Continuing on a philosophical tangent, this week’s topic examines how I/we derive meaning from the things we say and do when everything has already been said, and nothing is really new.
Everything has been said before. Nothing I say is new. I write about what’s happening in my life. I express my grieving process, my hopes, dreams, and shortcomings. All in hopes that you, my faithful followers, will glean something meaningful from the reading. How I say, what I say, is meaningful only to me, unless someone else relates to the words anew.
Word play is fun. I enjoy finding different ways to express myself; alternative words to convey a message which has been stated by others in different ways. Whether with prose or in lyrics, words are treasures to be unearthed and revealed, mixing and matching in colorful ways, hoping to make you feel empathy, hoping you feel yourself. Nevertheless I write this message, knowing that it’s all been said before in many ways.
All music has been played before. I am further hampered by my limited knowledge of music theory. I recently learned that there are few musical theories throughout the world. The notes of our “Western” scale, along with other less familiar musical methods, all limit the number of combinations that sound good to our ears/minds. Timing and rhythms add complexity to a tune, helping us express our feelings and enhance our words.
What I play and how I play it is sensational only if it sparks familiar feelings in new ways. Can you think of a subject that hasn’t been covered by a musical artist? So many genres. Music has been part of the human experience since, well, since humans have experienced.
The first shirt I choseDefinitely describes meWishful thinking
Additional ways to express myself with words written by others. I’m thinking of wearing these to play gigs – whenever I work up enough courage to do so.
Just this week I finally heard the song I’ve been searching for since I used some of its chords to form one of my songs, Need to Love You, Instrumental, 12-String. That song is I Love You by The Steve Miller Band. I’m not a huge fan of Steve Miller, but this song, released in 1970 obviously stuck with me, though until now I didn’t remember the source. Another example of Everything’s been played, nothing new. And yet we continue to write words and music to convey our experiences, making them our own. Some, if not all, of us have the need to express ourselves, our inner conflicts, hopes, and dreams with others. Some kind of validation that we are not alone in our existence.
And now I want to write something more. But I’m not sure what. After all, it’s all been said before. How about that I feel humbled by that fact, but also comforted in knowing that I am a part of the human race, knowing I am not alone when I express myself. Maybe you will have similar feelings after reading this.
Speaking of it all being said and sung before: Listen. Read. Something like that.
Walking along the pathways this week on a fresh, sunny, late winter afternoon I was reminded again of our tiny place in the vast, potentially infinite universe. Blue sky, light breeze, warmth of the sun on my back. It must somehow matter.
Facebook provides so many information inputs. We don’t even have to ask for them. Some algorithms somewhere pay attention to the ads we click, the videos we watch, the people and sites we follow, and offer up text, pictures and video. Meta hopes we stay engaged so that their sponsors will continue to advertise with them.
One such information input for me is on the subject of the makeup of the universe. How far are other celestial bodies; a light minute, light hour, light day, light month, light year, or even thousands and thousands of light years away. Billions of galaxies, each with a trillion stars. As I have mentioned before, this makes me feel very small and insignificant. Our bodies exist for such a short time, measured only in minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years. So what does it matter that we exist at all?
It matters because we are sentient beings. If we weren’t aware it wouldn’t matter. It matters because we are aware of ourselves and each other. We care about our own lives and the lives of others. Maybe even our awareness is of little consequence in the vast scheme of the universe. But then again, maybe not.
We know from science that our energy lives on either in free form or as other matter. We are transformed into life, and again when our lives end. We impact our environment which impacts the blue marble we live on. Surely we must have an impact on other regions of the universe in infinite time and space.
It matters because we care for ourselves, our families, our neighbors, communities, species, and the rest of the world around us. It doesn’t really matter how much we affect the universe. It matters that we matter to ourselves and each other.
Here’s why It matters to me; because Pam smiled with so much compassion and love.
Smiling and Holding Hands – 2019
It matters because I love her deeply, more than I understood until I was threatened with her absence. Then she was gone. Recently I realized that as much as I love her, she loved me more. That persistent thought both hurts and comforts me. It helps me understand my place in the universe. Her love was pure. And even at that, she loved her daughters even more!
Kara and Kelley, I hope you don’t mind that I make public this declaration of your Mother’s love for you. Making you. Making It matter that you are part of the universe.
As Pam would say, “Don’t forget.” You matter! We matter!
After writing the longest post in Wut Javia’s history last week, this may be one of the shortest. I don’t have anything deep or sensational to write about. So I’ll write about that.
It’s been a “normal” week. Patterns of my existence, once emerged, now are familiar routines of daily life. Sleep, wake, eat; all so ordinary. Morning meditations remain; peering at Pam’s picture, having a word or two about her smile, my love for her, how much I miss her.
Last week I considered four grieving goals, the last of which was reconstructing a faith significantly altered by loss. I said my faith was in disarray before Pam’s illness and passing, and it was. I’ve begun reading the book of Psalms. I’m told it considers the entire human condition in relationship with an almighty God. Since I feel like I’m experiencing all of those conditions, I thought it a reasonable place to start. Another attempt at establishing life after Pam.
Exercise, guitar practice, binge watching series’ on Netflix and Prime, make up much of my free time, after shopping, cleaning, accounting, etc. Really, nothing to write home about. I’m trying to wrap my mind around this new normal, consider where grief and loss fit in. Still conflicting thoughts and emotions. New normal.
