Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Navigating these waters...

There are rock formations up and down the Pacific Coast. Some of these outcrops have actual names. Face Rock, in Bandon, looks like a face looking up at the sky. The rest are indistinguishable, too small to be named except  in marine maps. Mariners need to know where these things are, and  how deep they go. Some rocks can catapult you to sudden death.

Without a good map, we are sure to perish.

In our everyday navigation, we anticipate most danger: we buy insurance, build strong shelters and support an armed force to defend us. We eat well, get plenty of sleep, weigh our risks in all possible ways, and minimize them through good design, environmental guidelines, policies, regulations.

We map birth, marriage, divorce, graduation, death.  We plant trees, send out invitations, mark kitchen walls. Calendar days appear in different colors, easily distinguishable from ordinary days. What we don't do well, is remember the weight of them, the weight of joy, the weight of loss unless it has happened to one of us, and it has been circled on our daily map.


  1. You can tell what thoughts are strangling me these days. Fortunately, we also get great days, wonderful moonlit nights and terrific friends who are patient and wise.

  2. I do not have anything close to the circle on your calendar ... what I do have is an awareness of how fragile it all is.

  3. Your post is a reminder to us all that we should live today, because we don't know if there will be a tomorrow.

  4. ..thinking of you always...daily...doing ordinary things....I remember you and your sorrow...

  5. another well written entry...
    FYI... I look forward to & COMPLETELY enjoy your blog, musings, poetry, etc. It tugs at my heartstrings... in every way.

  6. Yes, I can tell what thoughts are strangling you. I am also grateful that you are having those moments of joy, of beauty, of friendship, and of peace.

    Your post really struck me today because I had been thinking about the sands of sea all day. Today, for the first time in over a year, I had gone to a Bible study. I don't know your religious views, but I hope you don't mind me sharing this. We were studying Job. (Now that is book with which I can relate.) In this book, Job he speaks of his grief. He says that if it could be measured, it would weigh as much as all the sand of seas. I thought of you and how you meditate so often near the sea. I thought of your grief. I thought of my own. I thought how the sand of all the seas are made up of tiny little grains and when they all pile up, they weigh so much. Such is grief.

    Then, you wrote of these rock formations and how they require a map so that the sailor is aware of the dangers. Life doesn't always give us warnings for disasters ahead. When they hit, that is part of the shock. We thought we had things planned for and taken care of.

    The weight of loss is heavy. I'm thankful you have others to help you as you carry it. You say the things I also feel. You help me understand my own experience. Thank you.

  7. The weight of loss, especially of a child, the fruit of our womb, is heavy indeed. Unbearable at times, except we must bear it in unique witness to the value of that one who is lost.

  8. we should lay down the calandar and mark each day, instead of with a red circle, with a more present heart/mind. is there a too late? there is never a too late. this is only now. but what you say is important. i don't think all of our mapping adds up to much. why do we not learn from this?


  9. we do map our lives. my desk calendar is reminding me it's that time of year to purchase another one. to begin again with the markings...but i will try to think more about those weighings you mention. i agree with erin - there is only now, and your post makes me question all this mapping too...

    i wish you many more moonlit nights, dear rosaria.

  10. Amanda, thanks for wishing me moonlit nights!

    Erin, we don't learn because we are so full of hope, and so we live in a state of expectation most of the time. How else can we fool ourselves?

    Mary, I had no idea how weighty that loss could be!

    Retired..., I am thankful for what you shared, how you helped me navigate. You don't know how much you've helped me. Thank you for the bottom of my heart.

  11. Cat-so nice to see you.

    Suz, you've added a warm blanket on my shoulders many nights!

    Eva, we know only today is present.

    Helen, today, another reminder that the future is not guaranteed when Hubby spent the night in Emergency for angina pains. We have only this moment!