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,

Changed,

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.



Reflection

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.


TUMBLED ROCKS 11/14/08

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?


THE SUN STILL SHINING Nov 16 2008 RCH

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.


THE PLUNGE NOV 18 2008

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.


SEEDS OF LOVE

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.



Relearning


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?


WE WERE WE

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

fulfilled.

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?


WINTER

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.

Grieve.


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,

Choreographed,

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.



WHO I AM NOVEMBER 23 2008

We.

I.

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 NOV 24 2008

Grapevines,

Twining ,

Shaped for years around each other,

Supporting, mirroring, touching , caressing.

Inseparable --

My soul remains enlaced with yours.



WONDERLAND NOV 24 2008


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.

Left.



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!

Sadness.

Tasks.

Changes.

Worries.

Weariness.

Missing you!

Tears.

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.


LETDOWN DECEMBER 10 2008

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 DECEMBER 10 2008

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.



ATTACHMENT DECEMBER 10 2008

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 .



DREAM TRIP DECEMBER 12 2008

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 --

Undeliverable.


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.

Nothing.

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.

Opposites.

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.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Endings and Beginnings

Graduating October 24 2010


I sat in church this morning – the church I’d felt I had to leave

To fully live within my changing life.

I haven’t been there for a bit.

Both the ministers are leaving.

This was their last day

Before they move along on their respective paths

To find whatever’s next.

I sat among my old church family,

The teardrops flowing.

I hate good-byes!

It was like a graduation – an important ending --

Doors closing so we can’t turn backwards.

Once a door shuts, there’s no choice but to go on,

To find an open one

Where beckons new unfolding,

Shepherding us closer yet to Love and Light,

Bringing greater joy and satisfaction.

Like new graduates, we’ve done the course,

Learned the lessons,

Received diplomas.

No matter how it’s felt, we’ve found success.

We exit, wandering scholars in this course called “life.”

Reflection

Today reminded me of other “graduations” – not the academic ones that have added worldly initials after my name, but the ones whose hard lessons have solidified for me essential new insights on the way to discovering what life is really about – learning all the different ways in which my ego is an obstacle to joy, an illusion obstructing the Truth of infinite life and love. From entering the convent at 16, through being kicked out at 19, learning to live in a different country, deciding to return to my homeland, getting married, becoming a mother, developing a professional career, losing my job, becoming ill, having my daughter leave the nest, leaving my next job and my marriage simultaneously, becoming a homeopath, living and then losing my partnership with Ellen, and now, starting a new relationship, shifting into new communities, and studying for yet another professional role – each beginning and each ending has brought new challenges, new joys, new sorrows, new insights, and, finally, new endings and beginnings. Beginnings and endings seem essential aspects of this earthly life, which can be seen as a series of learning opportunities. At each one, I feel sadness, then curiosity and excitement, and finally the joy of discovering my new place and new ways of being. May everyone who shared today participate in these joyful outcomes as they leave behind what has been.

I wrote the following poem at the ending/ beginning that occurred almost two years ago, after Ellen had died, and I was submerged in deep mourning. It was another difficult moment of graduation.

New Year’s Eve December 31 2008

I’m watching “Live from Lincoln Center”:

They’re interviewing Loren Maazel.

Maestro Maazel observes, about his retirement,

“Life is all about Beginnings and Endings.”

This New Year’s Eve marks the end --

The last hours

Of the last year I shared with Ellen.

And it signals a beginning –

The first moments

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

My graduation from a course in love, with Ellen as my teacher,

Ushers in my soul’s time now to unfurl and soar, alone.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Late Evening

Late Evening October 21 2010


The sun long gone,

I look outside in pale moon glow,

Cool and clear this autumn eve.

My mind is quiet, lids begin to sag,

The dogs are snoozing at my feet.

I reflect upon this day.

From morning’s struggle to awake,

It blasted off, sweeping me along, entrained

In its breathless rhythm of events –

Meeting, erranding, phoning, working, eating, smiling love.

I feel glad that now,

My breathing slowed to match the gentle canine snores,

I can pause to be, to smile, to pray, to thank –

To feel the joy of living on this splendid earth

And vibrate to the pulse of loving in the great Divine.

Reflection

All of life is vibration – pulsing, moving, changing, harmonizing or maybe clashing. I saw a documentary the other evening, and have been processing it since then. It discussed the role of language in our perceptions of reality. Our Indo- European languages sit atop nouns and their relation to other nouns – people, places, things. Other languages, such as those of some Native Americans express the actions, states, and layers of experiencing. In these languages, the constant multi-dimensional movement of existence stands foremost. Instead of person, time and space, these languages express many other dimensions such as agency, relationship, sequence, rhythms, patterns. They mainly use verbs, juxtaposing and linking them through grammar

. As I was watching the video, I was contemplating the still life of carefully arranged and balanced books arranged on the shelves above the television set. It was an exquisite composition of delicately chosen objects. I was trying to envision not the objects themselves but their whirling molecules, influenced by all those who had made, read, possessed, or moved them at any time and constantly interchanging, repulsing, and merging with each other. It presented a real challenge, because my mind is conditioned -- by my acculturation into an Indo-European language -- to see stasis and objective reality . Both nouns and verbs, of course, possess validity. They just present opposing ways of experiencing life.

 In writing this poem, I tried to “verb” as much as possible – to create an impression, to the extent that I could -- of the perpetual motion that we and our surroundings represent at a non-physical level of existence – the soul-realm.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Feral Moment

Autumn Night October 15 2010



Who Who Who WHO WHO who WHO!!!

I own the night!

Wake up and listen.

Feel your feral self –

That wild sense of domination or of fear.

Through the still dark air

I call out – clear clarion of nature --

Beckoning to your untamed self –

Come reclaim your unity with all.


Reflection:

At 2 am, the barred owl called, its voice resounding from all directions. I bolted up, wondering what it was. So loud and clear, could it possibly be an owl? The dog leapt out of bed, and started barking wildly, demanding to go outside. Once out there, in sentinel pose, she barked unceasingly, no longer aware of me trying to shush her lest she wake the neighbors. Bred of 3,000 years of human companionship, she had suddenly become a wild canid, all senses tuned to the call of nature, participating fully in the wild, within her fenced back yard. A thrill ran through my veins as I too felt the wonder of this disembodied voice commanding my awakening. Will the Angel Gabriel’s horn at the end of time feel so electrifying?