Guest guest Posted April 8, 2005 Report Share Posted April 8, 2005 I too am moved by your words, by your generosity, and by your determined, uplifiting spirit especially considering the extreme pain and fatigue you're going through. I can't see the river either, just see the peaks and cliffs these days, and the drop offs below. But I fight to stay positive, and a lot of that fight comes from your words to the group. Take care , d. > > The River Before Me > > I think of my life as a river, and these painful years of illness as > a high mountain pass, full of sharp edges and hard turns, that my > life must cross over, to reach its destination. > > I try to ask: > > Right now, > As my lower gut rumbles and strains, > And my lungs are nearly flattened > By the effort of breathing, > How much farther to the top? > How much longer till gravity > Works with me, not against me? > > If I let myself see it, really see where I am, would there be > beauty? It seems to me there must be, that in life there is always > suffering, and there is always beauty, and they are not separate, > not really. > > Now this is the point where my mind, which runs its own winding > course, would normally go off about all the ways that beauty and > suffering might transform each other, but that is not going to > happen tonight, because I really am fighting gravity, and in this > fight my only chance of surviving is respecting my opponent. > > At certain turns in its course, life cries out in wonder `I was old > and now I am young. I was dying and now I am being born.' > > Listen for those gasps of delight, rising off the water of your > being. Listen and you when you hear them try to catch them as a > shell catches the sound of the sea. For just as surely as a shell > can be stolen from the shore and taken hundreds or thousands of > miles from the source of its being, your life can be taken so far > from deep bliss that memory will be your only comfort. > > Our memories cannot be counted, they are not coins to be stacked up > and measured or weighed in some industrial scale. Memory is not a > table in the counting house. Memory, as all forgetful people know, > is NOT to be counted on, much less taken for granted, but must be > courted like a lover, wooed and won over with tokens, gifts, and > praise. > > I cannot see the river before me. > > Sometimes we can't see what lies ahead because its path is hidden in > a valley hidden beyond the next rise. > > Sometimes we can't see what lies ahead because it is not our destiny > to move any farther than we have already come. > > Sometimes we can't see what lies ahead because we've gotten turned > around and are in fact looking back on the way we came. > > Sometimes we can't see what lies ahead because it is already here, > flowing all around us. > > I cannot see the river before me. > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted April 8, 2005 Report Share Posted April 8, 2005 Very nicely composed my friend Sam In a message dated 4/8/2005 4:33:40 AM Central Standard Time, colourbleu@... writes: nice words paul.>> The River Before Me>> I think of my life as a river, and these painful years of illness as> a high mountain pass, full of sharp edges and hard turns, that my> life must cross over, to reach its destination.>> I try to ask:>> Right now,> As my lower gut rumbles and strains,> And my lungs are nearly flattened> By the effort of breathing,> How much farther to the top?> How much longer till gravity> Works with me, not against me?>> If I let myself see it, really see where I am, would there be> beauty? It seems to me there must be, that in life there is always> suffering, and there is always beauty, and they are not separate,> not really.>> Now this is the point where my mind, which runs its own winding> course, would normally go off about all the ways that beauty and> suffering might transform each other, but that is not going to> happen tonight, because I really am fighting gravity, and in this> fight my only chance of surviving is respecting my opponent.>> At certain turns in its course, life cries out in wonder `I was old> and now I am young. I was dying and now I am being born.'>> Listen for those gasps of delight, rising off the water of your> being. Listen and you when you hear them try to catch them as a> shell catches the sound of the sea. For just as surely as a shell> can be stolen from the shore and taken hundreds or thousands of> miles from the source of its being, your life can be taken so far> from deep bliss that memory will be your only comfort.>> Our memories cannot be counted, they are not coins to be stacked up> and measured or weighed in some industrial scale. Memory is not a> table in the counting house. Memory, as all forgetful people know,> is NOT to be counted on, much less taken for granted, but must be> courted like a lover, wooed and won over with tokens, gifts, and> praise.>> I cannot see the river before me.>> Sometimes we can't see what lies ahead because its path is hidden in> a valley hidden beyond the next rise.>> Sometimes we can't see what lies ahead because it is not our destiny> to move any farther than we have already come.>> Sometimes we can't see what lies ahead because we've gotten turned> around and are in fact looking back on the way we came.>> Sometimes we can't see what lies ahead because it is already here,> flowing all around us.>> I cannot see the river before me.>> Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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