There are so many stories inside of me that I want to share about growth and loss, blessings and renewal, heartache and loneliness, devastation and the dogged sense and pursuit of infinite hope. These are stories that, when I think of my family - when I think of the Valley Fire (and every single one since), when I think of my extended family - the exchange of words seems to present a tangible spirit of wonder all their own within the letters -- as if each word is a solid form, rather than a brush stroke or hurried scribble.
I feel as though the very oxygen we breathe in our community shares stories without even the formation of a syllable. I feel a kinship to home and neighbors so powerful that it's as if I see only the hearts of people, and have ceased to be able to ever return to the idea of stress, "busyness," and the ever-present haunting angst of being "enough." And if I can't begin to share all of the thoughts I really want to - to properly put them into phrases and expression - it honestly wouldn't matter; for, individual stories emanate from every single face within this community. They are demonstrated within the choke of tears, in the unabashed abruptness of laughter, in tenderness, in faith, in receiving.
In simply being.
I heard the softness of my mother's voice and her quiet strength the other night, knowing the imminent loss of her husband. I can hear his words still as he whispered through the phone lines, "I love you, sweetheart." I felt his spirit to the depth of my soul; it was larger than his aging body. In turn, I craved every lilt and lightness in my sister's soft voice and quiet discussion later that night; I soaked up the gift of her ease and acceptance of humanity at large. She truly embodies love - always creating, pondering, inspiring, and molding life.
Don't you see?!
Every second is our second.
Every single one.
Time is nothing, and yet it is everything. Every day, life is within us and beyond us. And so, in all ways, I feel my spirit carried in the wind and echoing outward, meeting, grieving, feeling, laughing, thinking, exploring. Experiences are open-ended and eternal. The family we love and lose are forever there. Still.
I am hanging onto "I love you, sweetheart," knowing that it's a voice and love that cannot be parted by mortality, ever. Ever. And I'm hanging onto the truth that no one leaves us entirely when such a loved one has gifted a legacy through simply having risen up to live, seek, share, and embrace an unforgettable life.
In light of such things -- call me crazy, but the charred ruins of the hills that surround me catch my breath by their sheer audacity of will and uncompromising spirit. I am in love with our county. I am in love with every burned spot of ground, every small shoot of green, every hollowed oak, solitary chimney, or otherwise.
I am in love with the patients whom I am blessed to serve; I am humbled by the unspeakable responsibility it is to consciously be aware that it is my first obligation to step outside of any personal difficulties simply for the sacred privilege of executing my job. And, more -- it is the whole sum of humanity in all of its states that reaches back and gifts my understanding with a multiplicity of introspection and awareness. A monumental cognition of blessings. A shift in expectation, valuation, needs.
Tenacity, to me, is beautifully sacred -- nothing else could ever score so high.
So it is with fire, death, hardship, or the unknown. What I have come to know (and to never depart from such a truth of vital consequence) is that what matters in this life begins, ends, or converges when the recesses of soulful exchange -- on the most raw levels -- witnesses the purest essentials of love and human need. Period.
This, alone, engenders happiness and develops legacy.
Living Joy - This Carman Girl
I feel as though the very oxygen we breathe in our community shares stories without even the formation of a syllable. I feel a kinship to home and neighbors so powerful that it's as if I see only the hearts of people, and have ceased to be able to ever return to the idea of stress, "busyness," and the ever-present haunting angst of being "enough." And if I can't begin to share all of the thoughts I really want to - to properly put them into phrases and expression - it honestly wouldn't matter; for, individual stories emanate from every single face within this community. They are demonstrated within the choke of tears, in the unabashed abruptness of laughter, in tenderness, in faith, in receiving.
In simply being.
I heard the softness of my mother's voice and her quiet strength the other night, knowing the imminent loss of her husband. I can hear his words still as he whispered through the phone lines, "I love you, sweetheart." I felt his spirit to the depth of my soul; it was larger than his aging body. In turn, I craved every lilt and lightness in my sister's soft voice and quiet discussion later that night; I soaked up the gift of her ease and acceptance of humanity at large. She truly embodies love - always creating, pondering, inspiring, and molding life.
Don't you see?!
Every second is our second.
Every single one.
Time is nothing, and yet it is everything. Every day, life is within us and beyond us. And so, in all ways, I feel my spirit carried in the wind and echoing outward, meeting, grieving, feeling, laughing, thinking, exploring. Experiences are open-ended and eternal. The family we love and lose are forever there. Still.
I am hanging onto "I love you, sweetheart," knowing that it's a voice and love that cannot be parted by mortality, ever. Ever. And I'm hanging onto the truth that no one leaves us entirely when such a loved one has gifted a legacy through simply having risen up to live, seek, share, and embrace an unforgettable life.
In light of such things -- call me crazy, but the charred ruins of the hills that surround me catch my breath by their sheer audacity of will and uncompromising spirit. I am in love with our county. I am in love with every burned spot of ground, every small shoot of green, every hollowed oak, solitary chimney, or otherwise.
I am in love with the patients whom I am blessed to serve; I am humbled by the unspeakable responsibility it is to consciously be aware that it is my first obligation to step outside of any personal difficulties simply for the sacred privilege of executing my job. And, more -- it is the whole sum of humanity in all of its states that reaches back and gifts my understanding with a multiplicity of introspection and awareness. A monumental cognition of blessings. A shift in expectation, valuation, needs.
Tenacity, to me, is beautifully sacred -- nothing else could ever score so high.
So it is with fire, death, hardship, or the unknown. What I have come to know (and to never depart from such a truth of vital consequence) is that what matters in this life begins, ends, or converges when the recesses of soulful exchange -- on the most raw levels -- witnesses the purest essentials of love and human need. Period.
This, alone, engenders happiness and develops legacy.
Living Joy - This Carman Girl
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