14 October 2009
Five Perspectives on Death
Posted by Robin Easton under: Hobnobbin' with Robin .
Death in Nature:
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This is the first article in a five part series, Five Perspectives on Death, which takes a look at five simple lessons I’ve learned from Death. Most of American culture — although not all — tends to avoid the topic of death. I understand why this is so, but I also feel we isolate ourselves from each other and the richness of Life when we don’t allow ourselves to look at the possibility of Death. In denying the existence of death we limit our life experience. These limitations and isolation will be future articles in this series, but for now I share a tiny glimpse of Death and Life in part one titled:
“Through My Mother’s Eyes”
The other day on my morning hike I spied a gray flycatcher upon the desert floor. He lay dead on an overgrown ranch trail and had probably been there through the night. Although stiff, he was fully intact and undisturbed by carrion eaters or maggots, his eyes only recently glazed over. I suspected a ranch truck had hit him; there were fresh tire tracks on the old trail that hadn’t been there the previous morning. A gentle probe of the bird’s minuscule bones revealed a severely broken neck.
Some might find it disgusting to handle a dead bird. I don’t. The bird was an exquisite work of art. I marveled over the greatness of Intelligence that created such perfect detail. In my mind’s eye I saw his sunlit wings as he flitted across blue sky. His death was an opportunity to learn about Birds, Nature, Life and Death. I remembered how my mother used to point out the detailed beauty in all kinds of creatures, both living and dead.
Seeing Beyond Death to the Soul
When Mom was struck with Alzheimer’s and started to fade away she lost a lot of weight and couldn’t communicate in the way she’d previously done. There were many changes in her. One day a friend of Mom’s went with me to visit her (now in assisted living). The friend said she’d go talk with the nurses while I visited with Mom, as she couldn’t be around my mother; “she looked too terrible and wasn’t herself anymore”. I didn’t judge the woman’s feelings, but for me I only saw Mom’s beautiful soul. It was radiant despite the Alzheimer’s and her diminished physical state. When I looked at her I saw someone I loved with all my heart, someone I knew loved me with all her breath…no matter what we’d been through. Everything had turned to love.
Although she couldn’t speak and often stared into space, at one point she suddenly grabbed my hand and piercingly looked at me. Tears filled her gray-blue eyes, but they weren’t sad tears. She smiled the most beatific smile I’d ever seen on her face. I realized she was trying to reassure me. In my mind I heard her say a thousand things at once, all coming from Love. As I hugged her I told her I would always love her. She wrapped an arm around my neck and made soft cooing sounds while tears filled my eyes. She seemed to take great comfort in comforting me. In that moment we clung to Life, we clung to Love and all things good. Everything was forgiven, let go, understood and at peace. I felt her soul flow into mine and mine into hers.
We Must Not Take Life for Granted
The morning I sat alone on the desert floor with junipers, wind and my mother’s spirit, I knew she would have found beauty in that fragile little bird. Mom was like that; she saw beauty in so many things. Just as her soul had flowed into mine, I felt the spirit of the bird fly up and become part of me, as if he’d been waiting for me, just to see his loveliness. I cried because I felt his beauty inside me, inside my mother, inside us all. I experienced great joy because he had lived. He’d filled the sky with swooping wings and morning songs. I cried because I knew what his loss meant to me. He had graced this Earth and, like me, held a special place in the intricate web of life. That is something to be honored.
We take so much for granted, and not just the people we love. Imagine if you woke one morning and all around you lay only sand and barren desert, not one tree, not one blade of grass, not one single flower, bird, lizard, deer, not one clear creek, not one sighing green leaf. Nothing. Imagine that. All…gone…forever. When I held that little bird, I understood without doubt that I held a life of equal value to my own. As I gently returned him to the desert floor I knew I’d touched the Divine.
I left the flycatcher there, intact and free on the high desert where I found him. It’s where he belongs. I know this because it’s where I also belong. You see, I too wish to die in the wild. It’s were I connect to my greatest love. It’s where I go home.
Next week: “When I Die”
Love,
Robin
NOTE: When I finished handling the bird I washed my hands with an antiseptic towelette, as some birds can carry disease and parasites. Since I’m fascinated by all creatures, I usually look at them when I find them dead on the trail: dead lizards, beetles, birds, etc. So I carry towelettes.
This Site: © Robin Easton
Website: http://www.nakedineden.com
Blog: http://nakedineden.com/nakedinedenblog/
44 Comments so far...
Tara S. Dickherber, M.Ed, CPC Says:
14 October 2009 at 11:55 am.
Robin what a beautiful post. I believe that Death is an important part of Life. And with death we do not loose our connection to our loved ones, that is just changed into something else. The soul, essence of the person is not lost; only the body. Therefore our relationship with that person, animal, or plant continues on. I had a Great Aunt, Dolly, whom I loved dearly. She was more of a Grandmother to me than my Grandmothers were, when she passed I did not cry. She had left her painful, diabetic body behind. I know that this was a decision she made after having a heart attack, that when she had another she would not fight to stay with her body. I accepted her decision, she had told this to my mother and I. At her funeral though my sister questioned my “grief” since I did not cry. I can not say I was that evolved with the death of a pet that I lost a few years ago. Death is not a loss, it’s a start to a new relationship!
Robin Replies
Dear Tara, this is so beautifully expressed and I’m glad you’ve had this insight and experience, as not everyone is able to see death in this light. I really relate to your words: “Death is not a loss, it’s a start to a new relationship!” Although we can miss terribly sitting with the person who died. We can miss holding them in our arms, etc. I truly believe that if we keep an open mind we can continue to talk to them and feel and commune with them. In some of the hardest times of my life I suddenly felt my father with me SO strongly as if he were in the room. I felt over come by his love and compassion for me. It truly made me stronger. And I believe that we can continue to grow and heal (even old emotional wounds) with those who have died. Although my father is dead, my relationship with him not only didn’t stop but it continued to grow in ways I (or he) was not able to grow when he was alive. —Your comment is beautifully expressed Tara and offers a lot of hope and insight. Thank you for sharing your personal experience here. I appreciate it.
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Jonathan - Advanced Life Skills Says:
14 October 2009 at 12:14 pm.
What a touching story Robin, I felt close to your mother through your heartfelt expressions. I was left with one thought: CELEBRATE LIFE, do it continually while you can. If you do, others may celebrate your life after you are gone.
