Monday, January 31, 2011

A Birthday Card to Ellen

Birthday Thought to Ellen Jan 26 2011

Tomorrow would have been your birthday.

Web reminders say that I should send a card;

I wonder how to do that from this earth to where you are.

So here’s my birthday card to you, my Love –

An imagined nosegay:

I’m picturing it fresh and pure and white,

With smell so sweet;

Each flower is a precious moment

That we spent together;

Reminder of our songs, our laughter, even tears we shed –

All more special in the love we shared.

I tell you now, again,

How very glad I am that you were born.


Two years after losing Ellen, I find myself marveling at how my life has evolved and how Ellen's and my communication with and love for each other have carried on.  I'm sure that she, in spirit, has followed her own interests and mission to learn even more and to love even more.  She is involved, watching over me and others whom she loved while here in the physical, and also interacting with other spirit beings; I can imagine her returning to earth in spirit, with others, to help people caught in various calamities in the world -- the earthquake in Haiti, the revolts in Egypt, the conflicts in the Holy Land.  Ever the doctor, she would want to help people facing terror and death.  We have only to call on the spirit world for help, and we receive it.  I find it interesting to wonder about the earthly or heavenly identities of those who rally to assist us who pray.

My life has gone on as well.  I have felt her help in selling the house we shared, which was too large and expensive for me alone.  I have also felt it as I have remodeled the house I bought -- aware of her gift for creating lovely indoor spaces that are light, welcoming, and harmonious. I have certainly felt her active in my good fortune in finding the right partner for this time in my life.  At times, Ellen feels very close to me, still -- helpful, nurturing, laughing, smiling.  As I continue to learn to respect myself and to treat myself kindly , I thank her for her influence in helping me to begin to learn compassion for myself.  When I weep, I hear her saying, as she did so often "When you weep, I'll always be there to support you and love you." 

Do I still grieve for her?  It's more that I continue to love her and to know she loves me -- even as I go on,  living in gratitude  for the beautiful, loving moments and people in my life now.  As I experience Ellen's second birthday since leaving this world, I give thanks that she was born and that I was fortunate to have loved her and been loved by her. Our life together was right, bringing joy to us and to many who knew us. 

We can continue to be joyful, she and I, knowing that our love for each other continues even though we are not together in the same space or the same form at this time. It's the right time for other experiences for both of us.   

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Thoughts as Blueprints -- Sermon from Unity Center of Peace, Chapel Hill, Jan 23 2011

Blueprints February 23 2010

Intention – the art of choosing -- stating what we want

And living in that truth.

A life’s built like a house –

Envisioned first, drawn, and measured,

Seen and felt before it’s there,

Its little details subject of delight.

Day by day we co-create with God.

We feel what’s right,

Learning to accept God’s guidance –

Then, as the plan is made, the magic happens:

The life we’ve drawn and dreamed appears

In happiness and love.

The vision happens first -- the blueprint.

We don’t control the when or how, or know the obstacles --

But the story’s end fulfills the plan; the blueprint comes to life.


Over my life, I’ve owned a whole series of houses -- fixer-uppers all. Seduced by the possibilities of odd houses, I seem destined always to live in “remodeling” mode – a disposition reflected not only in my houses, but also in the succeeding chapters of my life. I’ve become familiar with the origin and uses of blueprints as I’ve moved from one abode to the next – a cute forest cottage, a tumble-down log cabin, a stained and sagging hundred year old four bedroom on a hill, an odd set of Siamese twin houses – 1940s cottage joined to 1980s warehouse , a rambling, sagging suburban ranch, and most recently, an abused rental tract house with traces of loft. When I’ve left each house, it has been repaired, refurbished, rearranged, reconfigured, and redesigned. In each case, when I had first seen the house, I could picture in my mind’s eye what it would take to express its essence most beautifully. I was not the architect who drew up the blueprints, with their measurements and specs. I was the dreamer, who provided the vision. The blueprint then allowed those with the necessary building skills to turn my dream into physical reality.

Over time as a student of Unity, I’ve gradually learned that as a spark of God, I am meant to co-create my life with God. I’ve learned that my imagination is God’s gift not only to me but to all creation. I’ve begun to accept and observe that to the extent that I accept and live all the good that I can imagine, I bring that good alive in the world: I embody God’s qualities and manifest them, so that I and others may praise and love God’s goodness and beauty.

Affirmations are the vehicle through which this miracle occurs. Affirmations are my verbal pictures of the best that I can imagine at a given moment. Their scope expands as my capacity to imagine God’s good keeps expanding. Affirmations are my stories of how life is – statements of truth matching my present awareness. They become the blueprints for my life. They clarify where it is my gift to go, what it is my gift to do in this world.

I have known about affirmations for decades. However, I learned about them and their power in much greater depth after taking the “Keys to the Kingdom” class which was offered at Unity Center of Peace two years ago and then again this past year. This class has been life-altering for me and for the others who have belonged to the “Keys Group,” studying the class materials biweekly. After a few months, all of us in the group began to realize that these skills were spectactularly life-altering. We started to see group members succeed in changing careers, building income, finding jobs, finding relationships, moving beyond physical pain, experiencing vastly improved lives. Members of the group became happier, more fulfilled, more confident – in fact radiant.
As I look back on my own experience with learning the “Keys to the Kingdom,” I marvel at how the class and the skill practice changed my life. Every time I’ve consciously affirmed how I want things to be and held to that idea, I have come across unexpected opportunities to move in the direction I wished to go.

I never knew how or when these opportunities would present. The process doesn’t necessarily resemble the instant gratification portrayed in the story of Aladdin and the genie in the lamp! But learning to see the beauty and perfection of our lives as God has envisioned them, and to accept the joy that results is pretty magical.

A little over two years ago, I thought my life was basically over – at least the enjoyable parts. My partner Ellen had died in November of 2008, and I was in deep mourning. I was in physical and emotional pain, impoverished, and alone. Two months after Ellen’s death, I turned 70. I thought to myself “Now I’m too old for a relationship, too old to start over, too old – just TOO OLD. That was when Bruce offered the “Keys to the Kingdom” class here at UCP, and, knowing I needed to find things to do and ways to connect with people, I signed up and came, faithfully

The challenges I wanted to address were the relentless back pain that had me wearing an uncomfortable and restrictive back brace most of the time, my deep loneliness after the death of my partner, and the fact that I’d lost over 75% of my income and a significant portion of my savings after my partner’s death coupled with the onset of the recession.

