My cherubs:
What can one say? The rain it comes. The bad news, it comes. But you have to keep on with the hope thing. Well, perhaps you don't have to, but it's advisable that you do.
Personally, I'm not sure to whom I'm talking when I send my thoughts elsewhere you know what I mean?
There's a wonderful book by Michael Shertlove called "Audition" in which he states that when actors ask questions of nobody, they are speaking to "he/she who must have all the answers".
So I am speaking to he/she who must have all the answers. You cast eyes upwards and do the best you can. I'm not exactly sure why you cast your eyes upwards, but I think one must to be sincere you see. At least that's the tradition.
Mostly, I want to hold my friend's hand and try to share the pain. Mostly, I am not in a position to do this. I'm working, or mothering, or exwifing, or roommateing, or something that causes me not to be in a position to be helpful. I try to remember during these times that this is not about me. This is about my friend. But still the guilt cuts deeply.
There is a painful but deeply real poem written by Robert Frost called "Out Out--" in which the last line is "And they, since they were not the one dead, turned to their affairs".
Sometimes, you are too close to things to write. And sometimes, you are too far away. But still one must hope.
Because after the worst happens, we will turn to our affairs. Because that's all we can do. We really have no other choice. We cannot go on and on about things that cannot be changed. I reach out as best I can and then, when the shit hits the fan, you just swallow, hug, weep, write poems, write blog entrys and wonder to yourself why, oh why does this shit happen?
Ah, this we wonder. Why? I do not expect to receive an answer. But hope, hope is eternal, ubitquitous, and present in our lives to keep us from attempting to end our lives in utter despair over that which cannot be changed.
She/he who must have the answers. Speak up, speak up dammit! I'm listening!
Bless you all cherubs most dear to me. M.
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I'm not much of a talker, as you know Margaret, but I've always been a great listener . . .and, yes, I read your blog and many things have changed in the past few years since I saw you. I wish you the best. I wish I had something more important to say, but you'll come through all this shit!!
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed and respect your reflections. I guess that's what living is all about...delighting in the many wonderful things, fretting about the bad. But the tide keeps turning, and somehow we clamour through the tough spots until things turn our way again. Waxing and waning...seasonal changes...a lot of good peppered with some difficulties to make us appreciate the good!
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