Robin Replies
Dear Jonathan, WOW! You really have a gift of honing right in what I am trying to say and yet don’t always know how to say in a sweet short phrase like yours. YES! We must celebrate life all the time and live that model for others, always instill Life. And we can do this in not just BIG ways, but there are so many small ways to do this all day long. I appreciate your openness when I am this way on your site. You don’t shy away from from VITALITY. In being this way you offer me and so many others a massive gift. —The older I grow the more precious every single moment of my life becomes. I know you understand this and live it. I think you have ALWAYS lived it.
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Jan Doan Says:
14 October 2009 at 1:04 pm.
As someone recently recounted to me: We come into this world with tears in our eyes, and smiles on the faces all around us. If we are fortunate, we’ll have a smile on our face and tears in the eyes all around us when we die.
Robin Replies
Dear Jan, Welcome and thank you for stopping in. I love this quote you shared here. I’d not heard it and it put a smile on my face. Such a lovely image it created in my mind. I wish all people could die surrounded by those whom they love. Thank you.
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Zeenat{Positive Provocations} Says:
14 October 2009 at 1:49 pm.
Robin, I have tears in my eyes as I write these lines. This was truly a very touching post. Your mother reminded me of my grandfather in his last days. He suffered from Alzheimer too. Couldn’t remember anyone or anything. He was just another person physically. But his eyes were still the same, full of love. Anytime I needed reassurance, all I had to do was go and sit beside him and only his presence made everything ok. Somehow although he never responded to anything or anyone during those days, he would smile and hold my hands every-time he saw me. He had stopped talking, but even in that silence he said enough to reassure me. When he passed, I was ok, I know he is in a better place and comes to me whenever I need him.
Thank you for writing about a topic that really does need to be discussed and talked about. People do need to get over the fear of death and just embrace life and all its glory!!!
Lots of love
Zeenat
Robin Replies
Dear Zeenat, This is a very touching story of you and your grandfather. I am moved by you and proud that you were able to see something in him beyond his diminished state. So many people need this when they lose the ability to communicate in the ways they previously have. Inside they still need to be seen and loved and feel a “part of” and not a “part from”. When you said he still comes to you if you need him, that reminds me of my Dad (as I told Tara in her comment). You are gifted to be that open and able to feel him and continue the relationship. —Your line: “People do need to get over the fear of death and just embrace life and all its glory!!!” I will be writing about this very insight in the third part of this series. Thank you my beautiful friend for sharing. Lost of love to you as well, Robin
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Alex Says:
14 October 2009 at 1:51 pm.
I’m always deeply moved by your words Robin. And, yet again, I stumble with synchronicity. Only today I was writing about the dwindling celebration of death as a natural aspect of the life-cycle. And, yes I too understand the motivation, but it’s counter-productive as the most natural phenomenon can appear terrifying when banished to the borders of ‘polite society’ and assigned the label of untouchable/unspeakable.
For example, little objects can cast huge and beastly shadows, shine a little light on them and often they’ll assume more approachable forms. Thank you for shining a little light on death. I look forward to the next installments of your writing.
Robin Replies
Dear Alex, what a remarkably beautiful comment. Wow! I look forward to reading what you write about death. I LOVE your lines here. This one: “…the dwindling celebration of death as a natural aspect of the life-cycle…” This is soooooooo true. Having lived a lot of my life very closely with Nature, I saw death all the time. Everything in the rainforest and in nature is eating and being eaten, and things happen and creatures die every single day, but one day in the forest (I write about this in my book I just finished) I realized that Nature wasn’t comprised a bunch of separate creatures, all disconnected, it is ONE living organism that is so in love with itself that it is continually devouring itself to create more and more life, more love. —I also just thrilled at this line of yours: “…it’s counter-productive as the most natural phenomenon can appear terrifying when banished to the borders of ‘polite society’…” Wow, you have such a beautiful way with words. That just spun my head around; it is so powerful. Thank you for your depth of insight and beautiful writing. A treasure.
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Bernsoft Says:
14 October 2009 at 2:12 pm.
By allowing death to be, and not rejecting it, or repressing it,
We can truly know what it feels like to be Alive.
And when we can truly Live,
Death itself disappears from the radar screen,
And Life is All we feel and experience.
Robin Replies
Dear Bernsoft, 
This is simply just beautiful. I resonate with it deeply as it has been my life experience as well. I write about this very insight in part three of this series. There is SO much truth in what you say here. You poem reflects your willingness to embrace the reality of Death to be used as a reason for fully living. Good for you!! I love how you conveyed such depth of insight with so few words. A bit like Jonathan Wells on this page. Thank you for sharing your core wisdom. Beautiful.
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Tammy/Cricket Says:
14 October 2009 at 2:33 pm.
Hello Robin,
I have missed coming to visit you so much. What a day to visit. You’ve written about “why” I have vanished from the online world for a brief period. Marcel has made me realize just how fast time passes and just how few days we actually have. I’m out there trying to take it all in while he is walking his final days.
Death is not something to fear, but appreciate. Opening our eyes is all that is needed. Life is free when it comes to the gifts we are given. So many don’t see this.
Beautiful Robin…I love these words today.
Robin Replies
Dear Tammy, You write of something I think of every single day, which is how fleeting and precious life is, and how fully we must live each moment. Marcel would know this better than any of us. He is an inspiration for me as well. —Everyday, in fact all day long, I ask myself am I doing what I really want to do? Am I really living? Is there anywhere I’ve fallen asleep at the wheel and need to awaken? In the span of millions of years, which Earth has seen, we are barely a blink. And yes, the best things, the truly magnificent things in life have nothing to do with money. They are, as you say, free. —I’ve missed you as well, but I am deeply glad you are living your life. That is ALL that matters. It….is….EVERYTHING! Thank you dear soul. You warm my heart and inspire me.
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Nadia - Happy Lotus Says:
14 October 2009 at 2:49 pm.
Hi Robin,
I had tears in my eyes as I read about your experiences with your mother as she dealt with Alzheimers. It reminded me of my experience with my mother who passed away from cancer. When I was 15, I died for a few minutes and came back. As a result, I began to live my life at full throttle and just was in awe of the fact that life could change in an instant.
When my mother was diagnosed with cancer, we moved in so that I could take care of my mother. Those six months were the greatest gift my mother ever gave me. When I tell people that, they think I am insane since my mother died at the end of those six months. But in those six months, I really learned more about the beauty of living. The mere fact someone can get up in the morning and walk to the bathroom (and use the bathroom) by themselves are huge blessings that need to be acknowledged because you just never know when this beautiful journey will end.
Thank you for a beautiful post and I look forward to the rest of the series. You are a beautiful soul! I am grateful to have met you and keep shining as bright as you do!