In preparing this talk, I went back and looked at my workbook from the class two years ago, and found that I had written these 3 major affirmations:

First: “I am God’s child, Laughing, running, jumping easily, unburdened by the weight of years. I am whole and happy, wrapped in love, transformed by light.”

Second: “I rejoice in my sense of divine prosperity. I am financially secure and my rewards from participating in the flow of abundance increase constantly.”

Third: “I am held, like a beloved child, in a warm, secure family. I am surrounded by love. I am not alone, but perfectly supported.”

These statements became the blueprint for my life. Today, two years later, I marvel at the ways in which these assertions– which, at the time, seemed incredibly unrealistic -- pure fiction – fairy tales – have become my life story.

The back pain is gone; I’m once again carrying out, without pain, the physical chores and tasks involved in daily life. I could never have predicted or foreseen how this came about. God’s blueprint determined that. After I had tried all kinds of therapies – chiropractic, physical therapy, acupuncture, energy healing, reiki, tai chi, yoga… one day the answer I needed arrived -- in my Spam folder, of all places!

It was an email from someone I did not know. He was not trying to sell anything. He simply said that he had found two exercises that had relieved him of the terrible back pain he had suffered for years. He described the exercises, which were extremely simple and fast – 2 minutes total. He asked for nothing in return. I figured I had nothing to lose, and tried the exercises.

Literally within two days, after I’d done them twice, the pain I’d had for over a year was about 80% better. I learned, through these exercises, something none of the therapists with whom I’d pleaded for help had told me – the potential role of cramped tendons on the front of the body in causing chronic back pain.

This story seems too good to be true, and ludicrous besides. Who gets a wonderful answer to a serious life problem in their Spam folder??? Was it a chance occurrence? Possibly. Certainly, though, my affirmation and belief that the answer would appear alerted me to the advisability of at least trying out what this gentleman had to say. When I had written the affirmation, I had no way to know what to expect – how the answer would come. But I knew it would, and it did.

The solutions to my financial predicament have appeared in equally surprising ways. The house I had shared with Ellen was huge – 3300 square feet. It also had a large mortgage that was costing me over $2000 a month – now much more than I could afford. It had lots of maintenance expenses, with 3 aging furnaces, water heaters, and air conditioners, and 41 large, loose, uninsulated windows. What to do?

In January 2010, amid the worst housing market in decades, I received in a psychic reading one very loud, clear, shouted message: SELL THE HOUSE!!! I was also told that my “right house” was awaiting me –it was described as the “blue cottage with all the flowers.” It was a very strange message.

Then, however, the federal stimulus for home sales was announced, and it seemed possible that within that three month window, if I could get the house onto the market, it might actually sell, due to the excitement generated by the stimulus.

I went to work, feverishly, getting rid of stuff, to prepare to move out A friend told me to talk with her realtor, who proposed an excellent marketing plan for my house.

Amazingly, a blue cottage that I liked a lot, though it was a real fixer-upper, came on the market at an extremely competitive price, and I was the fortunate winner of an immediate bidding war. A week after the blue cottage appeared on the market, I held the contract. If I could sell my existing house, I would be able to purchase the new one with no mortgage.

I got my large house on the market in March, before the end of the stimulus. The day it was listed, 3 bidders appeared, offering me the asking price and more, and my house was under contract within 3 days. When closing day for the new house came, I was able to pay cash for it with the proceeds of the house I had sold two weeks before.

Then, amazingly, by April, it turned out that the new house – whose yard had been brown and barren in early March when I bought it -- had been owned by a gardener who had planted dozens of flowering bushes, and it became, literally, the “blue cottage with all the flowers.”

I was intensely grateful for this dramatic solution to my cash flow crunch. I believe that the series of apparent coincidences that led to selling my old house and purchasing the new one represented a beautiful example of the way in which well formed affirmations can become amazing blueprints for changing the story of our lives.

The third area my affirmations had addressed was finding a solution to my deep loneliness. I was blessed to have my daughter, son-in-law, and two grandsons living here. They were wonderful in their loving support for me after Ellen died. However, I really missed having a partner, and I felt very lonely. I found a new and wonderful partner – Nancy, whom many of you know -- through a set of dramatic coincidences that make me think that my affirmations were at work here, too.

Feeling very isolated and sad, one night I went “cruising” through online dating sites, asking myself if there could possibly be any likely partners out there for an “old lady” like me. In fact, amazingly, on one of the sites, I found someone whose description of herself was more than a 90% match for the description I’d posted of who I would love to find. She was close to my age, and she lived right here – almost too good to be true. I fired off an email message, full of hope, and waited for a reply. And waited. And waited. I wrote again, and waited some more.

Finally, after a couple of months, I sort of gave up and figured she wasn’t interested in me. Then, an amazing thing happened. I received an email from that person – Nancy. She was writing from a different online dating site – one I hadn’t remembered signing up for. She wrote about how my profile matched to an amazing extent what she was looking for. She didn’t mention the emails I’d written to her.

I wrote back, and suggested that we should meet at a coffee place to find out in person who we were writing to. It turned out that she had never received my emails – When I wrote, she was no longer visiting the site where I’d seen her photo and profile. Independently and spontaneously, in different places, we’d each selected the other. Was there chemistry? Oh, yes! That was over a year ago. My new house is across the street from her house (yes the “blue cottage with all the flowers” described in the psychic reading turned out to be the house directly across from hers).

We’re planning to be married in Durham on May 21 of this year. My affirmation about being held and perfectly supported has manifested beautifully.

There are a lot of unusual coincidences appearing here – enough so that the story perhaps might seem unbelievable, if it hadn’t really happened.

Let’s go back to the idea of lives, like houses, manifesting as reality in response to the blueprints stated for them. My belief is that when I state clearly the vision that arises in my imagination, I give God raw material out of which to create that reality. In acknowledging hope and belief no matter what is happening, I freely give God permission to co-create with me the beautiful manifestations for which I was created. I have free will. God, having given me this right, would not force me to do what I do not choose. Only with my permission can God catapult me into the love and joy for which he made me. My affirming statements say to God – “Yes! Bring it on! I freely accept the gift of abundance and happiness. “ With each new affirmation, I create my new story about who I am and how I live.

We all define our lives by the stories we tell. We perceive them as fact, not fiction. But what’s the difference? Do we portray fact, or does our portrayal create fact? What’s fact, and what’s not?

