perspective

If you've read my last post you can imagine that I have spent the afternoon somewhat upset. Somewhere in my psyche I got the idea to call Mrs. Pandammy, and to go for a dog-walk, in spite of the fact that it was pouring, positively pouring rain.

"I need a girlfriend moment," I said. It's all I needed to say. But before I had a chance to say even that, she told me about all the wonderful, joyous and fulfilling things that have happened to her of late. Some of them involve her community, and some of them involve important relationships. I am really thrilled for her, and almost hesitated to ask for her company so she could listen to me kvetch.

So off we went to the beach with the dogs. I told her the story that has led to my outrage, disappointment, and deep sadness. My voice was constricted with sobs. Even I was surprised at how outraged I was. She listened intently and offered up whatever advice she could about not engaging in other people's shameful activities. And then she told me some more of the wonderful things that have happened for her, the loving turns of events at home, and hearing those things helped me crawl out of my "ugly place."

Then she pressed something into my hand; it was a gift, she said, from her husband. It was a large globe of pyrite. She told me that Danny had heard something in my voice when I called, and wanted me to have this bauble as a reminder that there are lovely shiny things all around me.

A wave of emotions swept over me. I remembered that just yesterday someone had posed a query: define reality. In response to this I answered, "It's the whole catastrophe." And here I was, in the midst of the entire catastrophe indeed, feeling wounded and ashamed and blessed and wealthy and bereft and beaten and whole. All at once.

It was too much. I sank to my knees at the edge of the surf. Unable to speak, I could only stare at the wet sand through my tears while my heart let loose with choked sobs of wonderment. Whenever I need to be reminded, spirit usually hits me hard. And this is it: this is the full measure of life if we choose it, with the dizzying heights of delight, the desperate pits of anguish, and everything in between. It is love and scorn and strength and weakness and peace and strife. It is all these things. I knew this when I was a kid. Even then, I was sure that the reason my heart sometimes hurt so much was because I was "gifted" with the ability to feel things deeply, that love would be as exquisite as despair would be painful, and that there would always be both.

I wouldn't have traded my heart then, and I certainly won't now.

I honor the Pandammys for being fearless friends. I honor the land here, and the water and the eagles and otters, Oregon grape and Douglas fir and the rufuous hummingbirds for presenting their beauty to me every day. I honor spirit for reminding me today, in spite of the snotty nose and soaked-to-the-skin result of the walk.

Mrs. P. thought I was overcome with sadness as I knelt there on the beach. She put her hand on my shoulder and tried to console me. But I was praying, the only prayer I really know, and the only one that makes any sort of sense whatsoever.

"Dear God, whose name I do not know - thank you for my life. I forgot how BIG... thank you. Thank you for my life. "