"The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly
themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in
loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential
likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the
reflection of ourselves we find in them." ~Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island
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I am so happy to back back in posting mode. Not only have I been mourning my uncle's passing and comforting my mother, but I also scratched my cornea
No big adventure story here. My allergies have been running rampant this spring. I had a particularly itchy-eyed night, and awoke to find myself vigorously rubbing my right eyeball. It felt like there was grit in it. Upon awakening, I ran to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face.
Too late. Damage done. That was Friday night.
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| My Zombie eye Saturday. |
Saturday morning, one of my sweet piano students looked up at me and gasped, "What happened to your eye, Teacher Zita? It looks scary!"
I imagine I resembled a zombie. I told her about my allergies and rubbing my eye too hard. She nodded, but still looked concerned.
It wasn't too painful and I could see just fine, but it was just a tad embarrassing.
But something I discovered, as I nearly always do, is that something good came out of this!
I stopped wearing eye makeup. I am just putting on bit of lipstick and a touch of eyebrow pencil. And I absolutely love my natural look!
Why did I waste all that money and time on makeup?
Aw, the wisdom of age.
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| Scratched right cornea Tuesday (healing), no make-up look. |
I've been thinking a lot about love lately. I remember looking at my mother and father over lunch Sunday, as we talked about memories of my mother and her brother. My parents had a rocky time early in their marriage. I remember much screaming. But there they were, after 57 years of marriage, sitting opposite my daughter and I. Smiling.
My mother has been caring for my father since his stroke and diagnosis of Parkinson's disease a few years ago. She is a retired RN. Very capable of caring for others. She has been the mistbstelkar caregiver for my dad. He has become entirely dependent on her. And in turn, he has become kinder and gentler. Not only to her, but to everyone.
And he has openly proclaimed how much he appreciates and needs her.
This warmed my heart.
Forgiveness. What a burden it lifts!
The other day I spent time with my son and his girlfriend. They are going through the pain of young love. I told them that love can hurt. I told them about my parents. But their experience raw and fresh. And so very present to them now. I think that the lessons of love and loss can only be learned by first hand experience.
My very soul feels raw. It feels ragged and scratched. Like my cornea. I know it will heal, but I imagine there will be a scar.
There will be more than one abrasion on my soul.
I try not to focus on the could have beens. The what is. The regrets. The hurts.
I bring my consciousness to gratitude. To family, babies, birds singing outside my window, music, prayer, the sound of children playing in the playground next door. I wish I could say the smell of freshly baked bread, but I have lost my sense of smell.
Interesting, that I can recall the smell of freshly baked bread. My grandmother baked bread early every morning. I can remember the heavenly fragrance. It is making my stomach growl. I wonder if my uncle is eating bread in heaven with his mother now.
There is healing. There always is. If we allow it.
I rented a comfort movie to watch last night. "Under the Tuscan Sun". Such a lovely movie. And so heartwrenching at times. But it does help to know other's feel our pain.
And in the end, we do have our memories.
I just need to learn to be still long enough to let them in.
I need to end this blog and go teach. As usual, I have much more to say, but it will have to wait.
Talk to you tomorrow!
Love,
Zita
PS Here is my latest hooping video! Quite a short one, as I was running late. I almost forgot, hence the leather jacket - that was a challenge!
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