I remember a long time ago, as a writing professor, teaching classes in memoir creation. Over and over, we were faced with the necessity of writing detailed verbal pictures. How did we really know exactly what the players in each scene had thought, said, remembered? We didn’t! We had to make it all up as best we could. In contrast, when we were intending to write fiction, we had to write based on what we had experienced, or it would be abstract and boring. Fiction with no basis in fact is empty. Only stories that have the ring of truth really grab us.

Every story is both fiction and fact. In accordance with the laws of the universe, whatever story we tell becomes our facts. They determine our blueprint. Reality follows imagination. Imagination defines reality.

We can change the stories we tell – we can change them multiple times, and reality follows, unerringly – just as when we’re steering a car,we tend to steer in the direction in which we’re looking. Each story is a dream, a way of seeing, an act of steering.

My situation two years ago was a story – my story, my view of what was real. I was old. I was impoverished. I was disabled. I was alone in the world. I felt miserable, scared, and fragile.

Then in the “Keys to the Kingdom” class, I learned to change my view, to tell a different story. Instead of feeling miserable, I said: “I am whole and happy, financially secure, surrounded by love.” That became my new story, my new reality. My actions changed with my story. Instead of feeling miserable, I recognized and acted on opportunities to eradicate the dissonance in my life between fact and fiction, between desire and reality.

A few months after I turned 70, it occurred to me that nothing had actually changed except a number – and why should a number dictate anything? So I even gave up feeling old.

Before we end, I invite you to join me as a storyteller. On the card you received when you came into the service, write one sentence. Pick one aspect of your life, and tell it as you want it to be, in all its fictional glory,. Start with the word “I…” Talk in the present. You’re creating your vision now, as you take a minute to write:


Now, I want you to share your story sentence with someone you don’t know well. Tell your story sentence as you wrote it, and listen to theirs.


Did you feel the joy, the energy, the delight that happens when we accept God’s best blessings – the ones he gives us in the form of dreams and desires so that we know how to change our stories.

When I first learned about affirmations, I was told to write them down and post them somewhere – like the bathroom mirror – where I’d see and remember them often. You could bring home your new blueprint card and do that. You might even want to write more one-sentences stories for yourself.

Each time you see them, you will have a chance to live your blueprint. Say it, , live it, feel it, rejoice in it, and thank God for giving it to you -- Your dream, your story, your blueprint, your life.

Ellen's birthday card

Birthday Thought to Ellen Jan 26 2011

Tomorrow would have been your birthday.

Web reminders say that I should send a card;

I wonder how to do that from this earth to where you are.

So here’s my birthday card to you, my Love –

An imagined nosegay:

I’m picturing it fresh and pure and white,

With smell so sweet;

Each flower is a precious moment

That we spent together;

Reminder of our songs, our laughter, even tears we shed --

All more special in the love we shared.

I tell you now, again,

How very glad I am that you were born.


Tomorrow, Ellen would have celebrated her 79th birthday. I can still celebrate this birthday as the anniversary of her birth – which is all a birthday is, after all. Reflecting on the significance of the day makes me feel closer to her friends and family, and I smile my appreciation of each one. I am so glad all of them were born as well. I’m very happy that they have continued as my friends, even though Ellen has gone on before us from this earth. In the two years since Ellen left us, I have moved ahead with my life, which is taking me into new adventures and insights. Yet, she is such a big part of me; her love is with me still, enriching, enlivening, and elightening me. I know I am fortunate to have known such a love. I embrace my gratefulness, and let it teach me greater compassion and openness with others.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Ice Storm

Reflections on an Ice Storm

December 16 2010

We are a spark of God

Encapsulated for a moment in our body --

Atoms borrowed from the earth.

As light flashes from a drop of ice clinging to a branch --

Transient twinkling matter within the swirl of vast, eternal love --

Our body channels spirit, revealing endless beauty:

Singing, working, moving, making, feeding, resting –

Our every act is prayer, proclaiming God.


This morning has been icy. The canvas was primed before dawn with an inch of beautiful white snow, and then the ice started falling. I love the fleeting beauty of the bare winter trees whose branches are suddenly coated with dangling ice diamonds. Their splendor seems like an answer to the prayers I’ve uttered in seeking to understand the purpose of my time on earth within the context of eternal spirit. The holidays this year engender sadness – regret for things that are no more. In contrast, God produces a sparkling canvas of transient loveliness, reminding me that I can experience this winter moment in many ways. I find sadness in a day spent housebound by the frailties of an aging body in relation to the risks posed by ice. But I can’t help but smile and feel the inner joy of spirit when I look out the window at the bountiful and gratuitous beauty to be found there. Ice droplets remind me to smile with joy.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Broadway Bus

The Broadway Bus December 5 2010

God was riding on the bus tonight.

Our uptown bus, near midnight,

Was filled with people going home:

The woman with the inch long lashes and the crimson nails

Sitting opposite, talking on her shiny bright red phone,

Telling someone she was Disney’s newest princess

And that when she sent her picture in they’d animate her;

The mother with the tired child -- A six year old swathed in

Hat and hood and gloves who stumbled as she grabbed his arm

Saying that he had to stay awake and walk;

The florid, smiling gent who strode through toward the rear,

His plaid Dickensian cape billowing across our seats,

His top hat gleaming;

The follower of Krishna in his orange garb,

The robe parting in the middle from behind to show his lean and hairy legs

Emerging out of sagging socks and hiking boots;

The tiny, smiling woman with gray hair and cane,

Falling into the seat beside me as the bus lurched forward;

Older couples, bundled up against the cold, eyelids drooping even as they

Smiled and talked about the shows they’d seen.

In our tired diversity, we showed our human side,

Our illusions about our lives and why they matter.

Yet God is all and all is God, and

Together, sparks of God, we shared divinity diversely riding on the bus uptown.


New York is nothing if not diverse. Every trip, no matter what the way of traveling, is an adventure, an encounter with the unexpected, the lavish wealth of human expression. I had spent the weekend at my seminary classes, contemplating “Who am I?” and “Who is God?” -- learning that in the Jewish tradition, God is one with all creation, that our majestic diversity of expression comes entirely from the divine source and expresses divine nature. Within that context, our lumbering, lurching bus began to seem like Noah’s Ark, carrying forward into the future a random assortment of God’s human expressions. I was fascinated, as always, with our infinite variety and our sublime godness. It was a moment of prayerful gratitude for having this experience.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Election Day 2010

Being Powerless November 2 2010

Election night.

I watch opponents sweep aside my hopes and dreams

For justice and our civil rights.

I didn’t cause it, can’t control it. I weep.

Tonight, driving home along a busy country road,

My car one in a line, following and followed,

In the headlights, I see writhing, on the center line--

With shiny fur, brown and black, a long plump tail--

A creature of the night, injured, pained, struggling for its life.

I feel the tears spring forth; I, too, writhe as I speed by.

I cry out “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

It’s nothing that I did; there’s nothing I can do.

I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t help.

Remembering, today, the plight I lived,

A helpless mother

Unable to prevent abuse and meanness –

I would have sacrificed my life to help my daughter –

If it had mattered – but it didn’t.

Tears fell then and trickle from my eyes today.

I couldn’t change things, then or now.

Two years ago, my beloved left this life,

Beside me in the bed, in mid-sentence –

A total shock.

There was nothing I could do, no way to bring her back.

I racked my brain – was it my fault? Had I missed something?

Could I have prevented it?

No. No way at all.

Somehow, though things happen that are sad and painful --

Things I can’t ward off --

Acceptance of what is leads me to peace

Beyond the seen and felt,

Deep in the knowing of another plane.


The outcome of meditation is the opportunity to glimpse a reality that underlies the time and space of this physical life. Though the physical is so often jarring and deeply disturbing, the transcendent plane of spirit is filled with light, love, peace, and exaltation. The mystery is ineffable and blissful. In prayer, I express my desire to inhabit this other world, even as my feet and my senses move me through the passage of time and the dominion of space on planet earth. Are all these painful experiences real, or are they simply illusions of reality through which I pass as through a hologram – they seem solid, but are nothing more than total illusion.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Two Years Ago A Death....

Incubation October 28 2010

Two years ago, my life changed.

In a second’s time,

I found myself a widow.

Today, on writing to another person

Starting on that journey,

I’ve read back to what I’d written then,

And realized that on that day,

I entered a cocoon.

My life stopped short,

As if I’d died as well. .

I look back now and read those words of grief,

And see I’ve now emerged,


Into a new time of my life –

A time with wings to fly ,

A mind tuned far beyond this earth,

A heart that overflows with love.

My grief has morphed me,

Helped bring out the spirit stuff of which I’m made,

Led me to a place of light.

Yes, I’m grateful for this chance I’ve had to grow.


This will be a very long blog post. Rereading those poems of immediate grief reminded me that I’d written them to share. I had felt so alone and abandoned, and I searched for words that would reflect those feelings. Searching in vain, I felt impelled to write my own, to chronicle the incredible valleys and peaks of the grief experience, so that someone else in her or his own time, might read them and know that the grief of losing a beloved partner is universal and shared.

Today, upon rereading the poems, I felt impelled now to post them for those who find their way to this blog. Should I publish them elsewhere? Perhaps readers will let me know their thoughts ?

Missing Ellen Part I, November 2008
Copyright 2008  Rosemary C. Hyde

LOOKING November 14, 2008

Labor Day 1999, East Village apartment building, Elevator door opens to dark landing

Revealing my Love, my Bubbele -- our first meeting,

Tall, gray hair, beatific smile, surrounded by bright light --

Her loving aura.

Hazel eyes the same color as mine,

Our hearts beat faster, instantly smitten.

Inside, we sat facing, till wee morning hours,

Only looking into each others’ eyes,

Wordlessly, insatiably absorbing each other,

Imbibing the wonder, the heart, the depths,

Becoming one overnight.

Nine years later –a brief but total unity, lives entwined,

Every moment, every day spent together.

I look at her cool dead shell, her strong, peaceful face, her energy gone.

My heart beats faster, overflows with loss and love. Tears stream.

Love is eternal.


Our hearts and souls deeply united –

Sharing insights, observations, love of words,

Discovering the path to wisdom hand in hand, soul to soul.

Nine years of transformation,

Tumbled rocks polishing each other, revealing hidden value, brilliant hues, greater love,

Smoothing away rough spots and dull coatings,

Sparking over trifling differences and embedded gems,

Transforming each other forever, revealing the divine.

Today’s e-mail 11/15/08

My beloved,

Today, I got your e-mail

From two months ago –

You sent “An infinite supply of hugs”

Saved up against the now

When you have gone,

When I so need embrace ,

Your warm breath, your beating heart.

How did you send me that today, knowing?


Dark, windy midday.

The swirling leaves and dust

Echo sadness in my soul.

Clouds part, and instantly I bathe in stunning light.

The sun was always there, shining, though I couldn’t know.

I mourn losing my Love,

The house echoing emptiness.

But she is still there, somewhere, beaming.

I robe myself in her rays.

WORTHWHILE Nov 17 2008

I think of when we first moved here -

Our first mail, first greetings to new neighbors,

Excitement over a new house, new friends.

Today, your ashes sit silent,

The house achingly empty.

Your books, dishes, glasses, robe

Sit, discarded, no one's - as now am I.

I See You Walking
I'm here, surrounded by my family's love,

By friends' concerns,

Trying to carry on,

But weeping, sobbing unexpected tears.

I see you striding, gamboling,

Frisking with beloved pets.

Freed of pain and hindrance, now made whole.

Strolling arm in arm with friends and loved ones,

Looking back to assure that all goes well with me.

At least I am happy to carry in my heart that

Comforting , hopeful image of you.


Shock. Unreality. Daze.

Nothing is the same.

I don't recognize myself.

The world is upside down, blurred, wavy.

I've plunged into a deep sea,

Spiraling downward,

Carried by momentum,

Not breathing, not daring to,

Sensing myself from a distance

In shadowy green.

MOLECULES November 17, 2008

She said her remaining molecules would care about me.

That was comforting.

She said we are always exchanging molecules,

That they leap constantly from one person to the next.

When she died, her molecules suffused me.

But, still alive, they keep leaping, from me to others.

Always shifting, changing.

They must move along.

Already, in two weeks, so many changes.

I miss her! She left, and I didn't.

She is in my mind and heart, but Memory quickly stiffens, like an old scar.


A word, a look, penetrating the soul,

A question piercing to the heart of sadness, grief, fear, hope.

She always knew each person’s deepest self.

For many, these seeds of love echoed forward

In lives better and truer --

Touched by an Angel of light.


She always lit the fires, loved the dancing flames, the rays of warmth.

Tonight, first snow of the season.

To honor her, I light a fire on the hearth.

Smoke billows out, alarms clamor, telephone rings,

Should we call the fire department?

No, No! No fire, just smoke. Closed flue. Fanning,

Open windows and doors. It's OK.

Alarm won't turn off - too much smoke.

We cough and chase the dog outside.

Finally, we get the flue open.

Is she laughing at us?


