Thank you. This really speaks to me as old age brings a parade of deaths of friends and acquaintances, increased isolation and relentless family drama…you remind me that there was s still hope for peace.
Thank you. Your words often resonate. These, especially so. In the midst of processing much grief, I came to understand how we bear elements of others who have touched us, for better or worse, for whom our souls have connected during mortal existence.
In my late mom, I see my aunt, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother. Each imparted pieces of themselves unto the others. And then I had a realization: While I know a tiny slice of my maternal great-grandmother's life, I still feel her presence deeply via my grandmother and her children. Yet... what about my great-grandmother's mother? Her grandmother and aunts? Her great-grandmother? And countless other relations and acquaintances? She must have born pieces of them as well, passed on through my own known lineage.
Sharing the Grail is a beautiful expression of lineage. Of how the alchemy of one person is forged through connection with others.
This is so lovely it speaks so loudly this stillness described and the still point that is woven into the words in such a poignant way. Deeply heartfelt… sounds true. Thank you, David.
As David has often suggested, I read the poem 3 times. The third time I imagined being the person in their death bed rather than the loved one by their side - what an incredibly enriching, peaceful perspective. Try it!
Thank you. This really speaks to me as old age brings a parade of deaths of friends and acquaintances, increased isolation and relentless family drama…you remind me that there was s still hope for peace.
I’m always thanking you here, David. Today is no exception. This piece takes a heavy moment and gives it breath.
"...everything spreading
out from the room
becomes like the well itself,
holding the same sacred water,
which is never just still water,
but a hidden flow always arriving,"
This line is SO divine and somehow feels like an antidote for my occasional loneliness.
For me, “the well” is not so much an antidote to loneliness, but a companion.
Thank you. Your words often resonate. These, especially so. In the midst of processing much grief, I came to understand how we bear elements of others who have touched us, for better or worse, for whom our souls have connected during mortal existence.
In my late mom, I see my aunt, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother. Each imparted pieces of themselves unto the others. And then I had a realization: While I know a tiny slice of my maternal great-grandmother's life, I still feel her presence deeply via my grandmother and her children. Yet... what about my great-grandmother's mother? Her grandmother and aunts? Her great-grandmother? And countless other relations and acquaintances? She must have born pieces of them as well, passed on through my own known lineage.
Sharing the Grail is a beautiful expression of lineage. Of how the alchemy of one person is forged through connection with others.
David, in the midst of these events, you provide a solace through your words to those of us with an aching heart!
This is so lovely it speaks so loudly this stillness described and the still point that is woven into the words in such a poignant way. Deeply heartfelt… sounds true. Thank you, David.
“we find ourselves
speaking completely and utterly
the love that we thought had
turned only to memory…” - “as you enter the hallway of presence…”
As David has often suggested, I read the poem 3 times. The third time I imagined being the person in their death bed rather than the loved one by their side - what an incredibly enriching, peaceful perspective. Try it!
Beautiful. It’s also a beautiful space to imagine writing a letter to someone.
Gorgeous ✨🙏