I can’t tell you how this email saddened me. Truly, and that is a good thing. Since you are not here, and I have a million questions, and funny stories about love, let me upon rising, with the blues album on repeat since last night, spend my morning meditation, before I go off to a hectic, long day of work send you my thoughts on love. I’ve been getting up at 5am every morning and writing. Yesterday, because of love – I did not go to work, and lost $400 easily – to stay home & write. I wrote about love, the hardest thing I’ve ever written. It is not complete, and I hope it never is. I’d do it again today but a lovely couple’s wedding depends on my services.
That is just a form of love, and there are as many forms of it, as there are ways to express it. As a poet, whenever I hear people who feel devoid of love, or who doubt & do not believe, I can’t help but cry. Have they not heard, do they not know, that heaven on earth is available to everyone, in the form of Love? I recently heard Joseph Campbell, with the man I should have married Bill Moyers, having a conversation about the myths of love. What resonated with me was Jos. Campbell telling me that to lose the one we love is Hell. It is by very definition the point, and of course he was talking about the myth & the power of it. My mind can make it literal with all the failed attempts I’ve had in the personal sector, or just my exposure to the tragedies memorialized this week. Continue reading
As I pull myself from bed, heavy with grief and circle around the coffee pot, I stare down into the black pool, and wish I was at Ground Zero. I made a promise to myself years ago that I would commemorate each year there, after the first (when I wasn’t), since it showed me it was too painful to feel this sad and alone in my apartment. You realize that life goes on, the phone rings, emails pour in. This level of loss is truly made easier when you can see the faces, hear the names, and remember what was lost that day and can be enclosed in a soothing bubble of sorrow.
September 11th, 2001 took my dear friend Firefighter Sergio Gabriel Villanueva, Ladder 132 from this earth. It did not make his presence any less profound, or any less real to me than the fingers that write this tribute. He is as real as the blood I can not see coursing through my veins, and the thoughts that are in my head, or the tears that ramble down my face. To the world at large he is just a symbol, another fallen hero, another myth. Continue reading