In my truly horrifying bathrobe in bed with a sore throat. The pictures on the wall are askew and I don't care. I told Deb that my Christmas bathrobe cannot be white. White bathrobes are several shades of wrong. Besides, they get the strings hanging down. And splashes of mater paneer. I have all the Harry Potter movies and that is what I'm doing today.
I'm a holder of secrets. People tell me their stories, all kinds of stories. In confidence. Then I watch them have a baby and I see their families and friends and I get invited into their world a bit. And I hold all of that. Mostly it passes through. Sometimes it doesn't.
I don't fix anything. I just listen. Quan Yin, in one of her aspects, is called, "She who hears the cries of the world". If my job is a spiritual practice, it is just that. I listen. I practice listening. Without judging or reacting. My heart is always breaking. Or opening. Or both.
My brother dies again on the 26th. I'll be working that day in the clinic. Maybe a baby will be born that day. The Tibetans believe that the turn around time for reincarnation is pretty short. So Geoffrey has already come back and is living somewhere on the planet. Brother, have a better life this time. Be loved and find contentment. Be a source of joy.