Saying Goodbye

From Little Gidding, The Four Quarters of T. S. Elliot:

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

This post is to say goodbye to Andrea. One of several posts to say goodbye to this birth year.

June 2007, I celebrated my birthday with five girls. One of them was Andrea. She was a philosopher, a poet and a mother. I saw her first in 2003 in the sandpit with her two small children. I immediately felt a connection. Slowly over the years we came closer. We met on the street or at school while dropping off our kids. Little smiles were exchanged and talks on the corner of the street were followed by girl talks over cups of tea.

From the outside she was everything that I am not. Timid, shy, taking her time to make up her mind and to open up to the world. Loving nature and people and a burning fire deep within. She was hurt by life and its events and was going high and low, very low even and kept finding the strength to live her life. When she came to visit at night we would talk. Or rather she would listen. After a while she would begin to talk and I would listen. Hours on end, way past bed time.

When I saw her struggle in life I could better carry my own burdens. Knowing that there was at least one other person living and dealing with deeper and darker corners of the personality was a great help. I thought we would have all the time in the world to talk, to sit and to listen to each others stories.

But we did not. She died totally unexpected on the third of March 2008, 37 years old. She had a cold with a throat infection and could not breath, and finally went into a coma from which she did not recover.

I miss our talks and I have tried to write on my blog about her before, I could not find the words. I did not want to let her go either. As long as I did not write about Andrea, it was not really happening. Also I wanted to write the perfect article and it was never good enough to publish. I deleted 11 versions of a post.

She wrote a small piece in early 2007 when she felt Spring was in the air. I keep it in mind when my life seems too much of a challenge.

Remember that you are dancing, Remember the light, When you are asleep again.

PS the quote of T.S. Elliot was on the announcement card of the funeral of Andrea.

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I am yours Universe

originally uploaded by ma~ria. I love this photo.

My eyes red after days filled with tears

And now I can see the sky again

The light will soon warm me

I am yours Universe

Take care of me

 Have a love affair with me

Show me the way

Miriam

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What Do You Leave Behind?

Trails, originally uploaded by lynchseattle.

Last week I attended the funeral of a friend. She died after a long sickness that took on and off 15 years to unfold. A powerful woman that lived intens and was very strong, creative and special to many. The service was beautiful as well. Many people attended and spoke about her. Her name was Charlotte. Every one called her Lot.

While waiting to talk to her partner after the service I heard this comment: “I got to know Lot much better than I ever knew her in life. How strange that we share these stories only after someone passes over.”

Time on earth is precious, time spent with others is precious. Are you aware of the path that you walk and what you can do to others as a source of inspiration?

We can all live like angels in disguise. Will you show others who you are? What do you need to reach out and touch the heart of others during your lifetime? Grab the key and make an effort. Do it for you.

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Embracing the Void

Today I had a conversation with a woman. Late fifties, healthy and she notices how she feels stuck in life. Work, family and volunteering work had all by itself dropped away. And she had entered the void. This empty place that you notice when all other things drop away. She said: “I feel restless with the silence. I want to get up and do something”. Sounds familiar? Yeah, we all have these moments.

originally uploaded by tuna bites.

It made me think about silence and the void. We are all raised as people that hardly sit down. We try to avoid the silence and sitting still. People around us kindly push us into helping, being there for others and otherwise you are called lazy. Until in the end people can get lost when they spend time alone, in silence or when life brings the void in.

For one reason or another life will send you the silence again. To be reconnected and hear the voices in your head rattling along with good advice, critique and anything that will have you get out of your chair and help others. When is it time to help yourself? When is enough really enough? Do we have to wait for disease or burn-out to take a time out?

Give yourself a gift and embrace the void when life gives you one. When you get the time to sit down and be alone. Feel who you have become and what you feel like when with yourself. Of course it is a challenge in the beginning and a blessing in the end when you can be in the silence of the void.

In May 2000 I met the void. In the shape of Odin, the blank rune. I was not amused. I disliked silence, the void was to be avoided at all times. My life needed speed and as many as possible attractions and experiences per day. A friend said about the same blank rune: “I love that rune. It is my favorite.” What did she say there!?! I could not deal with it. I was angry and pissed of by the runes.

Much later I read the meaning of the rune and this particular sentence has stayed with me over the years.

