Requiem

“To walk quietly till the miracle in everything speaks, is poetry, whether we write it down or not.” Mark Nepo

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Requiem-generally a mass or piece of music to honor the dead, also an honoring of anything that has passed

My life is a requiem for all that I have experienced, endured, celebrated, all that makes me the woman I am today. I honor each moment of my life however I experienced it at the time it occurred.

Childhood, full or bright expectations, disappointing admonitions of not being old enough yet, explorations beyond the immediate, the wonder of a Christmas tree, the devastation of losing a friend or moving away-the innocence of inexperience and grasping for understanding. How I ran and played and dug in the sand of the NH coastline, sandy towels dragged home behind me. All of it is stored in my memory, and I say a requiem for my child’s eyes as she experienced everything through her smile.

As a teen I faced a life-changing turn and stood to the challenge. New experiences welcomed over the breakfast table or while hanging wash on the rack outside my trailer door. The joy and confusion of parenthood amidst the coarse taunts of a GI community. Expanding responsibilities grew me to adulthood even as I played the grown-up game of life. I say a requiem for my resilience.

The adult I became is built from meeting life as it presented itself. A child on the tipping point of blame, the lightness of a spring morning as the sun rises over the ocean, planting trees I shall never see mature, guiding teenagers through the world of worry and growth, choosing a companion from the faces gazing through kennel fencing, losing parents to cancer’s exponential growth, remembering that long ago fascination with physiotherapy as it inspires my yoga teaching today. The darkness of despair, the light of a rainbow reflected in her eyes. She of the crossroads, Hecate, the goddess of aging, growth, and strength. She is my guide as I live the estrangement, the worry, and the expansion of my later years. She points the way every day….”Look here at the sunrise, watch the green shoots of crocus bulbs in the spring, open your heart to what is in this moment. There is no duality, it’s all one. It’s all poetry. The poem of your heart,” she says. And I believe her.