Duffy died yesterday, somewhere between his Cozy’s monster burger at lunch and dinnertime, he checked in for his new assignment. He was 62 years old and the only family he had was his sister and the crew at Cozy’s Road House. He arrived at Cozy’s every morning at opening and read his paper. He went back at lunchtime to get his daily monster burger and back again at dinnertime to sit at the bar and socialize with the regulars. He always stayed to closing to make sure the bartender left safely. The bartender is my 22 year old daughter, Kelsyn. Duffy didn’t drink. He worked as a painter and did odd jobs. He participated in life. He was kind.
Theresa Ghandi died at home three weeks ago. She was surrounded by family and friends. It was hard work and a long time coming. Theresa was a social activist and was full of ideas and opinions and could research any subject and become an expert. She was incredibly articulate and a skilled writer. Many people thought she was a pain in the ass. As an experienced pain in the ass myself, I respected this quality in her. Politicians would see her coming and shudder. Theresa was a pit bull who understood that speaking out and doing the right thing was not always going to be popular. I admired her courage and her tenacity. Theresa showed up for her own life yet the world was not ready for her this time around.
As human beings we spend much of our time thinking about what is going to happen or thinking about what has happened… We are the only species on the planet that lives in the past or the future. While we are contemplating forwards and backwards, we forget to live right now. The moments we have fall away when we don’t choose to be present and use them.
I was a strange child… One day, when I was four years old my mom came upon me lying on the ground. I was very still. She bent to me and asked “Beverly, what are you doing”? My eyes were closed and without looking at her I replied, “I am listening to my heart drink my blood”. It is something I have always known, yet have not always practiced; when we are very still and silent we can hear things we might ordinarily miss.
Strange children usually grow into strange adults. (dictionary definition: strange: unusual, extraordinary, or curious; odd). One time, an angry neighbor, told me that I did not have the right to live where “normal” people live. Being Chemically Injured when I was in my early 20’s changed my life irrevocably. Producing too many killer T cells, my body sees everything as the enemy, sometimes even its own organs, so even when I tell it to remember being “normal”, it defies me. Over the years I have developed techniques to navigate through the “normal” world so I can participate fully, retreating back to my safe space to detoxify my body. Theresa and I shared this as a disorder, as do many chemically compromised individuals. This anomaly in my body caused me to be acutely aware of this moment as the only moment I have. And so I show up for it.
Being human is a task. If we are human, we have signed up for it. We have made contracts and we have desired outcomes. None of this means that it is all predetermined, it means we choose. And because most of us are not practiced at gazing into the crystal ball, mostly we choose without the exploration of our other senses.
We surround ourselves with noise and chatter, with things that fall away. We are alone yet never alone. We are always connected to each other and the heart beat of this planet. We all share our genetics, DNA, and connection to that which is bigger than us. We are inside and outside at the same time. Our thoughts and our feelings flow from us in solid waves and connect in passing to those around us. We come through the womb individually. We exit individually. Yet it some way we all feel the births, the rebirths, the transitions. We just are not still enough to realize the experience.
Close your eyes…Lie still… Do you hear it? That is your heart…Drinking your blood…