How strange to have nothing to write home about. The last 10 months, in fact the last four years, have been filled with abnormality, at least for me. I know I am one of a myriad of others who suffer, and I know we all have to embrace abnormality as part of normality. But for me, it is consoling to see myself as having nothing to write home about; nothing out of the ordinary to write about. I still look forward to writing and singing about better subjects. Better times; mine, and yours.
I wish for you a normal week in which there is nothing to write home about – unless, of course, it’s great news you just have to share!
Bits of paper next to places where I sit around the house. Not to mention e-notes pasted in various applications on my computer or online (I guess I just mentioned them. Why do we say such things?).
Here’s one I wrote completely backwards, from right to left with the letters facing backwards also. Here are the words:
How did we ever Get to where we ask ‘What am I, chopped liver?” On a cracker, or with a spoon Has a taste, can make you swoon So if you don’t like the words I say What am I, chopped liver?
There may be the makings of a song here. The context is a familial prodding joke that arose from an old question basically asking why am I being left out, or am I less important than your or someone else – someone who can be ignored. But my siblings and I use it now very tongue-in-cheek when we discuss things we are doing or sharing family memories, with fondness and love. These are the kind of interactions that strengthen attachments, deepen relationships.
Another note contains grieving goals from a book called All Our Losses All Our Griefs, Resources for Pastoral Care by Kenneth R. Mitchell and Herbert Anderson, given by a good friend to help me on my journey. This book provides a different perspective on grieving from the point of view of professionals who work with, and laypeople who want to compassionately respond to, those who grieve.
Grieving Goals: – Admitting the reality of the loss – Creating a charitable memory – Beginning to make new investments and attachments – Reconstructing a faith significantly altered by loss
After 9-1/2 months of my grieving journey, I look at these goals and am encouraged – though even that is hard to believe. It took about four months just to come to terms with the fact that Pam is gone. Though sometimes still cathartic to talk to her, it is otherwise and empty exercise, as she cannot, and will not respond – at least in any way that I recognize or understand. But it is difficult to achieve any other goals without first admitting the loss.
I’ve had no problem creating a charitable memory. I so adored Pam and saw in her so many loving and caring attributes that I wish I could emulate. I sometimes still picture the moment of her death. I don’t like the image. But it reminds me that, in that moment, Pam’s suffering was over. And that’s a good thing. More and more I smile back at her when I look at pictures of her smiling. I am in touch with my love for her and realize the depth of her love for me and others. I am still sad for her loss, and my loss of her.
Progress on the last two goals is certainly ongoing. My body has been “telling” me that I need to take care of myself and catch up on the neglect I forced on it for the past few years as my attention was on caring for Pam. Should I just live out what is left of my life, though shorter due to neglect? Or will I find out what I need to and be wise about taking care of myself, expect to live longer, with better quality of life? Give myself the opportunity to nurture existing, and establish new attachments. I chose the latter. Now I am investing psychologically, emotionally, and monetarily in my physical wellbeing.
Reconstructing my faith is a much more challenging goal. My faith journey was in the weeds and tall grasses before Pam’s diagnosis and illness (I’ve got songs about this also). Losing her only exacerbated an already complicated and painful inner struggle. However, I am aware that my journey is more difficult by not being able to rely on faith in God to help me through my grieving process. Not that I don’t keep Him in the mix. I told the hospice chaplain that I still want to cover my bases. So the jury is still out on this goal. I hope those of you with strong faith will respect my circumstance and not attempt to “fix” or “save” me as I work through, toward some end. I promise you, it would not be helpful. On the other hand, thoughts and prayers are appreciated (covering bases). Thanks.
Three comparisons (opposites) on a piece of paper. I don’t remember what I read that prompted me writing this note, but I look at it from time to time and it continues to give me perspective:
Three reminders of decisions we can make on a daily basis. As I learn to live for myself, no longer for Pam or for the two of us, these simple comparisons are a kind of mirror for me to “see” what kind of person this person wants to be. Though I need to live for myself, I don’t want to be selfish. I try to view others with empathy and compassion. And I must be willing to be open to new knowledge that when applied, helps me achieve the first two goals of generosity and compassion. I hope you, my readers, can relate, and feel the same as I.
As I sat in my chair and reached for my paper pad to write down the name of a song, I noticed these notes, bits and pieces of things I thought worth returning to at some point in time. I had no idea that they would merge into a blog post such as this (the longest one yet, I believe). Yet here it is, and I hope, worth the reading.
The song is Time Was by Wishbone Ash. As I listened I heard feelings from my grief journey. Though not all of the lyrics reflect my feelings, in general, I can really relate. Great music too :
I’ve got to rearrange my life I’ve got to rearrange my world I miss you, I need you I’ve got to keep my memories aside I’ve got to try to live again
Time was when there were things around to be afraid of I’ve got cause, I’ve even changed my mind to turn the tables
Time was, when there was no need to stop and rearrange it Now I’ve got a memory and I don’t want to change it
And there’s a time for waking up and feeling down It’s when you have to pick your feet up from the ground
Time was when I had you around, I was a strong man I need you to help me make the change and be a new man
It takes more than a day and a night for giving It’s not so easy just to change your way of living
Time was when there were things around to bother me The crime was, I couldn’t start to change my history
Bits and pieces. Musings of a wandering mind. I created this website near the beginning of COVID, as Pam’s disease crept further into her being; as my commitment and responsibilities increased. It’s been nearly three years since its debut (March 14, 2020). So much has changed for so many! Now, let’s get on with – life. Bits and pieces at a time.
