Returning Home

Thank you to those who read and responded to my last blog entry. I was in a very difficult space. Michael left this morning to drive the car back to Eugene, and I'm sure that was part of why I felt fragile this morning. It is hard to be away from him right now.

Tomorrow I will fly back to Eugene, and Michael will be at the airport to meet me when my flight arrives. Some of my friends from Eugene have offered to meet me at the airport as well, but I think it would be best for me and Michael to be alone when I first get back. It is a big step toward acclimating to our new lives, and I'm not really sure what it will feel like to be home. I am so grateful, though, that we have a loving community to return to.

After I am back in Eugene, one thing I want to work on is helping organize a Celebration of Life gathering to honor both Sage and Dad. I have never attended anything like that, and I want it to feel meaningful to all who attend. So, if any of you have ideas or suggestions, I am very interested in hearing them. I envision people getting up to share thoughts, poems, memories, etc. I am thinking we can rent a space and perhaps have it catered. A few people have expressed preferences for dates, and I would like any feedback about that as well. I look forward to hearing your ideas!

I will leave you this evening with a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke. Michael introduced me to his writing six years ago. When I read his work now, I hear something different than I did when I was 25. I think he is one of the poets I will always return to.

In This Uncontainable Light

Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.

Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,
what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?

If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.

And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.