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: