meanwhile the world goes on . . . but how can it? when your own personal world is collapsing, falling apart, seeming to end. another cappuccino sold on the street from that cute little coffee cart, another warning given to a speeding car on the freeway (where was he going in such a hurry?).

with TAPESTRY as my word of the year, i’ve been experimenting with piecing together the loose threads and interlaced knots that colorfully illustrate and express my existence. and thus far i’ve found myself in places i hadn’t imagined going.

i’d also added a secondary auxiliary word to the mix for 2024 .

in the span of one month (exactly 30 days)
i’ve attended two weddings and a funeral

the first was my nephew’s wedding
officiated by his uncle, my brother
a lively and lavish affair in florida
which included many fascinating components
of a traditional hindu bridal ceremony

the second was the intimate wedding
of the daughter of one of my best friends
also officiated by an uncle
and punctuated by lovely vows
for her adorable new stepdaughter

though the funeral was difficult
a vibrant young woman, only 34 years old
much too young to be saying her goodbyes
an amazingly moving tribute penetrated the
excruciating sadness of the standing-room-only crowd

i once babysat her mom and her aunt
and consider them my little sisters
sometimes the circle of life seems skewed

this service included rituals from
the young woman’s native american roots
the hauntingly beautiful drum-and-song solo
still reverberating on in my heart

so it was a bit of an event whirlwind
and i was grateful to be present at all three

but one thing i noticed with surprise
in different ways at each
was how, at certain moments
i felt somewhat removed, even
separate from what was happening

as a spectator, i’d taken a step back
and almost felt as if i might be
infringing upon the sacredness within
a trespass on the very private joy and grief

it’s kept me thinking about the
concept of ceremony ever since

what does ceremony mean to us as humans?

 
 
How many times have you done what’s expected (or accepted)? Sacrificed your own wants and needs in order to stay safe, to avoid standing out, to take care of everyone but yourself? How many times have you surrendered your own authenticity?

full disclosure: i’ve wanted to write a book my entire life.

i literally have pages and pages, notebooks and notebooks, filled with words that were simply-and-always labeled my story. going way back to my elementary school days, most of them residing in storage bins in italy.