Robin Replies
Dear Nadia, What a life you have lived. The more I hear the more I understand your great wisdom, and even more the depth of your compassion. What an incredible experience you had at such a young age, and one that you were able to understand and learn from even though you were only 15. That is incredible. Many people don’t learn that in a whole lifetime. —I REALLY like the point you make when your Mom was dying and the riches of those last six months. This is a beautiful insight and makes total sense because it really isn’t about how long we have or what condition the other person is in, but rather how deeply and fully we connect with those we love. It was this way with my mother. I was away from home for years of my life, in other countries. And while growing up my mom and I often clashed. It wasn’t until those last few years where I was mature enough and she also desperately wanted to connect with me in a deeper way, that we were able to move beyond everything and establish total peace and love between us. I KNEW (and I think she did too on some level) that we were running out of time to really connect, so I made a point of getting to really know her soul. And now she is always with me. I feel her in my life all the time. The same with my Dad. —And thank YOU, Nadia. I know for certain that what you see in me is in you. So wonderful to reflect to each other in this way.
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Janet Gardner Says:
14 October 2009 at 3:13 pm.
Hi Robin, this is so touching it brought tears to my eyes. Your insight to death is amazing to me. It made me realize why on the day I buried my mother I was fine until I got home and a pain overcame me in my chest and I wailed and wailed like I have never experienced before or since. We had those moments as well when she was dying. We were one soul as well. And on that day when it hit me that I would never see her physically again, that pain was a mutual feeling, she must of been aching for me as well. I look forward to the rest of this series. I am so glad our paths have crossed, you inspire and teach me so much.
You’re a love,
Take Care,
Janet
Robin Replies
Dear Janet, what a beautiful beautiful sharing. I am just moved to tears by it. Stunned. I too know this type of wailing. It can be profoundly cathartic, literally alter our whole perception and open up the doors to soul connections. You have reflected back to me something that when I wrote it it just came from my heart. But you state it much more clearly and specifically here. YES!! When we become one soul we begin to access THEIR feelings as well. WOW!! This raises something that I experienced a LOT in the wild. Far away from people and family, I KNEW the soul of my mother, my father and other people I loved deeply. It is how I first came to know and understand and, more importantly, deeply LOVE my mother. Without even being near her, I felt her pain, from her life, and understood WHY she was how she was, and WHY she hurt about certain things. It was a truly ASTOUNDING experience. It’s what allowed my mother and I to have such a deep bond even when she was struck with Alzheimer’s. That bond will now ALWAYS be there. I have the same bond with my father who died many years ago. I am a far richer person for having these bond. My dear Janet, you are a love also. Very much so. Thank you for the gift you gave me today.
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Wilma Ham Says:
14 October 2009 at 4:51 pm.
You are a muse.
I drink it in and let the waves of your words and the music I hear carry me to where you take me.
To love, to my heart, to the sky, to life with everything in it as is.
A beautiful experience to be taken in with love.
Thank you for this journey and taking me with you.
As always, heart to heart, love Wilma
Robin Replies
Oh my dear Wilma, you have described how I feel when I read all the words from your heart. This is like a poem (what you shared here). I love all your words, but these words brought instant tears to my eyes: “…to life with everything in it as is.” It’s the Everything in it AS IS. Your ability to encompass life is immediately made me fall in love with you. You simply embrace it all. THIS I really relate it. It doesn’t mean it’s always easy and at times can so hard, but it sure is worth it. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I am a woman standing before the smorgasbord of life and I want to eat it all. Yes Wilma, we take each other on the journeyl. We did right from the start. And you make mine more real. From an old poem I once read: “Heart to heart and soul to soul, let us be forever friends.” Love, Robin
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Julie Says:
14 October 2009 at 4:52 pm.
One of the greatest gifts of death is to show us the beauty of living. Like you, I feel so reverential… And when I’m in the presence of the moment of death, as happens from time to time in the countryside, I am moved to my core by the intimacy of the moment, the intimacy that shares so much, shaken so that all my softness wells up from within to extinguish any shell of hardness I may have acquired. What a blessing, in that cleansed moment, to feel the full beauty of life and to carry that reminder forward, enriching the days that follow with tenderness and wonder, appreciation and attendance.
Robin Replies
Dear Sweet Julie, your words are like woven magic, so softly intimate and yet vast as the Universe. You express who you are so beautifully. I am spellbound by your both your insight and the words you weave. I just gasped over this line: “…shaken so that all my softness wells up from within to extinguish any shell of hardness…” YES!! I know also know this. —When I started writing my book many people said that even though it told a story, that my writing style was poetic. You write in that same fashion. And what is so wonderful is that it isn’t contrived poetry, it REALLY is how you ARE, and how you see and experience the world around you. I also love your words: “…enriching the days that follow with tenderness…” Julie the world is starved for tenderness. There is definitely something about living close to the magic and wonder…and even Death of Nature that softens our hearts and makes us more human. We cannot live without Nature. We ARE Nature…as you know so well. Thank you for such loveliness. It means the world to me, as do you.
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Victoria Hart Says:
14 October 2009 at 4:56 pm.
“Everything had turned to Love” ….amen! Love is all we ever have and all we carry after.
Robin Replies
Dear Victoria, What a delight to see you here. I am touched that you relate to and understand these words. They are so simple and yet have been my experience. I am grateful to you for reflecting this back to me. Your comment made me think of a post I did a long time ago titled: NO EXCEPTIONS This link is active. The post speaks to your words: “Love is all we ever have and all we carry after.” Thank you Victoria.
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Walter Says:
14 October 2009 at 5:38 pm.
Johnny Cash – Oh, bury me not http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1IOuEnn8oPQ&feature=fvw
Robin Replies
Dear Walt, I LOVE this song. I have heard a few of his on the last album he did before he died and they made me cry. But I’d not heard this one. You are soooooo amazing. You see right to the core of me. I related so strongly to this song. I listened to and felt a balm and truth wash over me. You sure picked a winner. Thank you my dear friend. It was not wasted on me.
[Reply]
Robb Says:
14 October 2009 at 7:47 pm.
Kia ora Robin,
My grand mother died with Alzheimer’s as well. I went and saw her before she died, and she was skeletal and shrunken. I met my grand father outside the door to her room and he stopped me and we looked in at her together where she lie smiling. My grand father grabbed me close and whispered to me, “Just at look at her smile, she is the most beautiful woman in the world. The only woman I have ever kissed”. And she was beautiful, I miss her and him now as well.
I too connect best in the wild my Wild Sister, the mountains are calling me back right now. Thank you for this wonderful perspective, for reaffirming things I sometimes struggle with. I am on the right path. Rave on my beautiful Wild Sister!
