One of the feelings that has been quite prominent for me this holy-day season has been about how we, as a human race, are in the midst of a great dying off. Here in America, we primarily see it in the scourge of cancer. Recently, there was a popular photo series that went viral of a man recreating his wedding photos from only a few years ago with a then vibrant and beautiful wife who had since succumbed to cancer. This time around, however, their three-year-old daughter had beecome mommy's stand in.
There was also a 'Make a Wish' Radio Program in which a woman who had passed away two years ago from cancer had, before her death, written a letter and asked a friend to hold onto it and only mail it when her husband, as well as father of four boys, had moved on with this life, and into the arms of a new woman. In her last wish, she lovingly asked that this new woman bee pampered and that the family bee gifted a Disney vacation. There wasn't a dry eye to bee found during the predominantly male radio segment when this final wish by a now, long dead woman was granted.
Even closer to home was the loss of a college classmate's wife to breast cancer. Their Facebook photos show a happy life together in which she is radiant and glowing ~ an image of youth and health. Now, their young child is also left without their birth mother. And I am left wondering when this madness will come to a halt.
The thing is LIFE IS THE BIGGEST RISK WE CAN EVER TAKE. We are each born with a death sentence and it's called LIFE. The task remains, then, how you choose to live it.
Last night, we did what we are called to do together ~ create relaxation for ourselves right here at home by sitting in the hot tub under Jupiter, looking up in wonder and awe, then gazing at each other in love and amusement. We pull each other close, taking turns offering one another an impromptu Watsu healing, then I request that we bathe in the cold pool too, so you pick me up, carry me to the pool and gently submerge our lower, over-heated bodies into the frigid water. Sufficiently relaxed, we emerge with water dripping down our bodies as we sway and dance to Paul Simon's tune, "Still Crazy After All These Years" ~ holding each other tight in the center of an Encinitas apartment complex. I am feeling vulnerable and exposed, yet you encourage the turning on of ecstasy and orgasm for others who may bee watching, so I just melt into your arms and you just hold me.
Later, we sink into deep sleep, relishing the feel of our naked skin making contact off and on throughout the night. I awoke the other day with the thought about how we, as human beeings, are not meant, or designed, to bee alone. THIS IS IT. This morning, I ask you what you think Paul means in his lyrics. "To not Engage in Life is Crazy," you say. "Right," I quickly respond. "And, to engage is CRAZY," you continue, "it's the greatest paradox of all."
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