I’ve rewritten this post from a year ago so I could share it with you today.
When Great Trees Fall
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.”
― Maya Angelou
Memorial Day, 2018, is in the history books.
This holiday represents a time for us to remember all of those we have lost–not only those lost in service to our country.
Which means this could be a very hard time for some–observing a holiday that is set aside to honor loss.
For some, the losses are new and agonizingly raw, leaving those who mourn exhausted. It’s tiring–trying to understand what’s happened while searching for ways to move on with your life–a life that now seems so oddly empty–now feeling as confused and unsettled as it used to feel safe and secure.
Or, perhaps those losses are not new. Maybe yesterday was the first Memorial Day you gave yourself the space and time to fully grieve an old loss. I’m learning what was not fully grieved will follow you until you let your armor fall and address it. I’m learning it takes time to strip away all those different layers of disguises used over the years–decades of stuffing it down in order to keep “it” hidden from myself and all those around me. Some of that grief has been under wraps for over fifty years–I’m beginning to understand that it’s going to take time to reach the core of it all.
I’ve learned by telling and sharing my stories I am not alone on this journey to self. It’s days like yesterday–Memorial Day–that agitate and pick away at those fragile patches I’ve precariously constructed over the broken places in my heart. I imagine I am not the only one who stayed very busy yesterday.
As I’ve become more aware of myself, I’ve learned to be careful when I meet and talk with people–old friends or new. I am more open and observant of what is said and more importantly–what is not said. We are all carrying stuff around with us–and there are days when that baggage gets mighty heavy.
I’ve come to recognize kindness and I am so thankful to all those who have blessed me with their kindness.
Now–at this point in my life–my goal–my intention–is to be kind.
Why not join me–filling our world with little acts of kindness. A compliment here and there–a small act that costs nothing but could make all the difference in the world to someone.
I am…
B…simply being…
May God bless you.
~Peace~
B...simply being... 