adar aleph. new month. new moon. end of venus in retrograde. new chinese new year. whew.
sunday was my grandmother's yahrtzeit (anniversary of her death) - one year, and a week from yesterday will be my mother's yahrtzeit - four years. we had the unveiling for my grandmother and then immediately went to my mom's matzevah (stone/marker). so much laughter, so many tears. i'm in this and feeling it all. and it feels good. it was a beautiful day.
and it also feels like just the beginning of the whole month. which is a fact, and also a strong feeling running through me. openness to the unknown/uncertainty of how i might feel at any moment. i am grateful for the space - this space and all the spaces you all provide.
sharing:
1) simone read the quote below from an article about daniel pearl by Asra Q. Nomani(12 years since he was killed - i honestly haven't found the right moment to read the whole article...), and the quote just important to share. that part i underlined blew me away...
“What is grief?” I recently asked psychologist Steven Stosny, posing the obvious question I’d avoided for so long.
“It’s an expression of love,” he told me. “When you grieve, you allow yourself to love again.”
2) i read this poem yesterday, which came to me through the inspiration exchange from a stranger (a friend of a friend, but stilll.... amazing, huh?). it really made me think of my mama.
I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear
of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
more accessible;
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.
of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
more accessible;
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.
-Dawn Markova-
What Is It That You Were Given?
by em claire
What is it that you were given?
I mean from the loss.
After, what was taken.
That very thing, you could never live without.
The person or place;
the secret, or circumstance —
now that it is gone,
or has been found out,
and you can no longer call it foundation
what is it that you were given?
You know, and I know, this:
there is a hollowing out.
Something comes and opens you up
right
down
the
middle
and from that moment on
you are no longer immune to this world.
You wake, you wander,
every familiar, now a foreign.
You walk as through water
until you make it back to your bed
and finally, even there—
your sheets; your own pillow's scent different,
as if daily someone repaints your room, displaces something,
disturbs a cherished memento.
You see,
sometimes we are emptied.
We are emptied
because
Life wants us to know
so
much
more
Light.
4) i'm not trying to "balance" this with anything. again, grateful for a space where i don't need to apologize for my grief. and, i did re-watch the video about Caine's Arcade last night. affirming of life. always feels good to affirm life. and creativity and imagination and hope.
with infinite love, and hugs to all,
einat
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