The light which puts out our eyes is darkness to us. Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star.
(Henry David Thoreau)
Today 24 years have passed since my mother's sudden and unexpected death from a massive heart attack when she was 78 years old. When I woke up and walked out to my porch to look into the darkness in hopes of seeing stars, I looked out on a thick fog. I don't mind when I wake up to fog because it tends to lift after dawn and precede an extraordinarily beautiful clear day. Of course I thought of robin andrea when I saw that there were crepuscular rays above the morning star as the fog lifted.
Early in the last year of her life, my mother said with great weariness, "I am so tired of being angry."
My relationship with my mother was difficult, more so in the last years of her life. My angry mother loved books, stars, art, writing, knitting, cooking, cheesecake, pistachios nuts, Chocolate Kisses, Mogen David wine, horses, lambs, sailing, Groucho Marx, Danny Kaye, Judaism, birds, watching figure skating, the sound of bagpipes, living by the ocean, stained glass, documentaries, Joan Baez (only after Joan became a mother), Carl Jung, and Bob Dylan's song "Ring Them Bells."
Today I am sharing an early morning photo and "Ring Them Bells" in honor of my no-longer-angry mother who loved stars, among other things. This version by Mary Black and Joan Baez was recorded in the year after my mother died. I think she would have liked this version. I sense that my mother's anger and rage died with her. It was only after my mother died that I was able to consciously experience my own anger and rage. Mine must be a different kind of anger and rage because I am not exhausted by it. Its power can be channeled in non-destructive directions. Perhaps my mother was exhausted from feeling guilty for feeling angry. I will never know.