Aroha,
Robb
Robin Replies
Kia ora my dear Wild Brother, This is soooooooo endearing, the story of your grandparents. WOW! That he saw her beauty even in her Alzheimer’s state. I just LOVE that and know that kind of love with the people I love as well. It is no longer about looks and body condition, it is about something soooooooo much deeper. Both your grandparents sound like amazing and unique people. I also love the line: “…the only woman I have ever kissed.” Oh my dear, that is so beautiful. —Robb, I am glad you said that you too connect best in the wild. Although I absolutely know this about you (even if you never said it) it did ME good just hear those words. We are indeed kindred. —Yes, Robb you ARE on the right path. I see it every time I read about your Life-journey. Just always trust your beautiful heart; it really does know. It’s THAT simple. Sometimes we taught that life is really complex and we are taught NOT to trust our hearts, and so we forget that Life is THAT simple, that we DO get to trust our hearts. You are blessed to have a good heart, a pure heart. Aroha, Robin
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Michelle Says:
14 October 2009 at 9:20 pm.
Robin, your words are as familiar to me as if I had spoken them. Without the awareness of our own Spirit, we are in that empty desert. Thank you for this post and for being such a wonderful Soul.
Robin Replies
Dear Michelle, You words brought instant tears to my eyes. I feel so honored, and somehow strengthened by your words. Also very connected to you. Thank you for taking the time to tell me this. It means a lot to me. Hugging you, Robin
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ZuzannaM Says:
15 October 2009 at 6:22 am.
Dear Robin,
The subject on death it was always hard for me to talk about, as I have lost many family members too early and that subject somehow it is too touchy, to stressful for discussion. I know that life and death it is inseparable. We all have the journey to complete. The fact that some are dying in different circumstances it has called destiny. There is tremendous sadness in my heart reading your article. Wished it were easier for me to overcome the death and the grief that goes with it. Perhaps with time, I will be able to accept, but for now, it is still a struggle to do so. I know that loosing someone close it is perhaps the harder for anyone. I sympathize with you with the loss you experienced. These words are powerful!
“We Must Not Take Life for Granted
The morning I sat alone on the desert floor with junipers, wind and my mother’s spirit, I knew she would have found beauty in that fragile little bird.”
After reading your words ringing in my ears, like those bells in Notre Dame Cathedral. Life is a gift, a precious gift and we shall never take this gift for granted. Thank you for sharing such profound subject.
With lots of love,
Zuzanna
Robin Replies
Dear sincere Zuzanna, You always touch my heart. Yes, of course this is very hard for you. You lost so much when you were SO young. Death was and is VERY real for you. I really believe that you will come to your own understanding in your own time. You must be gentle with yourself, as you carried a heavy burden very young. Sometimes part of healing or finding peace is letting ourselves be right where are, being patient with ourselves and accepting ourselves for who and what we are RIGHT NOW. You are so gentle and loving with SO many, Zuzanna. As you once told me, “Make sure you give that same patience and tenderness to yourself, that same love and compassion.” You are already perfect, just as you are. —Also Zuzanna, one of your great gifts, which is a result from so much loss, is that you truly LOVE life. You are bursting with Life, everywhere you go and everyone you meet you scoop them up and simply love them. You are one of the most generous souls I’ve met. You spread love everywhere you go. And you know better than most that Life truly is a precious gift not to be wasted. You know this all the way down to your toes. Yes, my beautiful friend, lots of love, Robin
[Reply]
Gail @ A Flourishing Life Says:
15 October 2009 at 7:33 am.
Beautiful post, Robin. Our culture views death as a disease, a mistake, when it is actually completely natural. It invites the questions: Who dies? What remains when the body falls away? As you said, everything turns to love.
Robin Replies
Dear Gail, Wow! What a deep comment. I just LOVE the questions you raise, so ponderous and open. I also flipped over this line: “Our culture views death as a disease, a mistake,…” I’ve never seen that written like that and it just hit me like mac truck. You are SO right about this. Wow! I would love to see you do a post about this sometime and be able to read more of your insights into this, as I think it is very true. To look at death more closely through your eyes would be fascinating and enriching. Death as a disease or mistake VS Death as something natural. I think because we are robbed at this closer look at death right from when we are tiny kids, we grow up with much more fear. Often we fear the unknown. And yet when I see kids who have not been repressed in this way, they are TOTALLY inquisitive and curious and even accepting (if they are allowed their feelings). I’ve seen kids say about a dead parent, “Oh I’m having a conversation with Dad.” Or “I was talking with Dad last night about…” Even though their father is dead. Well, I’ll stop here but if you do a post about this let me know, as you have a unique take on it. Thank you dear Gail.
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Tweets that mention Naked In Eden Blog - Robin Easton » Five Perspectives on Death -- Topsy.com Says:
15 October 2009 at 10:43 am.
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by RusticContempSpirit and RobinEaston, RobinEaston. RobinEaston said: Five Perspectives on Death: Part 1 "Through My Mother's Eyes" http://bit.ly/15W4n0 [...]
marcel lemieux Says:
16 October 2009 at 12:13 am.
Hello my friend, what a lovely video and touching story..i can relate to that..this year my brother died..the first in 10 children..i went to visit him a week before he died of cancer..what a trip..had not seen him for many years and then here i was..walking him in his rolling chair all over the (neighborhood)! and having last man wish snack with him..he left the hospital and decided to die home with his family..i was there not to the end cause i had to come back home..anyway i was the last one to bring him to his hunting camp in the wild..there i took many pictures and he was saying goodbye to all things..he even went to his wild garden and pick a few things..all was very emotional and yet tranquil, (once i was back home) got a phone call …he died in his wife’s arms 4 days later..(he didn,t believe in God or other which is not a bad thing because he will be open for the big party awaiting him)..the one thing i remember is that all that he had stayed in the yard. he left as he was born..naked..since that day..everyday of my life is like christmas…every day is a joy day..it was before, but even more now..i don,t want to miss a thing….my sensitivity is at its peak, i love life and nature .. I’m more than ever attracted to creative philosophy and arts and music….as for what i use..house, car, etc..its only lent to me for my stay here on earth…peace
Robin Replies
Dear Marcel, this sharing of yours means so much to me. I am touched to tears by it and at the same uplifted into amazing joy. What a life you live. It is so rich because you consciously choose to embrace it ALL with an open heart. What a gift you gave your brother and he you through this time. Especially you taking him to his hunting camp in the wild. YES!! I love that and so resonate with it. Thank you for doing this for him. It is such a huge thing to do. I also am humbled that you would share this here with me and others who visit these pages. What you got out of the experience is what you seem to always choose to get out of Life, which is an awareness of how precious life is and how we must cherish each day. Each day really is like a Christmas gift. Each day a joy, a new opportunity to start anew and become who we really are, to embrace more of life, to make positive change, to appreciate every moment. Marcel, I know well your love of Nature and Life. It literally shines out of you in everything you do. It’s what makes you so inspiring for me an many others. It’s pure joy to have you here. Thank you from my heart.
