I would take this tea bag exhortation much farther than just for socializing. But that’s just me.
After sitting for meditation and writing in my journal this morning, I went out in the garden in my slippers to see what opened after yesterday’s juicy rains. My journal-writing is feeling lonely because that was one of the times Becky (and Henrietta before her) and I always sat together. Once I was in the garden, though, my heart lightened. The beans and snow peas I planted a couple of weeks ago finally have started germinating. Some of the seedlings I planted on Saturday have already doubled in size. There are a few buds on the peppers that were not there Sunday and twice as many leaves on the basil. The clematis seems to be a foot taller; is that possible? (The okra still has not germinated; will it ever appear? I do not know, not having tried okra from seed in a container in my yard before.)
Though, as my sister said to me on Sunday, I will always miss Becky and Henrietta, I appreciate that my grieving is in the time of renewal, new life, and expanding light, and that I can spend the morning time that I used to devote to Becky and Henrietta nurturing the garden and myself in the process.
In recent months, I have listened to the stories of a number of close friends and co-workers as they navigate the difficult process of saying their good-byes to the tangible, physical embodiment of a loved one and participating in the loved one’s own good-bye.
I find myself filled with memories of those I still love though the loved one is no longer embodied in the physical form in which I met them. For me and for those with whom I share my memories, they live on as such and. in greater and lesser amounts, in how I think, respond, and act to this day and beyond.
It was one of those days when it was hard to get home. I’d gone to the museum to see the Harry Callahan at 100 and then went out for tea in Georgetown with a friend. I stopped on my way home for some groceries. I got to the bus stop just as a bus was arriving, but with a big suburban SUV hogging the bus stop and the dark rainy night, the driver sailed past without stopping. He must have been really late and was taking advantage of a short break in traffic. I caught a taxi rather than wait in the cold rain for the next bus.
Traffic was completely still on K Street because of the police trying to clear out Occupy DC from McPherson Square and a number of streets were closed off to traffic, so the driver went to H Street, which was almost equally congested. Things started to move for a bit, but then there was then some issue with another big black SUV with suburban plates in Chinatown that had been pulled over by the police. This resulted in absolute tirade by the taxi driver as to why DC should not be allowed to be a state. I was having trouble explaining that Federal voting rights for citizens in the District had nothing to do with whether the cops could have pulled the car over better or faster so that it would less obstruct traffic. I gave up completely when he started in on how DC schools should be better than Maryland’s and Virginia’s because they had so much more tax revenue.
I remembered I had my camera in my pocket. I accepted the the meter was going to run unless I got out of the taxi in the rain (and then what was I going to do?) and enjoyed photographing the lights of the city at night. Sometimes, my camera really helps me accept whatever is and see the beauty in it.
Uh oh. Must be time for a puja to Kali in her aspect as the goddess of sequencing.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
