One does not love a place the less for having suffered in it, unless it has been all suffering, nothing but suffering -- Jane Austen, novelist (1775-1817)
Some of the most painful days of my life were spent at the ocean or in my own home, including my childhood home as well as the place Richard and I lived for about five months after his return from Vietnam, and other places that I called home, the last of which is this place I have called home since October of 1984.
Jane Austen's quote opened up something in me -- the realization that even when my perception was that I was experiencing nothing but suffering, it was in contrast to having previously experienced transcendent joy.
Richard has never been far from my thoughts since we met as 17 year olds. If we had had a traditional marriage and a long life together, today would have been our 44th anniversary.
In this moment, though, I can feel something shifting in connection with the suffering I experienced in relationship to him. The suffering is in the past. There is an unexpected opening for joy in its place in the present, born of that timeless transcendent joy I experienced so long ago when I first met Richard.
My experience is that one does not love a person the less for having suffered in connection with that person's alcoholism, drug addiction, or mental illness.
All suffering, nothing but suffering. All joy, nothing but joy. I can remember experiencing moments of both with Richard. Without our joy, our suffering would have had no context. Without our suffering, our joy would have had no context.
In recent years, I have met others who have suffered in ways I can't even imagine, and yet they speak of the joy in their lives as well as the suffering.
The film clip ends in the place in my living room where I practice the asanas. For me, yoga is where joy and suffering meet in a place of love.
Did you hear birds outside, Oboe's voice, the sound of the electric fan in the kitchen, and the sound of the clock ticking? It wasn't until the third time I watched the clip, that saw I Oboe!
Now I am reminded of an old post of mine, "Like a rolling koan," and William Blake came to mind:
"Man was made for joy and woe
Then when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine
A clothing for the soul to bind."
(William Blake)
and this, which was playing on the radio in my VW in July of 1968:
We were married on a Tuesday afternoon, a few minutes walk from this section of Miramar Beach, California. Half of Richard's ashes were scattered by his brother not far from this place where we met as 17 year olds:
Photo credit: Ana Preza
As Leonard Cohen observed, many loved before us. Many will love after us. Love is a story that keeps unfolding through the generations.
For my 63rd birthday in October, I'm looking into a visit at Ghost Ranch in New Mexico, the place where Georgia O'Keeffe first stayed for a month in 1934 when she was 47 years old. She moved to New Mexico when she was 62 years old. That was in 1949, the year I was born. She lived in New Mexico for 37 years until her death at 98 years old.
Georgia O'Keeffe said, "When I think of death, I only regret that I will not be able to see this beautiful country anymore ... unless the Indians are right and my spirit will walk here after I'm gone."
Where will your spirit walk?
"... what is your Original Face?" (Eno, Sixth Patriarch of Zen)
(Today I can't seem to figure out how to get the fonts and font sizes to match. Perseverance furthers.)
