A sort-of weekly review of what’s been nourishing me lately.
“That country where it is always turning late in the year…That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. “
― Ray Bradbury, October Country
“But there is always a November space after the leaves have fallen when she felt it was almost indecent to intrude on the woods…for their glory terrestrial had departed and their glory celestial of spirit and purity and whiteness had not yet come upon them.”
“Always go to the funeral” means that I have to do the right thing when I really, really don’t feel like it. I have to remind myself of it when I could make some small gesture, but I don’t really have to and I definitely don’t want to. I’m talking about those things that represent only inconvenience to me, but the world to the other guy.
The dark days of making art are as important as the easy, flowing part. Honor the dark days, be kind to yourself, see it as important and ultimately transforming.
When these words from God come to me, the words are like a cold rush of water. It’s like having someone, momentarily take up temporary residence in my brain. It’s really alarming, not to mention disconcerting, because I can only assume if God decides to take the time to reach out and crack me over the head with a slate board a ’la Anne Shirley vs. Gilbert Blythe style, it probably means I have some big changing to do.
When we get to a spot in the world
where everyone has been publicly shamed for
their stupidity, their thoughtlessness and
their bumbling humanity,
we can show kindness,
our true empathy,
from a more honest place.
I was holding in my arms the person I loved the most in the world, and talking to him as he died. His heart stopped. He wasn’t afraid. I had gotten to walk with him to the end of the world. Life – so beautiful, painful and dazzling – does not get better than that. And death? I believe that the purpose of death is the release of love.