I wanted to look at your face a little longer, to be able to let you go as

it felt right. I had to go, though, despite my disappointment. I know your

face no longer is you, that you have emerged a fully endowed, beautiful,

graceful, spirit from the bent and battered chrysalis body that shaped

your earthly life. I indulge in the image of us as kindred spirits,

flitting around each other outside earthly attachments, eternally

bonded in the dimensionless ether, in the realms of pure spirit. Our

souls created together unearthly harmonies in major and

minor keys. Together we sang the melodies of pure love and pure creation,

each of us unique and also complementary to the other. Together we also

rarely saw eye to eye on things like how to arrange tools or where to store extra napkins. Such an irony! We were capable of ineffable harmony and crashing dissidence.

In the process, we created sparks of love in the hearts of many, building

community and inspiring people to love greatly. There certainly was a "We."

BREATHE! Nov 18 2008

Today, a bodywork session

Asking me to relax into gravity,

Breathing deeply, Accepting.

Especially accepting.

After 40 minutes I feel better

Than I have in two weeks.

Grief strangles muscles, spirit,

Brings grasping pain

Magically relieved with help,

Yet impossible to fathom alone.

Prank? November 14 2008

OK - Let's see how this works.

We need other people.

We need love.

It's more important than anything , other than food, water, shelter,

sanitation, heat.

When we develop friendship, companionship, relationship - we feel happy and


Our life curls comfortably around our connection with the Other, which is

really a connection with our Self and with the Divine.

We share suffering, joy, laughter, waking and sleeping, relaxing.

Then life gets yanked away - the Other dies.

I sit in shock, wondering how to move. My life is broken.

Is something there beyond this life on earth?

If love is not forever, why do we experience it?

Why does it render our life splendid, worthwhile?

Is this a cruel prank? Or am I not seeing what’s real?


Transformation, rest,

The appearance of death.

Not dead, but fallow, lying silent.

We two were one.

With you gone, my leaves shrivel, drop.

My heart a winter wood,

Waiting for new life.

BOZO THE CLOWN November 20, 2008

Punch! Bam! Biff!

Rock. Spin. Bounce.

Bruise. Cry. Hurt.

Always smile.

Stick it out.


Habits NOVEMBER 21 2008

Habits are comfortable.

We enjoy our routines – getting up, stretching,

Brushing our teeth, showering,

Smelling that first cup of warm brew in the morning.

Our movements are precise –

Two steps here and three there. Get a glass and dish on the way by.

Turn left, reach into the drawer for a spoon,

Not needing to look -- Practiced motions effortlessly repeated,


A fluent sequence

Of graceful, entwined, well learned movements.

Now, suddenly, I’m alone.

The dance has vanished.

Like a disconnected marionette, I turn aimlessly

Right, then left, forward then back,

Wondering, confused: “What now?”

“ Where’s that spoon?”

“What comes next? “

PRISMS NOV 22, 2008

You survive now as a prism,

Pieces scattered, in me, in friends, in family,

In places we’ve shared.

Shards of memory.

Kaleidoscope of tumbling moments.

Chiseled glass parsing rays of love in rainbow tints.

I recognize you in a phrase, a moment, a chance event

But long to hold you whole, to feel your warmth, your breath,

Your kiss.




Immense gulf between the two!

Rosemary and Ellen -- Roellen – one identity, one energy. We.

Now I must learn to say “I,” foreswearing “we.”

But “our” life continues, our selves stay merged,

Our souls forever bathed in the becoming of shared love;

Even if one can no longer see “us” – only “me. “



Twining ,

Shaped for years around each other,

Supporting, mirroring, touching , caressing.

Inseparable --

My soul remains enlaced with yours.


Down the rabbit hole.

In a heartbeat total change, all is weird.

The white rabbit, Late, late!

The tea party, babbled nonsense,

The Cheshire cat grinning – at what?

The red queen playing croquet – Off with her head!

When you left, I went down the rabbit hole -- unfamiliar chaos in my soul, my mind, my life.

I can’t remember if Alice escaped.

Mind-altered nightmare.

Will it end?

FEAR November 24, 2008

I am alone, as many people are.

At night, fear closes in.

I feel small, fragile,

Like a nestling dislodged, hungry, flightless.

What will happen to me alone, old, sick?

If I die, will we be as one again? Will you come for me, care for me?

Will I feel again the wondrous peace of loving union?

Walk Nov 25 2008

Walking in morning air, brisk, sunny, beautiful.

I connect with the world,

Love the light,

Resonate to winter stillness.

I recognize, too, life from other spheres,

Connecting with all that lies outside this present moment.

Remembering that nothing is lost that has been,

That I am wrapped in endless love.

Swirling Nov 26 2008

Tossing, crashing waves.

Crackling, devouring flames.

Wind-driven clouds, pregnant with power.

Nature’s restless energy, snapping and surging --

Gusts, tides, gales, inferno.

Same rhythms, same swirls as in my heart and mind.

RISK of Loving November 27, 2008

We were committed.

To have and to hold, in sickness and in health,

Till death.

To share our hearts and minds, our thoughts and feelings,

Till compassion.

To live, laugh, and love together

Till joy.

To think and study together

Till wisdom.

To walk together on life’s path,

Hand in hand, soul in soul, apart but united.

By turns blissful, sad.

Within our joy of unity lay the pain of separation,

The shift from day to night, from bliss to ache,

The rhythm of our passage across time --

The price of loving.

A time for everything nov 28 2008

Your heart stopped,

Stepped out of the pulsing rhythm of life.

I helped you put on one slipper, and then you left – Gone!

No more shifting seasons, ticking clocks, waking and sleeping.

Steady breaths stopped.

No more rising and falling, lying and standing, rest and action.

It happened so suddenly, so easily.

Was it because your whole life skirted the rhythms --

Asymmetrical, outsider, were you already on the edge?

I’ll Clean Up! Nov 27 2008

“I’ll clean up! “

You always did with such good cheer!

I could not believe how you enjoyed cleaning,

Making things beautiful again,

Respecting their substance

And their makers.

I fry hamburger alone, grease flying.

Then my tears mix with soap

As I wipe the skillet and the stove,

Missing your cheerful “I’ll clean up!”

Co-Creating November 29 2008

Two minds, two hearts, three hands..

One spirit, Creating one life for our time together.

Two houses, two kitchens, two histories , two professions

Unified in us, in our space, our aura.

We were Not one, Not two –

Instead something other, beautiful, hopeful, more --

We lived the love that humans long for in their deepest hearts.

Now you are there, and I am here – Still united.

