There's just something about orange juice! Mmmm... When you haven't had it in a very long time, suddenly orange juice is amazing! It overwhelms your mouth with sour and sweet and texture and consistency. You FEEL and taste orange juice. And when it's freshly squeezed? Forget about it! You practically have to CHEW the juice. It's so tasty, and you think, "How have I forgotten how much I LOVE orange juice??" ...So maybe you buy some to keep in your fridge at home. Now you can have it whenever you want. (The OJ glasses in restaurants are always so small, anyways. You can drink as much of the stuff as you want at your house.) ...But drinking orange juice every day...you aren't as amazed by it. Now it's just part of the meal; part of your day; hohum...yawn. And if you drink too much, well, you're in for a tummy ache on account of all that citric acid. Then if the OJ gives you a tummy ache, suddenly you don't like it as much anymore, so you don't buy another carton for a while, and you certainly don't order an overpriced, undersized glass of it at brunch! Weeks and even months go by, and then one day you revisit your old friend orange juice and ah! It comes alive on your tongue and you feel like you've been depriving yourself of something so simple; so GOOD!!
(Yes. There's a metaphor coming.)
Last week I got a taste of something I didn't pour. The universe handed me a very unexpected dose of tears, hurt, and confusion, through the sudden death of my close friend, Gwen Ramat, who (like me) was only 30 years old. She, a wise and witty woman, collided with a semi-truck when she lost control of her vehicle while texting behind the wheel. Many things happened within me as I strove to respond to this loss. I walked around like the Ghost of RheAnn for a few days. There was the very real sense of being invisible even in a crowd, so I embraced that and cried in public if I needed to. I worried about my friends back home and wished I could be with them during this difficult time. I berated myself for getting too busy and not keeping in good touch with Gwen, despite having thought of her each day for three days leading up to her accident. Outside it just kept raining and I wondered at the cinematic coincidence of weather perfectly suited to my heartbreak.
But something else was going on too. I couldn't name it. I was having some anxiety...beyond the wanting to be near my friends to grieve and beyond the realization that people I love will die while I am so far away... Impermanence. That's what it came down to. At the core of all my crying, was the reality of impermance. To deal with my grief and begin to move forward, I had to acknowledge its pain and beauty. Friends and pets and family members and heroes and celebrities and strangers and neighbors all die. I will die. Once I'd swept my brain around this idea, I felt comforted. (I hope I can explain why.) Here's what I did. ...I wrote a letter to my family outlining my thoughts about my own life and death. Some may think this very morbid. Others may think it very irresponsible that I didn't do this sooner--coming overseas all alone, after all. Regardless, it seemed important, and after I'd written it, I felt the sunshine returning inside me!
I won't chirp on and on and pretend that death is great, but I do wholeheartedly feel that death is beautiful somehow...maybe because it's inevitable?...Maybe because GRIEF can be so powerful in the way it connects us at the deepest levels? I don't know. I only know that worrying about it feels awful. I only know that wishing it didn't happen is fruitless. I only know that accepting it was the only thing that helped me to make sense of Gwen's sudden and tragic death and the emotional aftermath it triggered.
There are a thousand and 2 cliches about life and death and about not letting a single second go to waste. Sometimes these seem trite or even meaningless. ...Who really likes to be reminded to "get your ducks in a row" or "live like you're dying"?? But...I think there ARE so many platitudes related to life and death and embracing life (and death) because this is something we humans learn and forget time and time again. We are confronted with loss or our own mortality and we spend days, weeks, or months rearranging our hearts and minds around the experience...only to somehow settle back in and "forget" what we learned. There are so many cliches because the cliches and the lessons they represent are real and widely-experienced. To pretend it doesn't or won't happen is not merely to deny death, I think, but also to deny those who HAVE died and to deny a part of life that can actually bring depth to our relationships and expansiveness to our experiences.
How many times have we caught ourselves in the throes of grief, wishing we'd said or done something differently? And why didn't we? And why DON'T we?
I think we are afraid. (Afraid of...::fill in the blank:: ...as long as the blank ends up synonymous with "being uncomfortable.")
The week that began with Gwen's death, ended with the fourteenth anniversary of my father's death. I have very vivid memories of his last days, but--sadly--so few others from my 16 years with him. Adult-Me has so many questions for him, though... Each year, I try in some unique way to honor him on October 1st; to feel close to him, if I can. This year, my friend Tii joined me and we cooked a DELICIOUS meal--"breakfast for dinner," one of my dad's favorites. :) I didn't cry or feel I needed to cry, but I did feel pain. I felt pain for myself and what I lost that night 14 years ago...and I felt pain for all of us who just lost our close friend Gwen a few DAYS ago! It hurt all over, but to laugh and eat with someone I love, felt like "wholeness" in the face of utter brokenness.
Maybe this isn't how "Christians" are "supposed" to talk about things or THINK about things according to whoever determines that. Ha! I don't know! I only know that, for me, the idea of an "after life" is not very comforting when I'm in pain from LOSS. Maybe I'm selfish that way. I guess that's why the real comfort for me comes from just letting go. Wanting my daddy back IS selfish. His life here was not easy, at all. To rest from that is a BLESSING! And Gwen too! My God, how she struggled!! Who am I to want my friend to go on living with such suffering just so I can hear her laughter in times of joy? I have to let go.
