The World within and the world without

Florentina, Amdrew & Robert meeting me at the airport on my return from India

Florentina, Andrew & Robert meeting me at airport on my return from india

“…almost everybody is looking around and vibrating in response to what they are
seeing. So, what is the solution? Look around less. Imagine more. Look
around less. Imagine more. Until your imagery is the most familiar
vibration that you have…”
— Abraham
Indeed it is having to look at the outside world that is forcing me out of the cocoon of relative peace I had spun around myself. Of the phone call giving us the news; all I can say is that I wish it could be erased!
But our close friends mobilizing within seconds enveloped us in a net that protected and shielded us.
Friends drove us to the hospital that morning, and friends drove us back. It has been friends, and neighbors that have taken up the job of feeding us every day for the past thirteen days.
Not to mention the flowers that arrived that first week, and the letter and cards that have been arriving since and the generous support with and at Andrew’s funeral. And the constant prayers that have carried us all.
Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Still the pain and shock of those early days seems sweet compared to the ripening, shuddering fear I experience as I feel the world. Within I am as afraid as without.
Still, I have to find a way to get back to myself for I am still a wife, a mother and a seeker.
Seek and you shall find. They may have gone from sight, but they are still with us. And we shall find them.

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4 thoughts on “The World within and the world without

  1. My thoughts and prayers are with you.
    Your words brought this poem by Tess Gallagher into my mind. Here it is. It’s called “I stop writing the poem”

    to fold the clothes. No matter who lives
    or who dies, I’m still a woman.
    I’ll always have plenty to do.
    I bring the arms of his shirt
    together. Nothing can stop
    our tenderness. I’ll get back
    to the poem. I’ll get back to being
    a woman. But for now
    there’s a shirt, a giant shirt
    in my hands, and somewhere a small girl
    standing next to her mother
    watching to see how it’s done.

      • Yes. We can do that. There is an ordinariness about meeting someone–the logistics, the business of now or later, of what time to arrive, where to meet–that feels bizarre. As I think of your life right now, during this time outside of normal living, the ordinary seems almost offensive. But ordinariness is a gift too, I guess. One doesn’t realize.

        It sounds desperately hard from one moment to the next. Are you eating and drinking a little each day? Walking outdoors? How is Florentina? No reply needed. I’m just thinking about these things.

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