Soundtrack for a Life Rebuilding

    Hawaiians have a wonderful expression for what many of us call "shooting the breeze". Hawaiians are fond of saying that they sit around "talking story". And that expression captures the essence of what is to be human. After all, what do we have, what is it that we actually possess as we weave our way through the journey of life?

    All we really have is our story, and our connections with those for whom we have feelings. Everything else is "stuff". And believe me, stuff, regardless of how much, how big, or how valuable, is inconsequential.

   When unfortunately we are called upon to learn the language of loss, in my opinion the most difficult language there is to learn, it is my experience that we come to understand better the value of our story, the stories of those we know, and our connections with others.  I have written down much of my story, some in the form of these essays, some in short story or poetry format, and some in the form of a couple of novella-length stories. In doing so, I have also undertaken to understand the stories of my friends and family who have been kind enough to rally around me during my time of grieving. In doing so, I have discovered that I truly love to hear peoples' stories. There is something valuable to learn in each and every one. So I really want to hear your stories, if I have not already, and again if I have.

    While I have been grieving, there have been 3 things that have sustained me.  The first and foremost, of course is the wonderful (damn, now I am getting weepy), people who have stayed close:friends and family, from whom I have learned the love of story and the immense value of conversation. The second is my love of music, which has helped me through some of the worst minefields of grief. And a third is a new and interesting fondness for cooking and food. I guess we could call this a hobby. But these are the things that keep me wanting to get up in the morning, even in the darkest frames of mind.

   So to my friends, my family and all those who have helped me traverse this time of sadness and periodic despair, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  And to the universe I thank you for all the beauty you provide: the art, the music, the literature, the architecture, the ideas....

   I am instituting a new feature today on this blog.  I will call it "The Soundtrack of a Life Rebuilding".  Every so often I will list 10 songs that have provided inspiration, solace, needed tears, and much more.  So here it is, and cheers: have a wonderful week!

The Soundtrack of a Life Rebuilding - Set 1

1) Sittin' on Top of the World - Richard Shindell - South of Delia
2) Take it Down (John Hiatt) - The Wailin' Jennies - 40 Days
3) Symphony #2 - The Lark Ascending - Ralph Vaughan Williams
4) Don't Go - Tania Maria - The Best of Tania Maria
5) If You Were For Me - Rose Cousins - If You Were For Me
6) Dimming of the Day - Alison Krauss and Union Station - Paper Airplane
7) Paper Aeroplane - Kasey Chambers - Wayward Angel
8) I Don't Know Why - Shawn Colvin - Fat City
9) Street Life - The Crusaders - Street Life
10) Build Me Up From Bones - Sarah Jarosz - Build Me Up from Bones

MPC:04-24-2016

Solitude or Isolation?

     When my father died, I was ten years of age and my siblings and I lived under some rather odd circumstances. My mom was, in addition to being grief stricken, also an alcoholic, and I felt during that part of my upbringing a kind of terror that cuts deep pathways into the brain. It is the kind of terror that only solitude and isolation can create, and usually only in a child.  It is the feeling that there is no one around you that can help you, or understand your situation.  That feeling of terror lasted into my adulthood, when it certainly was no longer useful, if indeed it ever had been.

     Over time I learned to deal with solitude, to make sure it never became isolation (at least the self-imposed kind), and was in a much better place in that respect when I met Susan.  Then, for over two decades, not a moment went by that I felt alone in any way. Now, of course, she is gone. And while I certainly do not feel anything like the childhood terror I felt at age 10, there are many aspects of this involuntary solitude that are very difficult.

     Aside from the constant companionship we experienced, our partnership was such that I aspired to be the very best person I could be, and so did she. In addition to that, I experienced a great deal of positive reinforcement from her as my partner. That in turn simply made me want to be better and better.  And that of course, led to the unshakeable notion that I was a useful person. Useful to her, to the kids, to my clients and so on. Much of that vanished when Susan died. I can tell myself until I am blue in the face that I am useful to someone, but it is not the same. I can tell myself I’ve done a good job on some project or other, but it has little or no meaning, certainly not like it had come from her.

     On any given day, it occurs to me somewhat frequently that I am really and truly alone.  I am the only member of my family of origin still alive, and I have lost my partner, spouse, love of my life.  On the one hand, some of the terror I felt as a young child seeps through into my consciousness from time to time, causing me to have a great deal of difficulty seeing any good reason to go on.  On the other hand, I keep thinking (really as hard as I can) that the rest of my life is mine to make the best (or worst of).  I just wish there was an easier way to understand exactly how to proceed to do that.

MPC 04-13-2016