I’m not sure if it was the rainy day today that made me even more dreamy than usual or just the seemingly random events that occurred this morning. I read a woman’s post on Facebook that said she remembered her birth, that there were bright lights flashing in her face as she entered the world. I thought about this (and her) for most of the morning. Marveling that somebody remembers her own birth. I believe her. It’s just that I don’t think there are many people that remember their own births.
I’ve been tripping out on that more and more. How special each one of us is…and how really getting to know somebody (for me anyway) is like learning a new language. Sometimes like becoming an expert in a whole new species, surrendering preconceived notions and judgements.
I am driving on the road, past where the body of a young raccoon has been decomposing for a couple of days. I can smell it. But today I see another raccoon, a big one, dead on the other side of the road. “Oh no!” I exclaim. I wonder if they’re related, was this the already decomposing one’s Mama? My heart sinks as I touch my heart.
I have a vivid memory of riding in the backseat of my grandparents car. We passed a dead dog on the side of the highway. I was shocked to see it. I didn’t realize that this could happen. That dogs could get hit by cars and their bodies could lie by the side of the road, cars whizzing by. I spent the rest of the ride in silence, deeply saddened. That was a gray day too.
Early this morning the phone rang and I didn’t recognize the number but I answered it anyway. I rarely do that. “Is this the Grief Support Network?” he asks. “Well…not exactly”, I answer. Yes and no. The hotline still transfers over to my cell phone even though I haven’t worked there in 6 months. They don’t know how to fix it.
I start to go into a rambling explanation but then stop myself and ask if he is looking for support (sometimes it’s a sales person.) He is. He tells me what’s going on and I listen. He explains to me that he has plummed the inky depths and also connected to his brightest divine nature. “I can tell you get it,” he says. And I do. I am sitting at my computer in the darkness, having an intimate conversation with a “stranger”.
The older I get, the more I feel that each one of us speaks our own language and to really listen to somebody, to really get somebody, takes a certain amount of amazement and awe in humanity in general. What delicate and finely-tuned creatures we all are; senstive, unique, miraculous energy bodies that communicate on so many deep and subtle levels. Right now, for me, this is the best show in town. Peace and Love.
4 Replies to “Divinely Human”
What beautiful words and perspective to awaken to this morning. With gratitude. Edrea
You are amazing. I may have told you that I have come to consider the human body as one of the greatest miracles on Earth. I thought of that this afternoon while I was having a carotid-artery ultrasound, ordered by Dr. Ruffolo, during which I listened to the loudly amplified noise of my blood whooshing/pulsing through my neck. (Fortunately the technician, “Deb”, with a very large double chin under which I was positioned, had forewarned me that the sounds would change. When I remarked, “That last sounded like a dog that had been closed in the laundry room,” she didn’t find that as amusing as I did.) Linda Allison Haslach called this morning and was telling me about a ?Buddhist? practice that considers that the Mind IS the Body. She’s grappling with early Parkinson’s. Anyway, what appears to be your early-morning reflection about Divinely Human is beautiful, and must be a fruit of overdrive. Thinking of you. Sending love, as always, Maman >
I admire and love you dearly. You are such a good,pure, sensitive light being. Your joy for life is infectious. Keep sharing your love light in this world that desperately needs it!
Oh sweet friend. Thank you for your love and support. Thank you for sharing your love light so generously and tirelessly. I see you and feel seen. Sat Nam.