Today is beautiful–sunny…warm in the sun. At the same time, winter is at our back. Ice along 218.
This morning, I sit with the fear of dying…a friend–Stage IV Cancer–facing the ultimate that we all face and deny. She lives with winter at her back. She lives with the search for purpose and authentic expression. Suddenly, her tolerance snaps–her tolerance for rigid structure; her tolerance for the medical profession; her tolerance for being poked, prodded, needled, scanned; her tolerance for family members who cling to routine interaction, habits of conversation…that life-long tolerance; the teeth gritting tolerance just snapped…and everything gave way.
Is it the fear of dying? Or is it the fear of continuing to live a tolerant life–or the fear of just tolerating, enduring, putting up with another day of life? Her unraveling was beautiful, powerful, real…courageous.
I WAS AFRAID OF DYING
I was afraid of dying
In a field of dry weeds.
All day long I have been walking among damp fields,
Trying to keep still, listening
To insects that move patiently.
Perhaps they are sampling the fresh dew that gathers slowly
In empty snail shells
And in the secret shelters of sparrow feather fallen on the