Love Letter to My Life #63: This, too, shall pass
Scary numbers and the pilgrimage of life
This, too, shall pass. A lesson that came to me through my curiosity about the markings on the ring of a manager I worked for and because he was kind enough to explain the story of Solomon’s ring and the philosophy that everything changes, both good things and bad.
I’m glad this lesson came to me at a relatively early point in my life as it has served me well, giving me a tiny dollop of wisdom that has returned to me over and over through the years.
September is something of an anniversary for me … 14 years ago, I began my personal blog following a downward spiral of loss. My second post, available here: “My Cup Is Empty,” marked the bottom of what seemed like an endless cycle.
Now that I’ve moved my writing and art to Substack, my blog is dormant, although there were 22,000+ views this month, which made me realize I need to have a better path from the blog to my new Substack home. A fellow Substack writer mentioned that she had turned her blog into a “billboard,” so this morning I did that also. It now looks like this.
What surprised me as I prowled around my old blog was that among my most popular posts was a series I did celebrating April as Poetry Month. There are over 1200 posts on the blog so I can’t imagine moving them all to Substack but I am going to link to some of them, starting with this favorite where I compare translations:
Life is to be lived. Death is part of it.
All of this reminds me of how grateful I am for my life and the time I’ve had to explore the world and myself in a way I never dreamed of as a child. A generous offer came my way a week or so ago when a new friend offered me a place to stay in Morelia, Mexico, a favorite, beautiful place in the country I love so much. I am anticipating a long revisit next spring.
Pair that with a recent scary number on a medical lab result and I am reminded that this is life and part of life is death. My doctor’s words were guardedly reassuring and I’m taking the scary number as a reminder that death is not a hypothetical. It is life that is real and it is life that deserves to be lived with abandon. These monthly love letters to my life have become a welcome ritual of remembering that.
We live in uncertain times and it’s easy to think that life is scarier and harder now than it was “back then.” That’s probably not true … there have always been plagues and wars and terrorizing marauders. People lived through those times … and people died in those times. We just keep stepping forward, taking the next breath of air.
There are no “them.”
If there is a message for our times, though, it seems to me that it’s about love and community. We act as if the world were divided into “us” and “them” when, in truth, there is no “them.” There is only “us,” neighbors on this one planet that gives us life.
A blog post written five years ago about a favorite movie and titled The pilgrimage of life is seldom like the movies reminds me that I didn’t know where I was going then any more than I do now. However, I am determined to live as fully as possible for as long as possible, knowing that there is an end. It may not be in sight, but I see the glow on the horizon.
Here’s the beginning of that post from five years ago:
In one of my favorite movies, Jeremiah Johnson, the ancient wisdom keeper Bear Claw watches the progress of the beautifully ignorant Jeremiah as he deals with the wilderness in his pilgrimage to become a mountain man. After a long series of trials, Bear Claw gives him the ultimate accolade when he says, “You’ve come far, Pilgrim.”
I like the idea of being a pilgrim, of being on a pilgrimage, although that carries with it the idea of a destination. When I think of my journey, a few-days short of seventy-two years, I marvel at how far I’ve come but still wonder where I’m going.
Here’s a short poll about how you think about death:
Are there any words any more appropriate than Mary Oliver’s:
When it's over, I want to say:
all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I look forward to doing a lot with my Stack, thanks to you. As soon as we figure out where the "on" button is and finish the excellent guidance in Guide #1, Guide #2. Is there a Guide #3 in the wings? I'm humbled at the number of people subscribing, based on the name, without any articles. Time to figure this out. Like you, blogging since 2005 and moving the whole thing to Substack feels like trying to turn the Queen Mary around 180. It's not a high-speed boat and there's a lot of passengers and baggage to consider.
One day at a time with hope and faith in the goodness of humanity to prevail.