Posted on May 15, 2014
Easter weekend I watched the beautifully intriguing movie, The Fountain (2006), starring Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz. It was in stark contrast to the hedonistic flare of Surviving Picasso (1996), starring Anthony Hopkins, viewed the night before. To my surprise, Picasso was adept at manipulating and using people for his own purpose and pleasure. He would discard people as easily as an undesirable painting. And yet, many of his team of attendants were with him for decades. It was a bizarre tale of loyalty and obsession. Until one of his mistresses broke the mold and set herself free. It is from her viewpoint that the story of Picasso unfolds.
The Fountain is also a tale of loyalty and obsession. Obsessed with fighting death, the main character misses out on living life to the very last minute with the woman he loves and adores—the whole reason he is fighting death (finding a cure) is to keep her with him longer. In an ironic twist, his selfishness and focus to not lose the one he loves robs him of cherished last moments. Makes a person think a little deeper about life and death—and that we cannot have one without the other.
The movie takes viewers on a multidimensional journey to explore the meanings of life and death. A key theme being we cannot have life without death. Seeds must die to emerge as tiny plants that gradually grow into mature vegetation that will eventually die to nurture the soil to support more life. There is a beautiful analogy in the movie that illustrates the “life of awe” that can only come about through death.
The other concept that struck me is that life loses its meaning without death. Without the ‘threat’ of death, life becomes monotonous. Knowing life is temporary is the impetus to make the most of our time on earth. We can use that time fighting a losing battle against death; or we can make the most of our time fully engaged in relationships and making our time on earth count.
Now this is not to say that developing cures for illnesses is not making good use of our time, should one be a brilliant scientist. It is when our passions become obsessions that we lose our way. In order to live fully, we must pursue our passions. But at what point do we sabotage our own efforts? Do other people experience loss or pain (like Picasso’s tangled web of family and close associates) because we are relentless in our pursuit of pleasure or desperate attempts not to experience pain?
At what point do we declare our passionate pursuits more important than people and our closest relationships? When do our desperate attempts at pain avoidance sabotage our efforts to live more fully?
In some ways the desperate husband, about to lose his wife to a brain tumor, refuses to surrender to a higher order of things—such as life and death. He declares his time is better spent apart from her, in order to find a cure, than to spend as much time as possible with her, soaking up every lingering moment. I wonder how she felt, knowing his efforts were a symbol of his love and devotion, yet craving his support and companionship? Rather than face her fear of death with her, he lived in denial. He, of course, does eventually learn what his wife was trying to teach him about death and dying—as well as living.
Death truly does beget more life.
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Posted on Apr 18, 2014
Ever have one of those days that feels like it’s happening in an alternate universe, yet all the places and characters are familiar? Tuesday was like that for me. It started out innocently enough. A simple game of tug-o-rope with my dog, Elsa (Rottweiler-Corgi-Shiba Inu-Blue Heeler mixed breed), before heading for work. That is, until we literally butted heads. What a loud crack!
I furiously began rubbing the sore spot to ease the pain, until confusion surfaced as my brain registered the taste of blood in my mouth. Pulling my hand away from my face, I felt like I had entered some zone for horror or crime shows. My hand was covered in blood. Peering into the bathroom mirror, the crime scene shifted to include an image of blood trickling down the side of my face from a small gash in the vicinity of my left eye brow.
Fortunately a wet wash cloth and ice pack did the trick for transforming the scene from bloody nightmare to quiet rest on the couch. At least until the clock informed me I needed to get my butt in gear to get to work on time. As the alternate universe would have it, I couldn’t get out the door without a goose egg gradually forming where my eyelid should be.
The first client left with the reassuring words, “at least the swelling has stopped.” Things remained stable for the second, other than an added hint of green. As my husband had not kept up with Facebook postings that day, it took a couple of glances before he noticed the strange shadow around my left eye. My evening clients were able to participate in session even though their therapist had a green growth bulging out of her left temple area. At least I had an alternate excuse for my neurological issues: a slight concussion. A bit of a break from the usual Chronic Fatigue Syndrome repertoire of explanations.
The next day proved even more interesting as my green goose egg had morphed, overnight, into something that looked like an experiment performed by a maniacal make-up artist. Purple and green splashes of colour that actually looked like someone had brushed them meticulously into place. The following day, the colours deepened. One of my group therapy participants wondered if I was trying something new with my make-up routine and just hadn’t gotten to the other eye. I was able to correct these misperceptions. However, I did choose not to pay the town utility bill that afternoon as I couldn’t see myself explaining the whole “make-up experiment gone wrong” all over again. Elsa does, after all, have much more noteworthy talents. Such as how she gently checks on me and my face.
Today is Friday, and my face looks like I should be wearing prison garb while awaiting trial locked away in a jail somewhere. I am thankful this is not the case—and that I don’t have to leave the house today. Tomorrow is another story. We’ll see how well make-up covers up Elsa’s attempts at a new career. So, if you see me out and about, don’t worry; I am well. And having a wonderfully restful Easter long weekend.
Happy Easter!
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Posted on Mar 15, 2014
May the blessing of the rain be on you—
the soft sweet rain.
May it fall upon your spirit
so that all the little flowers may spring up,
and shed their sweetness on the air.
May the blessing of the great rains be on you,
may they beat upon your spirit
and wash it fair and clean,
and leave there many a shining pool
where the blue of heaven shines,
and sometimes a star.
~Irish Blessing
With St. Patrick’s Day around the corner, the blessings of the Irish come to mind for this month’s blog. While it feels more apt to snow than rain with this fickle weather, the sentiment is fitting for this time of year—for our spirits to be rejuvenated, spreading joy to others. The spring rains will come and with it new growth shedding sweetness on the air, highlighted by blue skies and reflective puddles. All the better in our spirits as well as upon the earth.
Having had surgery earlier this month—after a week of recovery, slowly returning to regular rhythm and routine—it feels like I’ve rounded a corner, turned a page, begun a new chapter. How fitting that it coincides with the turning of the seasons.
With the blank page before me, I wonder what will be written as the chapter moves ahead. It’s off to a good start, at any rate, with physical as well as spiritual healing. This time of rest has prompted rethinking who I am and what I want out of life as well as what I contribute to Life as a whole.
I have affirmed that much of my life will continue to focus on helping women be the best they can be: to overcome internalized messages, limitations of socialization, toxic relationships; to broaden their view of themselves and how they live in the world.
It’s certainly been a life changing, healing journey for me. I’m yearning to peek around the next corner to see what’s ahead; but I haven’t mastered ‘living in the moment’ yet. For now, I will anticipate spring’s gentle rains to enliven my spirit once again, to encourage new growth that sweetens the air—and the people—around me. Maybe those tears of grief I wrote about awhile back truly are enriching the soil of my soul. I look forward to nurturing what sprouts!
May there always be work for your hands to do.
May your purse always hold a coin or two.
May the sun always shine on your windowpane.
May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain.
May the hand of a friend always be near you.
May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.
~Irish Blessing
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
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