We sit astride, one foot on earth, the other where?

I wonder how to be in two places.

Respiration Nov 30 2008

I wake each morning, the sound of dog and cat breath in my ears,

My heart leaping to greet you before I see you are not there beside me.

I give thanks for these furry creatures who share my breath,

Living souls who knew and loved you, too.

I rise and spend my days learning to find you everywhere in spirit.

To know that all I meet exchange your love with me,

That love is what I now must learn to breathe.

Meditation, Dec 1 2008

I’m learning.

After meditating as duty, requirement, task,

Toil to attain calm,

Now I see how meditating links me

With what is,

With spirit, love -- limitless, beyond matter.

And with you.

What I call “real” is just a dream,

My made up view cocooned within my single self;

Peering from the spyholes of my eyes,

Not seeing from the vastness of my soul.

Pea Soup Dec 2 2008

I talk and talk. I try to listen,

To hear what I need to hear,

To learn what comes next, what to expect.

But no one tells me.

Maybe I talk too much. Maybe I look as though I know

What I’m doing, as though I’m “coping beautifully.”

What does that mean?

It’s like a thick fog,

A white-out .

I look about, and see only my own foot and hand.

As once in the Alps, after a Sky-Tram ride,

Snow everywhere, all white.

If I move, will I fall off an unseen edge?

Will I lose the inn?

I have no idea where to turn;

No safety, no path, no knowing --

--Nothing. All blank.

Cauldron Dec 2 2008

Bubbling, boiling, thick brown stew

In iron cauldron --

My thoughts.

I peer in.

A potato bubbles up:

I must remember it.

But then it sinks back out of sight,

Followed by a pea, a carrot, an onion –

All there one moment, gone the next --

My thoughts -- ever fleeting.

The Real Ellen Dec 3 2008

Who is the real person?

I look at your pictures, read your poems,

Listen to what people say about you.

I think of you as a young physician, thrilled

To help people, to be important, to count in the world.

I reflect on your mission to create compassion for the dying.

I wonder at your sensitivity to suffering and to beauty, to language and music,

At your adeptness -- not disabled,

At your ready wit and play with words,

At your transcendent poetry,

At your impromptu, silly, amazing morning songs,

At the crushing pain you carried with you always, though never giving in,

At the wealth of life and joy you gave each moment.

I think of our time together –

Our peace, our spats,

The minutes and years when just

Being together filled all the crannies

Of our hearts with love

As if we’d drunk pure soul food.

I am smitten with you more and more.

How could one person be so much, so many?

Moving Ahead? Dec 4 2008

In two days, the cocktail party memorial you requested.

Putting it together has been good –

A project, something to distract me,

To share with others.

But then what?

Then it’s time to move on,

To claim my life, to find new friends, to live alone.

But I’m not ready.

I feel on the earth alone,

With no echo to my calls.

I feel muffled in cotton, unable to move, a mummy,

All gladness gone , all purpose fled.


Your Party December 6, 2008

It’s over. The house was full,

The bar active, the food abundant, a Feast.

New friendships budded and old ones swelled.

I know you joined us as we celebrated knowing you,

Rejoiced that you’d been born,

Wept at losing you.

I wore your scarf, your earrings, your bracelet,

The jacket you gave me.

They made me feel closer to you,

Armored with your strength,

Embraced within your love.

We made the party you had pictured,

Knowing that its love would draw us all together

In a warm circle, friends.

SPIRIT GIFT December 7 2008

What happens when many people meet

To celebrate the life and love of one

Whose path has led beyond this life?

Jesus told his friends to gather in his name and he would be with them.

When they did, they were transformed.

I always thought that only happened if you were God.

Yet, yesterday, your loved ones came together,

Shared one room, one breath, one feast, one toast --

Blessing. Honoring. Remembering. Learning.

You too were here,

Present in our hearts and minds.

Your spirit lifted ours above our daily fears.

We communed -- a sacred moment,

A hint of bliss to come

NIGHT DEC 9 2008

Too much!






Missing you!


Must stop and go to bed!

Closet Memories Dec 10 2008

Time to look through closets and

Sort clothes, bags, shoes, jewelry,

Making room for life continuing.

Each item recalls a different story --

A life history on coathangers.

The ultrasuede skirts perfectly

Hand made with graceful pleats --

Proud elegance under white coat and stethoscope.

The men’s bathrobe, stylish, from Saks

Found on a sale table for a song ---

Your dress for a posh party -- prankish delight.

The burnished cowhide satchel – professional power bag--

Carry-on for conference presentations --

Commanding authority.

The sale dress you bought

To wear in scorching Midwest summer heat

For my daughter’s wedding – cool, unwrinkled, matriarchal.

The Lucy Cavendish Cambridge College scarf,

Blue stripes on black --

Pride of friendship with a don.

Every piece a different memory, added story,

How can I discard these markers of your life?

For the next owner, they’ll be just fabric, leather --

Virgin stuff, stripped of memory and meaning.


Suddenly, I’m tired, alone.

Your memorial now is past,

Friends have thought of you and moved on,

Telling me to come along.

But I can’t move with them.

My life is too altered, too strange, too alone,

Our special closeness vaporized.

I attend a seminar on grief, and

Have to leave.

I think of losing you and sob.

I’m asked where I am I on the “healing scale of 1 to 10.”

-- I'm Elsewhere.


Widow. Widow’s weeds. The merry widow.

Black widow spider. Widow-maker. Widow’s Walk.

Widow -- what a strange-sounding word!

I’ve known it all my life.

I’ve never understood

Its aloneness, sorrow, slow moving stupor,

Its feeling of being sliced in half, axed.

No longer joined in daily life and love,

Condemned to wander, always missing, always wistful for what was.


Grief is a way of staying close to you, of

Not moving on.

With you I was happy – moving on is sad.

How can I stay united with you

If I stop thinking of you?

How can I think of you without missing you?

How can I miss you and not grieve?

For over 60 years I yearned to find you, and you me.

Then ten short, beautiful years – our lifetime together.

I am grateful. And bereft.

Integration December 11 2008

How do I “integrate?”

I want to stay connected with you,

And I need to find me.

I look for one path forward,

But I have double vision-- two roads, forking.

Where are the 3-D glasses, red and green,

That I can wear to see again both life and love

United, deep, whole?

Love December 12, 2008

I knew how much you loved me

Finding your old ID list today --

Scribbled pages, nameless passwords,

Penciled crudely at all angles –

Indecipherable. Impossible to use.

You’d used it for years.

But next to your computer, you had laid for me to find

A new, typed, ordered list with

Usernames, passwords, id codes

Meticulously noted, logically laid out, stapled together.

You typed this when typing was painful,

When you felt tired and weak.

You thought of me and showed your love --

A splendid gift .


Last night, I knew I’d been there before.

Every night for a while, now,

I’m traveling, traveling –

In trains, mostly, all night, wearily pushing on;

Finding myself in strange and lonely stations

Riding alone in empty cars

All over the world,

Always searching,

Looking for my lost mate.

Where has she gone?

I seek her energy, her love, her familiar smell,

Her loving gaze. Surely I’ll find her somewhere!!

Giving and Receiving December 13, 2008

Energy moves. It creates itself.

When I give attention and love to others,

It comes back to me,

Like a cosmic game of ‘catch,” sending the ball back and forth, over and over.

I was taught to return the ball always, never to keep it,

Never to enjoy it for myself,

Daring never to believe I could be loved.

But you saw into me and still wanted me.

I am comforted, beloved.

Grief December 13, 2008

Though, inevitably, we mourn the loss of every love,

We fear grief.

We try to hide the thought.

We stay too busy, captured by daily tasks –

Laundry, cleaning, shopping, mowing, trimming, arranging, our job—

We call this “life.”

Yet we ache for deeper realms,

Where love and grief alike await.

As the hidden side of love,

Grief too must bring its gift –

Its transcendent view of life conjoined with death,

Its hint of liberation and reunion with what Is,

Inner passageway to Joy.

Waves of grief December 14 2008

People have told me grief comes in waves.

I feel its surf in the grains of my life,

Here, eroding -- destroying strength and calm;

There, depositing -- covering up who I was before.

Steady rhythm of breath, of life –

Moving the very sand of self,

Creating new birth, memorable “firsts,”

Sculpting the me who will live on, alone.

Elusive Sleep December 14, 2008

I’m tired, weary.

It’s been five weeks since you left.

But sleep stays just out of reach,

Eluding my exhaustion,

Like a shimmering oasis

Dancing afar before my eyes,

Sweet rest that I will never find.

NEW YORK WINTER December 15, 2008

We traveled back and forth, thinking we could be “bicoastal”,

And I’m so glad I had that chance to live with you

In your beloved loft, your neighborhood, your building,

Learning a little what it meant to be, like you, a New Yorker.

I think of:

That first Christmas, schlepping the six foot spruce

From the corner grocery, down the street, and up the elevator,

Boots, mittens, knitted scarves and hats shielding us from knifing wind.

Then decorating, in our first shared spell of Christmas magic.

The stiff courtesy of doormen, stationed all day, all night, -- hailing, guarding, helping.

Your stories of asking the doormen to put on your earrings or button your shirts

Because, one-handed, you couldn’t.

The icy drafts stabbing in through lofty windows, impossible to block,

Making us set the heat to 80 so we didn’t freeze.

The friendly firefighters in the station down the street, smiling and waving

As we walked by to the barber, the cleaner, the grocery, the deli.

The purity and quiet of fresh city snow, so quickly blackened.

The surprise of glancing from the 7th floor

To see yellow cabs everywhere, sole traffic, horns honking.

The sound of sirens through the night, background symphony to sleep.

The excitement of walking to a busy restaurant or hailing a cab to Lincoln Center,

Of passing stalls selling items you later said you “got on the street.”

Walking, wondering, past cracked brick houses and regal brownstones in The Village,

Exploring the Green Market with its winter New York produce –

City moments, always hustled, elbowing with others.

The naked fear of cancer checkups at Sloan Kettering,

Where everyone – respectful -- called you “Dr. Scheiner.”

The intimacy of spending all day and night together, burrowed in your loft --

15 foot ceilings and classic modern furniture, like a photo in House Beautiful.

The pleasure of sitting side by side in black leather chairs,

Cheerful morning eastern sun warming our heads and arms

As together we read today’s New York Times and drank fragrant coffee.

The tender moments spent cuddled,

Iimmersed in each other, before the crackling fireplace,

Bach Inventions gently pouring over us.

The bare emptiness of that beloved loft

When, off to California,

We sat side by side on kitchen chairs, all else taken by the movers,

Floors and walls starkly clean,

Seeing our honeymoon suite for one last time

Before flying, excited, to our new house:

To the life we would build together.

Now you’ve gone alone to your next venture,

And I wrap around me that first season’s precious memories,

To help warm me through this long and solitary winter.

Reframing December 15, 2008

I’m on a stormy ride with no map, no seatbelt,

No way of knowing what comes next.

As on a wild coaster, carried up and down,

Whipped around sharp angles,

Spinning off , flying out.

Will I limp away as victim -- haunted, injured?

Or will I rather grasp adventure, be transformed?

Progressive, December 16 2008

As people live, they evolve.

Their awareness changes –

Each new experience bringing new insights.

They say soulmates remain connected, eternally.

Do you keep learning with me

On my always lively daily path?

Do I get to learn with you in your new home?

How does that work?

Do we evolve together, even when apart,

Like paired electrons across continents?

I hope so!

Junk Mail Dec 17 2008

I never thought I’d welcome junk mail!

But your name is still there.

Life seems normal again when I sort the day’s envelopes.

The wacky errors we used to laugh about –

The middle initial you acquired on a list and never lost,

The mixups of my name and yours.

It’s sad to discard these worthless papers sent to you --


Filling Ellen’s Shoes December 18, 2008

When we first met, and you took me to visit your neighbor,

We were sitting, chatting, on her couch,

And suddenly she asked me “Are you wearing Ellen’s clothes??”

Such a strange question! We laughed.

You and I had just met, and I was dressed as me.

But we were the same size, we shopped at the same sites,

And we often liked the same things.

When catalogues came, we raced to see who looked and ordered first,

Who got the desired items.

Now, I AM wearing your clothes.

I feel closer to you, I feel protected, I honor your memory.

A week after you died, new shoes you’d ordered for yourself arrived.

I tried them on. They fit. They looked great.

I kept them, didn’t send them back.

They seemed to have some meaning, coming when they did.

I’m still learning how to fill your shoes in other ways,

How to be as loving, friendly, lively, engaged in life

As you taught me.

How to meditate and connect with the divine

As you showed me.

How to inspire love in others

As you did in me.

“Ellen Loved” December 19, 2008

As people send their loving thoughts of you

For your “Memory Book,”

I learn your genius in their shared words:

“Ellen loved.”

You told me that you thought

People were disappointed in you

Because disabled, worn out from trying harder,

You produced less “work.”