Here the Unknowable informs you that it is in motion in your life. In that blankness is held undiluted potential. At the same time both pregnant and empty, it comprehends the totality of being, all that is to be actualized. And if, indeed, there are “matters hidden by the gods,” you need only remember: What beckons is the creative power of the unknown.

The conversation today made me realize that somewhere I did embrace the void. It happened so softly and swiftly, I did not even notice. I gave thanks to her for making me aware that emptiness is pregnant with possibility. I no longer fear it, I welcome it and live out of my own silence on a daily basis. The circle is closed, the voice is embraced again.

Imagination, originally uploaded by zanettco.

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Dying as Giving Up and Letting Go

It was April 30 of 1995. I paid my grandfather a visit. He was a dying man and had asked via his son if perhaps his (grand)children wanted to come and say goodbye. I later learned that nobody felt inclined to go. Up until this day, I do not know what came over me but I did go. I had not seen him in about 7 years.

I had always loved and a little bit avoided my grandpa. I loved his jokes, his stories about elephants, baking biscuits and fish that could fly. His sweetness was well hidden except when he smiled then it showed.

Avoidance because of the stories around him and his “wrong-doing”. He was noted for his sometimes odd behavior and strictness. I can imagine that he was like that. His strength was visible in his body too. He was a tall man, full of authority, impressive. A head full of dark black hair and piercing eyes got him the nick name ‘the crow’.

Black crow, tell me where you really go, originally uploaded by monkeyc.net.
On that last visit I had no idea what to expect. Was I nervous to see my ‘difficult’ grandpa? Yes. I had not consulted my family, least of all my mother. I was in for a surprise and to be honest I am still surprised. When we (the boyfriend he had not yet met and I) went into the hospital room, it was empty. After a while a small skinny man, in a blue pyjama with many stains on the front, came out of the bathroom. He was surprised to see me there, behaving prickly and trying to mentally push me away. After a couple more minutes he turned softer and started sharing bits and pieces.

It was then that I met my grandfather in a new way. He explained to us how he was thinking about his life and everything that happened in it. The hospital had offered telephone, television and radio. He refused to have any of them, it kept him from thinking. There was nothing else left now but to think of his life and what he had done.

He was no longer playing the game of life, he was preparing to die and it seemed to be the only thing he did all day. No distractions, no beating around the bush. He did not like many things in his life: the husband he had been, the father he had been, the friend he had been, the grandfather he had been. All these roles were being analyzed, re-evaluated, confronted and judged. All his life he had been hard on himself and even now in his last days he was not walking away from it.

Even now tears come to my eyes, he sat there and was so aware of what he did and did not do in his life. He worked hard to give up the pain and disappointment. It was never easy for him to be open to others. There was always the need to control things. In this conversation he did let go. Frail and vulnerable and honest he spoke about himself.

We hugged and said goodbye and he died 5 days later. I never had regrets about this meeting.

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My Red Car

car, originally uploaded by radiant woman.

Today was a day spent on working out of doors. I am pooped (tired) and looking forward to a nice cup of coffee to leave the things that I took home behind me.

This is a recent drawing, not made especially for today’s Illustration Friday. My red car is 14 years old, a Mitsubishi space Runner, and it is carrying us everywhere. Over 230.000 km and still going strong. The old parts of me are discarded and they leave me. The today-Miriam is the one driving the car and making new directions and taking me where I tell it to go. Thank you car, you have been good to us.

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Dying is an Opportunity to Act Real

Why do people shy away from talking to people that are dying? Death is part of life. It completes the cycle and could be the beginning of another round, the concept of reincarnation. My most recent experience was my grandfather who died early December 2006. Many friends did not know what to say, literally. They were feeling awkward around my grandfather.

What to do? And most of all what to say? Often trying not to cry and failing badly at it. Saying goodbye to someone for the last time is emotional. Who cares about the tears? The dying person does not. We are all human and of course you can be emotionally affected by saying your last goodbyes.

After people said goodbye, they wiped their nose and then they really began talking with me. Much longer in the hallway, outside of the ears of my grandfather. It was a strange thing to watch for me. How would it be for both my grandfather and for his friends to be able to have that conversation together? Where every one can be who he is and can say whatever there is to say?

Yes, my grandfather was dying. He was still the same person as before. The only difference was the label ‘dying person’ that he got. He had not changed himself at all. I found it a gift to be around my grandfather dying. To share this last part of life. To deal with the emotions coming up. To feel awkward and perhaps afraid of what was yet to come.

