Dear ones,
Yesterday we had a birth that went swimmingly, until it didn't. An aid car was called, the paramedics were lovely (not always the case), the receiving hospital was gracious, the nurses were (always) stellar and the family is all well and back home today.
You know me, not a believer in a supreme being, or a 'father' or some shadowy figure that looks human, all powerful, moving us around on the chess board of life.
But.
The closer I am to my own death, the more dispassion I experience with whatever happens. That isn't to say I am unmoved by the tragedy of Gaza or wars anywhere, or planetary shifts that signal the end of an era on Earth which we are all subject to, we are living right now, witnessing the end of days for life as we know it on our beloved terra firma. Od course I will act to bring in a baby who is hesitating or control bleeding for the mother, as best as I can. I will rebury worms I have inadvertently dug up while gardening. I will care for the small lives I share my home with.
But.
The joy I feel when I am with my beloved Clark or Milo or my dear wife is a kind of universal non-discriminating joy, a joy that is freely offered, freely given, like the rain that falls on everything and everyone. At times it pours out of this small body in a kind of warm and endless river.
So today I welcome baby Leda to her life with her brother and her parents. In the great stream of love.
2 comments:
I do the same with worms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
I am so glad that baby Leda is fine and already well-loved and welcomed.
"Dispassionate" is a good word. One of the best.
Well, I am certain that however rough her start on the earth, Leda was also privy to YOU and that is a very good sign.
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