There is a story of the great Tibetan teacher Marpa, who lived on a farm with his family a thousand years ago in Tibet. On the farm, there also lived many monks who came to study with this great teacher. One day, Marpa’s oldest son was killed. Marpa was grieving deeply when one of the monks came to him and said, “I don’t understand. You teach us that all is an illusion. Yet you are crying. If all is an illusion, then why do you grieve so deeply?” Marpa replied, “Indeed, everything is an illusion. And the death of a child is the greatest of these illusions.” (Stories of the Spirit, Stories of the Heart, ed. Christina Feldman and Jack Kornfiels, Harper Collins)
For
Cobi this past Saturday night, one long-burning candle, eighteen flowers, wine and smoke, conversation, vivid memories, a party. Inspired by the Jewish
Jahrzeit.
For me and my beloved, on Sunday, a ceremony, a re-commitment to life. Many deaths we've each known, but this death of our heart-child, this great illusion, has sent us wandering through the veils, exploring the hinterlands of grief, life, love, mortality. A year and a day. Enough wandering. We stepped over the threshold of the year and back into the land of the fully alive.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My art is inspired by the work of a former drumming buddy of mine, Joules, whose
new blog features the
ArtRage she's been doing.
Haloscan:
.
Blogger:
.