There was so much opportunity there, both for my grandfather and for me. To let the love flow freely between us. To connect and share a moment in each others life. The last part of life is something that I will also encounter. Maybe alone and maybe with other people present. I will see when the time is there. I would like to connect with others at the time of dying you know.

Death belongs to life. I felt sad and not knowing what to say, and that was all right. I felt it, I let it be there, watching it, having it. I experienced emotional growth, it may sound strange to you now. Because my grandfather chose to die with family members present. He gave me all the time and space that I needed to cry. He often called me his angel and that made me happy. I felt so close and connected to him, he became my mother and father in one person. I gave it all. At one stage the tears just kept coming and he slept. He suddenly woke up and stroked my hair and it was just so sweet to feel him do that. We were really together in that moment.

I got that death is a part of life, and that it is nothing to be afraid of. I lost that part of me that was afraid of dying. Where I was feeling awkward. It was an unexpected gift, to release the fear of pretending. That I could cry and show my tears. To experience that being emotional is all right. That being myself was important to my grandfather as well. To feel and act real and loose the pretending part is just the perfect thing. It is liberating. Not only around people that are dying. Always.

ps this article belongs to the article called Dying is Part of Life. My sweetheart suggested to split the story, because it would be too long.

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Dying is Part of Life

black with tears, originally uploaded by radiant woman.

Things are called taboo, this morning I read it again on the blog of Bill. He is my blog hero, a dying man having the guts to write daily about his life and the last part of it: his approaching death. He is the last person to admit that he is special or doing something extraordinary. In a way I think he is onto something. For instance on his last post called Road to Death.

I quote Bill:

“Dying can be a very scary, lonely process. [...] Everyone of us is preparing to make that same journey, we are just doing it on different time schedules. There is no denying the fact every single one of us will make that journey at some time. We all know that, yet death remains almost like a taboo subject. We don’t talk about it or even really think about it, “it is just to morbid”. Why is it “morbid”, it is a reality? [...] Death is a fact of life. I think it is just plain fear that causes us to push the mere thought from our minds.

Death is almost a taboo subject, Bill says. A thing that people do not know or maybe do not want to deal with. Other taboo things I can think of are talking about sex or the exact amount of your salary. I even notice that the paranormal or unseen world is often considered taboo. People behave different when I mention the paranormal.

Taboo on a wider level describes words, things, actions or even people that are forbidden. This highly depends on the culture or group of people that put the taboo. I can imagine that you can make things and people taboo because you find it difficult to handle. You perhaps do not understand about something yourself, an easy way out is the option to use the taboo and avoid the taboo-thing completely.

This article has a follow up called Dying is an opportunity to act real here.

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Excuse me: Is Suffering Still Allowed?

Suffering=purification=transformation=realization=change=another Miriam=suffering=purification=transformation=realization=change=another Miriam=etc.

What I understand so far is that my suffering has a source, a reason outside of me. It triggers the suffering that lives inside of me. I always have a choice about how I relate to events in my life. Sometimes I can accept how life comes to me and sometimes I am overcome. I make the choice to have the full experience, quite often negative in the beginning. I suffer. When I have had enough of the suffering, I can stop it, it has served its purpose.

Now we are presented with the movie ‘The Secret’ and the explanation of the law of attraction. Great stuff that makes people think and realize that they are responsible for that situation and that they also created it. The law of attraction is nothing new though, it is age old, better known in other ways as “You sow what you reap.”

The point here is that this seems a way too easy answer on suffering. It is not that ‘The Secret’ is the end to all suffering now suddenly. I wonder how the world and the people in it will look like in a couple of months from now. Don’t we all have a library worth of about 5.000 euros or more at home? Did we get it with all those books and knowledge? This is a rhetorical question. Most of us are still searching. Something is missing.

We all want to push away suffering, it is bad to suffer. Being happy is the way to be. And now what happens? With the law of attraction we tell each other that you are responsible for your own suffering and you created it. So if this is what you have in life, you are “to blame”. Get into action and change your life: have that great lover, have that big car and house, whatever it is that you want.

But hey, wait a minute. What happened to the good old suffering? Is that still allowed?

