Thank you Blair. In the Bible the theme of dying and rising to new life is weaved throughout. Thank you for bringing this idea and experience and wrestling with it in your life and wrestling with language to share that with us. It makes it real and challenges me to look and listen for what is happening in my life.
Dying and rising. And, falling. And, rising. Wrestling words. Sometimes, wrestling life. Wrestling it all. Some days, just lying down in it all. Thank you for sharing too, Friend.
Reading this lead to a mountain of emotions. Heartbreak, fear, hope, bewilderment, and amazement. It’s easy to imagine dying. Suddenly you’re breathing, eating, laughing… darkness. Maybe feelings of peace, joy, nothingness, light, dark, harmonies, etc. As easy of a mental picture as that is to draw and walk through. My head and heart are still spinning thinking about your words, “I had to die everyday just to be born anew. Again and again and again.” Dying once I can imagine. Dying and being reborn everyday I cannot fathom.
Thank you for writing such a gut wrenching, beautiful piece.
My God, what a piece. Thank you for sharing this with the world. I'm so sorry for your loss, and so grateful for your words. Proud of you for becoming the person to meet her, and climb her. Proud is the wrong word. Mudita. Sanskrit. It means sympathetic joy.
“I sat across from her, stayed open, dissolved parts of myself that prevent me from seeing, feeling, what is always there. I sat bare in front of her and asked nothing. Inhale. Exhale.”
To trust your most wide-open being to her like that, is so brave and beautiful.
Gulp. Thank you for the courage to write. I am a writer, yet, I have still to write of tragedy ... all I can come up with is ... "I remember it was raining." Some day, perhaps, and with tears, it will all come.
Thank you Blair. In the Bible the theme of dying and rising to new life is weaved throughout. Thank you for bringing this idea and experience and wrestling with it in your life and wrestling with language to share that with us. It makes it real and challenges me to look and listen for what is happening in my life.
Dying and rising. And, falling. And, rising. Wrestling words. Sometimes, wrestling life. Wrestling it all. Some days, just lying down in it all. Thank you for sharing too, Friend.
Blair,
Reading this lead to a mountain of emotions. Heartbreak, fear, hope, bewilderment, and amazement. It’s easy to imagine dying. Suddenly you’re breathing, eating, laughing… darkness. Maybe feelings of peace, joy, nothingness, light, dark, harmonies, etc. As easy of a mental picture as that is to draw and walk through. My head and heart are still spinning thinking about your words, “I had to die everyday just to be born anew. Again and again and again.” Dying once I can imagine. Dying and being reborn everyday I cannot fathom.
Thank you for writing such a gut wrenching, beautiful piece.
Thank you for reading, feeling, and sharing back. All the time and heartstrings that takes. Thank you, Charlie. 🫀🙏🏼
My God, what a piece. Thank you for sharing this with the world. I'm so sorry for your loss, and so grateful for your words. Proud of you for becoming the person to meet her, and climb her. Proud is the wrong word. Mudita. Sanskrit. It means sympathetic joy.
Language is as strange a thing as life. Cheers.
Thank you. Language is as strange as life. Mudita - I love that. 🫀
Gosh this is rich. Thanks, Blair.
Thank you, John. Always.
Thank You..with love.
🫀
This is so powerful:
“I sat across from her, stayed open, dissolved parts of myself that prevent me from seeing, feeling, what is always there. I sat bare in front of her and asked nothing. Inhale. Exhale.”
To trust your most wide-open being to her like that, is so brave and beautiful.
Thank you my brave and beautiful friend. Here we are. 🌲🫀🌌🏔️🧬
For many reasons, this is exactly what I needed to read today. Thank you, Blair.
Mark let me know. Safe travels. A special and hard journey. So much love to you. 🫀
Gulp. Thank you for the courage to write. I am a writer, yet, I have still to write of tragedy ... all I can come up with is ... "I remember it was raining." Some day, perhaps, and with tears, it will all come.