“I don t want a world without pain, or loss. I just want them to mean something.”
“People need something tangible to attach their grief to. There is no comfort to be taken from wide open spaces full of nothing.”
“When the Best is gone - I know that other things are not of consequence - The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care -”
“For this is their parting: as sudden and slow, surprising and foreseen as any parting. Between together and apart: an eyeblink and all of eternity.”
“My time in seminary confirmed what I had learned about loss and life: that living with the end in mind can be an ennobling endeavor. That the more we embrace dying, the more we embrace living. That life was never meant to be about our self-interests but about being a source of love for others. That our presence is far more important than any technical know-how we may possess about religion or spirituality. That compassion and generosity of spirit will prevail over rigid thoughts and beliefs every single time. That sitting with discomfort can be far more intimate and helpful than trying to fix that which is unfixable. And that when something can be remedied, we must not allow ourselves to become passive but rather step in and fill the void. All of this is the essence of reverence.”
“Помня всички нужни и ненужни подробности от този първи ден на втория ми живот, но най-вече помня странното, напрегнато усещане, че не съм взел със себе си нещо крайно необходимо. Че не би трябвало да се качвам в самолета без него, но няма как да го побера нито в ръчния багаж, нито в куфара и ще трябва да го оставя тук завинаги.”
“Hungry? Thirsty? Tired and need a place to lay your head? Need your shoe tied? A book read? A ride to baseball? New sheets for your dorm? A babysitter for your kids? A quiet cup of tea? Do you need help navigating a problem? A heartache? A loss? Celebrating a win? Want motivation? Validation? To be challenged? To be held? To be loved? Call a mom.”
“When I didn t die, however, and then didn t die some more, I came one day to understand: I wasn t dying; I was grieving. I wasn t dying. Not yet.”
“The Poetry that Searches Poetry that paints a portrait in words, Poetry that spills the bottled emotions, Gives life to the feelings deep inside, Breaks through all the times wept, To sweep you in a whirling ecstatic delight. The chiseled marble of language, The paint spattered canvas, Where colors flow through words, Where emotions roll on a canvas, And it all begins with you. The canvas that portrays the trembling you, Through the feelings that splash, Through the words that spatter, All over the awaiting canvas. Such is the painting sketched with passion, Colored with the heart s unleashed emotions. The poetry that reads your trembling heart, The poetry that feeds the seed of your dreams, That poetry that reveals light within rain, Takes you to a place where beauty lies in stain. The poetry that whispers- May you find the stars, in a night so dark, May you find the moon, so rich with silver, May you sip the madness and delight In a night berserk with a wailing agony . Such words that arise from spilling emotions, So recklessly you fall, in love with life again. So, you rise shedding your fears, To chase after your dreams, As you hear thunder in the rain, That carries your pain, Through the painting of words, colored with courage, Splashed with ferocity, amidst the lost battles. Such is the richest color splash in words, Laid down on papers, that stayed so empty, For ages and ages. At times, you may feel lost, Wandering homeless in the woods, But poetry that you write, To drink the moonlight and madness, Poetry that you spill on a canvas with words, Calls you to fall, for life again. The words that evoke the intense emotions, The painting that gives the richest revelation, The insight that deepens in a light so streaming, Is the poetry that reveals the truth and beauty, In a form so elemental, in a way so searching, For a beauty so emotive, Which trembles, With the poetry s deepest digging. The words that take your eyes to sleep, The poetry that stills your raging feelings, Is the portrait of words that carries you, In emotions bottled within, held so deep, For an era so long. Forgotten they seemed, yet they arose, With the word s deepest calling, To the soul sleeping inside. The poetry that traces your emotions with words, Is a poetry that traces your soul with its lips, To speak a language that your heart understands. The Ecstatic Dance of Soul Copyright 2020 Jayita Bhattacharjee”
“We humans think we exist like this. Dadi gestured to the powders in their individual bowls. Apart. Single. Beautiful and vivid, but alone. … She upended the two bowls into the center of the larger container, and the powders came together. They were mixed somewhat, but still in their separate piles for the most part - Then Dad continued, with each interaction with another soul, we begin to change. She put a finger into the pile of powders and began to stir gently. The powders mixed more the longer she stirred, red mingling with orange, losing its distinct form. We take pieces of them, and they take pieces of us. It s not bad. It s not good. It just is. By now the powders were completely mixed together, indistinguishable from each other. Our best friends, the ones we love the most, are the ones who can hurt us the most. Because look. She pointed down to the powders. We have had so many interactions, that we cannot separate their pieces from ours. And if we try, we would only be getting rid of ourselves.”
“Well,” she said. “I was happy for fiffty-five years. That’s more than most people get. Now there’s the clan to look after, like Raphael would’ve wanted. The night we knew he was gone, and every night since, I watch my vampires in the home he guarded. I watch the mundanes in the streets he loved. Every one of them looks like a child I should help, a possibility for a future I wasn’t able to imagine. Every one of them seems precious, worth defending, worth the world. Every one of them is Raphael.”
“There’s a misconception that grief is about “looking backward,” mourning someone whose life has been reduced to memories. But grief is also about “looking forward,” realizing and grieving all the future events that your loved one will never get to participate in. Grief is half about mourning the past that was and half about mourning the future that never will be. You’re not weird or crazy for jumping months, years, or decades ahead to envision a life without your loved one present. In fact, when loss happens, we often feel like we’re losing everything all at once—past, present, and future. Sometimes in these moments, it’s comforting to know that while your loved one can no longer follow you into the future, your memories and love for them can.”
“What if you lose your muse? Your mind will keep searching for an unknown palm, an empty core of clustered starry moisture, a broken harmony of a long lost song. Your heart will trample across moments, scattered here and there hoping to smile through a blank verse, an unmade sculpture, a void cosmos walking through a violet sky. And your soul? That, a sparkle of a crimson sun will dance along the glitter of a fragmentary dream, and in a love that clutches you in transience of an eternity, hold your breath in a paradise of a vibrant vision, and there you will find your muse again, once again. So what if you lose your muse?”
“When love goes bad nothing goes worse.”
“We tell the story of our grief for two reasons: first, to solidify in our brains and hearts that life without our loved one is our new reality; and second, to realize that we are not alone. Just as grief is not a one-time event, telling the story of our loss is not a one-time event, either. We must share the story of what happened, to make sense of it for ourselves and to connect with others who are experiencing similar pain.”
“While some people are born with a greater propensity for resilience, resil- ience is not a static characteristic. Resilience can be practiced, nourished, and built across your lifetime. If you feel like you’re not bouncing back, well, you’re in good company. The death of a loved one often marks the first time that people are forced to come back from something hard, scary, and life- changing. Each day that you are living beyond the day of your loss is another day you’re building resilience. You’re teaching your heart, mind, and body what it means to continue to live after the very worst has happened.”
“There’s a groundlessness in life after loss, as if somebody is pulling the rug out from under you again and again. It’s hard to find anything stable and secure to stand on, and when you do, there’s always the fear that it’s going to be taken away. Know that this sense of not having legs to stand on is completely normal and is a very real sensation brought on by loss. It’s not pleasant by any means—in fact, it can be downright terrifying—but it is an expected part of grief.”