Life and death in a small town

Big Sur has been full of death and life. Our vibrant spring blooming everywhere has been tempered with sadness. Our postman, Mike, hung himself on Thursday. Ric Masten, a local and international artist/ poet/ storyteller/ undefinable life commentator passed away peacefully at his home on Friday. My friend Ronnie killed himself last month. And there have been other deaths – people I didn’t know personally but touched many here.

It occurs to me, that the enormity of the population of this world – the sheer number of people on the earth that at one moment will have me feeling entirely insignificant – will, at another moment, nurse me out of my missing any one person too much. For every person we have contact with, we are touched uniquely and permanently. The precise constellation is irreplaceable. So is the form. But the touching, the inspiration, contact that I receive is formless and entirely replaceable. When you aren’t here, someone else is. Your space gives room for another to arrive. And whoever I come in contact with helps me better know myself, and life.

For me knowing this takes the edge off – replacing the hopelessness with freedom. I can’t criticize myself without feeling the relief of my insignificance. I can’t pull the hope out of my despair.

I miss everyone that is gone. And when I start missing too much, something knocks me on the head and reminds me that what I’m really longing for is still available. The best of us is in everyone. And everyone does their best.

Thank you for your inspiration Ric:
http://ACMCTV.blip.tv/file/555368

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1 Comment

Filed under life, writing

One response to “Life and death in a small town

  1. feeless free writer

    you leave the nicest comments.

    i’ve read this entry twice and neither time have known what to say. deaths of people i care about scare the crap out of me (not harnessing the power of now, i know.). i think grief is a horrible horrible horrible draining emotion. my very least favorite of all emotions. i would prefer stark raving lunacy over grief. unbridled rage is even better. intense jealousy and regret.

    but i think it must be kind of like my distaste for yoga. i don’t like yoga. i think because it’s hard. i find it harder than running and boxing and weight lifting. but i also think that it’s probably the one that’s most “fertile,” (spiritual, psychological, physical benefits) and maybe that’s why it’s so hard.

    and so of all the emotions, i think grief is the hardest, probably because it’s the most fertile.

    the other thing i thought when i read your entry here is immediately a little …woah… about the fact that i just named a character ronnie in one of my free writes.

    i’m really liking tolle and am very thankful for the recommendation. at this moment, the sun looks spectacular on the green of the grass. the morning is noisy with birds and cars. my dog’s tags just clinked on the wood floor. she sighed. and i am all abuzz.

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