tell about it
the more i pay attention, the more astonished i am. slowing down, breathing deeply and intentionally bringing my awareness to the very present moment i am astounded, often overwhelmed with what i hear and see and experience.
sometimes i think and even say, “i can’t make this stuff up.”
today was one of those days. a quiet day, following a month of noise, too much travel, endless and often meaningless activity.
we sat quietly on the couch knitting the same rows, over and over.
(paraphrased from Ansel Adams:)
When words become unclear i shall focus with images.
When images become inadequate i shall be content with silence.
daily, she uses a glue stick and scissors, finding images to paste into her journal, practicing her numbers, writing the date and one or two words that are meaningful to her.
mom began to talk about two of the pages and tears freely rolled down her cheeks. I began to write her words down as she reflected on the meaning of the images and how they were connected.
“did you get that?” “that’s a good one.” “write that down.” “that’s ‘importmant.’”
i wasn’t sure if she was talking about her stroke or the world or her own children.
taking my scribbles, she went to the computer where she sat for 45 minutes looking for each letter on the keyboard to form the words that were the poetry of her heart.
as she said, “it doesn’t matter.”
it’s still grief. it’s still loss. it is still sad.