Ramblings 2
It's nearly impossible to explain the kind of "nothing really matters" attitude that comes after the death of a child.
It isn't a Zen, Buddist, OM kind of "nothing matters."
It's a realization that it doesn't matter what you do in life. Live well. Live badly. Eat chocolate for dinner or diet every second. Be fashion conscious or be ticketed by the fashon police at every turn. Rent or own. Pay your bills on time or not. Be rich or be poor.
None of that really matters.
One moment you are living the life you thought you were living. The next moment, your child is dead.
You are now forever separated from your child.
As much as you crave it, you will never feel that warm hand on yours. You will not see the graduation, the wedding, nor the birth of your grandchild because your child is dead.
So what matters? Nada. Zippo. Zilcho. Squat.
Sure you have your work ethic that keeps you working; your values that keep you from killing anyone else; your beliefs that seem to echo something about meeting up with the spirit of your child after you die; your sort-of sanity that keeps you from driving into a tree so that you might join your child sooner.
But what does it all really matter?
No, this isn't a Zen, live only in the moment kind of thing. This isn't a resounding OM that vibrates thru your body and leaves you feeling whole and warm and healthy and fit. This isn't a Buddist oblivion where you get to go to some temple to live and do nothing but pray for the rest of your life (nor mosque, nor monastery, nor anything like that!).
No, this instead is throw it all toward the wind kind of thing. It's like those people who spend days making the most elaborate art you've ever seen using powdered, colored chalk. And when the artwork is complete, they go around and blow the chalk dust away. Literally. Make a wish, blow out the candle. Creation, being blown away.
And how many children have died recently in the Middle East? Keep your politics. Think dead children and the lives of hundreds of thousands of bereaved parents now blowing in the f*cking wind.
No, it isn't Zen, is it?
Kara lives on Vashon Island which is a much more awesome place than she ever imagined it would be. She is a poet, bookmaker, wife, teacher, bereaved mom, facilitator, receptionist, founder, struggling p.t.barnum, turtle faithful, editor, artist, and a million other things that will prevent you from putting her in any one particular label box! Kara teaches through local art centers, artists in the schools programs, KotaPress and independently. To find out more about her, see:
http://www.KotaPress.com/kara/karajones.htm
And her class Expanding Poetry is now available in an online format from CourseBridge.com where you can register today at:
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