220304 What I learned in my studies this morning 2

In memoriam 

Dolce vida, remembered. 

Energies now freed. 

An Elegy for M.  

 
My friend was a mystic. As that's not part of who I am, I have had some difficulty finding ways to honor her memory. 

She believed in energy and spirits and Nature, in forces positive and negative flowing through our shared universe. In fire and earth and air and water. She believed in healing energies and all the noumena that comes with such belief.

She believed in kindness. In celebrating life through dance and rhythm and sharing herself. 

Following along through a group created to celebrate her life, I have found myself mystified (a deliberately chosen word) by the ways others have shared their feelings for her. Their heartfelt and beautiful tributes to this woman are so different from my approach to the world, I cannot help but learn from them new ways to appreciate our shared life. 

Yet, despite the differences in approach, I can so easily recognize her love and warmth and kindness and strength in every expression of love.  And to realize how much poorer my life is for not knowing her in the ways they did. 

So this morning, I did something beyond my normal ken, asking her spirit to guide my hand in choosing a selection to reflect upon. 

I randomly picked up a book from my library and found I had Whitman's Leaves of Grass in hand. I thought of her as I opened the volume to a random page: Song of Myself, part 21.

It seemed appropriate to her memory. 

Walt Whitman: Song of Myself, Part 21

I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul,

The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me,

The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into a new tongue.

I am the poet of the woman the same as the man,

And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man,

And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.

I chant the chant of dilation or pride,

We have had ducking and deprecating about enough,

I show that size is only development.

Have you outstript the rest? are you the President?

It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, and still pass on.

I am he that walks with the tender and growing night,

I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night.

Press close bare-bosom'd night—press close magnetic nourishing night!

Night of south winds—night of the large few stars!

Still nodding night—mad naked summer night.

Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth!

Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees!

Earth of departed sunset—earth of the mountains misty-topt!

Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!

Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!

Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake!

Far-swooping elbow'd earth—rich apple-blossom'd earth!

Smile, for your lover comes.

Prodigal, you have given me love—therefore I to you give love!

O unspeakable passionate love. 

I put off yesterday's meditation to finish today; the reason isn't important. Perhaps, in a transcendent sense, it was M's way of letting me see this passage from Tolstoy today instead of yesterday. It seems to fit her well. 

In another bit of synchronicity some may say is M. guiding my hand to find thoughts close to her, this also would have appeared in my post for yesterday. 

M. was the kind of person who helped and never expected a reward. She helped because that is who she was. 

In a final happy (guided?) coincidence, this would have been yesterday's music, had I completed that entry last night. By putting it off, I come across it this morning instead. 

Carmen Suite no. 1 3: Intermezzo by Georges Bizet

While I feel she would have appreciated the beauty of Vivaldi's concerto in the post for yesterday, I cannot but imagine she would have found this piece from Bizet closer to her soul. 

Requiescat in pace, M.