone and mourn, he was able to turn his sorrow into deep empathetic compassion when he saw that's what the world needed. He allowed the grief to empower him.
There have been moments, days, and even weeks through this process when I've felt ambitious. Where I've felt that I can take this pain and create something out of it. I will use it to help others. I will write a memoir. I will use this loss to create something beautiful to memorialize you. I have gone so far as to be in action and planning. That inspiration felt good. It kept me moving. It kept me nurturing. I can understand how such deep sorrow can liberate selfless action.
Until it can't. Until the adrenaline runs out. Until the blood wears thin. Until the body simply drops. And that's where I'm hanging now. I'm in a dark causeway.
Even though I'm surrounded by beautiful support. I am with your sister, one of my oldest and dearest friends. I hold your nephew in my arms and look into his innocent eyes, and I ask for you to shine out to me through him. But I am so, so raw. I am stuck in a pit of self-woe. I know this is part of the nonlinear and bewildering process. I realize my feelings, according to Ms. Kubler-Ross, are not crazy, they are probably very much in line with the five stages I am supposedly experiencing. But nevertheless, I do not feel strong, I do not feel connected, and I do not feel motivated to be empowered. I need my legs back underneath of me.
So today, my sweet love, I ask for your help. I ask you to pull me up in whatever way you can. Make a light twinkle around my periphery. Meet me in my dreams with a kiss or even a fart. Smile at me through invisible space so I can feel your aura. Let me know you're here, somewhere or everywhere. Let me know you still love me. Let me know, so I can go back to being brave.
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