[Reply]
Rob Says:
16 October 2009 at 5:02 am.
I will strive to never take life for granted again. Thank you for this gift!
Robin Replies
Well Hello!!! My dear old friend. What a treat to see you here. I am moved by your simple comment here. You are always kind and earnest. Thank you, Rob.
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nothingprofound Says:
17 October 2009 at 6:10 am.
Ah, death! I always fall silent and reverent in its presence. Speechless, I let death do all the talking.
Robin Replies
Wow! Dear NothingProfound, This poem is sooooooo beautiful and brought everything in me to a screeching halt in the most wonderful and peaceful way. I understand what you are saying. You have conveyed in this poem exactly how I feel in the presence of Death. You are a gifted writer to say SO much SO powerfully in SO few words. Thank you my friend.
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Stephen - Rat Race Trap Says:
17 October 2009 at 6:35 am.
Dear Robin, I found the photos of the flycatcher absolutely beautiful, even though it was dead. You have a marvelous connection with nature and life and a way of sharing it with others that is unique and beautiful.
I used to be a big bird enthusiast and I remember when I first saw a gray flycatcher on a trip to west TX and NM. Discovering birds I had never seen before was thrilling. Your pictures brought all that back.
Thanks for sharing your lovely self with the rest of us.
Robin Replies
Dear Stephen, It’s wonderful to see you here. I am fascinated by your comment and very moved as well. Thank you for “seeing” my connection to Nature. For you to see that in me implies that you also have this connection, which I’ve seen in you before. Thank you, my friend, for sharing your kind words and thoughts. They mean a lot to me. —Also, I had no idea that you loved birds…another fascinating aspect of your life. I relate to you discovering birds you’ve never before seen. When I went to Australia, WOW! Talk about a bird lovers paradise. There were birds of every color of the rainbow…literally. I was in ecstasy. Thank you dear Stephen for stopping in.
[Reply]
Trish Scott Says:
17 October 2009 at 9:02 am.
No flycatcher ever had a better memorial. Few beings of any sort for that matter. This is a beautiful post. I look forward to the rest of your series. I’ll be sharing this and adding you to my feed reader. Thank you.
Robin Replies
Dear Trish, Your words here stunned me because they made me look at my day with the little gray flycatcher more closely. Yes, you are right; is WAS a memorial, an deep honoring of the bird, Nature, Life and all things good. I love you for seeing that, but then someone with your great sensitivity naturally would. Thank you for your kind encouraging words and actions. They are seen and very much appreciated.
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Cheryl binstock Says:
17 October 2009 at 11:11 am.
I’m glad my friend Trish shared your link and agree with her reply here! Love the perspective you’ve presented and look forward to reading more! Thanks!
Robin Replies
Dear Cheryl, welcome! I too am glad Trish shared with you…and glad you stopped in. I love the photos of the Robin on your page and the writing with it. So beautiful. I bookmarked your site as I felt right at home there. Thank you. PS: I LOVE these words from your home page: “We are a part of nature, we are not apart from it.” I have a line almost identical to yours in the book I just finished about my life in the Australian rainforest. I read those words and new I’d met a kindred spirit.
[Reply]
Evita Says:
17 October 2009 at 4:45 pm.
Hello Robin
I am so glad that you are doing a special series on death as I am so looking forward to reading and hearing what you have to say about it from your experiences in life thus far.
Death used to be a “weird” thing for me, nothing I liked or disliked talking about. For most of my life and really even to now, death has really not existed in my reality. 3 of my grandparents died wither before I was born or could remember. The fourth died overseas and besides that death has not affected me directly in any other way. So in many ways I did not know how I felt about it. That is until I started to investigate how I really did feel about it and what it meant to me.
Well today, I have to tell you what a difference. I don’t fear it – I like talking about it and I really don’t think it is a “tragedy” in any way. To think so would be to put down our soul’s home.
On a walk today I saw a dead squirrel who must have just recently got hit on the road. I did not turn away, I did not think it “gross” – instead I wished its spirit well.
I too wish our society took a different look and approach when it comes to death. I have much to say about this – but I will save it for your other parts 
Robin Replies
Dear Evita, there is so much here that I relate to. Death was not real for me either. It wasn’t until my only grandmother died when I was in my early twenties that I was stunned into the reality of “change”, of Death, of impermanence. See, nothing had really changed in my life up to that point. All the people in my life had ALWAYS just been there and I unconsciously assumed they always would be. But my grandmother’s death was life altering for me. It oddly set me free in that it made Life more real for me. At the time I felt that if Death is real, then Life must also be real. For I too could die, anyone could die. So I had to find a way to more fully live. —-I will stop there and save the rest of my thoughts for other parts of this series (just as you did.)
However I will say that I felt SO happy when you wished the little squirrel well. Thank you for connecting to his spirit and seeing it as real. It is not only real, but part of you, and me, and all of us. Bless you dear one.
[Reply]
nothingprofound Says:
18 October 2009 at 5:32 am.
Robin-I failed to mention above how much I admire everything you write and stand for. It’s a great treasure to find someone who loves life as much as you do. I like to count myself in that company.
Robin Replies
Dear “Profound”, Oh my word! What a beautiful thing to share with me. I thank you from my heart and am deeply moved by your thoughts. I can honestly say that you are someone who cherishes Life, all it is and all it offers. It is what drew me to your writing. You see so well what is in me because it is so richly in you. Thank you for the gift you give.
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Vin - NaturalBias Says:
19 October 2009 at 5:14 am.
Hi Robin,
I admire your appreciation for life and nature. Thank you for sharing such an inspiring and personal story! I think it’s a testament to how the simple things in life that many of us take for granted every day can be so powerful and fulfilling if you take a few moments to appreciate them.
What desert is that? I visited Indian Wells, CA once and loved everything about the desert setting. I wasn’t there in mid summer though.
Robin Replies
Dear Vin, I love the point you raise here about how fulfilling the simple things in life can be if we ONLY take time to appreciate them. If we had NEVER seen a flower and saw one for the very first time, people would come from all over the world just to look upon it. We literally are swimming a sea of magnificent wonder and beauty. It is up to each one of us to find ways to slow down, stop and begin to look at the world around us. Thank you for your wisdom Vin. PS: I too LOVE the desert land. I am in the northern New Mexico desert. Some of the deserts can be brutally hot, depending on where you are. I know my friends in Scottsdale say the summers are extremely brutal. Most tourist go their during the winter months, which are still quite warm. I do hike the desert in summer, I just can hike barefoot through the heat of the day.
