This morning I woke up thinking that my mourning days are over. Just like that! Am not quite sure just how long it is that I have been in mourning. Definitely a few years. There were blatantly obvious reasons for grief, like losing friends to cancer or my darling Molly over the summer, and giving up my job in Buffalo and moving to Philadelphia.
On a more psychological level, though, I have been bidding farewell to the old me, letting go of ancient pains, of the ties that bind. Realizing that holding onto my youth, old paradigms and especially grudges, I have been bound to the past, weighed down, wrapped up like a cocoon inside the inner child repeating familiar patterns over and over again.
This morning I woke up lighter somehow. Now I know you might be thinking that it is just something hormonal, a mood swing, or that I just had a good night's rest, a happy dream or something like that ... I thought that too for a moment ... but, no. I have noticed that this lightness of being has accompanied me for a few weeks now.
For instance, I love going to work lately. I look forward to the drive, enjoy talking with colleagues and love teaching. I am excited to be out on the circuit presenting, traveling, consulting once more. Have become passionate about critical thinking and education again as I collaborate on a new book project with a colleague of like mind. T and I seem to be talking a lot, working out differences in a lighter, more loving ... mature? ... way. And more than all that, I am sensing a feeling of joy threading softly, gently through it all.
My poor, old, sick, abused mind often sends signals of danger and sorrow to remind me where I come from. It makes me pay the price, niggles and teases me back down towards the abyss of victimization and shadowy pain. But just as I verge on falling in, something happens and I pull myself back and away, stepping out into the light, breathing a sigh of relief and, sometimes, even, smiling to myself.
I recall how Patti, our receptionist at the University at Buffalo Child Care Center would smile and say quietly, "It is going to be a good day," whenever she would hear me humming as I watered the plants. I have found myself humming a lot lately and, at times, even laugh out loud from a humorous thought.
If I would be seeing Bob the therapist today I might say, "Hey, Bob! I'm getting there. I'm being the most me I can be. Am shedding the fear, breaking away, letting go ..." I look over at the framed Martha Graham poem he gave me before I left Buffalo almost two years ago:
... You have to keep open and aware of urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open ...
"Hey Bob," I whisper to myself, "I'm getting there ..."
A year ago at Tamarika: The Good Body & Needy Meme
Good to hear from you again, Richard. Very, very good, in fact.
Posted by: tamarika | October 23, 2006 at 01:27 PM
How wonderful, Tamar, that as you become more conscious of mortality you also feel more joy in living! I'm 54 and just realizing for the first time that the two must be linked, that only when I look directly at the fact that I will die can I begin to live fully.
And I've been away from my friends' much-missed blogs for so long, I'd almost forgotten how much wisdom I find in them...
Posted by: Richard Lawrence Cohen | October 23, 2006 at 10:05 AM
Certainly "dad-gum" is a Southern expression. Consider it an expletive deleted term to be used in your more polite redneck/hillbilly circles. ;-)
Posted by: MaryB | October 18, 2006 at 09:42 AM
Tamar. I'm glad!
And I've never thanked you for the Martha Graham piece. I first came across it here and it resonated with me then. I have just re-read it and it is still just as powerful ....
Posted by: mary | October 18, 2006 at 02:23 AM
This was fun to read! The delight comes through each line. Good for you!
Mark
Posted by: Mark Daniels | October 17, 2006 at 09:23 PM