In fact, people instantly

Saw your love for them, your caring,

Your generous urge to help them grow and learn.

You didn’t disappoint them –you inspired.

You were a true friend.

Did I learn well enough from you

To carry forth your love, your legacy?

Light Bearer December 20, 2008

Your last name, Scheiner, meant “light bearer,”

And your first name, Ellen, meant “light.”

You were called a “lightning rod,”

A conduit for people’s feelings.

I think of you those last two months --

You glowed with life. You were transcendent.

You radiated, as death approached.

You achieved peace, you were serene,

You had forgiven.

You were glass

Focusing the light of love,

Searing it into us.

Hanukkah and Solstice December 21, 2008

Tonight, I lit a Menorah candle to honor you,

To show my love –a tiny point of light

Shining in the wintry gloom.

First day of Hanukkah, celebrating light.

It’s also winter Solstice,

The day of least light, least warmth.

I sense the unending --

That you are truly gone,

Not coming back.

That life is darker, harder.

I never saw how deep and final losing you would be,

How I would miss my Sun.

Every Step with You, December 22, 2008

Every morning, we made the bed together,

A ballet duet, matched step by step.

Together grasping sheet, then blanket,

Arranging them just so.

Now only one side is disarranged,

And I jerk the covers carelessly.

So many little moves built

Our daily waltz together,

Synchronized with ease --

Answering the door and telephone,

Grooming the dog,

Cooking dinner and cleaning up,

Planning evenings, outings, parties.

Sitting together in our leather chairs

Reading Sunday papers;

Choosing when to relax indoors or out,

The ritual of sitting down at 5, drink in hand, to talk --

Partners in the daily dance of life.

Now I do these things alone,

Shared harmony missing,

My ears hissing loudly in the silence.

Blind Navigation December 23 2008

Suddenly alone --

It’s like navigating in a fog:

Shoals loom and stormy tears flood in--

Shipwreck hazards, Unseen, unmapped.

As if now blinded,

I seek new and other senses,

Guides to harbor peace.

Christmas Spirit Present December 24 2008

I dreamed a Christmas service.

My favorite childhood priest was there.

He always helped me, made me feel special, as did you.

He told me

To run up and ring the steeple bell.

Other bells were pealing forth and

Our voice, too, was needed.

I ran up, as told, gripped the rope, and pulled.


I climbed higher. Twigs and grass fell from the bell.

It wouldn’t ring. Then I got really close, and saw

Inside the bell a nest of budgies –

Eager, bright green birds, about to fledge,

To spread the Word to many.

I helped them fly away. I was happy.

I did my job, felt its meaning.

I had feared an agonizing Christmas

As I mourned your absence.

Instead, as in the Christmas story,

I feel warmed by others.

The bell rings out.

The Word is love, and I am blessed.

Christmas Night, December 25, 2008

I sit in my chair, alone, Christmas music in the air.

No light in your chair’s corner.

Holiday tunes add to the silence.

When I went to play a disk of carols today,

I found in the machine the B-Minor Mass –

Last melody you heard,

Acutely tuned to your heart’s wish.

Are you hearing now music more divine than Bach’s,

Or can we listen here together?

Christmas Joy, December 25, 2008

Little boys, intense excitement,

Craving the new.

Christmas anticipation.

Watching them, I understand

My remembered childhood hurry for Christmas.

It came too slowly -- too eagerly awaited.

Now I yearn to reunite with you --

My future Christmas.

Grazing December 26, 2008

Today was your favorite kind of day –

You called it “grazing.”

No appointments, no have-tos, no pressure.

A “day off” doing only what comes to mind.

Finally, today I had no calendar, and

I “grazed,” thinking of your glee

When you had this chance.

I see now your insight in tasting bliss,

Aware that one day of grazing makes but a

Spot of order

Iin the weedy infestation of tasks.

Delight requires staying in the Now,

Focusing on each move like a Zen Master,

Loving the beauty of simple work well done.

Meanings of Odd, December 27, 2008

A friend said “This must have been an odd holiday.”

What an unusual word to use!

But so true – everything was strange, including how I see myself.

I was not alone, thanks to family, but I missed your Love.

The day seemed weird, abnormal, anomalous.

Odd is all those things and

Also means not paired -- alone –

Peculiarly, I have now become odd:

Mateless, like an odd sock,

Victim of vicissitude.

Electronic Images December 27, 2008

Photographs, videos, recordings –

Together, we made these objects

Carelessly, thoughtlessly – for fun.

Now, suddenly, they are treasures of you,

More precious than gold or jewels.

I seek them, hoard them, play them, view them,

Wondering how I didn’t

Know each moment’s painful joy or

Feel stabbing pleasure in each second we were close,

As now I feel the razor slash of losing you.

Opposites Attract, December 28, 2008

I sit in meditation,

Breathing deeply, softly, evenly,

Watching swaying trees, knowing I depend on them.

I inhale vital oxygen, produced by plants.

I exhale then what they breathe in.


Like plants and vertebrates,

You and I sustained each other.

You, physician, scientist, activist, New Yorker, Jewish;

I, teacher, homeopath, ethnographer, small town Irish Catholic.

Our love became as air, life-giving.

Opposites, we breathed together.

HOSPITAL DREAM December 29, 2008

I felt you in my dream last night.

You were in a hospital,

Alone in a room, where you had died.

But you weren’t dead.

Your molecules radiated love and energy,

Enfolding me, though I could not be with you.

I felt joy.

You let me know that when I meditate,

When I think of you, you feel my love

And I bring joy to you as well.

When I awoke, I thanked you for that loving moment.

It was heavenly!

Happy, December 30, 2008

Today I felt happy. It was strange.

I haven’t enjoyed reading a book or article,

Listening to beautiful music,

Basking in warm sunshine,

Or seeing good friends

For weeks now, since you left.

Where did the feeling come from?

Why did it come?

I think the dream in which you beamed me love

Helped me find a center, a place of peace,

Showed me that while we’re in different places

We’re still connected,

That love goes on, and always will.

I felt happy when I awoke,

Richer in love, replenished, blessed.

New Year’s Eve December 31 2008

I’m watching “Live from Lincoln Center”:

Interview with Loren Maazel.

Maestro Maazel observes, about retiring,

“Life is all about Beginnings and Endings.”

This New Year’s Eve marks the end --

The last hours

Of the last year we shared.

And it signals the beginning –

The first moments

Of what I will be this next time “when I grow up”--

My graduation from your school of love,

My soul’s moment to unfurl and soar.