Yesterday would have been the 76th birthday of a beloved friend of mine. He returned from the Viet Nam war with a heart full of pain, developed paranoid schizophrenia, and ended up hanging himself one cold, winter day.

I thought about him as read Even Alexander’s book Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon’s Journey into the Afterlife. If you have heard that near-death experiences are nothing more than an illusion created by a dying brain, Dr. Alexander’s vivid description of his own near-death will seriously challenge your assumptions. Until he experienced it himself, he was wholly skeptical about the reality of life after death. But given what he understood about the human brain, he knew his experience wasn’t a product of its creation.

Like most who have had an NDE, he struggles to find words to describe his own experience of what he says is so profoundly rich and beautiful that it cannot be put into the narrow framework of human language.

It’s a fascinating read. And I found comfort in it as I thought about family members and friends who have passed away.

Anyway, yesterday was my old friend’s birthday, and I raised my coffee cup to him and sang “Happy Birthday” and remembered his extraordinary personality and brilliant mind – the one that I was privileged to see and know beneath his mental illness and his pain. And I smiled inside, feeling that he got my greeting somehow and returned his own beams of love.

He was pretty convinced that the world was a dark and confusing place when he died, seeing it as being awash in danger and evil. When I read the daily headlines, I can understand how easy it might be to see things that way, and to lose hope, and to lose sight of how fully goodness outweighs the evil in the world. Dr. Alexander, by the way, says that evil exists so that we can experience free will and learn to use it wisely.

I was thinking about all these things yesterday, as I drove through the countryside collecting photos of autumn’s first days. To my surprise and delight, when I happened on a tiny farm town, down the other lane of the highway came a parade! I pulled over to watch.

A color guard of four young teens led it, marching proudly in their crisp high school band uniforms, perfectly in step, solemnly bearing their flags. Next was a big tractor, driven by an old guy in a straw cowboy hat, pulling a float with a sign that proclaimed its occupant the Grand Marshall. He was even older than the man driving the tractor, grinning broadly and waving at the people who lined the highway. The Potato Queen rode the next float, blushing and lovely in her pretty blue gown. Then came the village’s sole fire truck and a gleaming red antique car and cheerleaders from the high school showing off their newest routines. That was about the whole parade, and it looked like a third of the village’s population had come out to cheer it.

I thought about how festivals and parades will be happening all over the planet as people celebrate harvest or, in the southern hemisphere, the coming of spring. Community still thrives.

I thought about a young friend of mine who is starting college this week, and about all the young minds that are preparing themselves to be doctors and astronomers and teachers and artists, to explore the intricacies of math and science and the beauties of language and culture and the arts.

I thought about all the sports teams that will be competing now that schools are open, and about all that kids will learn from participating in them about how to handle victory and defeat, about disciple and teamwork and striving to be your best.

Yes, our world has its evils; but it is far richer in things that are good. And that’s true of each of our individual lives, too. We all have our personal mean streaks, our shadow sides and failings. But we learn from our unwise choices and keep reaching to be better, and stronger, and kinder, and to love more.

And in the end, it’s the plus side that will win out, no matter how dark things may sometimes appear.

Wishing you a week rich with awareness of life’s wondrous balance and beauty. May it comfort you in times of loss and darkness and shine its light on all your days,

Warmly,
Susan

I have to confess that it’s been work to keep a positive perspective on life this week. It was as if Murphy himself had moved in and delighted in throwing obstacles my way. And in the larger world, well, you have only to turn on the news to see that things appear to be coming apart at the seams.

What’s helped me the most is accepting that this is life. And gosh! Good or bad, I get to live it. I get to experience the whole range of human emotions – from irritation and anger, shock and disappointment, anxiety and grief, to gratitude, serenity, hope, and joy.

And by accepting, I mean allowing myself to experience whatever emotion is flowing through me at any given time. Not to fight it. Not to push it away. Not to want to hold onto it. Not to judge myself for it. But simply to let it be and to feel it.

It helps, too, to look at the story I’m telling myself about whatever circumstance I find myself in, and to ask myself, in Byron Katie fashion, whether it’s true and whether I can be certain, and how I would be without that story.

When I do that, I often find an old Zen story coming to mind that reminds me that none of us has any idea how things will turn out, or what fortunes await us. Maybe you’ll remember it; I’ve shared it before. It goes like this . . .

That story has served me well over the many years since I first heard it. I hope it will stick with you and serve you, too, when you’re tempted to label your circumstances as ‘good’ or ‘bad.’

As a final thought, let me say that the beauty of emerging autumn has held me in its arms this week, too, reminding me that for everything there is a season, and that the seasons turn. This is life. And we get to live it. And that, my friends, is miracle enough and then some.

Wishing you a week of perspective and beauty.

Warmly,
Susan

^{Image by Klaus Stebani from Pixabay}