Sunday, December 3, 2017

Living With the Difference

For many years my life was a bubbling brook, chortling along as it passed tall pines, grass meadows, and thickly wooded forests of cedar. It served all in its path with spontaneous joy, providing drink and hosting creatures seen and unseen in its clear waters.

And then, as nature is wont, it meandered onto broad plain strewn with jagged rocks, torn from their mountain summit by an ancient volcanic event. The little brook widened into a larger bed and grew in power, but as it strengthened, so did the obstacles. For a time it deftly moved around rocks large and small, scarcely skipping a beat and simply raising the decibles of its melodious song.

And then, the waterfall. What was a natural course became an event of daring proportions. With no choice, the stream fell helplessly over a ravine, tossed from side to side by the formations of the tall precipice. As it plunged to the earth below with a great splattering of its resources, a new equilibrium thrust itself upon the once peaceful brook. Henceforth, the path would be steep, fast, and unpredictable.

A wise woman who knew my late husband and loved him dearly recently remarked. "You must learn to live with the difference."

Between the Frying Pan and the Fire

When the first inklings of a pandemic started brewing in late January, I was in Bodgaya, India, the place where the historical Buddha attai...