Lying in bed, kitties afoot, and coffee in hand, life appears 'normal'. Then I look inward from that initial thought. I'm unsettled- not in an excessively unsettling way. What the f*ck is 'normal' anyway?
Our lives so full. Friendships from so long ago- these bonds can be so strong, even in the absence of sight decades or more. And then you don't realize the impact until they've departed this world. This is what I ponder this morning. Bittersweet. I love this word, bittersweet.
A typical American coming-of-age story, our gang was a silly bunch. High school drama was, for the most part, good-natured. As we turned into young adults and eager to fly the coop, we did just that.
He was so magnetic. His being just so deep, enlightening, absurd, easy-going. We managed to always keep in contact- generally two times a year, like a sort of sing-song, or 'tag-team, you're it'. Playful interaction. Always anticipated. Always delivered on. Commitment.
He was always about correspondence and tradition. One of the things I loved about his mind. This anthropological URGE to account for existence. This desire that drives one to take to ink, and later the electronic version. Details of existence, no matter how trivial, spill out onto the (virtual) parchment. Our human need to be significant in this universe that delights and then swallows us up.
December 2, February 2; two days that will live on in infamy, mostly because they represent our birthdays. Our 2 days from the Gregorian Calendar that have deep meaning; on these days we shared our written histories/herstories with each other. Playing catch-up. How to do it so eloquently, yet concisely. This challenge I love- always.
Life is such a beautiful decay. Why is it I nearly spill tears, berating myself for recently cleaning out my email inbox? What do I think seeing his words will bring to me? I already hold the experiences inside myself. Is it the physical element of our bodies/minds deteriorating in this physical process we call existence? Whatever it is, I am hoping to find a back-up on my external hard drive back in storage in America...
I'm numb, when I 'allow' myself to just sit and be- to embrace this numbness that heals. It is so heavy, until it isn't heavy anymore. This is life. We forget about death in life. Why would we dwell on it? Perhaps I dwell on it more as I've come to find a certain uncertainty on existence.
So much of my life has been looking at death. As an archaeologist, I can't even relay how fascinating every burial encountered was. I'm not going to get into an ethical conversation about details of excavating burials as I've no mood for politics today. Simply, seeing, feeling energies and sensing things through my work in these endeavors has given me some insights that help me to process death- the physical reality of death. That's all. On a spiritual realm, though, I can't so easily weave together words cohesively.
He is gone. Our group, our collective experience within all the subgroups, etc. we all mourn his passing with shock, awe, and universal love. Heart-broken because nothing has changed; once again I am confronted with the reality of our impermanence. Hearts mend.
He had some 'trail angels' along the way who were with him through the entire process. That's some incredible power right there- those experiences. I look forward to these oral histories next time I am in their presence. You see, that is how existence continues. That is food for our souls.
I wrote a letter to him, as was suggested by one of the trail angels. I am told it was read, laughter was shared, and a few hours later, transition to the ultimate journey was under way. My last sentence:
On the other hand, you are an eternal light in my life. Get a hold of me sometime- somehow.
At 4 AM May 17 Istanbul time I suddenly woke up. On the other side of the globe, at the same time (6 PM May 16), he had made the journey. Life can seem beautiful in this way, if you believe.