Goodbye.

Ever since my uncle Chuck left this earth, I've thought a lot about goodbyes.  I often think about what an end means.  Temporary or permanent.  I think about ends that we know are coming, and ends that are abrupt.  If you've followed me here then you know "Life of Pi" is something I reference often.  You might be sick of it, but it's always playing in me.  Still teaching me.

“What a terrible thing it is to botch a farewell. I am a person who believes in form, in the harmony of order. Where we can, we must give things a meaningful shape. For example - I wonder - could you tell my jumbled story in exactly one hundred chapters, not one more, not one less? I'll tell you, that's one thing I have about my nickname, the way the number runs on forever. It's important in life to conclude things properly. Only then can you let go. Otherwise you are left with words you should have said but never did, and your heart is heavy with remorse. That bungled goodbye hurts me to this day. I wish so much that I'd had one last look at him in the lifeboat, that I'd provoked him a little, so that I was on his mind. I wish I had said to him then - yes, I know, to a tiger, but still - I wish I had said, "Richard Parker, it's over. We have survived. Can you believe it? I owe you more gratitude than I can express I couldn't have done it without you. I would like to say it formally: Richard Parker, thank you. Thank you for saving my life. And now go where you must. You have known the confined freedom of a zoo most of your life; now you will know the free confinement of a jungle. I wish you all the best with it. Watch out for Man. He is not your friend. But I hope you will remember me as a friend. I will never forget you , that is certain. You will always be with me, in my heart. What is that hiss? Ah, our boat has touched sand. So farewell, Richard Parker, farewell. God be with you.”

I want closure with things.  With experiences.  With people.  But not just closure, a beautiful closure.  I want to give everything in my life a meaningful shape.  

I've been thinking about something for days.  I am so full of emotion over it.  "Former love surprises artist at her MoMa retrospective after decades apart."   While the video portion is quite something to see (the way he shakes his head is everything) there is something in the very brief explanation that's stuck with me: "When their relationship had come to an end, they went to the Great Wall of China to walk it together.  Both started walking from the opposite end until they met in the middle for one last big hug before disappearing from each other's lives." My visceral reaction to that is so intense, I can't think about it without wanting to sob.  Without feeling a heaviness that threatens to take me over.  Could you imagine? Could you even imagine?!

I want this.  I want it with everyone who's ever been in my life that isn't any more.  Friends, former lovers, Chuck, my Grandpa.  

To all of those who's souls are no longer in line with mine, but once were, I want that walk with you.  I want to reflect as I walk, and gain sacred clarity.  How private.  How intense.  I want to take the time, moving forward in my thoughts and in time until we meet and all that is unsaid is only felt, and exchanged through that embrace.  Oh, it must be long.  And when the end (though I can't imagine how you know it's time) reveals itself and it's time to let go, you both continue with forward momentum and a heartbreakingly beautiful goodbye.  A meaningful shape.  

I want it.  Every time.  

You from my past, you from my future.  

I want to meet you all there.  

Make Room

I planned to do some kind of year in review blog, but I'm not sure how to approach that one this time.  I was a word alchemist this year more than ever.  At least publicly.  I translated my guts to the page time and time again.  Many of those times I felt as though something else was speaking through me.  How do I fit eternity into one post by a certain date? What I can best say about my journey of 2012 has already been said.  By Rumi, of course.

“Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place.”
~Rumi 

That says it all, but here's my attempt at a bit more:

This was the year.
This was the year I saw death.
It racked my bones and broke them to dust.

I said goodbye.  Loss ran rampant over me more times than you'd believe,
even if I told you about each and every one of them, The Losses.
At times so big, so shatteringly big, I am in awe of my survival.

My heart broke.
Again.  And again.  And again.  Ba boom! 
I got a new tattoo.
I am.  I am.  I am.  Ba boom! 
It was the worst summer of my life.
It was the summer of animals.
It was the summer of running.  Anything to keep moving.

This was the year my limits were lifted.
I saw my confinements clearly.  The invisible labels and restraints only I had placed.
I saw them lift.  Like a shutter, up they snapped and dissipated.
The one great gift death and death alone can bring.
There he laid, there I sat.  There they went. 
This was the year I saw with my own eyes we are not our physical bodies.
I am not my weight, my height, my hair, my age.
I am all, and all is me, and always has been, and always will be.  
I am enough, and you are, too.  You are another me, I am another you.

This was the year of the soul.
The only thing I'm now sure of.
My eyes deceive me, my body betrays me, but my soul...
My soul has never led me astray.
I was let out, I transcended.  I saw heaven.

Psychosomatic as it may be,
I experienced my Uncle's sickness for months when he left.
My heart hurt and my hands went numb for my Grandpa when he was gone.
My imagined fear let out, I went on a six week artistic sabbatical.
I gathered up all I could to add to my Big Life.
To expand myself and bring it back to keep.

This was the year of The Winter's Tale.  A sad tale was best for winter.
Hermione found me and gave me the ultimate healing,
and Shakespeares words patched me back together.

Death came a second time.  Nobody told me how greedy Death is. 
The rug pulled out from under me and all my comfort shattered once again.
I spiraled in when it should have been out (but deep down this time I knew better),
and so I saved myself one sunday night.
Promising myself that even though people always leave me on the weekend,
Monday I can chose to come back to life and throw myself even deeper into the opposite of fear.

I will chose.
I will chose to give my moments Meaningful Shape.
I choose the better story.

I will respond to you, soul.  To the call from the stars.
To the Athena's before me, and Comsic Alchemists who follow,
I will pave your way with a golden story in which you'll remember you're not alone.
You've been here before, and will be again.

There is only hope.
There is only forward.
And I am free.


Tweet me: @DeenaMarie