[Reply]
Miche - Serenity Hacker Says:
19 October 2009 at 12:46 pm.
This was so beautiful, the post, the video, your flute playing, everything. I found your site via another blog with a post about women bloggers, and I’m so glad I did. I look forward to this series and I’m touched by your ability to craft something so moving about something so real that few people feel comfortable talking about.
On my way to dig around here a bit more to see what I’ve been missing.
Thanks for sharing this.
Cheers,
Miche
Robin Replies
Dear Miche, What a surprise!! I was just at your lovely site this AM. I am honored to have you here and am very very touched by your kind words, by your sensitivity and ability to see and appreciate simple intimate things, by your willingness to embrace Life. I find that very inspiring. Thank YOU for sharing; it really is appreciated.
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David Says:
19 October 2009 at 4:07 pm.
As I approach age sixty death becomes a more prominent part of life. Statistically it would be not so much an aberration if I dropped tomorrow. And I must say I do look forward to that day. My body has always been a bag of troubles and not much fun. The only problem I face is the separation from my beloved. I have trouble with that and am trying to come to terms with it. Otherwise, see you when I see you! And I hope to see Robin often! Although I hope they have sunglasses in heaven because otherwise I doubt I will be able to look at her for very long!
Robin Replies
Dear David, I am so so touched and humbled by your honest sharing here. My heart goes out to you and I want you to know that although you go though suffering you make such a difference to so many lives. I know you probably don’t see this and may not even believe it, but your authenticity and loving caring nature has made a huge difference in my days. And always seems to come right when I need it, as if you’d read my thoughts. What I have always loved about you IS your honesty and deep sincerity in not only your interactions with me and others, but in your writing and your stunning poetry and beautiful photography. If could say one thing to you I would say, You are seen, David. And it is the goodness in you that I see and value so highly. It is the way you cling to Life so beautifully that wrenches my heart and I relate to. I know you may not believe that about yourself, but it shows up in how you see the world through your camera lens. It is convey in your poignant poetry and written sharings. You are a sensitive soul and it is “I” who will need the sunglasses. Thank you dear friend. Yes, hugs around the world.
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bizstra Says:
19 October 2009 at 4:44 pm.
Every life will see its end. Every human will see its death. No body knows when he/she will die. That’s God business. Our job is to prepare our death peacefully and see Him with love. Be happy to those who come and see his God with His blessings and be sad to those who don’t. Life is only once. So, think about life again and again. Don’t choose or do a wrong thing.
Robin Replies
Dear Bizstra, Welcome! Thank you for sharing. You words: “Life is only once. So, think about life again and again.” are very powerful. I believe that to live a full and rewarding life we must live “as if”. as if this is the only Life, the only day, the only moment. And there are so many ways to do this, which can enrich our lives. Also, in doing this we are more fully present right now. We begin to appreciate each precious moment and do not waste a thing. I also agree that we need to “think about life again and again”. Each day, each moment be aware that we are part of a miracle and there is so much to be thankful for.
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Ophelia Rising Says:
19 October 2009 at 6:23 pm.
Robin – so beautiful. I can see how much your mother’s love of life and feeling of joy in all things has enveloped and encompassed you. She must have been an incredible person, as you are.
My father’s death led me down some interesting paths. One very startling one was a re-evaluation of my own life, and how much I needed to examine what I was doing, and where I wanted to go. I spent a lot of time thinking and not thinking, and came to the realization that I didn’t want to “settle” anymore. That I just wanted to live my life in the most limitless way. I don’t mean by changing my career, or taking up scuba diving, or jumping out of a plane. I mean that inside myself, within, I began to want to only see life as it is – without any limits or boundaries or “shoulds.” I was hit with the thought that anything can happen. Anything can be. I was given the gift of an energy that lifted me to a greater place in my continuous search for a genuine connection to life. And in my search, which is mostly internal, and confoundedly ongoing, I’m finding a regeneration and a focus on my place in the universe and my connection to all things. My father gave that to me, with his death.
I have to admit, I do fear death – but I think mostly I fear pain, which one associates with death. If I knew I would die prettily in a bed somewhere, with a hand to my forehead, like in an old silent movie, or cozily in my sleep under the covers, it might be easier to face. But I don’t know that. However, death is, as you say, an intrinsic condition of life that is necessary, woven in to our humanity – and also part of the great mystery that surrounds us, which is actually a beautiful thing. We can plan our lives out as much as we please, thinking we can control our individual, daily outcomes, feeling smug and righteous in our decisions. But death? We can’t touch it. Nor can we control it. It keeps us human, and keeps us divine, all at once.
I love you so much. Thank you for such a brilliant, insightful post. You are inspiring and generous, and definitely my muse (to borrow this phrase from another commenter… commentator)? I will hold it in my heart, this moment of spirit, and look at all that is around me with a renewed eye, never to be taken for granted, never to be taken lightly, always to be cherished, this wide, lovely, diverse, incredible, beautiful world. xoxoxo to you always, my sister.
Robin Replies
Dear dear Mary, Wow, this is why I call you my Wild Sister. What a powerful wave of freedom you brought to my soul in sharing this. I ALWAYS feel more me when I read anything you write. You wrote: “I was hit with the thought that anything can happen. Anything can be.” I so so so so relate to this. Isn’t it amazing how the death of someone we love deeply can set us free. Not free from THEM, but free from all the “shoulds” and social conditions. There is something soooooooo real about the death of someone we love. It strips us down to bare raw bones of Life. And in our bleeding and wounded state we see Life more clearly than ever. We are no long as easily swayed, conditioned, manipulated or fooled by society and all the unspoken BS. We become fierce warriors who stand with our feet firmly planted and guts filled with solid unshakable knowing, of who we are and what is real. —-I have always seen this in you, but yes, I remember the post about your father and the changes in you. It all made me cry because I felt you were speaking the words from my deepest truest heart. I felt you KNEW me. You did and DO.
What you wrote here about Death is the most beautiful and comprehensive thing I’ve ever read about Death. It is beautiful and comprehensive because it embraces it ALL. I would be lying if I said I had never felt fear of death. (I will write more about that in probably part four of this series. And yet, as you say, the very fact that we cannot control Death keeps us both human and divine. It also, which you say here in your own beautiful words, keeps our existence a mystery, a magic, an unknown. For me there would no point to Life if all things were known. I LOVE the Unknown Universe. It too is the divine for me and of me.
