Friday, May 30, 2014
The Texture Of Without...
This one is something about the nature of grief and how we don't understand it until we are in it. Even when we are in it, we don't understand the permanent piece of it till we are emerged in it. For example, after my son died, people kept telling me the first year stuff was the worst. But by far, the 2nd year Mother's Day after he died was the worst because it was at that point that I understood the permanence of *Without* and how that would not change, ever, the rest of my life.
I wondered as I was making this piece what kind of nests we cocoon ourselves in to protect from this reality? When do we each learn about the permanence of impermanence? What are the screens we look through to cloud the truth so we don't have to face it until we have no other choice? Do we, in the Western world anyway, have increased fear and stress about death and dying because we spend our lives trying to avoid the permanence of impermanence?
Something like that.