Looking out the Window

Looking out the window, I see a duck stroll into the water, joining his friends. Ten of them. A couple of days ago there were four. A month ago there were none.

How strange it seems to think that I missed the ducks! They became friends last winter. I got in the habit of counting them to make sure they were all there. The most I ever counted was 22.

Melancholy. It feels like fall. Leaves dropping, even the brilliant crimson red and amber-colored leaves seem to ache. “Soon it will be gone,” they glow. The leaves, the warmth, and the sun will soon be hidden under the cold.

Wonder if I will ever in this lifetime know the joy of fully being in the present, filled to the brim with the Creator’s splendor, without feeling in the back of my mind, in that achy place beneath my heart, the pain of loss in the future.

Is it even possible?

Where do the tears come from? They arise, seemingly unbidden when I allow myself to fully, really, completely feel love. The depth of the place where my love resides seems to equal the depth of sorrow I can feel.

It isn’t fair.

Sometimes I look at people who seem truly to be happy, to easily move from one thing to another, to love and love again, and to be pretty much over it when one door closes. Always looking ahead.

Even when I look ahead the shadow of previous loss haunts me. I think I understand Halloween. Worshiping the spirits of the departed precedes all Saints Day. Maybe the Divine shows Him or Her or Itself through the cosmic joke of making the depth of love feel so true and beautiful and lasting … so that when it is gone it forces us to love Him or Her or It even more.

When all else fails, create. I’ve heard people say, “If you had it once, you can create it again. That’s not exactly true. One can never “recreate” or “reproduce” a relationship or friendship or marriage. There are always more pairings or groupings but with different people it is different.

Maybe that’s why we have so many opportunities to love. So that we can understand the fullness of love, in all of its expressions.

Sometimes I wonder if I have what it takes. It seems like it would be easier to not feel so deeply. But I don’t really have that choice, so that’s a moot point.

Love, create, live.

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