Embracing Pain

April 11, 2010 by  
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We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.  ~Kenji Miyazawa

Human Hearts

Human Hearts

We have all been hurt or will be hurt.  Pain is part of living.  But with every scar comes an opportunity to stop and reflect on who we are and how we want our lives to continue.

Not embracing pain is pushing aside the opportunity to come face to face with ourselves.

Not embracing pain is missing the opportunity to be profoundly human.

But once the pain becomes ours it turns into love because pain humbles and shows us we are part of a huge community of people who want the same; love and compassion.

Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence.  ~Eric Fromm


Through Grief Into Life

March 24, 2010 by  
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After my husband passed away I put his wedding ring on a chain and wore it around my neck.  Then I wondered when my own wedding ring should join his in the same chain.  Then one day his ring, my ring and the chain were placed in a velvet box in my closet.

Life goes on.

I miss intimacy.  Not just sex but lying in bed with someone and watching TV, having candle lit dinners, and falling asleep with another person’s arms around me.  I also miss having a man around the house doing things I can’t.  And I miss my husband.

The other day a friend came over and hung the house numbers – I had taken them down while having the house painted – which had been resting in a drawer for the last six months.  His presence in a way made me feel as if I was again one half of a couple and I realized how much I like that feeling.  I love sharing.  I specially like to share the good things I accomplish in work, the fun stuff I do or the nice things I hear from others.  When I’m blue I most often prefer solitude.

After my friend or as a girlfriend called him – borrowed husband – finished the house tasks, I cooked a meal and felt compelled to light candles.  I wouldn’t be truthful if I didn’t add that I also felt physically attracted to him.  While handing him tools our hands touched and I felt his skin to be soft and smooth.  I watched his arms flex as he worked and my heart skipped a beat.

Life goes on.

This was the first time since my husband passed away nineteen months ago that I felt attracted to anyone.  But it was not the first time I thought about the possibility of being intimate with someone else.  Last month I bought online two sets of sexy lingerie that have been living in a plastic bag in my drawer since their arrival.  They are laying low waiting for the right time to adorn my body.

Of course all these feelings are in my head and heart.  I don’t know how or when they will manifest as a reality but when I daydream my needs for giving and receiving love exist without a hitch.  Kisses and touches happen in a most harmonious way and the shock of being in a new man’s arms after years of being with my husband do not stop me from experiencing the moment.

Reality could be somewhat different.  Fear and guilt might populate my heart. Do my feelings mean I love Chris less than someone else who forever will keep their hearts shut?


I know I will always love Chris and he will always be my husband.  But I also know I have in my heart the space for loving and receiving love from another man.

Life goes on.

I won’t rush anything.  I try my best to live one day at a time as life has shown me that plans often go astray in life’s rambunctious nature.

But I do know one day all the love I have in me will find a worthy recipient and then again on a Sunday I will again wake up late with my man and make him brunch.

I am part of a community of men and women whose scars run deep but whose hopes and love for life keep us all going.

Life goes on.  We love, laugh, and cry but above all else we must live with the hurt and the hope.  It is our gift to ourselves and the ones we have lost.


What Writing Means To Me

December 11, 2009 by  
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Meaningful writing comes from experience.  Not necessarily writing experience – although it doesn’t hurt to write often – but from life experience; to have lived enough to have something to say and to have enough humility to be honest and to want to share.

I have never written as much as I have been writing since a great loss in my life.  I now, more than ever before, feel compelled to share my own transformation.  To me what is the point of living, experiencing life if not to share with others?

There is the thinking that to be a great artist one needs to go through a lot of pain and stay in it.  I don’t agree with the quick sand thinking but instead believe in embracing life with all its experiences.  One doesn’t need to be stuck in pain to know it.

I don’t consider myself a good writer in the traditional sense of beautifully orchestrated phrases but I do consider myself an honest writer.  I am willing to share.  When I was younger I wanted to share because I was an exhibitionist (my life has never been subdue), now I want to share to give meaning to my own life.

I have no idea why every one of us at one time or another experiences loss.  I have no idea if there is a purpose to human life beyond its short existence.  I find solace in sharing, in writing, so maybe you and I can walk together and know we are part of a community;  the human community.


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