My word, you are like the Earth herself, so rich and abundant, fertile in emotion, thought, freedom of spirit, generosity of love, and more. I am a much richer person for knowing you. And I too love you so much my dear Wild Sister. You are a “Bringer of Life”. Never forget that. Love, Robin xoxoxo PS You ought to save this whole comment and use it as a post. It is so beautifully crafted, as if Life itself spoke to me. It DID!!
[Reply]
LIara Covert Says:
19 October 2009 at 6:52 pm.
One very profound statement about immortality and interdependence of everything is made by wild dogs in India who warm their physical bodies on smoldering ashes of cremated people.
The Ganges River is a fascinating case as well. Human beings bathe in it, submerge deceased bodies with weights into it, swim in it, cleanse living bodies in it, drink it, dump sewage into it and use it for other purposes too diverse to describe. Spiritually, it connects mind-body and spirit.
Robin Replies
Dear Liara, these are BEAUTIFUL stories. When I read about the dogs who warm themselves on the smoldering ashes of the dead, it reminded me of a story I have to share with you. —-I have a friend back east who’s husband died and was cremated. His ashes were put in an urn and my friend (his wife) took them home and put them on top of a bureau in their bedroom. They had two cats. One of the cats had been very very close to husband while he was alive. When he was dying the cat spent all her time sitting in the mans lap while he watched TV. The first few nights after the wife brought the ashes home the cat would wander into the bedroom and howl and howl. The wife just figured the cat knew that was where the husband had slept and was looking for him. But then one night she sat up in bed as the cat wouldn’t stop howling. It would pounce on the bed and then jump off and run to the bureau. And kept doing this. When the wife saw the cat looking up at the top of the bureau it hit her that the cat KNEW the ashes were on top of the bureau AND that it was the husband’s ashes. Since the canister had a screw on lid, the wife got out of bed and decided to try something. She put the canister of ashes on the floor and the cat instantly curled around the canister and started purring. Every night after that the cat slept curled around the canister of ashes. I saw the cat doing this when I visited the wife.
Thank you my dear kindred spirit for sharing these touching stories, they reminded me of THIS story, which I’d not yet told anyone. Bless you dear one.
[Reply]
Walter Says:
19 October 2009 at 7:00 pm.
Death will always belong to the physical realm. It has no power over our infinite nature.
Robin Replies
Dear Walter, Welcome to my humble Eden. Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts here. Your words offer beautiful hope and life-giving possibilities. Thank you.
[Reply]
Remya Raman Says:
19 October 2009 at 9:01 pm.
Dear Robin,
I can’t seem to put my thoughts into words. Your post touched my inner self so much that nothing seems to be coming out. Death is the most painful fact. I remember how my grandpa was on his death bed. I could see his tears rolling down his eyes the day before he passed away. He loved us so much and all the love came on to us. We still love him deeply and can feel his soul among us in our family.
This post is so beautifully written and I was fully engrossed reading this. I could feel your words like a visual. This is truly amazing.
Love,
Remya
Robin Replies
Dear Reyma, what a beautiful comment. Very heartfelt. I love your words: “He loved us so much and all the love came on to us.” I too have had this experience. Very profound. And just like you I still feel the soul of this person with me. I am touched by your insight and honored by your words. Thank you do much for taking the time to share them. Love, Robin
[Reply]
Hilary Says:
20 October 2009 at 4:49 am.
Hi Robin .. having just lost my uncle – I have yet to grieve for him: I will at the right time. My mother has occasionally wanted to be able to be a mother to me again, and it is so tricky – as she can’t express her emotions, or cry .. after 3 major strokes. I try not to put her into those situations but in 2.75 years is unavoidable occasionally .. and I’m crying now at your words and the thoughts she and I have had together .. it all disappears and flowers again as love – love to carry forward – your post is so interesting .. especially now it’s less than a week for my uncle.
Glad I’m came over .. I can find out more about the Australian bush ..
Hilary Melton-Butcher
Positive Letters Inspirational Stories
Robin Replies
Dear Hillary, what a poignant sharing. I am especially moved by what you shared about your mother and where you say: “it all disappears and flowers again as love…” Yes, when we can let go we discover that beneath everything all there really is is love. I am glad you came over as well. Your site it beautiful and inspiring. Thank you.
[Reply]
Márcia Cobar Says:
21 October 2009 at 11:54 am.
Dear Robin,
With a lot of sensibility you are touching a very delicate issue: death. Its not only in America that death is avoided, in my country (Brazil) as well, its such a question mark what happens afterwards (I may have a clue) and there are so many misty things around the topic that its better left locked. But you mention it with beauty, with sensibility, with a splash of “to be continued” that gives me hope that my clues are right, and suddenly death becomes beautiful. A “passage”. Beautiful just because it is a transition of lives well lived, well enjoyed.
I guess what you take from life, is just the life you live…
Best Regards, always!
Márcia
Robin Replies
Dear Marcia, It’s such a joy to see you here. As always your words and writing are very thought-filled and beautiful, just as you are. There are so many beliefs about death, as many as there are people. I see death as part of life. I loved your word, “passage”. I think the fact that it is a mystery gives me hope. But then I am drawn to the “unknown”. If all things were known there would be no point to Life. I think all we ever have whether while living or “what we take from life” is, as you say, what we live while alive. Material things will not matter in the end and really don’t much matter even while living. As you know so well and live, love, kindness, compassion and so on are all that are of real value. Thank you my dear friend for stopping in. I hope you are happy and doing really well. Hugs, Robin
[Reply]
Walter Says:
23 October 2009 at 5:25 pm.
Yet at times, even when death seems certain; God will often show us, just how much we really know!
http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/play/audiogallery/soundseen.shtml
Robin Replies
Dear Walt, leave it to you to share something this remarkable. I Just LOVE it. Yes! Yes! YES!!. Thank you SO much my dear kind friend. Hugs, Robin
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Dorothy Stahlnecker Says:
23 October 2009 at 5:26 pm.
Robin, this is one of the most beautiful post regarding life and death I have ever read you opened my eyes to things around me that have died this gave me such a wonderful way to view them from this moment forward. Animals as I would see them never made me think about anything other then they were gone and how short their cycle of life seemed to be to me. Thus my darling blogging friend I have different thoughts to ponder now from your wise words and thoughts so thank you.
As for my son who died 18 years ago he lives in my heart, mind, and soul every moment of my life and I am so grateful for the 17 wonderful years I had him and I have always wondered how come I was so blessed with two perfect children. So I tell every parent to love each moment with their family and friends and tell them often how happy you are to have been able to know, love, and enjoy them never miss a day doing so. I told Daniel how much I love him every day…even now when I meditate or take time to just think quietly..he is with me and my daughter Sherry, 7 grandchildren, and 6 great grandchildren, I try to tell them how much I love them often and I see them as much as I can because life can be so short and our roles in death are very different then what we have here so I covet the time and relish the experience life has given me.
Blessings my friend..
Dorothy from grammology
grammology.com
Robin Replies
Dear Dorothy, This sharing just brought tears to my eyes and made me understand even more WHY you are so wise and compassionate, why you have so much faith in life and love. You truly know the meaning of REALLY living each day as fully as you can and REALLY loving all those around you and not wasting your life on petty grudges and other life wasters. Having been close to death at several points in your life whether through your cancer or loss of your son and maybe other times I know nothing about, regardless, all that has not made you more death-filled but MORE LIFE-FILLED!! I see it in every photo of you, your videos and your writing. You have used death as an adviser to LIVE, which I will talk about in part four of this series. You are a shining example of LIFE. I love you for that and more.
[Reply]
Lynda Lehmann Says:
24 October 2009 at 8:38 am.
Robin, this post is exquisite and so poignant that is has given me chills and a welling of tears. You are full of wisdom, which you so eloquently share. I’m sure there is not one among us who doesn’t struggle with issues of connectedness and relationship…
Since love is the binding glue of all that happens on earth, we need to recognize its import and make room in our hearts for it. I feel your love for the precious, fleeting life and beauty of the bird and all living creatures.
I’m glad you had a deep and heartfelt “meeting” and reconciliation with your mother, on a plane that transcends our daily shuffle. I am moved and comforted at the recognition of your experience.
I’ve Tweeted this as well as Stumbled it, because of the valuable message you deliver, and with such beautiful and tender music, words, and images.
My love to you.
Robin Replies
Dearest Lynda, This whole comment and just your sheer presence and beauty brought tears to my own eyes. Somehow your comment righted my world this morning. I needed that today. You remind me of who I really am and have an ability to see to my core. I am deeply grateful for that. What you express here about love is balm to my entire being. Once we see that love is all that REALLY matters I think we are set free inside. We live in a deep peace and feel connected to all things. I know it is what not only binds me to my own species but to all other life as well, including the rocks and water and sky…and unknown. Thank you my dear precious friend. Love, Robin.
[Reply]
Shirley Says:
27 October 2009 at 3:32 am.
When I was a child I had a family of hamsters. My brother drowned and suffocated the whole family. They were planted under my grandmother’s rose bushes. I was horribly sad and every day for a week I unburied them. My grandma saw what I had been doing. “Shirley, honey. They’ve passed away and gone to heaven. You need to leave them be. Now they can do good. They are in my garden feeding the roses. Because of them the roses will be prettier.” I understood plant life probably far better than I should have and after that point I stopped digging them up. For me the beauty in death is the nutrients that go back to where it belongs, the Earth.
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soulMerlin Says:
30 October 2009 at 7:00 am.
I am so moved by this Robin. The sharing of your mother and her Alzheimers gets right to the core. I have been confronting life and death this year and I have found your writing very profound.
There is a one-post blog in the blogosphere, which touches me each time I visit it…only one post made on the 24th January 2009
http://themanwhocouldnttalk.blogspot.com/
love
henry
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Dot Says:
4 November 2009 at 10:07 am.
Although I’ve already mentioned to you that I’m uncomfortable with your expressions of affection for strangers, which seem excessive to me from my background, I’m glad you found me on Facebook.
I’ve been unhappy for years with the fear of discussing death that I find around me in America, as in your third post on death, and was planning to blog about it. Now you’ve said a lot of what I felt needed to be said. Also, what you wrote about the flycatcher and how your mother observed the beauty in the details in nature is just exactly how I relate to nature, but can’t seem to express to my friends who don’t share that view. The biggest problem I have with the whole circle of life concept, though, is the suffering, both for humans and for the animals. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be eaten alive by another creature. How horrible. Worse than the death itself.
[Reply]
Robin Easton Reply:
November 5th, 2009 at 12:28 pm
Dear Dot, Yes, I agree. I think people coming from various backgrounds would respond and feel differently to affection. Just as you can feel it in “excess” others hunger for great affection, even from strangers. They can feel very isolated when those they come in contact with are not someone of excess. Maybe it’s not about lack of or excess, but rather, as you imply what we are each used to from our background. I think that is one of the things I find most fascinating about human nature is all the varied ways of being, feeling and responding. I love the whole mixed bag and always seem to learn something new from it.
It hit me when reading your comment that it’s that very abundance of openness in me that allowed me to reach out to the two people whom I mention in my post titled: When We Don’t Speak of Death One of those people may not have made it had I not trusted my heart and reached out. The fascinating thing is that I had only met the person twice and only for about a half hour or so in a business setting.
You know, Dot, your comment here really helped me look at myself in ways that I may not have otherwise and I realized that I reach out the way I do because I live in a world full of people starved for love, starved for compassion and understanding, starved for a single act of kindness, a world full of people hanging on by a single thread. I do it because I live in a world filled with suffering, wars, murders, prisons, child abuse, homeless, hungry. I do it because I am compelled to LIVE the change I want to see in the world. I do it because maybe it is what I was born to do. I do it because most days it’s all I know how to do. I am not good with speaking or writing concepts and telling people how to live. I can share my own experiences but beyond that… One day I asked myself, what do I have to offer the world. Honestly, Dot? The only thing I could come up with was: I could love people. I do know how to love. Oddly, that day I found great peace. Loving was enough for me. Thank you Dot, Robin
[Reply]
Robin Easton Reply:
October 30th, 2009 at 8:25 am
Dearest henry, Your comment here brought tears to my eyes and filled me with love, connection, hope and something I really have no words for. Suffice to say it did me a lot of good and was something I needed this week. Just need…period. It is a beautiful honest heart-filled gift and for that and you I am grateful. It is rewarding for me to connect with you. It’s just real. I also loved the post “The Man Who Couldn’t Talk”. I cried, held my breath I was so gripped in the emotion. It is a tragic disease, but a STUNNINGLY beautiful story of the power of our souls. Thank you SO much for sharing it. I also want you to know that you are often in my thoughts and that I’m sending you courage, hope, love and the knowing that you are a very remarkable human being. You are far stronger than most even in your weakest most vulnerable moments. Why? Because you are REAL and you allow that vulnerability into your life. That makes you incredibly powerful. Our truest power is not always seen in our most “together” moments. I can find a thousand smooth facades and really not see anyone or anything, but show me a rough, jagged, weeping diamond and I will see the Divine. Love, Robin
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