i fall asleep
everything must go,
a salesman has three
days (more or less)
to get rid of
makes it sound sad,
but it ends up being
We live in an amazing world. Everything is changing, and it is changing by the second.
More and more by the second, those with internet access have the ability to see what life is like for people around the world and in walks of life incredibly different from their own.
This is amazing, yes, but I think it can be terrifying, too. I see behind some fearful assertions questions like, “How the heck am I supposed to take in what someone else feels and believes if I don’t even know what I feel and believe yet? How am I supposed to answer questions today that couldn’t have existed outside science fiction a decade ago?”
I am exhilarated by the change. I’m thrilled to be living in this world where objective and subjective information is becoming ever more available, if I’m less thrilled by how easily the subjective is currently confused for the objective.
My fifteen-year-old self dialed up local bulletin boards in the early 1990s. She thought it was amazing to connect to dozens of strangers in her own community. After she created her own website in 1995, she was even more astonished when she began receiving emails from around the globe. She suddenly understood the world to be so much smaller than she’d realized!
Fifteen-year-old me would be flabbergasted by 2016 reality, which is that people around the world will soon experience connectivity in ways we can’t fathom today. The horror lover in me finds this a little creepy, but most of me thinks the world will probably be less lonely and less exhausting as we learn to see the commonalities underlying all the apparent differences between people. Read more…
There’s this guy named Matt.
He and my favorite dino, Rarasaur, knew each other well before I knew either of them.
But then, as fate or the heavens or God or happenstance (or all of them put together) would have it, I met Matt and Ra the same day.
That meeting, just a couple of hours for me, changed my life in ways I wouldn’t understand for more than a year, when this tenuous early connection would shine out not as a standalone but a beginning.
But then, why should I tell you more about that–and Matt–here, when you can read all about it over at Ra’s place today?
Please check it out. Read about Ra’s Sonder Files, of which my post is just one small note.
Check out Matt’s blog, if you haven’t already, and remember that,
as far as I am concerned, Ra’s husband Dave is with us
I wrote “On your first Christmas without her” for a friend last year.
I was surprised when that post started turning up in searches more than a month ago. But Christmas is so far away!
As Christmas draws nearer, more and more people find that post with search terms like “first christmas without my mom” and “christmas without mom.” I’m no longer surprised that they’re searching now or that they were searching then, because … of course. This is the time of year when the resounding push toward collective joy can actually enhance the sense of isolation in grieving:
There they all are going about life as usual, expecting life to go on as usual, and here I am with no idea what “as usual” means anymore.
I wrote last year’s post after a conversation with my then four-year-old son. This year, I see those search terms as the start of another conversation worth having a little earlier.
I’ve thought about grief a lot more since then. When my husband’s friend lost her baby a month ago, I thought about how people sometimes disappear from grievers’ lives after they realize they can’t fix grief. More than that, I thought about why. I finally understood that when people disappear during other’s grief, it usually reflects not callousness but a sense of powerlessness: Read more…