And I have to let go of plans that I make for my own life too. I can't guarantee my future. I can have hopes and dreams that I hold onto loosely as I move through the here and now---reaching out to others and letting others love me...here...now. But to resist change or to be blinded to those around me because of focus on my own path, won't work for me anymore (if it ever did.)
I want to drink in every day like a fresh squeezed glass of orange juice, letting the newness tingle my tastebuds and shine in a way that lets darkness stay dark, but makes the lightness brighter. I want to appreciate every smile and every tear.
This song says exactly what I want to say. I hope you will be as inspired by it as I am. (I'm sorry for the video. I couldn't find this song ANYWHERE else! ...Just listen to the words.)
(Yes. There's a metaphor coming.)
Last week I got a taste of something I didn't pour. The universe handed me a very unexpected dose of tears, hurt, and confusion, through the sudden death of my close friend, Gwen Ramat, who (like me) was only 30 years old. She, a wise and witty woman, collided with a semi-truck when she lost control of her vehicle while texting behind the wheel. Many things happened within me as I strove to respond to this loss. I walked around like the Ghost of RheAnn for a few days. There was the very real sense of being invisible even in a crowd, so I embraced that and cried in public if I needed to. I worried about my friends back home and wished I could be with them during this difficult time. I berated myself for getting too busy and not keeping in good touch with Gwen, despite having thought of her each day for three days leading up to her accident. Outside it just kept raining and I wondered at the cinematic coincidence of weather perfectly suited to my heartbreak.
But something else was going on too. I couldn't name it. I was having some anxiety...beyond the wanting to be near my friends to grieve and beyond the realization that people I love will die while I am so far away... Impermanence. That's what it came down to. At the core of all my crying, was the reality of impermance. To deal with my grief and begin to move forward, I had to acknowledge its pain and beauty. Friends and pets and family members and heroes and celebrities and strangers and neighbors all die. I will die. Once I'd swept my brain around this idea, I felt comforted. (I hope I can explain why.) Here's what I did. ...I wrote a letter to my family outlining my thoughts about my own life and death. Some may think this very morbid. Others may think it very irresponsible that I didn't do this sooner--coming overseas all alone, after all. Regardless, it seemed important, and after I'd written it, I felt the sunshine returning inside me!
I won't chirp on and on and pretend that death is great, but I do wholeheartedly feel that death is beautiful somehow...maybe because it's inevitable?...Maybe because GRIEF can be so powerful in the way it connects us at the deepest levels? I don't know. I only know that worrying about it feels awful. I only know that wishing it didn't happen is fruitless. I only know that accepting it was the only thing that helped me to make sense of Gwen's sudden and tragic death and the emotional aftermath it triggered.
There are a thousand and 2 cliches about life and death and about not letting a single second go to waste. Sometimes these seem trite or even meaningless. ...Who really likes to be reminded to "get your ducks in a row" or "live like you're dying"?? But...I think there ARE so many platitudes related to life and death and embracing life (and death) because this is something we humans learn and forget time and time again. We are confronted with loss or our own mortality and we spend days, weeks, or months rearranging our hearts and minds around the experience...only to somehow settle back in and "forget" what we learned. There are so many cliches because the cliches and the lessons they represent are real and widely-experienced. To pretend it doesn't or won't happen is not merely to deny death, I think, but also to deny those who HAVE died and to deny a part of life that can actually bring depth to our relationships and expansiveness to our experiences.
How many times have we caught ourselves in the throes of grief, wishing we'd said or done something differently? And why didn't we? And why DON'T we?
I think we are afraid. (Afraid of...::fill in the blank:: ...as long as the blank ends up synonymous with "being uncomfortable.")
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| MLK, Jr. weekend '08: Gwen, Katrina, & I got up before the sun to go SNOWBOARDING! |
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| Breakfast for Dinner: Gluten-free coconut milk pancakes, lemon-garlic peppers with walnuts, egg-tomato-tamari scramble, sweet potato hash browns with wasabi mustard, tangy cinnamon fruit salad, and orange-pineapple mimosas!!! |
And I have to let go of plans that I make for my own life too. I can't guarantee my future. I can have hopes and dreams that I hold onto loosely as I move through the here and now---reaching out to others and letting others love me...here...now. But to resist change or to be blinded to those around me because of focus on my own path, won't work for me anymore (if it ever did.)
I want to drink in every day like a fresh squeezed glass of orange juice, letting the newness tingle my tastebuds and shine in a way that lets darkness stay dark, but makes the lightness brighter. I want to appreciate every smile and every tear.
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| JOY! One of my volunteers during Storytelling at Kibogaoka. (I love his smile.) |
This song says exactly what I want to say. I hope you will be as inspired by it as I am. (I'm sorry for the video. I couldn't find this song ANYWHERE else! ...Just listen to the words.)
3:06 PM |
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