The Other Side

I have been so immersed in the dark side of life, the wars, the killing, the climate, that it feel necessary to attend to the other side. As I write that, I suspect that more of my writing has been positive than what I have actually felt and expressed verbally to friends. So, this may not seem so different than what I often write, but it’s what my soul needs right now.

My attention goes either to the world, with war and climate disasters, or to the personal. It feels impossible to capture these extremes in the same thought or paragraph or idea. So, for now, here is the personal, some personal joys or glimmers, as I have described before.

What if, right now, you could create the life you want, no restrictions? What would it look like? I’m thinking of Prince William with his cancer-stricken dad, wondering what it’s like for him, perhaps anticipating being king, with the power that implies. Of course, I’m using a childhood image, where being king or queen or prince or princess seemed magical, all good. It certainly no longer appears that way to me.

The magic is in moments, not in a position of power. For example, this morning, sitting in my favorite warm nightgown on my most comfortable chair, doing New York Times puzzles, Paul asked if I would like a cappuccino. I know, I’ve told this before, but the pleasure of it does not diminish for me. Is the pleasure greater that he offers or that he actually delivers? Each is exquisite.

Then, while I am sipping it, my mind returns to yesterday, when I met a friend, Sarah, for high tea at Jolie’s. We only live four miles apart, yet see each other seldom, about once every two months, the following meeting planned each time we meet. The pleasure of being with her is high for several reasons, as happens with dear friends. Simply experiencing high tea is such a delight, on its own, whoever I might be with. But being with Sarah, a friend with whom I share values and some history, the pleasure happens in my heart. As we exchange our recent lives’ challenges and mutual guidance, we are each enriched, not in the way white bread is enriched, artificially, but fully and spiritually.

A different, though similar experience occurred recently when a new group of eight, gathered by an acquaintance, not yet a dear friend, met for unplanned communication. The only commitment we had made was to meet biweekly, as we were able, and to share the airspace. This was, for me, an occasion for multiple “joylets,” tiny joys. As each person spoke, describing something current in their life, I experienced a joylet in response, as something about them resonated in me. Different for each person, but for me, a clear message about the many joys that envelope me, for so little effort on my part.

One more example is my Wednesday evening zoom, an online bible study with half a dozen people who I know primarily through this zoom call. How is it that these folks have become so dear to me during these two years that we have met? We are different from each other, not sharing the same faith, yet holding a similar caring for the world and its people. Our gathering is serious in nature, yet we laugh a lot. We discuss the sacred and honor the sacred in each other.

Maybe I began with the pleasure of cappuccino, but what keeps repeating is the joy of being with other human beings, of the people who share this world with me. Do I think that I have the most special people as my friends? Yes and no. Yes, I think these friends are special. However, I think I recognize this only because I’ve invested some time and energy into each one. I believe we are surrounded by people with a divine spark within them — there is no other kind.

Copyright 2024