Ash Wednesday, Drifting Away

As i drove away over the dead leaves of your southern town
i watched you wave and wave - in the mirror i saw you wave
as the autumn fell - until i made my turn and i said oh well
this could well bee the last time i see your beautiful hands
your frozen hands your trembling hands that could not hold on
to any heart that's warm to any lie that's cold your hands
were made to burn in the sun - The Sleeping Beauty by Mark Eitzel/AMC

(This blog is dedicated to Theresa Clark and all my friends who have passed away, especially over the past year)

Ash Wednesday and the boat of who we are gets pushed offshore and we are supposed to travel to the person we should be. At least that is the idea anyway, to become better people, holier people.  But what does that mean? To be "holy"? We are taught as Catholics that the soul is the center and absolute definition of the self, that we are not bodies, not biological machines, but something infinitely greater than the sum of the parts. And then there is the after-party of it all....

They used to say, when giving you ashes, "Remember man you are dust and unto dust you shall return." Well, other than the whole "MAN" thing, it seemed to be a pretty universal and direct statement to start the whole season off. "Remember that you are going to die so get your act together NOW." I have had three friends pass away since last Ash Wednesday and other people close to me who are very ill and could cash it in at any moment, so I basically live with that concept. 

But losing my friend Theresa was, in many ways, a game changer. She and I met on spiritual retreat and bonded over that. My faith has always been a deep part of my life and to find someone who could make me laugh, as well as being cute, was a miracle. And to have been on the sidelines as cancer ate her up and then to place a guitar pick in the box that contained her ashes under an amazingly beautiful Autumn California sky, shifted everything. Alas, he is not the first person near my age I have lost, but she had her roots in my youth and always made me feel welcomed.

I am un-phased by this Ash Wednesday by the thought of Death. I do not welcome death, but I cannot go through the day without thinking of all those I loved who are no longer here, whose presence cannot be replaced.

So as the boat leaves the shore to take me to the better person I am supposed to be via giving up meat, alcohol, sweets, and eating out, I am doing this blog as a meditation to perhaps help me figure it all out somehow maybe as Flannery O'Connor kept her prayer journal to figure out how she could use her gifts best.

From this point on the journey, I can still smell the flowers from the shore and know that the ocean of time will carry me where it will with the memories of those who are gone next to me, hopefully giving me advice along the way to get where I am going.

This is all a guessing match at best...