The Sand Ceremony
At our church, the first big worship service of the year is this Sunday, today, the first Sunday after Labor Day. It's called InGathering, and there is a Sand Ceremony. Wherever you were over the summer, you gather up a little sand, and bring it to the church on this day. Each person puts his or her sand in a big bowl, and says where it came from and what it is about or how it makes her feel. Memories, and meaning.
I brought a handful of sand from my backyard, right here, where there is this big addition underway. It's a mixture of sand and sawdust, actually. I said: "This may look like plain sand, but when I look at it I feel both loss and joy, because it is from my home." I was very lumpy-in-the-throaty, and could not have said another sentence without falling apart. I went and sat down, and wept through the rest of the service, slow and leaky, and sheesh when you're sitting up in the choir in front of the whole place, it's not fun or easy to weep. I am OK with people crying... even me, lol... it's just a rough place to feel so fragile.
I vamoosed out of there right after, and came home to work on the addition. (Staining siding boards, front and back. HUGE JOB... feels good to have something to do.) Working on this project is very exciting and also sad because Andy was so supportive of the idea and the design and yet will never see it... we had to put the whole thing on hold so we could take care of him.
I listened to "The Elegance of the Hedgehog" on tape... has anyone else read or listened to it? Wonderful story of a reclusive older woman and a brilliant cynical young girl in an apartment building in Paris. Their paths cross and they help each other find faith in life again. THe girl says, "It doesn't matter HOW you died, but what you were doing WHEN you died." She doesn't mean that minute, she means at that point in your life. The older woman says at the end of her life that she had re-opened her heart to love, and that was a good way.
After the book was over I thought about that concept, and that Andy had a wonderful life full of love. He had so many friends. He had some crazy ideas that we all agreed after his death were pure rubbish, but he was a passionate guy and unafraid of vigorous engagement in life.
Time for a hot bath. Oh... btw... Andy adored hot baths. He would boil extra pots of water to make it HOT. Lots of bergamot oil or bubbles. Music. Candles. It was a two hour ritual that started when he was about 12 as a way to escape from school stress. Friends knew he was unavailable from 3 to 5.
He was...... a sensualist, my Andy. Had the most sensitive hands, the most amazing sense of taste and smell. I will write about that another time soon.
Peace and good night.
I brought a handful of sand from my backyard, right here, where there is this big addition underway. It's a mixture of sand and sawdust, actually. I said: "This may look like plain sand, but when I look at it I feel both loss and joy, because it is from my home." I was very lumpy-in-the-throaty, and could not have said another sentence without falling apart. I went and sat down, and wept through the rest of the service, slow and leaky, and sheesh when you're sitting up in the choir in front of the whole place, it's not fun or easy to weep. I am OK with people crying... even me, lol... it's just a rough place to feel so fragile.
I vamoosed out of there right after, and came home to work on the addition. (Staining siding boards, front and back. HUGE JOB... feels good to have something to do.) Working on this project is very exciting and also sad because Andy was so supportive of the idea and the design and yet will never see it... we had to put the whole thing on hold so we could take care of him.
I listened to "The Elegance of the Hedgehog" on tape... has anyone else read or listened to it? Wonderful story of a reclusive older woman and a brilliant cynical young girl in an apartment building in Paris. Their paths cross and they help each other find faith in life again. THe girl says, "It doesn't matter HOW you died, but what you were doing WHEN you died." She doesn't mean that minute, she means at that point in your life. The older woman says at the end of her life that she had re-opened her heart to love, and that was a good way.
After the book was over I thought about that concept, and that Andy had a wonderful life full of love. He had so many friends. He had some crazy ideas that we all agreed after his death were pure rubbish, but he was a passionate guy and unafraid of vigorous engagement in life.
Time for a hot bath. Oh... btw... Andy adored hot baths. He would boil extra pots of water to make it HOT. Lots of bergamot oil or bubbles. Music. Candles. It was a two hour ritual that started when he was about 12 as a way to escape from school stress. Friends knew he was unavailable from 3 to 5.
He was...... a sensualist, my Andy. Had the most sensitive hands, the most amazing sense of taste and smell. I will write about that another time soon.
Peace and good night.
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