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This is a place for anyone who has felt the loss of a child. Treat this as a communication haven regardless of how or when you felt your loss. My definition of loss: miscarriage at any stage, still birth regardless of week gestation, infant death at any month, and loss of a child even if your child was all grown up. For me they all hold the same root of devestation. None are more profound or more "easily" dealt with than another.

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Monday, October 13, 2008

Perfect Moment...Everyday?

Time. It's cylical. It's circular. No, it's linear. It's the master of deception. It's defiant to the point of madness. It never halts, but seems to change gears based on the law of opposites. You want to hold the moment forever, it evaporates. You are broken under the pain of loss, it drags on endlessly.

Time. Quite possibly the most absract concept bestowed on us without origination. We are a nation of order, control, the masters of the "knowns". As such, we try to control time. We measure it in seconds, minutes, hours, days, months and years. We try to manipulate it and categorize our lives based on its quantitative proporties.

When I was six, I wanted to be eight.
Eight wasn't really everything I cracked it up to be at six.

The winter always looks more magical from the perspective of summer.
Summer hot and winter cold - It is what it is

Where do we stop time? When do we say, "Ah -ha. I found it. My perfect moment. I am satisfied here, at peace and not searching for the next, and the next, and the next?"

This train of semi-connected thought planted in my mind as I thought of Perfect Moment Mondays. Aside from the obvious alliteration so appealing to the phrase (Perfect Moment Wednesdays really doesn't work), why Monday? Why not everyday? Um...Thursday perhaps? But I, in my literal, time dictated world needed my good friend Mrs. Spock to point it out.

Is there a perfect moment within every 24 hours of our earthly experience? (there's that pesky timeline again) There has to be. There should be. How do we find it? How do we invite it?

After 32 years on this earth and 8 of them on my grief road I think my mind is finally breaking free of the securely locked time straps it has slaved to for years. It is a very slow process for me. Attention to self is not something I have allocated time for in the past. Oh sure, I worked out a bit here and there, hated it, but felt like a passerbys lingering glance or a friends, "Man you are looking good" was worth it. It wasn't for me. It was for the world.

I lost Emma's body. I lost the ability to hold a baby and nurse in wee the hours of the morning. I lost her eartly future and all its permutations. I have not lost Emma. She is my guiding star, the bright light leading me, calling me when I get lost. When I get trampled down by the "must-do's" of time.

I did not choose this road. None of us did. But here we are, sloshing through the hellish muck that is grief. And yet, my girl is so powerful within me that I am not so ignorant to her lessons anymore. Furthermore, I recognize that she will be my cosmic teacher for the rest of my earthly days.

It is my job to listen. "Take care of your inner self" she says "and you will better care for my sisters". I know she's right. The, But there is so much to do in so little time... list appears instantly confusing my choice of direction. No. Not today.

Today holds no special assigned meaning. It isn't her birthday. It isn't the anniversary of her death. It is only a day, a late Fall Vermont day, asking me to participate in the process of evolving my heart and soul.

I could pay bills. I could bust out the first draft of chapter seven. I could clean my house. I could....oh yes...I definately could.

I will meditate at Emma's grave. I will allow a perfect moment this day and everyday.

To hell with time.


Lori said...

What a great post.

You "get" the spirit of Perfect Moment Mondays. It's not that something perfect happens TO us, it's that we become aware of the moment IN the moment.

And any moment you are present, you are with Emma. Presence means no separation.

So glad you posted!

Michelle said...

Just a truly beautiful post!

MrsSpock said...

Wow, my little comment seems to have had the same power as a zen koan. Glad to be the messenger...

Martha said...

Beautiful post, wonderful sentiment. Thanks, Cara.

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Time Is Both My Best Ally and My Worst Enemy: My Meltdown 8 Years Later