When I was 29 I had the year of my life, I worked as the manager of a bank in the Northern Part of Amsterdam. An armed bank robbery was the first thing that happened. I sat on the floor in fear, confronted to the bone with death, guns, I was so afraid of life for many months after. I decided to travel alone in Indonesia for some weeks: I was lonely, upset and confronted, again. I got home and my love life shattered when he left me after 7 years. I cried and cried until I had to drink water to be able to cry again.

I would still pretend that nothing was wrong with me. I was living my life and on the outside I was doing fine. At the same time a big suffering was inside of me. I was afraid of life and had lost faith in almost everything. Did I sit down and feel what was going on inside of me? No way! I was happy and could create my life how I wanted it. Accepting my feelings was not there at all.

I needed one extra push, the universe brought me another attack in the bank. This time with a knife. But this time I listened and I went home. Alone, crying and hitting rock bottom. But thank you universe, I am so happy with all this suffering. It made me into who I am more and more. I love my suffering, it made me grow.
Suffering has made me feel my fear of life, of death, at being in charge and surrendering to the guy with the gun.

Did I suffer? Yes, big time. Was I able to change because of this? Did I purify myself? Transform myself? Regenerate myself and become another person because of it? Yes of course, I had an immense growth because of them. What would happen if my life would be only bliss and only happiness, since that is the best to create? I would not like it one bit.

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When I Think Of My Grandfather

I think of the man that made an impression on me as a kid. A tall, rather corpulent man, always in a three piece suit, sometimes with a bow-tie, just like the Dutch cartoon figure Olie B. Bommel, plump belly included. My granddad belonged to my Grandmother, and good manners were important. As a small child I always went nicely dressed to them, meaning dressed in a skirt. Trousers, Granddad told me years later, were possible but also rather dubious. Granddad preferred to not see the buttocks! Grandpa supported Grandma on the background, he was quiet and modest. When Grandma died, Grandpa came to be in the foreground and he kept a rich social life – also without her. He still worked at the ABN Bank then and he walked twice daily with the dog.

I see a sweet, attentive, interested gentleman that was loyal to his many friendships. It did not really matter if you were his family, related by marriage, a friend or an acquaintance. He remembered birthdays, marriages and other memorable dates. As a friend from Australia voiced it recently: “He took to a fatherly role in a natural way and that was to me and many others pleasant.” My grandpa’s secret weapon was his agenda. It was filled to the brim with memorable data that I forgot but not him. He surprised me once with a bunch of flowers and a congratulatory letter in an envelope. I was only allowed to open it the next day. In it was a small note to congratulate me on my tin marriage anniversary (6 years and 2 and a half months). I had of course totally forgotten about that fact. That kind of things, my grandpa was unparalleled in this.

When I think of my grandfather

I can still hear the sound of his good-working drum. He talked to many people and informed himself thoroughly about every one. The next time that I talked to him, he told me how every one was doing. This sharing of stories had one goal: he brought and held people together like a head of the family would.

When I think of my grandfather

I remember the endless conversations we had. Especially the last three and a half years were special to me. No subject was avoided and also the latest scientific news, for instance in quantum physics was discussed. Of course he tried to stir the conversation in the direction he liked it to go. He volunteered to give advice, when asked and also unasked. The unasked advice was the cause of our one and only discord ever. After a little bit of talking to and fro he could clearly explain to me why he so much liked to give advice. It was however offered without obligation, he just wanted to say it, so that I could think about it once more at a later time. I was allowed to put the advice aside, he could handle that much. He wanted the best for me, that was the bottom line of it.

When I think of my grandfather

the flavour of his last cigarette still lingers in the air. Also on his deathbed he took a real pleasure in smoking. He could daydream and be absorbed in his thoughts. A cigarette was always helpful. Even though he was sick for 18 months he was an optimist, he did not want to complain. I thought he was a courageous Dodo, he did not agree. He said: ”I go my path, there is no other one.” His stools became a torment with 13 nightly visits to the toilet as an absolute low. A piece of luck was the disappearance of his diabetes. No matter how sick and weak his body became, his spirit was totally clear, filled with humor, until the end.

Dear Grandpa, it was good to be with you and to be able to take care of you. It was beloved, vulnerable and unforgettable. I will miss you, sleep in peace. With love from your Annegie.

Today the ashes of my grandfather Eling Rense Smit are shattered in Bilthoven by some of his relatives. It is also the birth day of my grandmother, Mimi Smit-Lette, she died in 1983. This is my way to say goodbye. The text above was originally spoken by me at my granddads funeral on December 9th 2006.

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