Well, perhaps delay is a wholly inadequate term to describe the vast gap — nearly a year — since my last musings found their way to this milieu. My deepest apologies.
Hibernation might better enunciate the circumstances of my silence. Certainly for much of the past quartet of seasons I've experienced a predominating emotional atmosphere both surreal and taxing, an environment heavily laced with unpredictability, acute setbacks, mirages masquerading as oases, and myriad moments of confusion, pessimism, self-doubt, self-recrimination and, it must be said, despair.
Yet, as these keystrokes evince, I persevere.
Key to my continued presence — voluntary inhabitation among the assembled species upon our celestial marble — has been, and continues to be, this axiom:
All things pass.
All things.
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Caveat Emptor: what follows will likely have a paucity of sunshine and kittens. It will be real, however. And, in the end, optimistic.
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In the course of the past six weeks or so two friends have departed this mortal coil (Starr and Ed); another has been diagnosed with a particularly ugly disease (ALS) which relentlessly extracts its daily quota of stamina and mobility from him; another comrade in arms is increasingly frail, now blind and evaporating under the burden of respiratory failure. So too, an intimate and his wife are both suffering from severe physical afflictions; their prognoses are not bright.
Less physically insulting while acutely emotionally potent is the grief, regret, confusion and loss (among a kaleidoscope of other feelings) other friends are experiencing by the sharp, jagged shards of difficult relationships and terminal marriages (a special species of death).
Yet let's not be oblivious to other trajectories, leading to landscapes of radiant joy, optimism, and mutually shared pleasures.
To wit: one good friend and work colleague — quiet, unflappable, stolid and infused with a beautifully quirky, droll wit — recently threw off the shackles of Career and crossed over into that (for me) mythical Land of Retirement; immediately on the heels of this transition came the disclosure of another mentor/co-worker's having started his active countdown to the same release into freedom.
Still another sweet soul, a member of my Monday meditation sangha and former fellow library denizen, gave me the news that she and her husband shall pack up and leave the Bay Area — the fact that this bittersweet altering of my (and their) social landscape will not be manifest for another two years does not provide great comfort. (Who else can I find to converse with in French, as horrid as mine is?)
Even so: the Sun also rises . . .
My kid sister recently graduated*** from a prestigious East Coast university with a Master's Degree and I could not possibly be any happier nor more proud of her! (***Well, close to a year ago now, but let's not quibble: it's been just as long since I last gave this forum my attention.) Many of my closest friends are thriving both professionally and in their family lives. My dearest, longest friendships (sweet Rose, wise Nino, droll and steady Big John, and a plentiful host of others) continue to be solid, uplifting, encouraging, supportive and above all deeply, maturely loving, even as our individual circumstances change in place and time.
Jerry. Vernon. Ben. Bryan (he of the Tanner Experience [another time, dear reader]). Mike. Cheyenne. Bill. Greg. Barnaby. Micah. Altaful. Mr Sloan. Mr York. Steve G. Dave (of MLK). Eric. Mr O'Brien. Kenneth. Harry. Mr Baumann. Mark V. Michael. Sal (he of 99 years!). Mr Ahern. Jack. James (the Man in Black). Jeff (our beloved sangha founder). Pankaj (representing the Asian subcontinent). Paul. Mr Corteway (Zombie Apocalypse vanguard) . . .
And the occasional, spontaneous visitor, James: a beautiful soul who simply showed up at my office door a few years back, looking for the former occupant . . . I invited him in to sit a spell, and from that chat a sweet friendship has evolved (bonus points: he is a painter, as was my father).
Once a loner, today my circle of Men is large, rich, sustaining, vital and the font of immense wisdom.
And, blessedly, my life's canvas is enriched by powerful, nurturing, creative and magical women, in number. Another day, that topic.
Naturally over the years the cast of characters has changed to some degree; such is the inescapable, essential characteristic and agenda of Life. The core group, however, has been ever present, granite in solidarity, and a substantial, essential component of my life's foundation.
Dear reader. as I strive to regain my footing in this specific milieu I am at this very minute (4:02 a.m.) listening to Lou Reed (a beautiful, beautiful artist of far, far more importance and sweeping influence of which most have nary a scant inkling) on my iPod singing, Oh! Sweet Nuthin'. There could hardly be a more apropos message given my perceived circumstances, and the travails over the past 18 months or so.
Here it is then:
ALL IS CHANGE.
Yearning for self-inflicted pain?
Indulge in the pursuit of attachments. Relentlessly strive to get what you crave (rather than relish and appreciate what is).
Fiercely guard what you have lest, god forbid, it should change (oh, and it will, regardless, as so shall you — largely obliviously, moment by moment).
Above all: Resist the natural order of the real world, which is incessantly in flux, gloriously and emphatically altering The Equation at every instant of existence . . .
Oh, my, what a blessing that is.
For much of my life I operated as a loner. Turned utterly inward, unconscious to the depth of my own Fear of Living, terrified of engaging in the myriad aspects of beauty and profound mystery in which All That Is resides and habituates. I am pleased, and relieved, to report that such is no longer the case, at least not as my default, unwavering modus operandi. Of course, I still have my moments.
On those days when I indulge (yes) in Self-Pity, deluding myself that some aspect of my existence is deficient and paucity is my secret (or not so) burden, I'm utterly, woefully disconnected from the inexpressible depth of bounty which permeates every moment of my quite human journey. To the degree that I find myself engaged in the non-starter notion of Getting My Way, Keeping Things Like This (or THAT), and blah blah blah, just so do I suffer in direct proportion.
A moment's pause then.
Join me in considering, at depth, just how rich and resplendent is the tapestry of life: yours, mine, and All That Is.
Oh, and this: please remind me again and again to pause — to connect with Reality, Life on Life's Terms, rather than remain mired in delusion and fantasy.
For like you, I again shall fall asleep and toil under the spell of my own proclivity to Attach, soon enough.
Thus the journey continues. Someday, perhaps, at least a glimmer of bodhi.
Namaste.
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Listening, Listening . . . (#DSF-1242);
© 2016 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.
(click image for full-sized version)
Details: March 23, 2016, Fujifilm X100T; f/8 @ 1/4000 sec; ±0 EV; ISO 800;
Fujinon 23mm f/2 ASPH lens
