I began this session by meditating, and then doing a contemplation on opening the heart. From a state of openness, and with a sense of appreciation and vulnerability, I trusted my hand to choose the colors and to make the marks on the page. Consciously releasing the urge to strategize or to analyze, I gave myself permission to just be with the breath and the flow of the brush. The painting “did itself “.
The reality of loss cuts through all. It exposes my face to the elements..softly soaking Vancouver rains and biting Atlantic winds co-mingle in my tears. Accepting the finality of the loss of my friend to Alzheimer’s is difficult. There will be no more heated discussions of women’s rights; no rants about the cultural genocide the Canadian Government perpetrated in First Nations communities; no soft arms holding me; no raucous laughter; no long walks along the headlands at Hornby; no canoeing; no nude swims at midnight; no one to remember me; no one to call me; no one to get me up for swimming at 6 am. Who will understand my broken-heartedness, my depression, my rage? The ground feels barren.
Facing love as it really is in this moment, so much is swept away, Sister friends are like no others.
I drop the flower and turn to the rocks for comfort. Holding their timeless beauty close, trying to discern another time, another past without a future. Feeling for their stability and grace.
May all of us find peace as we face ourselves. and connect to an inner light within the darkness of our days.
Peace until next week.
The reality of loss cuts through all. It exposes my face to the elements..softly soaking Vancouver rains and biting Atlantic winds co-mingle in my tears. Accepting the finality of the loss of my friend to Alzheimer’s is difficult. There will be no more heated discussions of women’s rights; no rants about the cultural genocide the Canadian Government perpetrated in First Nations communities; no soft arms holding me; no raucous laughter; no long walks along the headlands at Hornby; no canoeing; no nude swims at midnight; no one to remember me; no one to call me; no one to get me up for swimming at 6 am. Who will understand my broken-heartedness, my depression, my rage? The ground feels barren.
Facing love as it really is in this moment, so much is swept away, Sister friends are like no others.
I drop the flower and turn to the rocks for comfort. Holding their timeless beauty close, trying to discern another time, another past without a future. Feeling for their stability and grace.
May all of us find peace as we face ourselves. and connect to an inner light within the darkness of our days.
Peace until next week.
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