Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Circles from Circles
Okay, I took a day off and you’d better get used to it. I’ve had a big week or so, and I have lots and lots of stuff stored up to share, but there’s no time for that now. No time for the fabulous dinner party at Mitch and Catharine’s place ("Soylent green is people.... and we’re the people of Soylent Green"); no time for the interesting characters on the 38; no time for the wonderful birthday party at Ralph’s place or the delightful supper we had with Dave and Kim and the munchkins. No time, even, for the blogger meetup at Q for ribs, tater tots, tentacles and big Robot Chicken giggles. What is there time for? The Circle, baby.... the Circle of Life.
Monday I went with Kel to Hills of Eternity in Colma, to attend the memorial ceremony for my beloved Aunt Jean. Technically, she was the wife of my first cousin once removed; actually, she was the avatar of style for the west coast branch of my tightly-knit and deeply connected family. She never gave in to the cancers and lung diseases and other debilitating illnesses she’d fought for a year and more. Regardless, even without giving in, she was overtaken by them last week, and yesterday we bade her farewell, with sorrow at her loss and joy at the blessing of having known her.
I’ve been to a few funerals before, though not many, but this one had one aspect that will really stick with me: we were standing at the gravesite and her casket had been laid to rest at the bottom of the grave. Then the rabbi told us a koan about a ship leaving the harbor to cheers and celebrations, and a ship arriving at the same time with no ceremony or recognition; he asked us to ask ourselves why we should be cheering for a ship that faces uncertain fates, for which the future is an unwritten letter - when we can congratulate the vessel that has safely and successfully returned to a home port, evading perils, outlasting threats. The cheers should be for those that negotiate the course and come back wiser, greater, more loved than when they first left. And that is why we were celebrating Jean, whose journey was an inspiration to us all.
The rabbi then taught us a tradition: our community takes it as a solemn responsibility to perform burials ourselves - to participate personally in this act of return. The dirt from the grave was piled high behind him, with two shovels stuck in it. He told us to step up, if we wished, and empty some dirt into the grave - but to distinguish this act from ordinary, garden-variety shovellings by turning the blade of the shovel upsidedown. It would make us think and concentrate on the act we were undertaking - a holy act. No less holy than turning the ground for new crops, or digging them up for the supper table… but differently holy. I’ve heard so many times, in movies and on television: the sound of dirt hitting that subterranean wooden surface.... but this time, in person, it felt really different, down in my bones. And even with all the shovelling I’ve ever done - and I have done some shovelling - this was one heavy spade of soil. But Jean was an amazing woman, and I know that it didn’t bury her - it just gave her spirit fertile ground in which to grow.
But here’s the wild thing: we stopped off at home after the memorial service, on our way to a family lunch at Uncle Jim’s house, and found a message waiting for us on our answering machine. We checked it. It was our social worker, letting us know: “Your little guy is ready to travel." We have two weeks from yesterday to get to Korea and pick him up. This was supposed to happen in OCTOBER, people. We’re now frantically painting the crib and arranging for flights and making lists of people who have to be contacted and things that have to be obtained and dealt with and postponed.... My head is spinning. I’m going to have a baby boy very soon - five months old and medically diagnosed as “cute and alert.” What a trip. In so many freaking ways.
SO. So I’ve got to do a lot of things around the house, and I’ve got to do them fast. After that, I’ll have nothing but time. And by “after that” I mean sometime around 2020 - the year, not the ocular prescription. So here’s my deal: I’ll keep posting when I can, but it may not be the daily deal I’ve done so far. Anyway, I disavow in advance any guilt for missing the quotidian post thing. There’s too much going on. It’s been a big week or so.... but if I thought that was intense, I have no idea what’s in store. I just know it’s going to be one hell of a lot of fun.